Piel was fated to end up in my hands eventually, even without the pretext of a ‘birthday gift.’ In the Argent Family, slaves under direct family control were discarded immediately for even the slightest defect.
Not a single scar, not a single flaw was tolerated.
In that place, a ‘product’ wasn’t merely flawed—it was guilty.
That was why.
The moment Piel collapsed vomiting blood in front of the other four heirs, her life should have ended right there by all rights.
A ‘defective item’ that would be scrapped with a single stroke, one that no one would have stopped them from discarding according to the rules.
But…
like some absurd ‘protagonist correction,’ it just so happened that the family had an abandoned illegitimate child at that exact timing.
In other words, me—Lucas.
The fox girl on the verge of disposal was thus dumped on me by a single word from the family head, half-broken and destined to tumble into yet another hell.
If it had been Lucas’s past life, the answer was already set.
A life raised on beatings, tramplings, and humiliations solely for being a bastard.
Then one day, in front of that ‘young master’ whom even the family servants treated like a bug, someone even lower appeared—someone who bowed their head to him, a slave.
There was no way that maddening child would stay still.
The moment a typical bully who preyed on the weak faced something even weaker for the first time…
From then on, Piel became the target for all of Lucas’s refuse.
Loneliness, rage, helplessness, self-loathing, disgust.
Even without the strength to move, the child lying collapsed was bombarded with sharp irritation, venting, and a twisted obsession resembling love.
And that torment continued like a noose tightening around her throat until just before she escaped.
…This was Piel’s backstory as mentioned in the original work Vengeful Goddesses .
The tale so brutal that even in an 19+ story, parts of it had to be censored.
Was that why?
In the original timeline, ten years later.
Piel captured her first and last master, Lucas, and tortured him mercilessly in the name of revenge.
Pulling out his nails one by one, gouging out his screaming eyeballs, and finally ripping off both testicles and crushing them on the floor.
‘…Thinking about it like that, she’s really scary.’ I absolutely, positively wanted to avoid that kind of ending.
So, with all the care I could muster, I examined the body of Piel, who had just woken up, this way and that, before opening my mouth.
“How are you feeling?
Any pain anywhere?” “Th-that…” Piel still couldn’t properly meet my eyes.
Her hesitation, her blocked words—it was all too vivid.
“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.
But if it hurts too much…
just say it hurts, okay?” It was probably because she’d endured a harsh life even before being dragged to the Argent Family.
Even after administering the highest-grade healing item reserved for royalty—the Water of Life, which could regrow a severed arm—she’d slept soundly for a full three days.
And this morning— Just as I was stretching by the bedside, Piel had finally come to, sitting there blankly.
Fatigue still shadowed her face like a veil, but her eyes were clear and alive.
“Are your eyes okay?
The right one’s vision back?
Your ears…
well, only you can tell if your hearing’s fully returned.” “Eyes…
ears…?” “While you were asleep, I fixed what I could.” Even as I spoke, the child was trembling so much that cold sweat dripped from her chin.
This went beyond a mere check-up reaction.
It wasn’t just pain; it was the body’s ingrained response to prolonged abuse.
I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist, but even I could recognize this.
Her shoulders flinching at a deep breath, her eyes reflexively darting at the slightest movement of my hand.
These weren’t movements a child should have.
Then, Piel’s expression suddenly stiffened.
“…Huh?” One hand groped at her right eye socket, the other tentatively touched the top of her head— Her regrown fox ears.
And the tail that had always hung limp on the bed twitched ever so slightly, very briefly.
She clearly couldn’t believe it herself.
“Why…
is this…?” “I treated you.” “You…
ah, no.
Master…
did this?” “…” I was momentarily speechless.
The way she naturally called me ‘Master’ right after waking up in front of a boy she’d never seen before.
She grasped the situation too quickly.
Was it the slave habits ingrained like instinct…?
I had no idea what wounds even a slightly raised voice might leave on a girl like this.
So I steadied my breath and spoke as gently as I would to a patient.
“First off…
are you hungry?
It’s been three days since you ate.” “F-food…?
…
Gulp.
” Her lips quivered as she swallowed softly.
Slaves weren’t supposed to show hunger, so she stayed silent, but her face was honest enough.