22: Chapter 12.2 I’m Actually Pitiful Too!
22: Chapter 12.2 I’m Actually Pitiful Too!
“Then I won’t use them either.” Couldn’t invite her to eat together just to leave one kid trembling in terror.
In the end—with my hardline ultimatum of “Eat like this or starve!” thrown in—I strong-armed an agreement, and now here we were, eating together.
Tearing, ripping, savoring the meat by hand.
…But damn, this actually feels like camping.
Not bad at all?
I ate with a pleased grin, and Piel had already stormed through five pieces.
As expected of a beastkin—the fluffball’s fear vanished before the meat.
Above all, her tail was wagging.
Swish, swish.
Her instinct’s always honest.
That tail made me smile without thinking.
Right then.
“Um, Master…
I know I shouldn’t presume, but may I ‘ask a question’?” “…Huh?” For an instant, it felt like time stopped.
The girl who’d only answered orders had, for the first time, spoken to me on her own .
And before that tiny voice even registered, my eyes caught her tail first.
It shook.
A clumsy tremor of tension, anticipation, joy.
That sight truly warmed my heart.
Piel had spoken to me .
That alone made the meal a total win.
“Yeah, of course.
As your master, I permit it, Piel.” But I barely reined in my instinctively curling lips.
Three days back, getting too hyped had made the kid puke.
So in my usual stern tone—to avoid burdening her—I played it casual as I listened.
Piel nibbled her lip for a moment, then murmured softly.
“Master…
why are you so nice to me?” It was one of the questions I’d seen coming.
When I’d first brought her home, Piel had a blind eye, a torn-off ear, damaged organs—the kind of “discard slave” nobody wanted.
Yet this master hadn’t just healed her; he fed her delicious meals, dressed her in pretty clothes, even held her in the same bed at night.
Anyone would’ve asked why.
But I couldn’t lay out the real reasons.
Couldn’t say “to keep my balls safe” or “you’re the original heroine.” That’d just confuse her more.
So I went with the prepped answer.
“Piel.
They call me Young Master Argent, but truth is, I’m a discarded bastard.” “Ba…bastard?” “Simple terms: my mom was the only different one in the family.” “Gasp!” Piel’s eyes shook wide.
I piled on, watching her face.
“I’m nice to you not for some special reason…
I just want to be that kind of guy.” I’d mulled it over.
How to get a young beastkin girl—rock bottom, slave life—to treat her master like a friend, no suspicion?
Endless praise?
Food?
Gifts?
Nah.
The surefire way: emotional rapport.
Dubbed the “Truth is, I’m a pitiful fucker too” strat.
Little girls are emotion grenades.
Prime age for bawling like a drama lead actually croaked.
Hit that nerve.
And man, the payoff crushed expectations.
“My mom…
she was a whore who got knocked up with me by accident and got dragged to the Argent house.
Noble lady or not, she lived in a warehouse.” “N-no way…!” “Died giving birth to me right there in it.” “Hic…!
For real…
for real?” “So I still don’t even know her face.” “Waaah!!” Tears plopped down.
This time, straight-up because of me.
Or rather, my “pitiful master” backstory hit her heart.
As Piel sobbed, shoulders heaving, I slowly leaned over and pulled her into a hug.
Normally, bawling along here would’ve maxed the empathy to 200%…
Fuck…
no tears coming.
Maybe ’cause my Korean days left the “mom” feels circuit busted.
Supposed to cry, but zilch—just sweat pouring.
Still, the act rolled on.
“I…
don’t even know my dad—the Family Head.” “Waaah…
Master, you’re so pitiful!” “Don’t know my uncle either.” “Waaaah…!
Mom said it!
People like that are ‘trash lives,’ super pitiful!” “Don’t know Grandma or Grandpa either.” “Waaaah!
I don’t know mine either!” She wailed on like that for a good ten minutes.
Result: flawless.
Tears dried, her tail slyly swished—a true goodwill wag, guard fully down.
And at last, Piel went beyond her first question and initiated .
“Ma-Master!” “Yeah?” “Then…
humbly, may I make you feel good?” Feel good…?
In the original 19+ webnovel, ten-years-later adult Piel saying that?
Easy misunderstanding.
But she’s a kid now.
What the hell did she mean?
I cocked my head.
“This is…
what Dad did a lot when Mom was tired.” Oh.
If it’s family stuff she’s sharing with me?
Solid sign.
So I waited, expecting something positive.
“Master, got a dog collar by any chance?” “…Pardon?” “Let’s go for a walk!!” And just like that, I got the tiniest inkling why beastkin get treated like animals in this world.