“Nice to meet you, little fox girl.
My name is Syl Argent.” The moment that name reached her ears, Piel’s heart plummeted with a thud.
Syl Argent.
One of the four official heirs of the Argent Family—someone Lucas had repeatedly warned her about, stressing that she should avoid crossing paths with them at all costs if possible.
Especially this one, whom he’d described as particularly dangerous.
Piel’s ears twitched upright on instinct, and every hair on her tail stood on end.
‘Oh no…!’ But something was off.
According to Lucas, the official heirs of the Argent Family were supposed to be monsters without a drop of blood or tear in them.
Yet the blonde girl before her looked…
Like a princess who had just leaped out of a picture book.
Her golden hair sparkled in the sunlight, her eyes were a deep sapphire blue, and even the blue rose pin in her hair was delicately placed.
Her outfit was a lavish dress that screamed “ballroom exclusive.” And yet she moved with such grace that her feet barely seemed to touch the ground, her expression always smiling, her speech transparently kind.
“These ears are just too cute…
Your cheeks are so soft…
Oh, and the tail’s alive too?” Piel had been startled at first when Syl suddenly started kneading her face, but even now, she was just peering at her with an excited face, like she desperately wanted to be friends.
A noble lady using polite speech with a slave like her.
Could someone like this really be a “bad person”?
It was impossible to comprehend.
She even wondered if Lucas had exaggerated.
Piel tilted her head slightly, clutching the tray tightly to her chest as she pondered.
‘Maybe…
Lucas has the wrong idea about her?’ That was when it happened.
“Little fox girl?” “Y-yes!” “Hee hee.
With that cute mouth of yours…
could you introduce yourself to me?
I’d love to hear it straight from you.” Syl Argent didn’t so much as flinch at the sight of the slave collar.
She asked for her “name” with the same courtesy one might use with a friend met for the first time.
Piel swallowed hard for a moment.
But she quickly realized this was an opportunity.
The first slave of Lucas Argent.
The perfect chance to show just how outstanding the slave her master had raised was!
Lucas had never taught her etiquette, and he often said things like “live comfortably,” essentially leaving her to her own devices.
But Piel hated that.
It felt like a burden on him.
How could she, as his one and only slave—the one he had saved, bathed, fed, and made laugh—smear mud on his face?
So Piel had secretly pored over etiquette books at dawn every day, mastering the basic greetings of a noble maid.
And now, she poured everything into it, offering a graceful curtsey despite her small frame.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Syl Argent.
My name is Piel.
I am the maid serving Young Master Lucas Argent.” “Oh my…
Oh my goodness gracious!” One foot elegantly tucked behind the other, skirt hems lightly lifted by both hands, waist bending smoothly.
Syl’s eyes sparkled like fireworks the instant Piel finished her greeting.
Before Piel could even straighten up, she rushed forward and enveloped the fox girl of her age in a hug.
“What do I do?
There’s a child this cute in our house?!
You’re too adorable!” “H-huh…
eeeek…
?!” Syl’s embrace was warm.
No, warm didn’t cover it—it was clingy, almost obsessive, like she was hiding a treasure she’d just found to keep it from being taken away.
It wasn’t without its burdensomeness.
But Piel felt a small spark of joy rise in her heart instead.
‘My first greeting…
success!
I upheld Lucas’s honor, right?!’ With that thought, Piel let out a small laugh while nestled in Syl’s arms, accepting the hug.
And then— She caught sight of the people standing behind Syl over her shoulder, and her mind went blank.
They all wore slave collars…
but instead of rags fit for slaves, they were dressed in fancy gowns like Syl’s.
Everything about their attire screamed noble ladies, yet iron collars like Piel’s gleamed around their necks.
‘Huh?
If they’re wearing slave collars, they must be captives like me…
So why are they all in such pretty dresses?’ Syl burst into giggles at Piel’s dumbfounded expression as she stared at them.
“Ah-ha!
Piel, you were curious about my ‘playmates’ too, huh!” “Play…
mates?” Maid?
Slave?
It was a completely different vibe.
Syl gently disentangled Piel from her embrace and gestured with her hand.
She showed off the line of girls in lavish dresses behind her, speaking brightly as if boasting to a friend.
“Yes, that’s right, Piel.
These are all my playmates.
They comfort me when I’m down, come to my side whenever I call…
They’re all such good, precious friends.” Piel’s eyes sparkled.
“Wow…
I see!” The “friends” of a noble lady.
“Playmates” she spent time with happily.
Back in her slave days, the hunters and trainers had always hammered it in.
“You’re just consumables.
Even under a master, don’t expect to be treated like people.” She’d heard it so often it was carved into her body, yet the scene before her eyes was the complete opposite of those memories.