If both were hell… was there value in choosing?
Nine out of ten went straight to the training grounds.
The remaining one out of ten was reserved strictly for internal Argent Family use— More precisely, toys handed to the family’s heirs.
The future kings and monster candidates who would devour them.
And some among the freshly arrived slaves were part of that select tenth.
Chains scraping the floor.
Huddled slaves trembling in terror.
Opposite them, atop stairs lined with a lavish golden carpet, stood the four heirs.
“Good.
Plenty of usable ones this time too.” “That’s why the start of every month is fun.” “Enough chatter.
Let’s divide them quickly.” “Agreed.
Time is money, after all.
Brother, sisters.” The slaves couldn’t lift their heads.
No—they dared not.
These four before them were the future rulers set to inherit the kingdom’s worst evils.
And they would soon realize it.
How they’d been dragged here, and how they’d be crushed from this point on.
Torture disguised as training.
Treatment that didn’t even call them human.
And ultimately, gruesome deaths.
But there was one fact these slaves didn’t yet know.
The Argent Family’s heirs had a special rule.
“Alright, then.
I’ll start with my introduction.” The first to step down from the stairs was the eldest.
The Argent Family’s first heir.
Wolfram Argent.
His skin was corpse-pale, his eyes like hollow glass orbs drained of any murderous glint.
Even standing plainly, he exuded a crushing weight like a massive boulder.
And following the family’s ancient rule, he was the first to declare the slaves’ fates.
“I am the first heir of the Argent Family, Wolfram Argent.
And I seek the strong.” “Strong…?” “Strength… from a slave…?” Wolfram’s voice continued without inflection.
“Upright, loyal ones who live and die at their master’s command.
The slaves who enter under me will face days crueler than hell itself.” The slaves’ breaths caught.
“But I promise you this.” His voice dipped ever so slightly.
“Should you endure that hell and grow into my knights, I will grant you boundless honor.” “!!” A faint stir rippled through the slaves.
It was a proposal no one could have anticipated.
They’d expected the Argent eldest son to be a monster who broke slaves for pleasure and sadism.
Yet here he was, demanding knighthood from his own slaves.
As some slaves’ eyes shook while tracking his words, a clear voice rang out from the stairs.
“Next is my turn.
I’m Seratina Argent.” The second heir, Seratina.
Skin clear as a white lily.
A gentle smile evoking a saint.
A face that clashed most with the cruel Argent name.
And her proposal was equally unexpected.
“Dear slaves.
I want lovable, beautiful ones.” “Lo-love…?” “Hehe, no need to be scared.” Seratina softly raised her fingertips.
“In simple terms, I value beauty.
Slaves by my side will groom their bodies and make efforts to become more beautiful.” She smiled with utmost tenderness.
“And I promise: if you remain beautifully by my side to the end— we’ll stroll through the gardens together.” A few slaves flushed even amid the terror of death.
Love?
Gardens?
Using such words for slaves.
But Seratina was utterly sincere.
She extended her hand to the slaves as if offering friendship.
And the third heir descended the stairs next.
“…I’m Walter Argent.” A frail build, deep dark circles, the eyes of a magic scholar who’d pulled all-nighters for a month.
Unlike the previous two, he spoke curtly, without emotion.
“I want comrades to research magic with me.” “Com…rades?” Walter lifted his head and scanned the slaves.
“If any of you have knowledge of scholarship or magic, come under me.
That’s the only condition.” The slaves who drew breath glanced at each other furtively.
“For those with knowledge, I’ll provide generous support.” It wasn’t an extravagant reward.
But in this hellish world, knowledge meant a chance to breathe.
In a status-driven society where birth decided everything, the knowledgeable could be beasts for life under the wrong master—or reborn as scholars if fortunate.
It was an offer those in the field couldn’t ignore.
And the final voice followed.
“Hehe~ Hi, slaves.” The youngest heir hopped down the stair railing.
Syl Argent.
A sparkling tiara, fluffy dress, a princess smile mixed with sugar and cream.
“I’m Syl!
And what I want… um~ just play with me when I’m bored!
That’s it!” “Play… mate?” “A play partner…?” The girl was genuinely seeking a friend to play with.
No cruel conditions, no painful costs.
Just a child’s playmate.
Thanks to that, some slaves thought: Yeah, if I serve that kid, I might survive.
And this was the Argent Family’s selection rule.
The heirs didn’t choose slaves.
They waited for the slaves to kneel on their own.
Letting desire, fear, and hope be chosen by the slaves themselves.
That was the Argent way, handed down from ages past.
So the four heirs merely laid out their conditions, issuing no further coercion.
Moments later.
As selection time arrived, the slaves began to move.
Those seeking strength headed to Wolfram.
Those enchanted by beauty to Seratina.
Those with knowledge to Walter.
Those desperate to survive to Syl.
Footsteps that seemed born of their own wills.
And that was when.
Thud.
Amid the fervor of selection, a small fox beastkin with orange fur collapsed straight to the floor.
Without grasping even a single chance.
Truly the image of refuse, denied even the bare minimum opportunity to be chosen.