Shinohara Yukiko: A Life of Dutiful Shadows
To Shinohara Yukiko, life was nothing more than a collection of uncomfortable, painful obligations.
Her earliest memory was of herself apologizing to her adoptive mother.
Before she was old enough to discern right from wrong, her birth mother died. Before the young Yukiko could even grasp what death meant, she was handed over into her adoptive mother's care.
Without understanding the words' meaning, Yukiko was forced to apologize for her birth mother being a lewd whore who had seduced her father in the most despicable way.
The women of the Shinohara family were raised mostly to be offered up to men of high standing, and Yukiko—who had been included in the family precisely for that purpose—had to be especially meticulous.
She learned countless skills: cooking, cleaning, etiquette, how to choose clothing, techniques to satisfy a man. Every failure meant being locked in a tiny closet, forced to curl up in the darkness alone for hours on end, silently reflecting on her mistakes.
After years of such training, one thing she could never master was smiling. No one ever smiled at her directly; sidelong glances seemed awkward, and smiles in photos felt utterly unreal. She was never meant to smile in life, nor did she have any reason to. It was impossible to conjure one on demand just because it was needed.
The war claimed countless lives, and the family declined. A house that had always sold women's beauty for power crumbled quickly once there were no men left to buy their smiles.
The family's fall due to the war was especially harsh. The survivors debated whether to embrace the new era or reject it—specifically, whether sending the family's women into foreign slavery counted as selling them at a "fair price" or dirt cheap.
And so, the first to be sold on the new market was Yukiko, the defective one.
"Memorize this. It's information on your future... husband. Master. God, so vulgar..."
The papers her adoptive mother handed her were filled with excessively detailed notes on one man's hobbies, preferences, and related trivia.
This wasn't the first time Yukiko had received such information, but this batch felt markedly different. Usually, it listed favorite sports like golf or horse racing, with sexual preferences verified through testimonies from women at his regular establishments.
But this man was ordinary. His favorite games, comics, and anime were listed out in full. Before the war, no one would have pegged him for upper society.
"No real personality to speak of... Still, his wealth and connections are legit. No records of spending, but plenty of proof he made it all through investments."
"Is he talented at investing, then?"
"From what I see, it's just money he tossed away without a thought that ballooned back. His real value is the connections. From the same unit as that 'Demon General', no less. Plenty of witnesses say they were thick as thieves."
Yukiko's adoptive mother twisted her face in disgust at the mention of the Demon General, as if she'd seen something horrific and repulsive. Yukiko showed no change in expression.
"You don't need to play or watch every game or anime. Just understand enough to nod along at drinking parties."
"Understood."
"He has no other slaves, but he's no womanizer either. Better to be his one and only than just another face among dozens vying for influence. Even if he ends up loving you, it's still the better deal."
Yukiko sat quietly without a word. The family's glory, her own power—none of it piqued her interest.
"Don't forget: serve your master even if it breaks your body. Once you earn his trust, worm into his finances, get him to invest in our family businesses, and use his Demon General connection to loosen regulations."
Her adoptive mother was an emotional woman, but the moment she looked at Yukiko, her eyes turned hollow and emotionless—just like her daughter's.
"You owe it to the family that took you in."
While observing her competitors at the slave market, Yukiko stowed away the lewd outfit she'd prepared. What mattered wasn't exposure—it was drawing eyes.
Unlike the others, who had hastily become reserve slaves for economic reasons, Yukiko was a "prepared" one. Ironically, that let her display the refinement they had never needed to cultivate.
She waited and waited, until her prospective master arrived at the market. Those who had waited longer went in first.
The women whose turn it was with Yukiko chattered excitedly about their hopeful fantasies for slave life.
Nude women emerged from the room with slumped, defeated expressions. Some rejoiced at the news that no one had been chosen—"There's still a chance!"—while others wailed that this master wouldn't pick anyone.
When Yukiko's turn came, the women filed into the room, each carrying their own mix of resolve and terror: determination to become a slave by any means, fear of repatriation to a life of poverty.
Amid it all, Yukiko stood out for her composure. She felt nothing, so it was only natural.
During her self-introduction and performance of her "talents," she felt the man's gaze lock onto her.
As it should have, she was chosen. She succeeded in becoming a slave.
But after being selected and following him home, Yukiko faced repeated confusion.
'Why is this man using polite speech with me?'
Superiors spoke casually to inferiors—that was right. It defied Yukiko's common sense, but as a slave, she couldn't correct her master's speech.
The environment was better than the worst she'd imagined. For someone who had braced for sleeping naked in a doghouse on a collar outside, even an empty room was something to be grateful for.
But what happened next truly unsettled her, filling her with genuine confusion and anxiety.
"Aren't you here to rape me?"
The man who had left her in his room spent time outside alone, then slipped back in like a thief.
Yukiko assumed she would be taken and knelt neatly, unmoving.
But his reaction was behavior she couldn't comprehend.
"No. Not like that..."
Yukiko felt a flicker of regret. Should she have left a dim light on? Or if her new master's taste ran to face-fucking, lain down waiting?
"Just... tired, right? I'm tired too. Go to sleep."
Her master fled the room in an instant.
The black lingerie she'd selected back home never drew his eye even once.
For a woman raised to strive for selection and submission, this was utterly unforeseen.
She could have accepted failure at the market as a flaw in her looks or strategy. But buying her for a fortune and then not using her? It made no sense.
While the man slept, Yukiko worked tirelessly. She knew no such thing as a slothful life—effort was second nature to her.
What wasn't familiar was his attitude.
He clearly fixated on her leggings, felt desire for her. He wasn't wasting seed on other women or repulsed by Yukiko.
Yet he never tried to take her.
He averted his eyes upon seeing her, yet insisted she sit before him at meals and eat. His face twisted in awkward discomfort, but when their eyes met, he forced a smile.
Even shopping for furniture, he spent far more than necessary. She thought a single blanket for warmth sufficed, but he disagreed.
After buying furniture so massive she doubted it would fit in the room, he took her clothes shopping—but Yukiko hesitated throughout.
"Why did you make me your slave?"
The sudden question forced her into anxious imaginings.
"So... if there's something you want to do, shall I get you a separate place?"
To Yukiko, this sounded like: 'I know about your family's schemes—get lost.'
No one, no matter how unassuming, would welcome being used.
Failure and reprimand were familiar to her. A decade-plus of preparation crumbling in a moment—not her fault, but still.
"I'm sorry. Please let me serve at your side."
Apologizing came as naturally as breathing, though it had never once been accepted.
But what came back to her, braced for rejection, were words of bewildering kindness.
"If you don't want to, there's no need to live separately. I was just asking your preference."
The man smiled awkwardly, as if regretting his words, and comforted her.
Yukiko couldn't understand her master, Hyun Sung-ha.
If he didn't know about the family plot, why suggest separate living for a slave he'd bought? And if she accepted, what was his intent?
She often encountered people she couldn't fathom. When failing to read intentions, it was safest to take words at face value.