Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: The Conditions for Becoming Best Friends
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Vision blurred.
The floor seemed to tilt, sending waves of dizziness crashing through her.
In her mouth, the metallic tang of blood—reminiscent of the days she'd swallowed it down during torture—spread slowly.
It was strange.
She hadn't been hit anywhere. No injuries. She was breathing just fine.
Yet her body remembered.
Those times when someone else hurt in her place, while she stood unharmed—and how that had been even more horrifying.
And now, that exact situation was unfolding again.
"Piel, let me ask you one more time. Will you be my friend?"
Syl Argent's voice was genuinely kind, without a trace of pretense.
"Th-that's…!"
"Hee hee. It's okay. You can keep thinking about it. Making friends is hard to begin with. I totally get it."
Her words were kind. Her expression was kind.
The problem… was her actions.
Who knew how many times it had happened already.
Three? Four? No, more?
Syl confessing her desire to be friends.
Piel unable to respond.
And every time that silence fell—
Pfook.
A needle slid precisely between the nails of one of Syl's 'friends' standing nearby.
"Thank you, Minerva. I feel so much better thanks to you. I love having friends like you."
"N-no… problem… Miss… I-I'm the one… honored…!"
A trickle of blood ran down the finger of the girl called Minerva.
Her face trembled, tears welled up, but her expression held a smile to the end.
That smile twisted Piel's stomach.
Her tail curled instinctively under her body.
Sc-scary…
Scary.
Scary scary scary…!
She didn't want to see any more.
Not the horrific sound of the needle piercing under a nail, nor the 'smiling faces' of those forced to endure it.
She wanted to escape this place right now. Even on all fours, if she had to.
And return to her master's arms—where he'd held her warmly and shared meat from the floor.
Master Lucas had warned her.
Never get close to any of the four Argent heirs.
Never.
Absolutely never.
Yet she'd thought, 'She seems okay,' and broken that taboo on her own, excitedly drawing the attention of one of them.
And now, she was paying the price.
Plip. Plop.
"Oh my? Oh dear oh dear oh dear—!!!"
"Hic… sob…!"
It would have been better if she'd been the one punished.
Far more bearable to stab, hit, and torture her own hand.
But now, someone was getting hurt because of her.
And that 'someone' overlapped with memories.
Amid the slaves trembling and smiling under the needles, the figure Piel recalled… was her mother.
Her mother, who took the torture meant for her, lost the ability to run, went blind, rotted away—and never lost her smile.
Piel was a slave.
She had no right to tell a noble lady, 'Please stop.' And she couldn't betray Master Lucas.
That would be more terrifying than death.
Unable to do anything, more people suffered in her place as time dragged on.
Her body shook.
And then Piel's reaction was none other than tears.
Clear droplets spilled from beneath her orange eyes, flooding down her face in an instant.
"S-sorry…! I was wrong, Lady Syl! P-please… punish me instead!"
Those words weren't rebellion—just a desperate cry to save everyone.
But—
"Oh, Piel…!"
Syl's voice trembled.
"How… how can even your crying face be this cute…? Ah, aah!"
The lady's eyes sparkled.
Flowing tears, slumped posture, trembling shoulders—eyes that found it all adorable.
"Slumping down like that… m-my heart's pounding!"
Syl's toes came right up to her face.
And the next moment—
As if she'd been holding back, she dropped the bundle of needles to the floor and pulled Piel into a tight hug.
So tight it choked her breath!
"Sorry, Piel… I didn't mean to make you cry. But how… how can there be a child who cries for others like this? It's a purity you never see in the city. You're completely… a 'gem.'"
"Hic… hueeeng…."
"That's right. Cry in my arms. When a friend cries, you hug them—that's only natural. Ah… this moment feels like a gift to me."
Piel burst into tears just like that.
Even though it was in the arms of the very person who'd made her cry, it felt warmer than expected.
No, more precisely… it was relief that it was 'over.'
Far better to be hugged and soothed like this than to watch someone suffer in her place.
But the peace didn't last.
"Piel."
Syl whispered right by her ear.
"You're right. Forget me asking you to be my slave…"
"Th-thank you, Lady Syl…!"
"But—"
Syl's eyes curved slightly.
A smile… but one that chilled her to the bone.
"What I wanted wasn't a 'slave.' It was you, Piel. I've been waiting for a girl like you to come to me first and say, 'Let's be friends.'"
"…Huh?"
Snap.
As Syl snapped her fingers again, the smiles of the slaves standing like decorations on either side froze for an instant.
They parted, making way, and one slave carefully carried out a wooden box from between them.
Her face smiled… but her eyes trembled more than ever before.
"Piel!"
Syl spread her arms wide, calling out joyfully.
"I like you way too much! So let's not just be friends—let's be besties!"
"Bes… ties?"
"Yeah! Friends among friends! Sharing tastes, favorites… becoming just like each other."
She lightly tapped the wooden box and added,
"It's time to dye this blank slate of yours… in my colors, pretty and all."
The moment the box opened, Piel's nose twitched.
It was a smell anyone—not just a beastkin—could detect.
Damp iron and the stale fishiness of dried blood.
What Syl pulled out was an 'axe.'
But ridiculously cute.
Adorned with flashy decorations and jewels like a child's toy, the handle sparkling like a princess accessory.
But the blade was different.
Under the polish, layers of crusted bloodstains clung stubbornly.
As if Syl had left them there on purpose.
Yes, like a 'medal.'
Syl lifted the axe lightly in one hand and smiled.
That smile was different from before.
The kindness and gentleness had evaporated… leaving only madness.
"Piel. First, I'll show you a demo. From now on, I'm going to chop off one of my friends' fingers with this axe."
"…Huh?"
"Then you do it after me. Besties have to become alike, after all."
Piel couldn't speak for a moment.
Terror surged up, enough to knock her brain offline before words could form.
Cut off… a finger? For real… just like that?
That was when it happened.
Schwick.
"Ghup… grrgh!"
"Oh dear, Laira. Did it hurt a lot? Did I… hurt my friend?"
"Ghup… N-no… it doesn't hurt at all… Miss Syl…!"
Thud. The severed finger hit the floor.
The slave Laira, dressed in a glamorous gown today, swallowed ragged breaths with bloodshot eyes, her body convulsing in pain—yet forcing her lips into a smile.
The moment Piel saw that pain mingled with the smile, an old nightmare clawed at her throat, choking her breath.
Deep in her chest, long-dormant terror awoke and gripped her heart.
And Syl's eyes.
The blue irises rippled coldly, a thread of blood-red mixing in.
Those beautiful pupils twisted, for an instant, into demonic madness.
"Kyahaha! Friends are the best. They understand no matter what I do."
As Piel instinctively stepped back, Syl closed the distance in a flash and forced the axe—just used—into the foxkin's paw.
"Okay, Piel's turn!"
"H-heh…? Wh-what?"
"Hee hee. It's fine. They're all my friends, so they'll totally~ understand. Right, everyone?"
The slaves nodded in unison, smiling faces.
Swallowing tears.
Even Laira, missing a finger.
"Y-yes, Miss Syl…."
Piel's fingertips trembled violently.
It wasn't the axe's weight anymore—the dead-end situation crushed her slender wrist.
"Melda. Come here. Your fingers are so delicate… perfect for a beginner like Piel to chop right off. Right?"
"O-of course, Miss Syl…."
The girl stepped forward on shaking legs.
A cute, petite girl in an orange dress matching Piel's hair stood before Syl.
She clenched her right hand briefly, then silently extended her finger.
Accepting her fate.
Syl gazed at her with horrifying gentleness, guiding Piel's hand—axe gripped—to position perfectly above Melda's finger.
"Okay, Piel. Now do it."
"N-no… I can't… absolutely not…!"
"Aw, come on~ Oh, are you nervous? Then let me tell you a fun story to loosen you up."
And Syl, grinning like she was sharing a secret with a friend, said,
"Piel. This friend of mine, Melda? Her whole family—mom, dad, and Melda—were all sold to the Argent Family at once."
"Th-the whole family?"
"Yep! But I took a liking to Melda. So I promised her. 'If you stay my friend forever, I'll protect your parents in my name.'"
Piel swallowed silently.
Syl beamed carelessly and added,
"So Melda's parents are free from slavery now, living in the city."
On the surface, a tale of a filial daughter.
But to Piel's ears, it sounded like:
'Fail to play friend, and her parents drop back to their old place.'
And Melda knew it too.
So with the uneasy smile of one enduring pain, she nodded at Piel staring at her.
Please do it. Please… I beg you.
That was her gaze.
"Oh my, Melda! Crying from joy at being Piel's first practice partner? How thoughtful can you be! Piel, you won't… throw away Melda's feelings, right?"
"I-I-I… I…!"
No.
I hate it.
Piel's hand shook so badly the axe nearly slipped.
She hated the axe, hated cutting Melda's finger, but most of all, hated that she had created this whole mess.
But refusing would destroy Melda's family because of her.
In the end, Piel squeezed her eyes shut like swallowing her breath.
As if there were no other choice left.
"U… uwaaaaaah!"
Her face twisted in sobs, a scream-like shout—and the axe flashed up.
The very instant her trembling arm swung down.
Grab.
The axe halted mid-air.
Someone's cold hand had seized the handle from Piel's grip, yanking it away.
And a low, curt voice.
"What the hell are you doing here."
Piel jerked her head up.
"M-Master…?"
A 'shadow' fell over Syl Argent's face for the first time.
Her smile shattered, her eyes froze over.
Lucas wrenched the axe from Piel's hand, glanced once at her tear-streaked face, then slowly turned to Syl.
And in a perfectly calm tone, with rage bubbling beneath, he said,
"…Fuck."
"F-fu… ck?"
"Yeah. You fucking bitch. You? The little shit who pulled this crap on my slave?"