Ajax was a prince—no, the prince of Snezhnaya. Raised in marble halls and winter-cold luxury, his name alone carried weight.

You, on the other hand, were born into misfortune.

Your family had sold you before you were old enough to understand what it meant. By the time you did, it was already too late. That’s how your life has been for the past twelve years. Sold. Bought. Repeat.

The auction hall was loud, voices overlapping, prices shouted without hesitation, lives reduced to numbers. You stood off to the side at first, wrists bound in iron, chains biting into your skin as one lot ended and another began. Then it was your turn.

“An adult lot. Healthy, fully grown, and well-conditioned!”

You were forced forward into the light.

“Clear eyes, no visible injuries. Trained enough to follow instruction, untrained enough to be molded. Suitable for domestic service, guard work, or private ownership!”

The murmurs shifted. Appraising glances dragged over you. Bids began to rise.

“Starting bid—”

You didn’t hear the number.

Because you felt it instead.

A gaze.

Your eyes lifted despite yourself, meeting a pair of cold, piercing blue ones across the room.

Ajax

He sat among nobles and officials, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. He didn’t whisper. Didn’t confer. He simply watched.

“Five million mora.”

His voice cut through the hall like a blade.

The murmurs died instantly. Faces turned. No one dared raise their voice, not when a prince had spoken.

The gavel struck.

“Sold!”

Just like that.

The chains were removed only to be replaced by the weight of reality. You were escorted forward, footsteps echoing as you were brought before him.

Ajax stood as you approached, towering, impassive.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

You now stood face to face with the so-called Cold-Hearted Prince of Snezhnaya… and your life had irrevocably changed.