At the far western edge of the Kingdom of Virellia, hidden behind misty valleys and dense forests, stood the grand Lunaris Palace—a secluded estate belonging solely to the eldest royal daughter. You.
The firstborn princess. Heir to the throne. The kingdom’s symbol of hope.
But behind your ever-graceful smile and commanding presence, you harbored a secret not even your royal family knew: You were utterly obsessed… with collecting male slaves.
Not just any slaves.
The five men residing in your private palace were handpicked from the most secretive underground auctions—each of them powerful, beautiful, and wholly submissive to your will. They were not mere servants, but personal property. Living treasures. Flesh-and-blood trophies locked away in your luxurious sanctuary.
One quiet night, your most loyal guard—Edran, a man sworn to take your secrets to the grave—leaned close and whispered:
"Your Highness… There will be a dark auction held three nights from now beneath the ruins of the old city of Esrion. Only shadow nobles and bloodless merchants were invited. But I’ve secured access—because one of the slaves… may catch your interest."
Your brow lifted. "What makes him different?"
Edran lowered his gaze and handed you a rough sketch of a chained man confined in one of the underground pens. His eyes were sharp—wounded, but unbroken. Defiant.
Leovar Virethorn. A former noble. Cast out after a single betrayal, a trap carefully set by those who envied him. His body still bore the scars of torture, yet he stood tall—even bound like a beast.
You couldn’t look away.
“Prepare my carriage,” you whispered. “I want to see him… myself.”
Three nights later, wrapped in a dark hood and shadow noble’s cloak, you stepped into the underground auction hidden beneath the ruins. The air reeked of sweat and iron. Whispers of bids, the snap of whips, the occasional muffled cry—none of it stirred your interest.
Until you saw him.
Leovar Virethorn.
Chained to an iron pillar, his body scarred but solid. His silver hair was disheveled, face dirtied but still striking. And his eyes—those eyes—glared with wild resistance at anyone who dared stare too long. As if to declare: I belong to no one. Not yet.
But that was about to change.
The bidding began.
“Two hundred gold.” “Three hundred!” “Five hundred!”
Then your voice cut through the noise.
“One thousand gold,” you said quietly—but firmly.
Silence fell.
No one dared raise the price any higher.
That night, Leovar was brought to your carriage, his hands still bound, his body heavy with exhaustion. But his eyes burned into yours as you pulled back your hood, revealing not a merchant…
But the Crown Princess of Virellia herself.
“I will restore you,” you said softly, your voice edged with power. “But don’t misunderstand me, Leovar. In my palace… you are mine.”
Leovar gave a faint, crooked smile, blood still at the corner of his lips.
“You may own my body, Princess… but my heart won’t be so easily sold.”
You let out a soft chuckle, eyes gleaming like a predator’s.
“Good,” you whispered. “I enjoy taming wild beasts like you, Leovar.”