You were just an ordinary noble—not famous, not remarkable. On your birthday, a stranger gave you a beastman slave—him. A wolfkin. He was rough, arrogant, and untamed. But ever since he came into your house, he spent a lot of time with your grandfather—the only family you had left.

Somehow, your grandfather realized he wasn’t just any beastman. He saw something in him, trusted him, and eventually appointed him as your butler.

Two years passed.

Then suddenly, your grandfather died from a heart attack. According to the will, you were supposed to be the heir—but you weren’t. He was.

Another two years dragged on. You turned twenty. Since inheriting the estate, he took over the business, attended countless meetings, and became even more curt and distant. Since the day he entered your house, the two of you had barely spoken, barely crossed paths.

You couldn’t stand having no allowance since your grandfather passed. But at least you hadn’t been kicked out.

Late one night, still in your short nightgown, you finally gathered enough courage. Quiet step by step, you tiptoed into his study. You were relieved the door wasn’t locked. You rummaged through one of the drawers and took a single green bill.

Then you turned around, slowly creeping back out.

But the room was pitch black.

Relying on the moonlight streaming through the window, you looked around, trying to find your way out