CHAPTER 131: A CRUEL MASTER?

Chapter 129: A Cruel Master?

As the contract was sealed and the deal struck, Ethan’s gaze drifted to the band around Sylvie’s neck. A simple black iron collar—rough, heavy, and ugly. His lip curled faintly in distaste.

But Sylvie’s caramel eyes flickered, and she lowered her head at once. In her silence, she mistook that look. To her, it wasn’t the collar that disgusted him—it was her. Already, she believed he hated the very sight of her.

Ethan broke the quiet. "Do you have other slave collars?"

The merchant’s polished smile widened knowingly. "I anticipated as much, esteemed sir. I prepared some for your consideration."

At his gesture, a servant entered carrying a velvet-lined tray. Upon it lay several collars, each crafted with different metals and designs.

One was silver-edged leather, simple yet elegant. Another was bronze, etched with binding runes that glowed faintly. A third was dark steel with crimson gemstones embedded, more intimidating than beautiful.

And then Ethan’s eyes caught on one that seemed made for her. A band of white alloy, trimmed in faintly gilded filigree. Modest, yet radiant. It would rest against her golden hair and fair skin like sunlight framed by holiness—perfect for the cleric-like attire he already envisioned for her.

He tapped a finger at it. "That one."

"An exquisite choice," the trader said smoothly. "Hand-forged. Six gold."

"I’ll take it."

At once, Lirael’s voice spiked across the bond, sharp with incredulity. Again with the extravagance? You don’t even try to reduce the price of anything!

Ethan’s lips curved faintly as he replied without looking at her. Haggling isn’t in my CEO nature. And being scammed? Don’t worry. I know when someone tries. This isn’t it.

Lirael rolled her eyes so hard he could almost feel it through the link. Insufferable.

The trader’s hands were deft, replacing the iron band with the new one. The white-and-gold collar clicked shut around Sylvie’s slender neck, its surface gleaming in the light. She touched it briefly, fingers trembling, not knowing what to feel—relief, fear, or gratitude.

The merchant stepped back with a bow. "Sir truly has impeccable taste. Should you require anything more, know that our house will always welcome you."

Ethan gave a curt nod. "We’re done here."

The heavy doors of the merchant’s hall closed behind them, muffling the noise of bargaining voices within. Ethan and Lirael stepped into the sunlight, Sylvie following a respectful step behind her collar glinting by the afternoon sun. She kept her head lowered, her golden hair falling like a curtain to conceal her expression.

Ethan took the moment to pull open her updated status screen. A faint shimmer of the Hollow Crown interface hovered beside it, displaying an option.

---

[Inspect: Sylvie Hartwell]

Designation: Servant (Activate Hollow Crown Overtake?)

Name: Sylvie Hartwell

Age: 20

Race: Human (Awakened)

Class: Saintess (Holy Lock)

Level: 10 (432 / 117,353)

Unallocated Stat Points: 40 (Inaccessible) (20) [Assignable]

Strength: 1.5

Vitality: 2.5

Constitution: 2.0

Agility: 1.5

Stamina: 2.0

Intelligence: 3.0

Mana: 1.5

Skills:

[Luminous Mend] – A single-target heal, instantly closes severe wounds.

Class Skills: {Locked}

[Purity’s Embrace] – Removes curses, poisons, charms, and negative status effects.

[Grace of the Saintess] – Gradually restores stamina/mana to allies while boosting recovery speed.

[Saintess’s Judgement] – Holy light smites undead, evil, or corrupted beings, dealing damage and purifying corruption.

Potential locked.

A restrictive Holy Curse has been placed upon her by a High Priest, binding her abilities and preventing growth. Until lifted, her saintly powers remain sealed.

---

Ethan’s eyes lingered on the last skill. Saintess’s Judgement... smites undead? His brow furrowed, thoughts sharp.

System, he asked silently, will her skills harm my soldiers? They’re undead.

The reply came instantly, its tone clinical, devoid of sympathy.

[System Response: Negative. The undead referenced are naturally occurring or improperly created. Host’s undead soldiers are pure constructs. They will not be harmed. On the contrary, they will benefit from her blessings.]

A slow grin tugged at Ethan’s lips. ’Now that... is nice.’

But then his gaze returned to the glaring line—Holy Lock. His smile faded. System, can I remove it?

The cold voice answered.

[System Response: Removal of Holy Lock requires a holy unsealing skill of sufficient grade. The lowest functional skill is [Unseal], cost: 200,000 SP. The lock originates from divine authority and cannot be bypassed by System intervention. Unlike Lirael Vaerune’s case, this seal is directly connected to a god.]

Ethan nearly choked. His breath left in a rough exhale. ’Two hundred... thousand?’

For a moment, he could almost taste blood in his throat. He dragged a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. ’And here I was planning to buy that SSS-rank blade skill...’ His fingers tightened into a fist. ’...But I guess this comes first.’

Behind him, Sylvie’s caramel eyes flickered up at him for a fleeting instant. She hadn’t spoken a word, but the way she watched him—cautious, almost fearful—suggested she had sensed his reaction. Lirael, by his side, noticed too, but said nothing yet.

The sun hung high, spilling golden light across the town as Ethan, Lirael, and Sylvie made their way toward the market square. The air carried the scent of roasting meats and spice-laden stalls, mingling with the clamor of merchants hawking their wares.

Without warning, Ethan’s voice cut through the bustle. Low. Sharp. Serious.

"Sylvie, was it?"

She froze mid-step, her fingers clutching at the hem of her dress. "Y-yes, m-master," she stammered, voice trembling.

He didn’t look at her right away. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, tone steady and merciless. "From now on, you will do as I say. You understand?"

A faint quiver passed through her shoulders. "...Y-yes, master."

"Good," Ethan continued, his voice deceptively calm. "You will prepare my meals when we camp. You will serve as my second maid, obeying any task I set before you."

Sylvie’s throat worked as she swallowed, already expecting harsh demands. Her breath grew shallow, as though each word pressed a weight on her chest.

"And finally..." Ethan’s tone dropped, deliberately cruel, savoring each syllable. "...at night, you will sleep with me, ofcourse you know what it means right?"

Sylvie’s eyes widened. Her lips parted in shock, and though she tried to remain composed, a shimmer of tears welled at the corners. She had known, deep down, that this kind of treatment was inevitable—that a master who bought her would eventually claim her body as part of the price. Still, hearing the words aloud felt like a knife slipping between her ribs.

Ethan’s gaze flicked to her then, unyielding. "Do you understand?"

Her voice came broken, barely a whisper. "Y-yes, master."

Behind them, Lirael walked with folded arms and an unmistakable smirk tugging at her lips. The bond between her and Ethan carried the faint thrum of his amusement, and she recognized it instantly. ’Oh, you bastard... you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

Her amber eyes slid toward Sylvie, whose head was bowed, face pale with dread. And Ethan—she could tell by the glint in his eyes—was relishing the act of tormenting this poor soul.

Finally, Lirael sighed, shaking her head with mock exasperation. Enough playacting, Ethan. If you push her any further, she’ll faint before we even reach the market.