CHAPTER 983: CHAPTER 150 - AYANE KITSUNE (1)

I always thought the world outside would be brighter and livelier—something far more exciting than the suffocating place I was born into. The walls of my tribe felt like a cage, every breath a little harder to take, every day dragging on like a chain tied to my neck. I wanted out. I wanted to feel the wind that wasn’t trapped between those same trees and the same dirt paths I’d known all my life. Maybe I was just being stubborn, maybe even foolish, but back then, I didn’t care. I didn’t know what awaited me, and honestly, I didn’t think about it. I just wanted freedom.

But that choice... was the biggest mistake I ever made.

When I escaped the tribe, I didn’t get far. I was captured almost immediately. It happened so fast that I barely had time to understand what was going on. The person who caught me used some strange ability—something invisible and overwhelming. It wrapped around me before I could even move, and in that moment, I knew I was done for. My body froze, my heart screamed, and I could only think one thing and that was that I’m never going home again.

I regretted it—every stubborn thought as well as every step I took away from the tribe.

By the time I reached the place they were taking me, my legs were trembling. I was terrified. The sight that greeted me made my stomach twist. There were women everywhere, their eyes hollow, faces pale. Some looked like they’d already given up, like they knew exactly what was coming. I was naive then, too naive to understand, but even I could feel it—the dread thick in the air, clinging to my skin like a curse. Whatever I thought the outside world was... it wasn’t this. Everything I’d hoped for had turned into something I could only describe as hell.

Lady Martha was the only reason I didn’t completely break. She was kind, gentle even. She couldn’t go against her brother—the one who ran the whole place—but she did what she could to ease our suffering. Little things, like making sure we had food, or shielding us from his rage. I could tell she wanted to help, even though she couldn’t change our fate.

And then came the lessons—ones I never wanted to learn. They taught us how to please a man. How to touch. How to move. How to make sounds that would make them pay more. I didn’t understand at first, but soon, it became clear—the place I’d been sold to was a brothel. A place where women sold their bodies to survive. I was terrified beyond words. My hands shook every day, my chest heavy with fear. But what could I do? I was the one who left home. It was my fault. So I accepted it. I let myself become what they wanted me to be.

Then one day, out of nowhere, I was saved.

Or... that’s what I thought.

The man who took me from there wasn’t what I expected. He was strange and hard to understand. At first, I thought he was just as vile as the others. He had many women under his roof, and every night I could hear him, the sound echoing through the halls like some sort of twisted rhythm. It was unsettling. He seemed addicted to sex, always with someone new.

But the more I watched him, the more I realized he was different. Beneath that lewd exterior, there was something else. It was respect, maybe even restraint. It was odd. For someone so obsessed with sex, he never forced himself on anyone. Despite owning us, he never touched those who didn’t want it. Not once. He only slept with women who willingly went to him. That alone made him stand out from any men I’d seen before.

Over the years, I began to see more of him. How he treated people. How he talked. The way he looked after the others, even if he didn’t have to. Slowly, all the fear and doubt that had built up inside me started to fade away. In its place, something new began to grow—something I couldn’t ignore.

I didn’t realize it at first, but I’d fallen for him.

Love... it felt strange. I used to think it was a foolish thing, something that only caused pain. But when it started to bloom inside me, it felt warm. Gentle. It made me feel alive again. I didn’t hate it. In fact, it scared me how much I liked it.

But unlike the other girls, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it. They were bold, always clinging to him, always teasing. I couldn’t even hold a proper conversation with him. Every time I tried, my voice would falter, my hands would fidget, and I’d lose the courage halfway through.

I didn’t understand why—until I remembered who I was. A Kitsune.

We’re proud, stubborn creatures. We don’t confess feelings with words. We show them through instinct—through touch, scent, and movement. Kitsunes attract their partners by releasing pheromones, by spreading their tails, by letting nature take its course. We don’t say "I love you." We show it. Mating is our confession.

But Master Leon... he isn’t a Kitsune. My instincts mean nothing to him. He doesn’t feel the pull the same way I do. Sometimes, I get the sense that he barely even notices me. Maybe he just doesn’t find me attractive. And that’s fine—at least, that’s what I tell myself.

Two years. Two long years. And still, he never looked at me the way I hoped he would. I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter, but the more I saw him, the harder it became to ignore this ache in my chest.

Every time I thought about it, I found myself confiding in Eiju. Talking to him made me realize just how deep my feelings had grown. It was ridiculous, really. How someone like me could feel something so strong for a man who probably didn’t even see me that way.