Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 33: Hunt [3]

Just as those words left Renard’s lips—

Iris stiffened.

Her body moved on instinct.

And she stepped closer to Alaric. Almost brushing his arm.

As if she felt safer near him.As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Alaric didn’t move.

But his eyes narrowed and locked onto Renard.

The smile on Renard’s face twitched into something sharper.

He met Alaric’s gaze. Held it. Grinned wider.

Then Ferick spoke, voice half-filled with wine and curiosity.

"So... which one do you want to take with you, Lord Renard?"

Renard didn’t look at him right away.

He turned to Iris instead.

Studied her, then looked back.

"Maybe..." he said slowly, the words dragging, "I should see for myself how your household produces the fresh ones."

Iris flinched. Barely. But enough.

Ferick’s face tensed, flickering between confusion and discomfort.

Or perhaps loss?

But Renard caught it. Every twitch of it.

And smiled.

"Oh, don’t look like that." He leaned back, eyes glittering. "Since I said I was being generous, and you still offered me two servants..."

He raised a finger, tapping the air once.

"Then how about this I’ll let you borrow the girl who came with me. For as long as I have your maid."

There was a brief silence.

Then Ferick burst out laughing, the earlier unease vanishing like it was never there.

"You’re too generous, milord. Truly!"

He raised his cup, sloshing wine across the tablecloth.

Renard just leaned back, pleased.

But Alaric’s eyes didn’t leave him.

And Iris stood frozen beside him, fingers curled tight in her apron.

Renard smirked one last time, letting his eyes flick between Alaric and Iris. Then he turned back to the hosts.

"Tonight will be my last here."A pause."I’ll depart by morning."

He shifted his gaze to Selene and dipped his head lightly.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Selene."

Selene set her fork down.

"It was nothing, milord."

Her voice held the same calm. But her eyes didn’t linger on him.

They spoke for a few more minutes, empty courtesies, strained pleasantries.

Then, one by one, they left the hall.

Footsteps faded into the dark.

Doors shut.

And night took over the estate.

The moon hung high above the manor rooftops.

Clouds drifted lazily across its face, throwing silver shadows across the grounds.The wind returned to its slow breeze’s, brushing past the walls and windows, unnoticed by those asleep inside.

Except one.

Sniff! Sniff!

Soft sobs echoed low in the quiet.

In the corner of the servant’s quarters, barely lit, barely warm.

There a lone figure sat curled up, hugging her knees close.

Silver hair framed her face, hiding the tears slipping down from her amber eyes.

Iris didn’t make a sound beyond those broken breaths.

Just tried to breathe through it.Tried not to be heard.

But then—

Tap! Tap!

The sound of footsteps approached.

Slow and unhurried.

The boy with ash-brown hair stepped into the room.

He didn’t say anything.Didn’t ask.

He just sat beside her.

Close, but not too close.

And waited.

Letting the silence hold them both.

Just as Alaric saw her, sitting there.

He clenched his jaw. But didn’t spoke.

Well...

What the hell could he even say?

Are you alright?Everything will be fine?

Bullshit.

What kind of questions were those?

She was just, offered.

Not reassigned. Not promoted.

Traded.

Like a piece of silver on the wrong side of the ledger.

And not to any other noble, but him.

That lecherous bastard who walked in with a slave girl already in chains.

Who eyed every maid like they were part of the menu.Who even dared to flirt with Selene, drunk on wine and ego.And failed but not for lack of trying.

And now, Iris.

To him.

To that man.

What was he supposed to say?

What could anyone say to calm a person who was just handed off like livestock?

There was no comfort in that. No safety net. No lie to make it better.

She had worked. She gave her best. Every day.

And in return?

They offered her up. Sent her into the wolf’s den with a polite smile and a fake excuse.

Knowing what waited there.

Knowing.

But it didn’t matter to them.

Because people like her, like him.

They weren’t people.

They were just tools.

To be used. Discarded. Sold. Traded.

That’s all.

And still, she sat there. Quiet. Crying.

Alaric looked at her.

And for the first time in a long while...

He didn’t feel like a slave kr servant.

He felt like a blade.Waiting.

What kind of world was this?

Where a girl who gave her loyalty, her effort, was still nothing more than a bargaining chip.

Where men like Renard, drunk on ego and lust, could stroll into another man’s home, make demands, and walk away with something that wasn’t even theirs to begin with.

Where a nod from the wrong head could ruin a life.

It wasn’t about the rules. It wasn’t about status. It wasn’t even about power.

It was about the freedom to disregard someone’s worth.

That was the real weight pressing down here.

Alaric sat still, jaw tight.

He had seen it before. In his previous life. On battlefields. In the courts behind thrones and velvet curtains.

But seeing it here, quiet, subtle, dressed in politeness, made it worse.

Because no one screamed. No one protested. No one even blinked.

They all just played along.

And Ferick.

At the name of being able to his hands on that slave girl.

His laughter had come too fast. Too easy.

Like trading her off was just good business.

Alaric clenched his fists.

He now knew that feeling.

Being passed around.

Labeled. Assigned. Reassigned. As if your name meant nothing.

And even if he did say something now, what would it change?

She wasn’t stupid. She saw it all. Lived it.

And the worst part?

She didn’t scream either.

She cried. Quietly. Alone.

And then she stopped.

And even though her eyes were red, even though her cheeks were still damp.

Just... emptied.

Alaric shifted slightly.

"Hey—"

He opened his mouth.

But no words came after that.

Not because he didn’t have them.

He had plenty.

But none of them mattered.

Not here.

Not now.

Then he stiffened a little, when he felt her head rest gently against his shoulder.

He turned his head. Saw her staring ahead, blankly.

Her tears had been stopped, breathing was steady.

Her lips parted, barely moving and came a crack voice.

"Pathetic."

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