'Why does he look so proud?'
Louis stared at Mika, watching the way the third prince stood tall, his chest puffed out like he had just made the most groundbreaking declaration in history.
He could almost see sparkles radiating around the kid, like some kind of fantasy protagonist delivering a heroic speech.
Louis' eye twitched in irritation.
"No, thank you."
The response was flat, blunt, and delivered with zero hesitation.
Louis walked past Mika, ignoring whatever reaction he had, and sat down on the bed, elbows resting against his knees.
Then, his gaze flicked back to the so-called prince, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Why should I work with you?"
Suspicion laced his tone.
The secret son of the King had come all the way here—to the underground arena—just to ask him to become his bodyguard?
This had to be some kind of hoax.
A joke.
A sick game played by the royals to mock him.
After all—Louis couldn't leave here.
The Leader wouldn't allow it.
And even if someone tried to buy him out, it wouldn't matter.
Especially not someone like Mika.
The Leader had made sure of that.
"What if I told you I have a way to get rid of the Slave Mark?"
The words came swiftly, confidently.
And for the first time, Louis' eyes widened.
The shift was subtle—almost unnoticeable—but Mika caught it instantly.
'This guy knows about the Slave Mark?'
Louis' hands clenched tightly, his muscles stiffening as he turned his gaze sharply toward Mika.
'How? I don't think I've ever seen him here before. The Leader would never interact with someone from royalty…'
Louis held his chin, his thoughts clouded with confusion.
For a moment, he considered the situation, trying to make sense of the third prince's boldness.
Then, with a silent sigh, he shook his head, clearing his mind.
'Whatever… I'll humor him for a bit.'
Louis glanced at Mika, his expression flat, unamused.
"Fine. How do you do it? If you manage to get rid of the mark, I'll be your bodyguard."
It was an empty promise.
Because Louis knew—no one could remove the Slave Mark.
But…
If Mika somehow managed to do it, perhaps Louis would consider working with him.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
"Really?"
Mika's face lit up, his excitement practically radiating off him.
To him, Louis had already agreed.
This was it.
He was finally going to have his peaceful, rich-guy life in another world!
"Take off your clothes! Your mark is on your stomach, right?"
Mika pointed confidently, his tone matter-of-fact.
Louis' eyebrows furrowed slightly, surprise flickering across his face.
'…How did he know?'
Without a word, Louis slowly began to remove his shirt, his muscles flexing slightly as the fabric slid off.
"Now lay down."
Mika's instructions were firm, leaving no room for argument.
Louis hesitated for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking toward the prince.
'Seriously, just who is this guy?'
Still, he complied, lowering himself onto the bed, his back pressing against the mattress as he stared at the ceiling.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Mika approach, his movements deliberate.
'If he knows all about this… maybe there's a ho—'
Before Louis could finish his thought, Mika spit directly onto the mark on his stomach.
For the first time, Louis' expression shifted.
Disbelief.
Pure, unfiltered disbelief.
And then—
Disgust.
As Mika began to smear the saliva across his skin, Louis' thoughts spiraled.
'Is… is it a crime to punch a prince?'
Louis glared at Mika with a dark, murderous expression, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to grab his sword and strike the prince down.
The third prince, oblivious to the danger, continued to smear his saliva on the mark, his focus entirely on the task at hand.
"Maybe I should add more?"
At those words, Louis shot up, his patience snapping.
In one swift motion, he grabbed Mika's face, his grip firm, his glare burning with fury.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with barely-contained rage.
Mika let out a panicked yelp, his hands flying up to grab Louis' wrist.
"Owowowow! Wait! This is how you do it!!"
He tried to explain, his voice rising in desperation, but Louis wasn't having it.
The taller man tightened his grip, his fingers pressing into Mika's cheeks.
"I swear! Just look at the mark!"
Mika pointed frantically at Louis' stomach, his voice cracking under the pressure.
Louis growled, his anger still simmering, but he reluctantly glanced down.
"I swear, if this is some weird fetish of yours, I'll end yo—"
His words cut off abruptly.
Louis' eyes widened, just slightly, as he stared at his stomach.
The Slave Mark—the cursed symbol that had bound him for years—was slowly fading away, its edges dissolving into nothingness.
For a moment, Louis was frozen, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.
He released Mika's face, his hand moving to touch the spot where the mark had been.
His fingers brushed over his skin, now smooth and unmarked.
"It's… really gone…"
Mika rubbed his sore cheeks, the skin already turning red from Louis' earlier grip.
"See? I told you."
His voice carried a mix of triumph and lingering frustration, but his focus remained steady.
Louis stared at his bare skin, his gaze lingering on the spot where the Slave Mark had once been.
Without a word, he grabbed his shirt, pulling it back over his shoulders.
Then, slowly, Louis lowered himself to his knees.
One hand pressed firmly against his chest, right over his heart.
The strongest fighter of the underground arena—a man feared by all—bowed before his new master.
"I, Louis, plead my loyalty to you, my prince."
Mika's eyes widened, the weight of the moment sinking in.
For a brief second, he hesitated, his mind racing.
Then, with a deep breath, Mika closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus.
When he opened them again, his gaze was sharp, unwavering.
His posture straightened, his presence commanding.
A perfect vision of royalty.
When he spoke, his voice was stern, steady, and filled with authority.
"I, Prince Mika Lyre Verhault, expect nothing but great things from you."
He held out his hand toward Louis, his expression firm.
Louis let out a small chuckle, the sound low and almost amused.
Without hesitation, he reached for Mika's hand, his grip strong yet respectful.
Then, leaning forward, Louis pressed his lips gently against the prince's knuckles.
For a moment, their gazes met—heterochromia eyes clashing with vivid red ones.
"I will not disappoint you."
Mika pulled his hand away from Louis, his gaze sharp as he turned on his heel, throwing his arm out in a grand, commanding gesture.
"Then, as my first order—Louis, bring this place down!"
Louis' eyes widened slightly, his expression unreadable for a brief moment.
Then—a smirk.
His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he unsheathed the blade with practiced ease.
"As you wish, my lord."
His voice was steady, unwavering, carrying an edge that promised nothing but absolute destruction.
"Stay behind me. I'll protect you with all my might."
With one swift motion, Louis stepped forward, his sheer presence shifting the air around them.
The wooden door didn't stand a chance—splintering apart as he knocked it down, sending debris scattering into the hallway beyond.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
The first guard barely had time to react before Louis struck, his sword cutting through flesh and armor alike.
The body fell instantly, blood pooling onto the ground.
Louis didn't stop.
He had suffered too many years under them.
They had torn him apart, shackled him in chains, treated him like a tool for their entertainment.
And now?
It was his turn.
He had no mercy for them.
He held no affection for this hell.
He had no hesitation in bringing this place to ruin.
In fact—he'd do it with a goddamn smile on his face.
But his master was watching.
He would show them a bit of mercy.
By killing them in one strike.
'Scary. Scary. Is this what a Blademaster is capable of?'
Mika followed closely behind Louis, his steps cautious as he watched the fighter strike down everyone who dared charge toward them.
Bodies dropped to the floor, blood pooling and staining the ground beneath them.
Mika's breath hitched as he carefully stepped over the puddles, his gaze flicking away from the corpses.
He didn't want to look.
Couldn't look.
But he couldn't stop moving forward either.
"Are you okay, my lord?"
Louis' voice cut through the chaos, steady and calm, even as he parried a spear from a guard, his sword slicing across the man's chest in one fluid motion.
"You can stay behind if this sight makes you sick."
There was a glint in Louis' eyes—a subtle challenge, daring his new master to prove himself.
To see if the sight of death and destruction would break him.
Mika took a shaky, deep breath, the metallic scent of blood filling his lungs.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then, he shook his head, forcing himself to stand firm.
"No. If I keep looking away, there's no use in me being your master."
His voice was steady, serious, his gaze locking onto Louis with unyielding determination.
"Nor will I stop you. This is your revenge, and as your master, this is also my burden."
Louis froze for a moment, his sharp gaze lingering on Mika.
The prince's words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.
Then, without a word, Louis looked away, his sword swinging effortlessly as he struck down another guard.
One hand gripped his weapon, precise and deadly.
The other clutched his chest, right over his heart.
'My heart… It's beating fast… Is he saying he'll carry my sins because I'm now his responsibility?'
'I want to get out of here quickly…'
Mika's face turned pale, nausea creeping into his gut as the overwhelming sight of blood and corpses surrounded him.
He didn't dare look too closely.
The metallic scent hung in the air, thick and suffocating, making his stomach churn violently.
But he couldn't afford to waver.
Not now.
Especially not after delivering such a cool speech earlier.
If he suddenly broke down now, it would be so humiliating.
No. He had to hold it together.
At least until they were out.
Then—
"What's happening here?!"
The booming voice echoed down the hallway, stopping both Mika and Louis in their tracks.
Mika tensed, instinctively ducking behind Louis as he turned to look.
At the end of the corridor stood a noble, flanked by dozens of burly, battle-hardened fighters, their eyes sharp and filled with hostility.
'So… that's the leader of the underground arena.'
Mika peeked cautiously from behind Louis, his gaze flicking toward the man at the center of the crowd.
He didn't bother remembering his name.
Because, frankly?
He was unimportant.
What mattered now was getting out of here alive.
"Louis, what is the meaning of this?!"
The leader's voice boomed down the hallway, his tone sharp with anger as he took in the massacre before him.
His precious fighter—his prized possession—had turned against him, leaving a trail of blood and bodies in his wake.
The leader's eyebrow twitched in rage, his face contorting as veins bulged across his forehead.
"How dare you! Do you know what you just did?!"
Louis didn't flinch.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he swung his sword nonchalantly, the blood splattering off the blade in a clean arc.
"Yeah, and?"
His tone was calm, indifferent, as if the chaos around him was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
The leader's anger boiled over, his voice rising as he jabbed a finger toward Louis.
"You… You know you can't do anything as a slave!!"
His words were laced with venom, his arrogance dripping from every syllable.
"You piece of trash! I control you! I own you, and you think you ca—"
The words died in his throat.
His eyes widened in shock as he watched his outstretched arm fall to the floor, severed cleanly at the shoulder.
Blood spurted violently from the wound, staining the ground beneath him.
"Ah—Arrrghhh!!"
The leader's scream echoed through the corridor, but it was cut short as Louis stabbed his sword through his neck, silencing him instantly.
Louis' expression was inhuman, his gaze cold and unfeeling, like a demon driven by nothing but destruction.
"I don't care."
His voice was low, steady, devoid of emotion.
With one swift motion, Louis swung his sword again, the blade slicing cleanly through the noble's neck.
The leader's head fell to the floor, rolling to a stop as his body crumpled lifelessly beside it.