[Year 1507, West Blue - Western Waters]
Her world crumbled in five minutes.
That's how long it took for the pirates to board the Morgrave merchant ship and turn the luxury that had symbolized wealth and status into a nightmare that would haunt her forever.
Elyndra Morgrave, nine years old, the second child of a wealthy merchant with three major trade routes in the West Blue, watched as hell opened its doors from behind a stack of wooden crates and silk cloth. She saw her father—the man who always stood tall before nobles and rich traders—being dragged and beaten until his voice was silenced. She watched her older brother, her only protector, try to fight back, only to be struck repeatedly until he lay motionless. Her mother—who always smelled of summer roses—was forced to scream, beg for her life, before being murdered cruelly.
And no one came. Not a single ship. Not a single savior.
---
She sat there for two days on the ship that was now no more than a floating coffin. The stench of blood, corpses, and waste burned her nostrils. Flies swarmed around the bodies, sticking to their decaying skin. Elyndra could no longer cry; her tears were gone. She sat silently, hugging the tattered doll her brother had given her as a token of affection.
On the fifth day, the sound of an anchor dropped. A slave merchant ship drew near, drawn to the wreckage of the ship drifting aimlessly.
"Hey! There's a live kid!" shouted one of the crew members.
Elyndra turned her head. Her gaze was vacant, her eyes cloudy and distant.
She didn't resist. She didn't scream. She didn't fight when rough hands dragged her onto the new ship. Maybe it was because her body was too weak to fight. Or maybe because she knew… no one was coming.
---
Mad Hat Island welcomed her with the stench of alcohol, deafening cries of prostitutes, and chaos eating at its very heart. She was taken to the northwest part of the city, to a large building with tightly shut windows and armed guards who looked ready to pounce on anyone trying to escape.
It was called Le Maison Crux, the human trading house.
However, Elyndra was not a commodity to be sold outright. Not so fast.
"This one's too good to be sold for a one-time use," said a fat overseer with a tall hat, stroking his chin. "We'll set up a daily auction system. Personal servant for 24 hours. Strict rules. No touching without permission."
Laughter filled the room, a low chuckle filled with meaning. Elyndra remained silent. She stared at the floor, trying to suppress every emotion trying to break free.
---
The northern part of Mad Hat Island was always shrouded in thick shadows, as if the sun refused to touch it. Here, human lives were traded like worn-out goods that no longer served a purpose. The sound of coarse laughter, the smell of rusted metal, and the distant cries became the daily symphony that marked the decline of this cursed place.
In the darkest corner of this rotting world stood a girl on a rickety wooden stage. Her name was Elyndra Morgrave. Only nine years old, yet her face betrayed someone who had witnessed too much death and loss. Her jet-black hair was tangled, and the tattered dress that once symbolized her nobility now clung to her body, covering old wounds that had yet to heal.
She didn't tremble. She didn't cry. There were no tears left after that night when the pirates slaughtered her parents before her eyes. She spent two days trapped with their corpses, staring into the emptiness, swallowing the foul stench of decay, and slowly engraving the names of her tormentors into her memory. There was no room for weakness in her heart now.
The world had made a grave mistake by doing this to her, and Elyndra swore to repay it with the same price, or more.
The auction began. The auctioneer's voice was loud, deafening, trying to silence anyone's conscience. But Elyndra remained silent. Her gaze didn't waver as she judged every pair of eyes that looked at her with lust or calculation. They thought she was just a little girl, someone who could be used as a servant, a doll, or entertainment. But none of them realized that standing before them was the executioner of the future.
"Ten thousand beri for this one!" shouted a burly man with a face full of scars.
"Eleven thousand," said a man in a red robe, his tone calm and calculating. "Her eyes are sharp. She has potential."
Elyndra didn't pay attention to them. Each bid was an insult. Every comment was a thorn. But it wasn't impulsive anger that boiled inside her—rather, it was the cold hatred that was neatly organized. She wasn't the type to let revenge cloud her judgment. She would wait, observe, and strike when the time was right. That was the best way to destroy the world: from within, with wounds that would never heal.
The bidding continued, the price kept rising, and faces filled with greed stared at her. Elyndra remained still, protecting herself from the disgust and humiliation. One thing mattered: survival. So far, she had managed to hold on to the most valuable thing in her life—her awareness. The awareness of who she was, what had happened to her, and what she needed to do.
Finally, the price stopped at twenty-five thousand beri. Her buyer was an old man with a tall hat and foggy eyes. He stepped closer, smiling as though he had won something special.
However, when his eyes met Elyndra's gaze, he paused for a moment. There was something in her eyes that made him uneasy. It was as if he had just bought a double-edged sword, not just a little slave.
Elyndra stared directly at him and said, her voice low but sharp, "One day, I will erase all the mistakes. Including you."
The man laughed, but his laughter was hesitant. "You're funny, little girl. But today, you're mine."
Elyndra turned her head, uninterested in responding. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. With small steps, she descended from the stage, flanked by two guards. Her head remained held high, and even though her body was weak, her presence felt heavy.
Today, she had lost. Today, the world had won.
But today was not the end.
The following days were a series of humiliations wrapped in rules. She was treated like an expensive toy—elegantly dressed, clean clothes, but with no choices. Every day, new faces came, bidding for the right to have her for a day.
Some asked her to sing. Some simply wanted to prove they could have something 'untouchable.' Some just sat quietly… and stared with empty eyes.
Every day, Elyndra marked their names in her heart.
Every day, she built walls.
Every night, when she slept alone in her small room guarded by two armed men, she spoke to herself:
"They think I'm weak."
"They think I'll break."
"They're wrong."
---
She began to remember. Every detail. Every sound. Every face. She started to eavesdrop on conversations. Mapping out the building's structure. Memorizing where the guards kept their weapons. She began noticing who liked alcohol, who was lax after meals, who broke the rules in secret.
Her heart hardened, harder than steel.
"I won't be a victim," she whispered one night.
"I'll burn this place down. This world."
And in the dead of Mad Hat's darkest night, a little girl named Elyndra Morgrave had long stopped crying.
She replaced it with vengeance.