Damian Ornstein

"Enter," the commanding voice of the young master resonated from within the room, its tone a mix of dignity and authority.

Seraphine and Marcus stepped into the young master's chamber, the contrast striking compared to the other parts of the mansion. The room was meticulously maintained, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication.

Both Seraphine and Marcus bowed respectfully, their gestures displaying deference and respect. Their eyes remained lowered, avoiding direct eye contact with the young master, as they awaited further instruction.

"I have returned with the slave you requested, Sir Damian," Marcus addressed the young master with utmost professionalism and respect.

Damian's voice dripped with disdain and anger as he retorted to Marcus, "Isn't it ridiculous that my father just bought a mere slave as a gift for my birthday?"

Seraphine could feel the tension in the room, and Alice's message echoed in her mind, urging her to be cautious and avoid causing any further agitation.

While the young master's anger simmered, he unleashed his frustration, throwing a glass onto the ground with a resounding crash. His rage was palpable, permeating the atmosphere.

"Answer me, Marcus! Don't you think this is ridiculous? Not a land, a birthday banquet, but a mere slave!" Damian's voice reverberated through the room, laced with frustration and anger.

Marcus, ever composed, attempted to diffuse the situation and offer a perspective that might resonate with Damian. "Sir Damian, I believe the Marquis purchased the slave as a test of your duty and responsibility."

"A test?!" Damian snapped, his eyes narrowing in anger. "I already have an overwhelming workload, and now he wants to test me further!"

Seemingly unable to contain his anger, Damian approached Seraphine, his gaze fixated on her with disdain. The insult in his words stung, but Seraphine kept her composure, reminding herself to remain calm.

"What is your name, you filthy animal?" Damian's words pierced the air, his contempt evident.

As Damian's outburst echoed, Seraphine couldn't help but feel a surge of indignation. "Animal you said... I'm the same species as you, you idiot," she silently retorted in her mind, her thoughts tinged with defiance.

Taking a deep breath to regain her composure, Seraphine attempted to answer the young master's question and reveal her name. However, in her eagerness to respond, she momentarily forgot the strict rule of not raising her head without permission.

Before her words could escape her lips, Damian's hand swiftly met her face with a force that stung. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through Seraphine's cheek, causing her to wince. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought to hold them back, unwilling to give Damian the satisfaction of witnessing her vulnerability.

"How dare a mere slave raise her head without my permission? Do you want to be punished?" Damian's voice dripped with venom.

Seraphine bit her lip harder, her inner fire burning beneath the surface as she held back the retort that threatened to escape her. With every ounce of strength, she lowered her head even further, swallowing her pride and allowing her resolve to fortify her.

"I apologize for not knowing my place, young master," Seraphine began, her voice remaining formal and respectful despite the turmoil in her mind. "My name is Seraphine, and I am your personal slave from this day forward."

As her words hung in the air, she could hear Alice's voice resonating in her mind, a gentle reminder of the importance of caution. "I told you to be careful, Seraphine..." Alice's words served as a stark reality check, a reminder of the delicate balance she needed to maintain.

However, In the midst of the tense atmosphere, a shift occurred within Damian. The anger that had burned so fiercely in his eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a curiosity tinged with something akin to admiration. As his gaze fell upon Seraphine, he couldn't help but notice the delicate harmony of her features.

The strands of her brown hair cascaded in gentle waves, framing a face that held a certain allure. Her eyes, a captivating hue that matched the warmth of her hair, shimmered with intelligence and resilience.

In the original story, there was no mention of his father ordering him to acquire a slave. Instead, it was written that he had obtained a wretched slave, whom he callously disposed of, leading to the further deterioration of his already twisted personality.

It was true that the original slave possessed the same physical attributes as Seraphine—the same brown hair, the same mesmerizing eyes—but she had become a constant nuisance, failing to satisfy Damian in any way. Her pitiable existence had acted as a constant reminder of his own inner turmoil, an eyesore that only served to deepen his darkness.

If the original slave standing in Seraphine's place, she would have crumbled under Damian's violent slap, reduced to tears and crawling for mercy. Such a pitiful display would have only fueled Damian's displeasure, reinforcing his twisted power and dominance over her.

But Seraphine, with her unwavering composure and dignified response, shattered the expectations that had been ingrained within Damian's mind. Her ability to hold her ground and respond with elegance and grace went against everything Damian had come to expect.

Now, as Damian looked at Seraphine, a sense of wonder and intrigue enveloped him. Despite her status as a slave, she exuded an air of strength and resilience that he found captivating.

"Seraphine? You don't have a surname?" Damian's voice held a tinge of curiosity, his gaze fixed on her as he sought an answer.

"From what I recall, sir, I do not have a surname," Seraphine responded, a touch of uncertainty in her voice. The memories of her past life and her origins remained hazy, leaving her with only fragments of her identity. She knew her name was Seraphine, but the details of her surname eluded her.

"Even ordinary peasants possess surnames, and yet you have none. It seems fitting for an animal like you," Damian sneered, his words laced with contempt.

The word "animal" pierced Seraphine's heart once again, causing a flash of anger to surge within her. Yet, she remained composed, keeping her emotions hidden beneath a facade of silence.

"However," Damian continued, his tone shifting unexpectedly, "your face and body do not look that bad for a slave. Brown hair and smooth white skin suit you quite well."

Seraphine's confusion deepened at the sudden change in his demeanor. The insults were swiftly followed by compliments, leaving her uncertain of his true intentions. Was he trying to provoke her or was there something else at play?

"Thank you for your compliment, sir," Seraphine replied, her voice measured and polite. Deep inside, she pondered the complexities of Damian's behavior, realizing that changing his perceptions and attitudes would be a formidable task.

Damian's attention shifted to Marcus, briefly acknowledging his role in selecting Seraphine. "Even though my father ordered me to acquire any slave, you did quite well in choosing a good-looking one, Marcus," Damian praised, offering a faint glimmer of approval. Marcus bowed in response, accepting the acknowledgment with humility.

As Damian's gaze drifted toward the expansive window, the room filled with the soft glow of the setting sun. The fading light cast long shadows across the chamber, signaling the approach of evening.

"It appears to be dinner time, does it not?" Damian stated, more as a statement than a question. He turned his attention to Marcus. "Inform the chef to prepare for dinner."

Marcus acknowledged the order, his gaze briefly flickering towards Seraphine with a flicker of concern. With a respectful nod, he exited the room, leaving Seraphine alone with Damian.

As the door closed behind Marcus, Seraphine felt a mix of apprehension and anticipation. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, becoming more intimate as she stood in the presence of the young master.