3 Did I just get bought?

Currently, Seraphine's consciousness felt like a turbulent storm as the memories of her past life on Earth clashed with the original Seraphine in this world.

It left her with a sense of duality, similar to a young child with knowledge beyond her years but still bound by the fears and vulnerabilities of her current form.

As she gazed timidly at the butler standing before her, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and unease. The novel she once read had no illustrations of this character, leaving her uncertain about his identity and intentions.

Seraphine looked up to the AI panel that had been her unexpected companion. "You, do you know who this man is?" she asked the AI within her mind.

The AI responded promptly, providing the information she sought. "This man is Marcus Miller, the butler of the young master Damian Ornstein.

He hails from a noble background as the son of a baron and is known for his loyalty to Damian. However, his prideful nature often leads him to disdain both peasants and slaves."

Seraphine's heart sank as she processed the AI's words. Marcus's evident contempt for those beneath him made her fear for her own safety in his presence. It became clear why he looked at her with such disdain; she was nothing more than a mere slave in his eyes.

As her mind continued to absorb the information, the AI provided another crucial piece of the puzzle. "Marcus is here because he was tasked by young master Damian to acquire a personal slave as a pet and a gift for Damian's upcoming 14th birthday."

As the slave trader and Marcus continued their discussion, Seraphine was upset by Damian desire

"Who the hell buys a slave as their pet? What a lunatic bastard!" Seraphine couldn't help but voice her bewilderment to the AI. The concept was beyond her comprehension, and she couldn't imagine how anyone could derive entertainment from such cruelty.

The AI responded with a neutral tone, "I don't know for certain, but having a slave as a pet might amuse the master in some way. Unlike animals, slaves can talk, and perhaps that's intriguing to someone like Damian."

Glancing up at the AI's interface, Seraphine couldn't help but think to herself, "You have quite a sense of humor, don't you?" The AI's logical and detached demeanor contrasted with her own emotional turmoil.

"I'm just a system designed to assist you in changing your fate," the AI explained. "My responses are based on analysis and probabilities."

While Seraphine pondered the AI's answer, Marcus suddenly turned his attention toward her. His cold gaze fixed on her, and he demanded in a stern voice, "You, what is your name?"

Caught off guard by his sudden inquiry, Seraphine hesitated for a moment before replying, "My name is... Seraphine, sir."

"Seraphine, huh?" Marcus muttered, a sneer forming on his lips. "Very well, I'll take you as the young master's personal pet. Remember, you are nothing but property in this household."

Seraphine forced herself to nod obediently in response to Marcus's demeaning words. She knew she had to be cautious and strategic, especially when dealing with someone as prideful and volatile as him.

"Do you know more about Marcus's personality? What can I do to gain his favor and avoid making him angry?" she asked the system through her mind.

The AI promptly replied on the panel, "Marcus is an individual who takes great pride in his noble status. He despises those of lower rank addressing him without permission. To gain his favor, refrain from speaking to him unless you have been granted explicit permission to do so."

Armed with this newfound insight, Seraphine took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next interaction. As Marcus led her away from the slave market, she mustered her courage to address him with utmost politeness.

"Excuse me, sir," she spoke softly, her gaze downcast in a display of submission, "may I please have your permission to ask your name?"

Marcus glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly taken aback by her courteous demeanor. He was more accustomed to slaves cowering in fear rather than displaying such deference.

After a moment's consideration, he huffed arrogantly, "Very well, you may speak. My name is Marcus Miller, a butler from Marquis Ornstein family. Remember it well."

"Thank you, sir, for granting me permission," Seraphine bowed gracefully, her demeanor composed and measured.

Marcus couldn't help but be taken aback by her display of manners. It was a rarity to encounter a young slave who carried herself with such poise; they usually trembled with fear in his presence, which had always been a source of annoyance for him.

Yet, there was something intriguing about Seraphine's composure. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Marcus's lips as he observed her.

"You seem to possess quite a manner for a mere slave," he remarked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and admiration. "I believe the young master will not be disappointed in you, that's for sure."

Leading Seraphine through the bustling streets, Marcus guided her to a modest inn near the slave market. It was a typical establishment, the atmosphere was far from inviting, but to Seraphine, it was another opportunity to gather information about this world.