With a quiet incantation from Sophia, the massive boulder rumbles back into place behind us, sealing the entrance and plunging our surroundings into near-total darkness. For several tense moments, our own breaths and the soft scrape of our feet against the stone floor are the only sounds.

Immediately, my eyes adjust to see in the darkness. I watch as Sophia slips a small crystal from her robe. She mutters an incantation under her breath, and the crystal flickers to life with a gentle glow. Its soft light dances across the stone walls, revealing the beginning of a vast labyrinth. The walls feel cool and damp, and the air carries a musty, earthy scent.

Venturing deeper, we encounter branching tunnels and chambers that fan out in every direction. It’s a maze of twisting corridors and hidden rooms. Stone archways lead to spaces that vary in size—some little more than cramped closets, others large enough to accommodate a dozen people. Yet, for all its complexity, the place feels unsettlingly deserted. There are no voices, no flickering torches, no signs of movement.

Following what seems to be the main passage, we come across remnants of the rebels who once occupied this hideout. Rusty weapons lean against walls, tattered banners hang limply, and we pass scattered fire pits and faded cooking utensils. Some rooms still have bedding—thin mattresses and worn blankets tossed about in disarray—while others, set with tables and ancient maps, hint at the strategic planning that once took place here. At one point, I notice dark stains on the floor and walls. These are unmistakably blood stains.

Perhaps, there was a battle fought here a long time ago.

Eventually, I choose a small room where I gently lay Yumi on a tattered bed. She shows no signs of stirring, her face peaceful and untroubled in slumber. Sophia settles onto the edge of the bed as well, drawing an old blanket around herself for warmth.

Turning to her, I finally voice the question that’s been gnawing at me since we arrived. “How did you know about this place?”

Sophia exhales, her expression turning somber. “This was the main base for the rebels who opposed the King’s rule. They wanted a better kingdom, free from tyranny and corruption.”

Her fingers trace aimless patterns on the cold stone wall as she continues. “But they failed. The King’s forces eventually discovered the hideout, and a brutal battle took place right where we’re standing. The rebels fought hard, but they were outmatched.”

I frown, trying to piece everything together.

Something doesn’t make sense.

“If that’s the case, then how did you survive? Weren’t you with the rebels?”

“Yes, but not exactly,” Sophia replies, releasing a bitter laugh. “I was actually a traitor. I leaked their plans to the King and guided the knights here to destroy them.”

“Oh?” I respond, my interest piqued.

Now that the conversation has shifted, I’m curious to learn more about her. But I don’t want to force an explanation via the master-slave contract—I only ask that she share if she chooses. Even with my power, I’m reluctant to push her too far.

She hesitates only briefly.

“Well, there’s nothing left for me to hide anyway,” she says at last, her voice colored by a deep, lingering sadness. “I may as well tell you everything.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

And so she begins her story, revealing far more than I anticipated.

Her past is even darker than I thought possible.

A long time ago, there was a girl named Rosaria Valeraine…

—————————————

Rosaria was born into privilege, a scion of one of the empire’s most distinguished noble families. The Valeraines were revered for their legacy, spanning generations, as mages of extraordinary skill who practiced high-level magecraft and enchantments. Their influence was vast, their power undeniable. But all of it came to a brutal end one fateful night.

The massacre shook the entire kingdom. The Valeraine mansion was set ablaze, and everyone inside was slaughtered. The official story blamed the demons for the attack. Yet, this narrative was nothing but a carefully constructed lie—a diversion from the chilling truth.

It wasn’t demons.

On that horrendous night, Rosaria’s loyal maid sacrificed her life to ensure the little girl’s safety. Hidden inside a trash bin, Rosaria watched in paralyzed horror as her family was slaughtered. Through the cracks in the lid, she recognized the voice of the orchestrator: Archduke Eldric Harrow.

The man wasn’t just her father’s trusted confidant and the King’s top mage—he was someone Rosaria herself had admired. To witness him, of all people, mercilessly lead the attack on her family was a cruel twist of fate. That memory burned itself into her soul, a constant reminder of her helplessness.

She swore revenge, but Rosaria knew she was too young, too weak, to act. For years, she nurtured her hatred in silence, vowing to grow stronger in both influence and power. Discarding her noble name, she adopted the identity of Sophia Lysandra, taking the last name of the maid who had saved her.

Over time, she delved into forbidden magics, mastering illusion spells and cultivating her natural beauty to manipulate those around her. Every action was calculated, every step a move toward revenge.

Yet, revenge couldn’t be achieved alone. Sophia sought out those disillusioned with the King’s rule—rebels fighting for a kingdom free of tyranny and corruption. Among them, she rose quickly, her competence and cunning earning her trust and respect. But Sophia was no idealist. She understood that overt resistance against the King’s vast resources would be crushed. The only way to strike a fatal blow was from within.

Through careful maneuvering, she infiltrated the royal court, earning a position as both a royal advisor and the court’s mage. To the King, she was a loyal servant; to the rebels, she was their most valuable informant. For years, she played this dangerous double life, feeding the rebels critical intelligence.

But Sophia underestimated the King’s sprawling intelligence network. The rebels’ plans were always anticipated, their moves countered.

“Those fools were just not good enough,” Sophia says coldly, her tone devoid of regret. “So they had to go.”

She betrayed them, feeding the King information that led to their capture and destruction. It was a calculated move—sacrificing the rebels to solidify her position within the royal court. In doing so, she earned the King’s trust, furthering her ultimate goal: revenge against Archduke Harrow.

“Ha, but I just ruined it, didn’t I?” I laugh, feeling a bit sorry for her.

Not only did I enslave her, but I also made her a fugitive.

But could I have acted differently?

Each person is driven by their goals, their ambitions. Sophia’s just happened to collide with mine. And considering she betrayed her own allies, she isn’t exactly in a position to demand sympathy.

“It’s alright,” Sophia says softly, exhaling as though releasing a weight. “I overestimated myself against the King and that damned Archduke. Even with another hundred years, I doubt I’d succeed. But you, on the other hand…”

Her words trail off, but I can see the spark of calculation in her eyes.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, catching her intent. “So that’s why you’re telling me all of this? You want to use me for your revenge?”

“Yes,” she admits plainly, her gaze unwavering. “And is there a problem with that?”

I let out a low chuckle. “Ha. Of course not.”

I know exactly what kind of person Sophia is—scheming, opportunistic, and untrustworthy. Even with the slave pact binding her, there’s no guarantee she won’t betray me when it suits her.

But that’s fine.

Humans are selfish creatures by nature. Both she and I are opportunists, and as long as our goals align and our enemies remain mutual, we can work together. Besides, I need her. Her knowledge of this world, her talents in magic, and her cunning are all invaluable to me in navigating this unfamiliar terrain.

For now, we are allies bound by necessity, each using the other as a means to an end. And for now, that’s enough.