Whitepale Mansion - Border Between Southern and Western District

  My name is Rhea.

  Today marks my fourth day as a servant to my new master.

  I stand at the window of my small room, watching the early morning light creep across the mansion grounds. The stone is cool beneath my bare feet. Everything here is clean. Quiet. Safe.

  It should feel like a blessing.

  Instead, it gnaws at me—this strange, uncomfortable existence.

  I am a beastman. My people were proud. Strong. We bowed to no one, least of all humans. My family... they would be ashamed to see me now. Serving. Obeying. Wearing this collar like decoration.

  But the alternative was that chamber. The darkness. The pain that went on so long I forgot what sunlight felt like.

  So perhaps this is fortunate. Perhaps.

  My master is... strange.

  He released me the moment he purchased me. No—seconds before he even completed the transaction, he was already working on removing my slave contract. I still don't understand why. The clerk at that shop looked as confused as I felt.

  He still needs me to clean and maintain this mansion, yes. But he bought furniture for my room. Blankets that smell like lavender instead of mold. Clothes that actually fit. He buys the same food for both of us—I eat what he eats, at the same table, like we're... equals.

  He trains me whenever we have time. Teaches me to fight properly, not just survive. And he insists I accompany him everywhere, like I'm a companion rather than property.

  He told me to call him by name. Or "brother."

  Brother.

  Even at the Guild, in front of everyone, he called me "sister."

  I don't understand. The word sits in my mind but won't settle. What does he want from me? What's his purpose?

  The confusion is heavy in my chest. I don't know how to express it. The words tangle before they reach my mouth.

  Since it doesn't sit well with me—this imbalance—I've tried to do more. Extra chores. Scrubbing floors he said I didn't need to touch. Organizing things that were already organized. A servant should be useful, shouldn't they?

  But every time he catches me, he stops me. Sometimes he even helps, working alongside me until I feel foolish for starting at all.

  I won't give up though. One day, I'll become a proper servant. One worthy of... whatever this is.

  Though now I'm not sure if that would be fortunate or unfortunate.

  My gaze catches the clock on the wall. Seven already.

  I need to wake Master. Prepare to go out.

  I knock softly on his door, trying to make my knuckles sound respectful. Professional.

  "Master, are you awake already?"

  "Yes, come in."

  The permission comes immediately. I push the door open with a soft clack and step inside.

  He's already dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed and fastening his boots. The morning light catches in his dark hair. He looks... normal. Human. Not like someone who shattered steel chains with his bare hands.

  "Sorry for being late, Master." The words come out stiff. Too formal. "I was absorbed in my own thoughts."

  He glances up, and something in his expression softens. "About what?"

  "About... being your servant, sir."

  A quiet chuckle escapes him—warm, like he finds something amusing that I don't understand. "I already told you many times, we're family. Don't think too much about that."

  Family.

  There it is again. That word.

  Heat creeps up my neck. My face grows warm. I know I should feel something—gratitude, maybe joy—but when I try to respond, my throat tightens.

  "But Master..." I struggle to find the right words. They come out wrong, awkward. "It's... my pride. Sir."

  It sounds stiff. Not at all what I mean.

  He sighs, but it's not unkind. "Alright, do it moderately then. Don't work too hard."

  "Yes, sir."

  There's a pause. He's watching me with that strange, calculating expression he sometimes gets—like he's reading something written on my face that I can't see.

  "Now there's something I want to tell you," he says quietly. "And please keep it secret from others."

  My ears perk forward slightly. "What is it, sir?" A pause. "Is it... important?"

  "Not at all, but it will bring trouble in the future."

  Trouble. The word sends a small chill down my spine. I nod. "Then I'll keep it secret, Master."

  "It's about my origin and abilities."

  I blink. Origin? My mouth opens, then closes. What do I say to that? Finally, I manage, "Master, as your servant, I..." The words stick. "...don't need to know. Sir."

  "Indeed, as a servant." His gaze holds mine. "But you're my family. And the only one I have right now."

  The only one.

  Something twists sharp in my chest. My face grows hotter. I don't know where to look. I fixate on a spot on the wall behind him.

  "Master..." The word barely comes out. What am I supposed to say? "But Mrs. Flamerose and Manna... aren't they...?"

  I can't finish. The sentence trails off.

  "Indeed, for this world's body. But not for my original body."

  I freeze. "W-what do you..."

  The question dies.

  He leans forward slightly, hands clasped between his knees. His voice is steady, matter-of-fact.

  "I was summoned from another world, like the heroes. But temporarily—the Guardian lent me a soulless body from this world."

  The air leaves my lungs.

  Another world. Summoned. Soulless body.

  My mind scrambles to process the words, but they slide around like water. "That's..." My voice shakes. "Is that even... possible?"

  I look at him. Really look. Trying to see if he's joking.

  He's not.

  "Then..." The thought makes my skin cold. "You're undead? Master?"

  "The Guildmaster said the same thing." He actually smiles a little at that. "But it's possible for the Guardian who's granted God's permission. So you could say I'm similar to the reincarnated."

  "How...?"

  One word. That's all I can manage.

  "Because I was granted the memories of the body."

  Silence stretches between us. I stare at him—this person who saved me from that nightmare, who treats me like a person instead of an object.

  I don't even know what he is. Not really.

  "I see..." My voice sounds distant. Flat.

  "What part surprised you?" he asks gently.

  I struggle. The thoughts are there but won't form into words. "I've never..." A pause. "...heard of this before, Master." Another pause. "I don't... know what to say. Sir."

  The confession feels clumsy. Inadequate.

  "No need to respond," he says simply. "I just wanted you to know the truth. That's why both you and Mrs. Rinne are strangers to me."

  Strangers.

  Right. Of course.

  "I see." I hesitate, then the question tumbles out before I can stop it. "But why... me?"

  "Because your circumstances need me, and you've already experienced something unbelievable, right?"

  The chamber flashes through my mind. The cold. The hunger. The things I don't let myself remember in daylight.

  My hands clench at my sides. "...Yes. That's true, Master."

  "So I thought I could trust you to keep this secret. And that you might believe my story."

  Trust. He trusts me.

  "I see..." I swallow hard. Then something makes me ask, "But what if I..." The words are difficult. "What if I don't believe you? Or... betray you?"

  I don't know why I'm testing him. The words just come.

  He doesn't even blink. "Like I told you before—you're free to leave after a month. I'll search for someone who can truly be trusted."

  "Master..." Something cracks in my chest. "You're too... naive. Sir."

  "Nope." He shrugs. "Trust can only be obtained through effort and a bit of gambling. So it's natural if you choose to leave later."

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  The casual acceptance in his voice—like my betrayal would disappoint him but not surprise him—makes something warm and painful settle behind my ribs.

  I want to tell him I won't leave. That I'd never betray him. That he's the first person in years to treat me like I'm worth something.

  But the words are too big. Too complicated. They stick in my throat.

  What comes out instead is: "...Thank you, Master."

  A long pause.

  "I'm grate—"

  "But that's not what you should be concerned about, by the way."

  I blink. Heat floods my face again. "Is there... something else? Sir?"

  "I told you we'd discuss abilities. And that's what you should be concerned about. The knowledge, too."

  "Ah." I straighten, trying to focus. "Yes. The abilities, Master." A pause. "Why are they... important?"

  He settles back, organizing his thoughts.

  "Every otherworlder is granted a unique ability by the Guardian to help them adjust to this new world. Some are tasked with missions. You could say the ability is a tool to accomplish that mission."

  I nod slowly, following.

  "Living in a new environment is already difficult for them. Add a mission on top of that, and it's nearly suicidal. So how does the Guardian assist them?"

  It takes me a moment. The answer seems obvious. "They're given... strong tools? To survive?"

  "Exactly." His eyes gleam slightly. "Now—can you imagine how powerful an ability must be to compensate for all their weaknesses?"

  The weight of the question settles on me.

  Heroes. The summoned ones. They arrive weak and ignorant, yet within years they're toppling demon armies and reshaping nations.

  "Oh..." My voice comes out small. "That's why... they're called heroes. Sir."

  "That's the part you should fear about otherworlders."

  Fear.

  I look at him—this strange, kind, dangerous person—and wonder if I should be afraid.

  My heart beats faster. I don't know what this feeling is.

  "Then..." The question barely makes it out. "How strong are your abilities, Master?"

  He notices the waver in my voice. Of course he does. But instead of mocking me, he just sighs.

  "Since you already understand the concept, let's continue to the main topic."

  "Yes, sir!"

  The words burst out too loud. Too eager. Heat floods my face immediately.

  Why did I—?

  I stop the thought. Stand straighter. Try to look composed.

  He doesn't seem to notice my embarrassment. Or perhaps he's kind enough to ignore it.

  "My world is similar to this one," he says. "So I didn't ask for any terrifying ability. Just one simple trick."

  "What is it, sir?"

  "Appraisal eyes."

  I wait for more. When nothing comes, a small frown creases my brow. "Appraisal...?" A pause. "What's strong about that, Master?"

  "Nothing." He shrugs. "It only assists me in checking details about my surroundings. Material composition. The effects of items. Including..." He pauses. "Other people's status plates."

  The meaning crashes into me like cold water.

  My breath catches.

  "It's not practical in battle, Master, but..." My voice rises despite myself. "Did you check my stats too?!"

  "Yes. That's one of the factors why I chose you."

  Chose me.

  He'd seen everything. My weaknesses. My pathetic levels after years of imprisonment. How broken I was.

  And he still chose me.

  "You..." The words come out sharper than I intend. "You dare..."

  But I don't know how else to express this tangle. Violation? Gratitude? Confusion?

  All of it sits heavy and unsorted in my chest.

  "That's why I gave you those conditions," he says calmly. "I offer many benefits, but in return I only want you to maintain this mansion and keep my secret."

  Silence.

  He waits.

  I should be angry. I should feel exposed. But instead, there's just... acceptance. He saw everything and didn't turn away.

  "Do you regret it?" he asks. "I haven't even told you the crucial part about your training yet."

  "It's like..." I struggle. "...deceiving, Master."

  The word feels hollow even as I say it. What did he deceive? He bought me, freed me, fed me, trained me, trusted me with his greatest secret.

  "It doesn't change the fact that you're my family now."

  Family.

  That word again.

  My shoulders slump. I can't fight this anymore. "...Fine. Master." A pause. "I already... trusted my life to you. Sir."

  It's the truth. Somewhere between the slave shop and this moment, I'd decided to trust him. Not because I understood him, but because he'd given me no reason not to.

  "Thank you." His voice softens with what sounds like genuine relief. "Now, my abilities from my original world are unique magic and accelerated growth. My unique magic is called Void Magic. It's actually a curse that can be activated like a spell and passively devours everything."

  "Devour...?"

  The word sends ice down my spine.

  "But in this world, I realized my magic can grant stat points from whatever it devours."

  My ears perk forward. My heart beats faster.

  That's... that could mean...

  "Master, that's..." The words want to rush out, but I force them down. Keep them measured. "A very convenient ability, sir." A pause. My voice betrays my excitement anyway. "You could reach... the legendary realms. That everyone dreams of."

  Heat creeps up my neck. Why do I sound like this? Like some starstruck—

  I cut the thought off. Look down.

  "I've tried many times to control it," he continues, either ignoring my outburst or pretending not to notice. "And I confirmed with Guardian Freya that it can be safely transferred to others with my control. Though only a small portion of it."

  My heart stops.

  Transferred.

  To me?

  I look up sharply. "Master, can I—" The words catch. "S-sorry. Can I...?"

  I can't finish. My face burns. I sound desperate.

  But the hope in my chest won't be suppressed.

  "That's what I said. And I've planned it for your training."

  For a moment, I can't breathe.

  He's going to give me power. Real power. The kind that could keep me safe. The kind that means I'll never be helpless again.

  My throat tightens. I want to say so much. Thank him. Tell him what this means.

  But all that comes out is a strangled sound.

  I drop into a bow—too quick, too stiff, but it's all I can manage. "Master..." My voice shakes. "Thank you. And please forgive... my rudeness. Sir."

  "It's okay. So that's our main focus for today."

  "Yes, Master."

  The forest presses in around us, dense and threatening. Every shadow feels alive.

  "Now, this is the appropriate place to test," Master says, scanning the trees.

  My fur stands on end. Something's wrong here.

  "Sir..." I keep my voice low. "Are you sure?"

  "About what?"

  "My stats..." I pause. Choose the words carefully. "I can't compete here. Sir." Another pause. "I feel... the sinister aura. Since we entered."

  It's true. The air here feels wrong—thick with malice and bloodlust. Every instinct screams at me to run.

  "Hoh, your senses are excellent." He actually sounds pleased. "But this is the right place to increase your stats quickly."

  "But, Master..."

  I trail off. Don't know how to argue.

  "Relax. I'll go first and demonstrate my unique magic for you."

  Before I can protest, rustling erupts from the underbrush. Five shapes burst into the clearing—wolfiends, their eyes gleaming red with hunger. Each one is easily twice my size.

  They charge.

  Master doesn't move.

  My heart lurches. "Master—!"

  Then he shifts.

  It's so fast I almost miss it. One moment he's standing still. The next, his fist connects with the lead wolfiend's skull.

  Crack.

  The sound is wet and final. The beast drops mid-leap, its body crumpling like a puppet with cut strings.

  He moves to the next one. A simple, economical strike to the chest.

  The wolfiend's rib cage caves in with a sound like breaking branches. It hits the ground and doesn't move.

  Three left.

  They don't even slow down. Predators don't fear prey.

  Master pivots. His palm strikes out—not a punch, just a push—and the third wolfiend's spine snaps audibly. It collapses in a heap, limbs twitching.

  The last two finally seem to realize their mistake. They try to scatter.

  Too late.

  Master's hands blur. Two precise strikes. Two bodies falling.

  Whimper. Whimper.

  Then silence.

  Five corpses lie scattered across the forest floor, steam rising from their broken bodies in the cool morning air. The entire encounter took less than ten seconds.

  I stare.

  My mind struggles to process what I just witnessed. Those were wolfiends—C-rank monsters that hunt in packs and kill adventurers regularly. And he just... dismantled them like they were training dummies.

  My heart pounds so hard it hurts.

  "Hmm... we get quite a few points here. Let's—"

  "Wait, Master!"

  The words burst out louder than I intend. He turns, one eyebrow raised.

  My face grows hot. I know I should say something intelligent, something worthy of this moment.

  But my heart is racing. My hands tremble slightly.

  "Master, that was..." I stop. Can't finish. The words tangle. "I need... a moment. Sir."

  He looks genuinely puzzled. "Hmm? Calm down, it's not that impressive."

  Not impressive?

  I'm still processing what happened. Still seeing those bodies drop.

  He studies me for a moment, then his expression softens into something almost... fond?

  "Alright. While you settle your mind, can you help me dismantle them?"

  Right. Work. I can do that.

  "Yes, Master." I take a breath. "Leave it to me, sir."

  My hands move through the familiar motions—skinning, separating meat from bone, extracting the valuable organs. It's methodical work, and it helps quiet my racing thoughts.

  Master watches with interest, occasionally asking questions about technique.

  By the time we finish, the pile of materials is impressive. Pelts, claws, fangs, monster cores—all valuable.

  "Alright, that's all of them." Master sounds satisfied. "Hmm, it's quite interesting. Thank you Rhea, you made it easier to learn."

  The praise makes my cheeks warm. I focus on wiping my hands clean. "It's not... a big deal, Master."

  "It is to me."

  The simple statement makes my face hotter. I look away.

  "T-then... thank you, sir. For your praise."

  The words come out awkward and formal, not at all matching the flutter in my chest.

  He stands, brushing dirt from his pants. "So, are you ready? After this, we still need to test you in some battles."

  Battles. Against monsters like those wolfiends.

  With his power inside me.

  My hands tremble slightly. I clench them into fists.

  "Yes, Master." A pause. "I'm ready, sir."

  "Hold your position and relax your mind."

  Zooooom.

  The air around Master shifts. Arcana pours from his palm—dark, writhing, hungry. It feels like staring into an abyss that stares back.

  He concentrates, and I watch as he carefully extracts a tiny portion of that darkness. It hovers above his palm, no larger than a marble, but the pressure it radiates makes my skin prickle.

  Even this small fragment feels... wrong. Dangerous. Like holding a piece of the void itself.

  "This size should be small enough." His voice is tight with concentration. "Now, steel your resolve, Rhea. Let go of all your regrets and focus on one goal."

  One goal.

  Survive.

  Get stronger.

  Never be helpless again.

  "Yes, sir."

  He releases the fragment.

  It moves like a living thing, slithering through the air toward me. Every instinct screams to run, but I force myself to stay still.

  It touches my chest.

  And burrows in.

  The first sensation is cold.

  Not the cold of winter or ice—the cold of absence. Like something is carving a hole through my center, scooping out everything warm and alive.

  Then heat crashes in.

  My body erupts in fire and frost simultaneously, temperature swinging wildly. Too hot. Too cold. Too hot. My skin feels like it's splitting.

  Every nerve ignites.

  It's like being dragged behind a horse at full gallop—every part of me screaming, straining, stretched too thin. My brain goes numb and sharp at once, thoughts scattering like startled birds.

  Then the pulling starts.

  Something inside me—my core, my center, whatever keeps me me—is being sucked inward. Compressed. Devoured.

  Like the world is collapsing into my gut, and I'm collapsing with it.

  A sound escapes me. Low. Pained.

  It's just like the torture.

  No.

  No.

  I've endured every possible torture. Whips. Burns. Starvation. Days in darkness so complete I forgot what light looked like.

  This is only temporary.

  This is my chance—my only chance—that Master has given me.

  I have to endure it. It'll be the last time.

  The last time I'm helpless.

  "Hold it a bit longer," Master's voice cuts through the agony. "Think of just one reason to survive."

  One reason?

  What is it?

  To restore everyone's freedom?

  But who's left? After all these years, are there any survivors with intact consciousness and reason?

  To avenge my family?

  They're dead. Gone. Revenge won't bring them back.

  To find my own happiness?

  What even is that anymore?

  No... all of it is in the past. Long buried. Those dreams died with the child I used to be.

  Is there anything left? Am I still responsible for those duties?

  And here... here I see a new world.

  Beastmen and other races living together. Working together.

  People who show me affection.

  And someone...

  Someone who called me...

  Family.

  Yes.

  There's one reason.

  I'll survive this. I'll get stronger. I'll prove I'm worthy of being called family.

  This is nothing. This is—

  A gentle touch lands on my shoulder.

  Tap.

  "It's over. Well done, sister."

  The soft whisper pulls me back to reality like a lifeline.

  My legs give out.

  I collapse forward, and Master catches me. His arms are steady. Solid. Real.

  Something breaks in my chest. Relief. Gratitude. Something else I can't name.

  I want to say so much. Thank him properly. Tell him what this means.

  But my voice barely works.

  "I did it, Master..."

  The words come out choked. Weak.

  "Yes. I knew you could."

  I'm gasping. When did I start panting like this? My whole body trembles.

  But underneath the exhaustion, I feel it.

  Power.

  Real, tangible power thrumming through my veins like liquid lightning.

  A sound escapes me. Something between a laugh and a sob.

  "Hehe... thank you..."

  The words barely make it out. Not nearly enough for what I feel.

  "Alright, looks like we need a break."

  "W-wait, Master." I try to push myself up. My duty. I should— "It's my job to serve the fo—"

  "I told you, sister." His voice is firm but kind. "We're family."

  Sister.

  He called me sister.

  Something breaks inside me—not painfully, but like ice cracking in spring.

  My throat tightens. Heat prickles behind my eyes.

  "Then..." The word barely comes out. I force the rest. "I think... it's okay for now." A pause. My voice drops to almost a whisper. "...Brother."

  The word feels strange on my tongue. Foreign. Too intimate.

  But also... right.

  When I finally look up, he's grinning.

  "It's better this way."

  After that, we hunted monsters together.

  And I felt it—the sensation of absorbing their essence. A tingling reaction spreading through my body as the void magic consumed them and granted me strength.

  I was shocked. Genuinely, deeply shocked.

  In one day, I gained more power than I had in years of survival. Real growth. Measurable. Mine.

  For the first time in my life, I can get stronger through my own effort.

  Not luck. Not mercy. Not scraps thrown by cruel masters.

  My own hands. My own will.

  Thank you, Master.

  For the gift you've granted to me.

  ...Your stubborn sister.

  Special Chapter - Trust to Disbelief: End