The Princess and The Queen Want me as their personal Slave?
Akashi was a boy so beautiful it seemed the gods had sculpted him with a touch of mischief and a dash of fragility. He wasn’t handsome in the rugged, masculine way of knights or warriors. No—his beauty was softer, captivating in its innocence. His frame was small, almost delicate, and his pale skin looked as if it had never known hardship, kissed only by the gentle sunlight of his village fields.
With wide, striking black eyes that shimmered like obsidian under moonlight, and hair the color of a calm, endless ocean, Akashi possessed a charm that defied age, status, or reason. He didn’t know it, but his very existence pulled at the hearts of those who saw him—like an untouched gem waiting to be claimed.
And yet, he had been untouched for a reason. Akashi had never known life beyond the boundaries of his village. He grew up surrounded by warm smiles and familiar voices. Every elder knew his name. Every child wanted to play by his side. His days were simple, his heart untouched by cruelty.
But peace is a fragile thing.
One night, it shattered.
The sky turned crimson. Screams tore through the quiet air. Fires devoured homes. Demons—twisted beasts of shadow and rage—descended without warning. They killed with a hunger that could not be reasoned with.
By morning, the village was gone.
Ashes, corpses, and silence were all that remained.
And Akashi… Akashi was alone.
The last heartbeat in a graveyard of memories.
He wandered for days, hollow and dazed, until rough hands seized him. Chains replaced freedom. Smiles were replaced by cold appraisals. And so, the boy once adored by all became something else—something to be sold.
A slave.
At the capital's grand auction house, he was stripped, washed, and displayed like merchandise. His beauty caused a stir. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Look at those eyes..."
"That hair... Is it dyed? No, it’s real..."
"So delicate... Is he even human?"
To them, he was no longer a boy with a heart, but a prize to possess. A fantasy in fragile form.
He stood on the stage, trembling slightly, barely able to process what was happening. The voices of the crowd blurred together—hungry, leering, filled with desire and greed. The auctioneer’s booming voice called out the bids as if Akashi were nothing more than a fine vase or a rare jewel.
The numbers climbed quickly. Too quickly. Akashi’s knees weakened beneath the weight of invisible eyes drinking him in. He stared at the marble floor, trying not to cry.
Then, suddenly, the room fell silent.
A voice—deep, commanding, and heartbreakingly beautiful—cut through the air like silk over steel.
“Fifteen thousand gold.”
Time seemed to pause.
Every head turned.
At the back of the room, standing beneath the golden chandelier, was a woman unlike any other.
She wore a flowing red gown that hugged her form like it was crafted by the gods themselves. Her long, golden hair shimmered like strands of sunlight, cascading over her shoulders with effortless grace. Her eyes, cold and blue as a glacier’s heart, stared ahead with quiet power.
Even the nobles drew back. This was no ordinary bidder.
It was one of the Princesses of the Three Great Kingdoms.
Whispers erupted anew—but no one dared challenge her offer.
Who would?
She stood like royalty incarnate, a goddess who walked among mortals, and she had just claimed Akashi as her own.
The boy raised his head slowly, unsure of whether to feel fear or relief. His eyes met hers—just for a second—and something in his chest shifted. She didn’t smile. She didn’t leer. Her gaze was unreadable.
But it was powerful. Absolute.
And it made his knees weak for an entirely new reason.
He didn’t know her name. Not yet.
But she had bought him.
And somewhere deep inside, something told him—his life was never going to be the same.
