The moment Morton Montgomery appeared, every slave in the room fell deathly silent. None of them dared to speak or even meet his gaze—especially not the pair of siblings huddled together in the corner, shivering uncontrollably. It was clear they had suffered no small amount of abuse at this man’s hands.
Only Olina Walker continued to cry out, “Brother!”
Morton Montgomery stood like a conqueror, hands clasped behind his back, his narrowed eyes surveying his “treasures” and “domain.” On any other night, he would have killed one or two slaves just to get his kicks. But tonight, he had serious business to attend to, so he forced down his twisted perversions.
“Has the team I sent out still not returned?”
Morton Montgomery was dressed in noble finery, a sword hanging at his left hip. He was no left-hander; it was simply that his right side was already occupied—by a long whip.
To him, the knight’s sword was nothing more than ornamentation.
Just like his elegant exterior, it was all a facade masking a warped and depraved soul.
“I’m very sorry… They still haven’t come back. It seems the operation has failed.”
At those words, Morton Montgomery’s mouth twitched violently. Though thoroughly displeased, he managed to keep his temper in check.
Everything was proceeding according to his plan—including the banquet the previous night, which had been nothing but bait to lure the snake out of its hole. He knew Colin wouldn’t hold out much longer, yet he had failed to extract any intelligence. So he had turned the tables, letting the enemy come to him.
What he hadn’t anticipated was that the intruder would be Sang.
That newly minted human earl.
A hero of the Northern War one moment, a Hunting Organization infiltrator the next…
Heh, how delightfully interesting.
“We finally captured a fugitive researcher from the Hunting Organization, but he refuses to reveal the location of the finished Philosopher’s Stone. We must obtain it, uncover its production method, and mass-produce it. Even if our version can’t match the original, it will vastly strengthen the Montgomery Family.” Morton Montgomery spoke gravely.
Colin’s true identity was a fugitive researcher from the Hunting Organization.
The subordinate replied, “Young Marquis, don’t worry… We’ve captured his attendant. He’ll surely come to rescue him…”
Morton Montgomery was a man who prided himself on reading people’s hearts.
That night at the banquet, his “chance” encounter with Sang at the back door had been no accident. It was deliberate—a test of the young man’s character and strength. By casually offering to buy his werewolf subordinate, he had quickly gauged that the boy was a sentimental fool, the exact sort of person he despised most.
Such simpletons were child’s play to manipulate. He would come to save his friend; Morton was certain of it.
As he spoke, Morton Montgomery followed his subordinate to the cage. He had expected to find the werewolf Shika locked inside.
To his surprise, a closer look revealed only an unfamiliar youth.
“Ah… Who’s this?”
The subordinate explained, “As you ordered, we bound the boy’s attendant…”
In the next instant, Morton Montgomery’s hand lashed out, slapping the subordinate across the face with such force that the man flew backward, crashing headfirst into the far wall of the warehouse.
Morton in a rage was a terrifying sight. The slaves who witnessed it shivered involuntarily.
Nancy and Bob were utterly terrified. They had seen plenty of villains before, but none as vicious as this.
“You incompetent wretch! You can’t even handle a simple task… Who the hell did you drag in here!? I wanted that werewolf! Who’s this!?”
Morton still hadn’t recognized Iyefut. His fury stemmed from the fear that Sang might not care enough about this stranger to show up.
Fools like that treasured their companions, but strangers? Not so much.
The subordinate, ignoring his injuries, scrambled to his feet and dropped to his knees, pleading, “Forgive me, truly! But I didn’t grab the wrong person—this boy trailed him all day. I barely caught him alone!”
The man was scared out of his wits. Morton Montgomery’s rise to lead one of the Cape Family’s premier vassal houses wasn’t just due to raw power. It was his ruthlessness, his refusal to show mercy.
This held true for both the marquis and the young marquis.
Both were borderline psychopaths, delighting in the private torment of others—not just slaves, but even fellow blood race members.
Just as Morton Montgomery was about to finish off the subordinate, a strangely familiar female voice emanated from the cage beside them.
“Morton… You’re Morton Montgomery, aren’t you!?”
The words hit him like a thunderbolt.
Morton Montgomery froze on the spot. He could scarcely believe his ears. The Montgomery Family was one of the Cape Family’s most “loyal” servants.
How could he ever forget that voice!?
He had dreamed of it day and night, risen early and retired late obsessing over it.
“Ha… Hahaha! Grabbing the wrong person is one thing, but hauling in our princess? Talk about when it rains, it pours.”
One moment, a flicker of alarm crossed his face; the next, it twisted into a sinister grin.
His eerie laughter silenced everyone else in the room.
Only Iyefut Cape remained undaunted. She hadn’t wanted to reveal herself at first, but hearing Morton’s voice, she assumed it was some Montgomery Family trafficker who had mistakenly snatched her. Now she dared to declare her identity, certain they would release her.
Moments later, footsteps approached. Sure enough, the black cloth was yanked from her face. Staring down at her was Morton Montgomery’s deceptively mild countenance. He crouched before the cage, eyes narrowed in a smile as he fixed his gaze on her.
“It’s really you, my revered princess… Did you catch what I just said?”
“Not really… Something Stone? Is that some fancy jewel?”
Morton was caught off guard.
“Iyefut Cape, I command you to release me at once! I can show you leniency!” Iyefut Cape reverted to her usual persona as the Social Queen—poised and assured.
But.
Events did not unfold as Iyefut Cape expected.
Gone was Morton Montgomery’s gentlemanly facade. He pulled a grotesque face, leering at her with a wicked smirk. “Sorry… No!”
“You… What did you say!? The Montgomery Family serves the Cape Family—”
“Shut your mouth, you bitch!”
The crude outburst left Iyefut Cape stunned, her face draining of color. In all her life, she had never seen such a horrifying expression.
As he spoke, still crouched, Morton Montgomery reached out with one hand and lewdly tilted up her chin. His expression flickered between rage and malice. “Damnable Cape Family, lording over us Montgomerys generation after generation! Once we can mass-produce that thing, we’ll break free of your chains forever… Hmph, the arrogance! And you think you can ‘show leniency’? I’ve had enough of your family’s haughtiness…”
All of this was part of the Montgomery Family’s secret agenda, wholly independent of the Cape Family. Mere wealth no longer satisfied them—they craved power. They aimed to mass-produce the Philosopher’s Stone in secret, swelling their strength until they surpassed the Capes and seized control of the world.
He hadn’t wanted to burn bridges, but Iyefut had overheard the key phrase.
Even if she didn’t understand, letting her go risked her blabbing to someone who did. The consequences would be dire.
And so.
When Morton Montgomery learned Sang might be an Organization plant, he hadn’t reported it to the Cape Family. For one, he didn’t care about Sang’s ties to the group—their sole target was the Philosopher’s Stone. For another, it could draw unwanted scrutiny. They planned to handle Sang quietly.
Iyefut Cape wasn’t naive, just innocent.
In that moment, she grasped the gravity of her situation and the peril she faced. Words failed her entirely.
She trembled.
Like a lamb awaiting the slaughter.
The next instant, Morton Montgomery’s attention returned fully to her. His earlier anger softened into a lecherous grin. One hand roamed her cheek, his sharp nail deliberately scraping across her skin. A trickle of blood welled up.
“Look at you… All terrified like a little white rabbit, stripped of that lofty princess air. How ugly. This is the real you… Do you remember how you humiliated me at my coming-of-age ceremony? I asked you to dance in front of everyone, begged to be your personal knight… And you brushed me off. Oh, the noble duke’s daughter—I’ll never forget that look in your eyes. Like I was some insect… But now, the tables have turned.”
With that, Morton lunged forward, clamping his hand around Iyefut’s throat. His tone shifted again, growing even more menacing. “Well? Tell me—what exactly about me wasn’t good enough for you?”
Although capturing Iyefut Cape had been an unexpected windfall, Morton Montgomery knew he couldn’t escape the current situation unscathed. On top of that, as a twisted psychopath, he still harbored deep grudges from the past. Now, it was time to settle both new and old scores in full.
“Answer me! What exactly about me don’t you like!?”
Iyefut’s neck was locked in an iron grip, making it hard for her to breathe, yet her pretty face flushed red as she stubbornly insisted, “I can’t accept an invitation from someone with ulterior motives… and…”
“And?”
“And… your overflowing lust makes me sick! I hate men like you. You’re not my type… I… I prefer purer men!”
“Not your type? Purer men…!?”
At those words, Morton Montgomery’s expression twisted as if his secret had been exposed. His brows furrowed tightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched. He suddenly slammed Iyefut Cape to the ground, then stood up and thrust his foot toward her face. “Now… lick my shoe immediately, or I’ll make you suffer worse than death!”
Though Iyefut Cape wasn’t a true princess, she was one of the most noble women on the continent. The Cape family was the most powerful house in the world, and as a direct descendant, she had been pampered from birth. She had never endured such humiliation.
The fall had left her with some scrapes and bruises. The gentleman’s top hat she had been wearing tumbled off, revealing her long, cascading hair in shades of gradient color. It spilled out before the eyes of the surrounding Blood Race members and the slaves in their cages.
Nearby, Bob and Nancy jumped in fright and took a step forward, only to meet Morton Montgomery’s murderous glare. They both shrank back.
The slaves in the cage caught sight of Iyefut Cape’s feminine form. On one hand, they were stunned by her stunning beauty—even in male attire, she was breathtaking. On the other, they were puzzled. They hadn’t overheard the exchange between Morton and Iyefut; they could only judge from the actions that the two knew each other and harbored some grudge.
That pair of siblings in particular felt a wave of despair. They knew escape was impossible for them, but they at least hoped this newcomer might get away… holding onto that faint spark as a symbol of hope and legacy.
However.
In this moment, even that sliver of hope was snuffed out—personally crushed by the hateful, wicked Morton Montgomery.
Even in such a wretched state, Iyefut refused to kneel before Morton. She merely crouched there, avoiding both his shoe and his face, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Clenching her teeth, she declared, “In your dreams! I’m Iyefut Cape. I’ll never do something so disgusting.”
“Hahaha~ I love seeing proud women like you humiliated. I can’t wait to strip you bare, taste your blood first, then your flesh…”
Iyefut Cape paled at his brazen threats.
Stripped naked and locked in a cage for life? That would be worse than death!
Gritting her teeth, she shot back, “If you dare lay a hand on me, my family will never let you go!”
“You foolish woman… use your brain. Do you think I’d go to all this trouble just to let you walk free? Wake up—you have no freedom left!”
“Kill me!!!”
“No… I won’t kill you. I love collecting rare pets, and a duke’s daughter? That’s my finest prize yet… I’ve already planned out the rest of your life.”
With that, Morton Montgomery licked his lips and drew a long whip from his side.
Like most knights, he carried a sword at his belt, but his weapon of choice wasn’t a blade—it was this whip, a tool perfect for torment and subjugation. It suited him to a tee.
For the record, while 95% of knights favored bladed weapons—and swordsmanship was a required skill—not all did. The other 5% chose alternatives.
“You… what are you going to do to me?”
“If a pet won’t obey, the owner has to train it, right? That’s simple common sense, isn’t it?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Morton Montgomery lashed out with the whip straight at Iyefut Cape. It struck her arm, and blood flowed freely from the gash.
It hurt—so much…
Yet even then, Iyefut didn’t cry out or beg for mercy. Instead, her eyes flashed scarlet, a testament to her unyielding pride.
Underestimate the noble blood of the Cape family at your peril.
Seeing this only excited Morton Montgomery more. Drool nearly dripped from his mouth.
“Ha… that’s more like it. Now there’s real meaning to breaking you—and it’ll be so much more fun… Alright, time to get serious. I can’t bear to kill you, but I worry others might recognize you… So the best solution is to destroy that flawless face of yours. No one will ever identify you again!!!”
He snarled the final word through gritted teeth, his face contorted in rage.
At the same time, Morton swung the Thorn Whip with all his might, aiming straight for Iyefut Cape’s pristine face.
The slaves nearby seemed to foresee the horror to come. Unable to watch, they squeezed their eyes shut… People are drawn to beauty; no one wants to witness perfection marred—especially not in someone sharing their misery. After all, being caged together was a kind of fate.
Bob and Nancy averted their gazes too, hearts heavy.
It’s over—my face. That was Iyefut Cape’s final thought.
In helpless despair, she closed her eyes and gave up all resistance…
She braced for the searing pain and the sharp crack on her face… But after a full ten seconds, a sound did come—not a whip’s snap, but a resounding boom—like a skylight shattering.
In the vast slave warehouse, the slaves heard the crash of breaking glass and looked up in unison.
The skylight was the building’s sole source of light, like a window to hope. Countless slaves had dreamed of a hero descending through it.
And in this moment, a figure truly dropped from the sky!
Escorted by moonlight, plunging down.
Iyefut felt no pain. Trembling, she cracked her eyes open to see a boy—not particularly tall—standing protectively before her. He had caught the Thorn Whip in one hand, and with a swift lunge, he drove an iron fist into Morton Montgomery’s face.
“Big brother, huh!? Eat my fist!”
