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Peter realized his destiny on a day during a long drought. Born as the eldest son of a dirt-poor farming family, he had been helping with farm work since he was a child. For young Peter, the farm work was grueling and exhausting. But as the eldest son, he endured and persevered—for his ragged and starving family, and for a better future for them.

Peter especially cherished his younger sister, Wendy, who was right below him in age.

“Brother! I-I’ll help too… *cough*…”

“No, it’s done. Wendy, you rest in the shade over there.”

Despite her frail body, Wendy always tried to help, even getting covered in dirt. She was a precious sister who always wanted to support him.

But that day… After a long drought, Peter and Wendy prayed desperately, as if grasping at straws.

“Brother!”

“Rain…!”

As if the gods had answered their prayers, rain began to fall miraculously on the parched land.

“Wow, wow!”

Wendy, overjoyed, danced in the rain. At that moment, Peter saw it clearly—a faint rainbow-colored magical energy emanating from Wendy’s body. It was a miraculous power containing all elements, a chosen power only the descendants of the hero who saved the world could wield.

Good heavens. Wendy and he were the descendants of that great hero…!

But Peter’s shock and excitement were short-lived. He faced the harsh reality: among the descendants, only one would be recognized by the gods as the true hero.

The first magic Wendy used was the miracle of bringing rain. It was a feat befitting a hero, and if this continued, Wendy would likely be chosen as the hero.

‘That can’t happen.’

Though young, Peter wasn’t naive. He knew the hero who would save the world wasn’t just a romantic figure from fairy tales. Just looking at his family, they were descendants of the hero, yet they lived in crushing poverty.

If their lineage were revealed, they might escape poverty temporarily, but they’d eventually be exploited by the high-born. The hero’s destiny likely included such trials. So, Peter wished Wendy wouldn’t become the hero.

Wendy was frail, prone to mistakes, and struggled with farm work. To burden such a small, fragile child with the task of saving the world was too cruel.

Peter resolved to become the hero in Wendy’s place. Even though Wendy had awakened her power first, it wasn’t too late. If Peter trained as a hero now, he could surpass her.

For his little sister, he would shoulder the heavy burden of destiny.

So, Peter left. Even as Wendy cried and clung to him, he left.

He told his family he was going to earn money and began wandering the world, aiming to become a skilled adventurer.

Becoming an adventurer wasn’t for any grand reason. It wasn’t because the first hero was an adventurer. It was simply the only path available to Peter, who had no talent, skill, or money.

There were too many events to remember. The life of an adventurer was far harder than farming. He nearly died countless times and even lost all his wealth after being betrayed by comrades.

But Peter didn’t give up. He learned from his failures and moved forward—all for his family and his precious sister, Wendy.

When Peter’s skills were finally recognized by other adventurers, he coincidentally heard news of Wendy. It was bad news: Wendy had become a servant in the household of a notorious count near the capital.

Though Peter had sworn not to return to his family until he became a true hero, he was so worried that he went to find Wendy.

And… what Peter found was Wendy’s grave.

Unable to accept this reality, Peter’s legs trembled as he heard a mournful voice.

“Tsk tsk… Poor child… Of all people, she had to cross paths with ‘that man’…”

“That man?”

Peter grabbed the passing gravedigger and pressed for answers.

“Tell me! Who is that man?”

“Shh! Calm down.”

“He’s my sister’s enemy. Please, tell me!”

“Alright, but keep it down! It’s dangerous to speak carelessly about that man.”

Who could it be that people feared him so much? After ensuring no one was around, the gravedigger whispered the cursed man’s name to Peter.

“Tristan… He is Tristan Ruelberta.”

Immediately after, Peter, as if possessed, went to the capital to learn about Tristan. Indeed, Tristan was infamous—no one didn’t know him.

Tristan was the current head of the Ruelberta family, a noble house with unparalleled power in the empire, and an arrogant noble even the emperor feared.

Everyone Peter met despised yet feared him. He was the villain among villains.

The thought of that scoundrel treating Wendy like a toy and killing her made Peter’s stomach churn.

“I’ll never… never forgive him.”

From that day, Peter vowed to kill Tristan.

……

How much time had passed since then?

It was strange. For some reason, his memories after that were cut off as if with scissors.

Whether he went mad with rage toward Tristan or his grief over losing Wendy had damaged his memory, he couldn’t tell.

It felt like a long nightmare…

When Peter woke up, he was on a strange island called Mojito. He couldn’t remember how he ended up on this island, far from the empire.

The only thing that came to mind when he heard “Mojito” was…

“Isn’t Mojito… a drink?”

Why such a trivial thought came to him, he didn’t know. In fact, Peter knew nothing—not the current date, how much time had passed, or how he ended up here.

Was it all a dream?

No… The vow he made at Wendy’s grave was still vivid.

Peter pondered his fragmented memories and realized one thing: the only goal left for him was to bring Tristan to justice.

But unfortunately, Peter wasn’t given the chance to fulfill that goal.

Though Mojito was close to the empire, it was still a foreign land—a place only high-ranking nobles could freely visit.

A mere commoner like Peter had no right to be there. To return to the empire, he needed to prove his identity, but there was no way to do so here.

Thus, absurdly, Peter was trapped on Mojito Island.

At first, Peter didn’t just sit still. He begged the visiting nobles to take him back to the empire, even kneeling before them. When that didn’t work, he tried to build a raft to cross the sea himself, but he was caught by muscular, macho-smelling locals for cutting trees without permission and ended up in jail.

Eventually, with no way out, Peter’s body and spirit slowly crumbled under the weight of helplessness.

Unable to prove his identity, he couldn’t even get a decent job. He survived by scavenging trash for food.

Yet, his desire for revenge against Tristan never faded.

‘If only Tristan would appear before me… If only I could kill him…’

Peter prayed fervently every day, even more desperately than when he and Wendy had prayed for rain.

And then, as if the gods had answered his prayers, Tristan appeared before him.

But instead of avenging his sister, Peter became Tristan’s slave.

“This looks better.”

Tristan nodded in satisfaction after seeing Peter’s appearance.

Peter, who had been living like a vagrant, was now clean-shaven, with his hair cut and dressed neatly.

“My slave must have dignity.”

What nonsense. What dignity does a slave have?

Peter didn’t retort, instead fiddling with the collar around his neck—a slave collar engraved with a mark. If Peter disobeyed Tristan, the collar would slowly tighten, choking him.

Fortunately, Tristan hadn’t given any orders yet… but Peter was already tasting the humiliation of becoming his sworn enemy’s slave.

“Hmm. Now that I look at you, you really do resemble Wendy.”

Beside Tristan, a beautiful silver-haired woman examined Peter’s face closely.

Bella Izakhel.

Peter had heard of her reputation. She was the descendant of the hero Alonso Izakhel, known for her kind personality, gentleness, and stunning beauty, widely praised throughout the empire.

But why was such a noble woman with Tristan?

“So, Peter… was it? Is the collar uncomfortable?”

“…Yes.”

“If it’s uncomfortable, you can always tell the Count.”

Bella, with her gentle smile, spoke warmly to Peter, a mere commoner. Her reputation seemed well-deserved.

“Though I don’t entirely approve of the Count’s methods… at least while we’re on this island, you won’t be inconvenienced.”

“Tsk tsk, our princess doesn’t seem to know how to handle slaves.”

Suddenly, a woman interrupted, making Peter flinch.

It was Helga, Tristan’s bodyguard knight, who had subdued Peter like a child.

“Now, repeat after me: ‘Thank you, Count, for taking this lowly and wretched me as your slave.'”

“……”

“Hmm? Too hard for our ignorant slave? Then shorten it: ‘Thank you, Count.'”

“……”

“Thank. You. Count.”

“…?!”

In an instant, Peter’s shin was struck by a sharp high heel, making him grimace.

“Hehe… Looks like this slave needs more lessons in manners.”

“You like manners, huh?!”

Another strike to the same spot, and Peter couldn’t hold back a groan.

“Of course. I really, really like manners.”

“You…!”

The high heel dug into the same spot again. Truly, she was as vicious as Tristan’s subordinate.

“Hey, Helga! Stop it!”

A lisping voice intervened between Helga and Peter.

“Wendy…”

“Stop bullying my brother!”

“Ah, sorry, Wendy.”

“Huh?”

Helga apologized smoothly.

“I have a condition where I can’t help but hit rude people.”

She’s completely insane.

Peter was about to retort when Wendy, pale-faced, spoke.

“I… I didn’t know… I didn’t realize you had such a condition… Sob…”

Wendy looked at Helga with teary eyes.

“I’m sorry… If I had known you had such a condition…”

“Sigh… At least I’ve improved. Before treatment, I’d kill rude people on sight. Now I just hit them. So, please understand.”

“Y-Yes!”

Wendy??

“Of course, that’s a lie. Don’t fall for it, Wendy.”

“Huh? A lie??”

A tall woman next to Bella patted Wendy’s head.

Blanshe, was it? She gave off a strong vibe, not unlike Helga.

“Hmph. You know what? I’m really jealous of you.”

“What?”

Helga suddenly started grumbling.

“Someone like you becoming the Count’s first slave is just too much.”

“Too much…?”

“I was planning to retire and enjoy my remaining years as the Count’s first slave, but you ruined it.”

“What are you…?”

This woman’s thoughts were incomprehensible.

“Brother…”

Wendy cautiously approached Peter.

My precious sister, whom I thought was dead…

“Wendy… I’m so sorry.”

“Why… why are you sorry?”

“For not protecting you…”

Peter wanted to pull her away from Tristan, but he was powerless. Overwhelmed by helplessness, he couldn’t continue.

“Brother, I don’t know why you’re like this, but…”

Wendy hesitated, then added:

“The Count is really kind… so…”

“Enough nonsense.”

Wendy’s words were cut off by a cold voice.

“Count…”

“It’s time for dinner. Don’t waste any more of my time.”

“S-Sorry…”

Wendy fidgeted under Tristan’s icy gaze. Seeing this, Peter’s blood boiled.

It was a relief that Wendy was alive, contrary to Peter’s memory. But the danger to her hadn’t disappeared. As long as she was Tristan’s servant, her life was always at risk.

‘How dare he target my beloved sister…’

But for now, Peter had to endure. He had no way to oppose Tristan. All he could do was watch for an opportunity.

Arriving at a beachside restaurant in a luxurious carriage, they soon began discussing the menu.

Peter stood silently a few steps away. After all, a slave’s duty was to stand by until their master’s business was done.

“Brother…”

“Huh?”

Wendy approached and handed Peter a menu.

“What’s this…?”

“The Count asked me to ask what you’d like to eat…”

“What??”

This was baffling. Why would Tristan ask a slave what they wanted to eat?

Unable to understand, Peter, who already saw Tristan as the most vile man in the world, interpreted it in his own way.

Right. He’s trying to impress Bella.

Somehow, he brought Bella to this resort and naturally wants to make a good impression on her.

With that in mind, Peter decided to disrupt Tristan’s plan.

“…It’s fine.”

“Brother?”

“I’m a slave, so anything’s fine. Even leftover scraps will do. Can you tell ‘him’ that?”

The more it resembled trash, the better.

Whatever Tristan’s intentions were, Peter would ruin them beautifully. Suppressing a laugh, Peter sent the confused Wendy back.

But then… shortly after, Tristan himself approached Peter, holding a plate of food.

“You said anything’s fine, so I ordered as I pleased.”

“This is…”

“It’s yours.”

On the plate Tristan handed over were well-grilled meat and vegetables—a feast fit for nobles, not a slave.

Stunned, Peter took the plate. This ruined his plan to disrupt Tristan.

“Will you join us for dinner?”

Tristan pointed to the table where Bella and Helga were seated. Was he really inviting a slave to dine with them?

Peter was speechless.

So, he’s really going all out with this image management, huh?

“No thanks. I’m a slave, so I’ll eat on the floor.”

“…Suit yourself.”

Tristan said this and sat at the table without another glance.

Peter sat on the floor as well. He saw Wendy approaching with a plate of food.

Right. She’ll probably have to eat on the floor too. She’s just a servant… or so Peter thought, but Wendy scurried over and sat right next to Tristan, starting her meal.

Wait, isn’t that seat reserved for nobles or bodyguards…?

“Take your time.”

“Y-Yes…”

Huh?

Not only that, but Tristan even fed Wendy during the meal.

“Is it good?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Good.”

He also wiped Wendy’s mouth and cared for her as if she were his own daughter.

What’s going on? What am I seeing?

Moreover, Wendy, though embarrassed, didn’t refuse Tristan’s touch…

Wendy? Why are you acting like this??

 

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