Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 32: Hunt [2]

Night came.

The estate sat under the pale glow of the moon, its stone walls soaked in silver light.

Wind stirred through the trees, rustling leaves against the mansion windows.

Somewhere in the garden, a lone lantern swung gently, its flame barely holding.

Inside, the halls were alive.

Footsteps echoed. Voices whispered. The scent of roasted meat and baked bread filled the air.

Maids and servants moved quickly, weaving around each other, balancing trays, polishing silver, setting the long dining table under the chandelier’s dull gold light.

Alaric was among them, quiet as always. Focused. Moving at his own pace.

He ignored the occasional jab from passing servants. Shrugs. Snide looks. He didn’t bother responding.

"What happened? You’re looking a bit lost today." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Then came a soft and gentle voice from his side.

He turned his head slightly.

Beside him stood a girl with silver hair tied back neat and simple, amber eyes catching the candlelight.

She wore the same maid uniform, sleeves rolled up, a tray in her hands.

Iris.

Alaric shook his head.

"It’s nothing. Just thinking."

She tilted her head, a small frown creasing her brow.

"Thinking about what?"

"None of your business."

His tone wasn’t harsh, but firm. He didn’t look at her again, just adjusted a set of goblets on the table, aligning them.

Iris’s cheeks puffed into a small pout.

But she didn’t press further. Just moved to the opposite side and started arranging the cutlery in silence.

The candlelight flickered between them.

The table was set.

Candles lit. Cutlery aligned. Platters placed with care. The scent of spiced meat and honeyed wine hung thick in the hall.

One of the maids bowed out and hurried off.

Moments passed.

Then footsteps echoed from the upper stairwell.

They arrived together.

Baron Ferick led, draped in a deep burgundy coat with gold trimming that strained around his gut.

His collar was half-open, hair slicked back in a rush. His eyes were bloodshot, his mouth twisted in something between a grin and a sneer.

Behind him, Selene walked with measured steps. A dark green gown clung to her frame, subtle embroidery trailing across the sleeves like vines.

Her hair was swept into a loose knot, a single silver chain resting at her throat. She didn’t look around. Didn’t acknowledge anyone.

Beside her, Renard followed with that usual swagger, a black tunic stretched over his frame, sleeves rolled up, a silver ring on each finger.

His eyes scanned the room, pausing a little too long on the maids lined up against the wall.

The three took their seats.

Then Selene raised her hand.

Clap!

And with a single clap.

The room moved.

Maids stepped forward. Trays lifted. Dishes placed. Wine poured.

Alaric moved with the others.

As the feast began—

Knives clinked. Wine sloshed. The sound of chewing and idle chatter echoed low under the high ceiling.

Baron Ferick reached for a roasted leg of meat, tearing into it with little care. Grease stained his beard.

Selene sat straight, cutting her food with clean, measured movements.

Renard leaned back in his chair, cup in hand, smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

"There had been few words from the outer farms," he said, voice casual. "Some wild beasts were spotted near the woods."

Ferick scoffed, barely glancing up. "Eh. Probably just wolves. Or drunk peasants seeing shadows."

Selene didn’t look at either of them, but her voice cut through smoothly.

"We’ve barely enough guards to cover the estate, let alone the border roads."

She took a sip of her wine.

"Though, they have stayed quiet and hidden because they haven’t felt threatened."

Her fork tapped lightly against the plate.

Renard’s grin widened.

"So, I’ll go hunting tomorrow."

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the table.

"To put an end to it before it becomes a problem."

"Besides..." he glanced toward Selene, watching for a reaction. "Might do the barony some good. That the common folk could sleep better when they know someone’s watching their borders."

Selene didn’t respond.

But Ferick let out a loud laugh, nearly choking on his wine.

"That’s the spirit!"

"Now that’s what I call a real man. Brave, sharp, and generous."

"Lord Renard, you’re not just all talk like the rest of those stuck-up nobles."

Renard chuckled low, eyes still gleaming from Ferick’s laughter.

"Thank you for your kind words, Lord Ferick. I’m honored."

Ferick gave a lazy wave, already halfway into his next cup. "Heh. I’m just speaking the truth."

Then Selene lifted her gaze.

Calm and steady.

"It’s generous of you to offer help, Lord Renard."

She set her fork down with a soft clink.

"But men rarely move without reason. And we would feel ashamed to receive nothing in return."

A pause.

"So... what is it that you want in return, Milord?"

Renard didn’t answer right away.

He smiled, wide and easy.

His eyes swept the room, drifting past the decorations, the walls, the wine... then landed on the maids near the back.

Specifically, on one of them.

Silver hair. Amber eyes. Standing still.

He didn’t look at her long.

Just enough.

Then he turned back toward the table, voice smooth.

"To be honest, I truly wished to aid your barony, Lord and Lady Glimor."

He leaned back slightly.

"But... lately, I’ve noticed a shortage of capable servants at my own estate."

Selene didn’t speak.

He glanced again.

"So I was hoping..."

He smiled, feigning casual interest.

"Perhaps I could take one or two of yours. Temporarily, of course. Just to see how the maids trained under Lady Selene carry themselves."

Selene held his gaze for a moment. Then gave a single nod.

"That could be arranged. Anything else, Lord Renard?"

Renard raised his hands slightly, the smile still plastered across his face.

"No, no. I wouldn’t dare trouble you, Lady Selene."

Then his eyes drifted again.

Back to Iris.

She stood still, like before. But this time, her posture had changed.

Her chin lowered, eyes fixed on the ground.

And then she moved.

Not behind, but closer to the servant beside her, a boy with ash-brown hair and hazel eyes, maybe a year older than her.

Too close.

Almost brushing his side.

Seeing this Renard narrowed his eyes, then a wicked grin tugged his lips.

"Interesting."

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