Chapter 21

※ Contains cruel descriptions and violent expressions. Viewer discretion advised.

"Have you calmed down, Yuka? Your color’s looking better."

"Yes, thanks to you, Lord Albert. I’m grateful."

Before I realized it, I had started feeling better. It was a little embarrassing, but I was honestly glad for his help.

"Ah—Lord Albert? Um, about that…"

"Yeah. Say whatever’s on your mind. Sometimes talking helps."

"W-well then… could you… listen to my story?"

"Of course. Hit me with it."

"Y-you don’t have to brace yourself that hard…"

"This is your first time coming to me with a problem, Yuka. I won’t miss a single word."

"O-okay… Thank you…"

—Ten years ago.

Back when I was 17.

I was born and raised in an ordinary family—just me, my father, Masataka, and my mother, Naomi. Not wealthy, not poor. A perfectly average household.

One day, my mother left the house in the evening to go shopping. It wasn’t a holiday or a special occasion. Just a normal weekday.

It wasn’t unusual for her to go out around dinnertime to pick up groceries. So I barely paid attention when she left.

"I’m off to the store. Anything you want for dinner?"

"Curry."

"Got it. Alright, I’m heading out~!"

"See you later."

That was the last conversation we ever had.

The next time I saw her, she was in the hospital. A drunk driver had plowed into her. They told me she died instantly—wrong place, wrong impact. The driver had smashed through a guardrail, crashed into a utility pole, and died on the spot.

I remember my father, usually so calm, standing there in the hospital room like a hollow shell.

After that, he became a different person. He started working obsessively. Barely came home, even on weekends. He barely slept, maybe three hours a night if he was lucky. I heard he was doing it all to put me through college. In the end, he worked himself to death.

The one who showed up after that was my uncle—my father’s older brother, Kiyoharu.

Even now, I can’t stand the man. He’s the type who truly believes sheer willpower solves everything. The first thing he said to me at my father’s funeral was:

"Your father died because he was weak. Pathetic. Forget that fool of a brother. From now on, I’m going to toughen you up—properly."

From the moment we met, I knew I couldn’t stand him.

After Kiyoharu took me in, I withdrew into myself. On weekdays, I only left the house for school, but on weekends, I shut myself in my room. My uncle hated that. Every time we crossed paths, he’d beat me.

"You spineless brat! Just like your damn father! You make me sick!"

I swore I’d leave the second I turned 18. But then, one day—

"You’re joining my company. I’ll break you into shape!"

After graduation, he forced me into his business—my former workplace. The job I’d actually wanted? Cancelled without my input. No escape. From day one, the "training" began: beatings, being locked in the warehouse overnight. If the janitor hadn’t found me the next morning, I might’ve—No. Don’t think about it.

The "lessons" never stopped.

He’d punch me over nothing, spewing vitriol that eroded my sense of self. All my peers quit within months. New hires? They’d collapse under the pressure and vanish.

The only ones left were either brown-nosing Kiyoharu’s boots or hollow-eyed husks of people. My direct supervisor, Daisuke Kuzutani, was the former—a textbook asshole who licked up to the strong and kicked down the weak.

The broken ones? Some had panic attacks mid-shift. Others muttered to themselves while staring at box cutters.

Then there was Miyu Yagi, anemic and drowning in depression—Kuzutani’s favorite target for harassment. I couldn’t abandon her. I shielded her when I could, listened when she needed it. Somehow, we became friends.

Of course, Kuzutani hated that. The violence escalated. The verbal abuse turned savage. Miyu quit a year before I met Lord Albert. At least she got out.

I lost count of how many resignation letters I submitted. Each time, they’d beat me, tear up the paper, and force me to grovel on the office floor. I stopped counting after 100.

The day I met Lord Albert, I was numb—drifting through thoughts of suicide. Why did I save him? I don’t know. My body just… moved. That’s all it was. A reflex.