The beginning

When Boer sat up in the overly spacious bed, which still held an unfamiliar fragrance, the faint sounds of someone waiting outside the door immediately stopped.

The heavy oak door silently opened a crack, and a petite figure timidly edged inside.

She was a little maid who looked no more than fourteen or fifteen, dressed in a brand-new but slightly oversized maid's dress, her youthful face still retaining a childlike air.

First, with nimble, light movements, she drew back the heavy crimson velvet curtains, allowing more morning light to flood the room and dispel a little of its suggestive gloom.

Then, holding a set of pure white cotton undergarments made from fine fabric, she approached the bed with her head lowered and tiny steps. In a voice somewhere between a grown maid's and an innocent girl's, tinged with nervousness and uncertainty, she cautiously asked, "M-my lord, what style of clothes would you like to wear today?"

Her gaze remained lowered, fixed firmly on the toes of her brightly polished leather shoes, not daring to stray in the slightest.

Yet, in the instant she had handed over the clothes just now, the corner of her eye had inevitably caught Boer's lean, muscular body as he rose, its clearly defined muscles brimming with raw strength, as well as his natural morning physiological response. She immediately lowered her head like a startled fawn, her cheeks scarlet, her heart almost bursting out of her chest.

An absurd yet fatally tempting thought flashed uncontrollably through her mind: If... if my lord... wanted me... could I escape this lowly fate and live like those noble young ladies, someone important, waited on by others, never worrying about food or clothes?

But the moment that thought arose, the stern, rigid, warning face of Elena, the housekeeper, appeared before her eyes.

It was as though a basin of cold water had been poured over her. She immediately buried her head even lower, almost tucking it into her collar, her heart filled with belated fear. "Black, loose-fitting casual clothes will do."

Boer's calm, even voice broke the awkward, delicate silence in the room. He gave the instruction casually, but his gaze never left the little maid.

Sunlight passed through the glass windows, casting squares of alternating light and shadow across the room.

The shadow of a window frame fell diagonally across half of Boer's face, dividing his fine-featured profile into light and darkness.

Amid that interplay of light and shadow, an instinctive desire, mingled with the sense of omnipotence that power brought, quietly raised its head and swelled within him like a lurking venomous snake.

A tempting whisper sounded deep in his mind. Use your ability... turn into black metal tentacles and suspend her, constrict her pale neck, ravage her amid her terrified tears... this is the privilege the strong deserve!

Boer's breathing faltered almost imperceptibly, and an exceedingly subtle trace of scarlet flashed deep in his eyes.

That violent thought swept through his nerve endings like an electric current. Yet just as the little maid felt an inexplicable chill and began trembling slightly, Boer slowly closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again, their usual clarity and indifference had returned. "I'll do it myself." He refused the little maid's trembling hands as she reached out to help him dress. At his will, the black metal particles that had flowed like decorations across the room's walls and floor silently swept back like a returning current, covering his body.

They swiftly transformed and fitted themselves together, forming an extremely thin yet immensely tough lining, perfectly concealed beneath the loose black everyday clothes he put on afterward, as though they had never existed.

Only Boer himself could feel the calm and strength brought by that layer of cold metal against his skin.

He gently exhaled a stale breath, as though sending the desire that had surged up moments earlier far away.

"Did they prepare anything good for breakfast?" As he spoke, he even reached out and, somewhat stiffly, gently rubbed the little maid's white-kerchief-covered head.

The unexpected gentle contact made the little girl shudder. Overwhelmed by the favor, she raised her head, her eyes filled with disbelief and a glimmer of flattered surprise, and stammered, "Th-there's hot milk, freshly baked bread, bacon, fried eggs... and, and blue cheese that the housekeeper specifically ordered prepared..."

Boer said nothing more and headed straight for the bedroom door. Behind him, the little maid held the unchosen set of sumptuous formal clothes and watched his tall, indifferent figure retreat, her heart a jumble of feelings: relief at having survived a calamity, but also a trace of inexplicable disappointment.

When he emerged from the bedroom, Elena, the housekeeper, had long since been waiting outside, as punctual as the most precise clock.

She still wore that well-tailored, deep-V housekeeper's uniform that accentuated her mature allure, an impeccable professional smile on her face.

She elegantly bent slightly in a standard morning greeting, her carefully made-up eyes narrowing a little.

"If you would like to sample some other breakfast fare, Miss Chloe and Miss Allison are already waiting in the side room. After all, within this residence, everything is a 'snack' for you to enjoy at any time."

As she spoke, she lightly covered her mouth with a white-gloved hand and gave a soft chuckle of ambiguous meaning.

While leading Boer to the dining room, Elena walked lightly half a step behind him to one side and added, seemingly in passing:

"Also, Lord Locke and Baron Caffia are already waiting in the dining room to eat with you. I imagine they would not mind waiting a little longer."

Boer naturally understood the implication of her words. When Boer sat down in the chair at the head of the long dining table, which Elena had personally pulled out for him.

Locke Hohen, who had long been waiting opposite him, immediately leaned over with a knowing waggle of his eyebrows, wearing a smile that combined friendliness, directness, and undisguised lechery.

"Hey! My dear friend!" Locke sounded as warm as though they had been close friends for years. He lowered his voice, though everyone at the table could hear him clearly.

"Well? The taste of those two 'ladies' last night... must have been rather fine, eh? Heh heh."

He licked his lips and continued in that same coaxing tone, "If you have the time, your big brother here could hold a special evening banquet just for you. You could take your pick of the socialites, ladies, and noblewomen there. They'd writhe freely on the dance floor however you pleased, and discussing life with you at the same time wouldn't be out of the question either, hahaha."

Boer picked up his solid silver table knife and leisurely cut into the fried egg on his plate. Golden yolk slowly flowed out.

He raised his eyes toward Locke, his gaze calm and untroubled, and replied indifferently, "Women, of course I like them. They are like jewels bestowed by heaven, worthy of admiration and treasuring."

His tone abruptly shifted, becoming sharp and firm. "But however beautiful those jewels may be, they must give way to our common enterprise. Ten thousand years is too long. We... must seize every moment."

He brought a small piece of bacon coated in yolk to his mouth. Only after chewing and swallowing did he continue, "The 'Steel Club' you're preparing for me-are the premises and personnel ready? I can hardly wait to go there and 'show what I can do.'"

His fingertips unconsciously tapped lightly against the smooth tabletop, making faint tapping sounds, as though he could already hear the roar of clashing metal and forging.

"Of course! My beloved friend and partner!" Locke seemed fired with enthusiasm. Waving his knife and fork, he tore viciously into a large piece of blood-tinged steak as though he had become a ravenous beast.

Chewing in great mouthfuls, he said loudly and indistinctly, "Before daybreak, I'd already sent people to 'invite' all the smiths in Silver City and everyone skilled in engineering and fabrication to wait for us at the club."

He swallowed the meat, took the red wine a servant had refilled, gulped down a large mouthful, and pointed out the window.

"That loyal 'big dog' of yours, Thatch, hasn't been slow either! At first light, he took those newly recruited... hmm, 'security personnel' of his and, working with the remaining fellows in the Royal Capital City Defense Force who could still move, started 'cleaning up' the scum and clueless little thugs in the city!"

He spread his lips in a cruel smile. "As for city hall's draft of the new dock plans, I'd wager it'll be delivered with the utmost care to your desk at the club by noon at the latest!"

Baron Caffia, who sat beside them and had been trying to find a chance to interject, saw that Locke was about to monopolize the conversation again. He hastily set down his wineglass and leaned forward slightly, his face covered in a fawning smile, hurriedly adding, "Lord Boer, we haven't been idle either! We've already begun 'negotiating' with the merchants and minor nobles who own private docks and warehouses. After all..."

He rubbed his hands, a falsely troubled look appearing on his face. "Some of them are, on the surface, 'respectable people.' If we simply seized everything by force..."

At this point, he seemed to find his own excuse somewhat ridiculous and could not help giving two dry chuckles. "Heh heh... it would look a little too grasping and could invite some unnecessary criticism."

His remarks about wanting to be a whore while still claiming virtue immediately drew unrestrained laughter from Locke at the table, and even the corners of Boer's mouth curved into a cold arc.

Amid the tacitly knowing laughter of these three "carnivores," the breakfast with its subtle atmosphere came to an end.

Napkins were tossed onto the table, and wineglasses were drained. Now they were going to "eat" something else-to annex, to digest, to forge, to reshape this city's rules and future with steel and flame.