A bastard carried shame.

But if that bastard carried the Empress’s bloodline? She’d be deemed noble.

…At least, noble on the surface.

Yet false flattery always betrayed the malice lurking beneath.

Young Lilith had overheard maids and noble children whispering behind her back more than once: “bastard,” “lowly half-breed.”

They never knew her fluffy ears—gifted by her mixed blood—could catch sounds faraway and secret, meant never to be heard.

Naturally quiet, the more she heard, the more withdrawn she became.

“Princess Lilith can’t compare to Princess Athena.”

“All nobles come for Princess Athena. I wish I could bask in her radiance too.”

“A bastard isn’t worth your time.”

“…”

Lilith drifted through the palace like a ghost.

The royal garden was her favorite refuge. There, she’d revert to her true form, slip her small frame into lush flower beds, and vanish from hollow voices and false smiles.

Her first meeting with Maur happened on an ordinary morning.

She slipped through the secret path she knew by heart, reached her hidden spot—

Only to find someone already there.

Maur turned from a cluster of blue-violet irises. Their eyes met.

Noble-long hair, rare black. Eyes the color of open sky—vast, free.

A unique scent clung to him. Butterflies danced around him like enchanted sparks.

…Iris… Spirit of the irises?

At first, Lilith mistook him for a beautiful elf lady. His features were delicate, lovelier than any bloom.

And he smelled wonderful.

Then he spoke.

“Dog?”

A flicker of confusion. He waved, cooing, “Here, puppy, puppy~ C’mere, little dog.”

His face was lovely—but his voice was unmistakably a boy’s.

And he dared treat her like a dog?

“I’m not a dog,” Lilith shot back.

She was a wolf. Her mother had said so: of the Silver Wolf Clan, the Lunar Descendants.

Not some common dog.

Even the cruelest gossips never called her that.

Maur ignored her. Noting the absent collar and her “dirty” fur, he decided she was a stray magical beast cub.

His eyes lit up—star-bright with delight.

A collar materialized in his palm (Lilith would later learn: spatial magic. Rare. Precious.).

“I need a beast. Out of mercy, I grant you the honor. From now on—you’re my dog.”

“I said I’m NOT a dog!”

They tumbled into the flowers. Maur, larger in human form, had the early advantage—nearly snapping the collar around her neck multiple times.

Young and small, Lilith fought hard. All she managed: tiny bloodied marks on his hand.

“Growl!”

Cornered, she shifted back to human form.

“Half-breed? Beastkin?” Maur yelled, feeling tricked.

Lilith’s fur bristled with rage. *Almost collared like a dog?!*

They grappled again—human against human—tearing petals, trampling stems.

Exhausted, they collapsed panting. Neither let go.

Maur’s knee pressed her stomach; one hand clamped her mouth, the other yanked her hair.

Lilith stomped a bare foot on his face, strained against his knee, tugged his hair, scratched his cheek.

The commotion drew palace maids.

Earlier, Maur had secretly sparked fire magic—aimed at her silvery tail.

He missed. Ignited dry branches instead. A small fire flared.

Both were scolded. Maur—still not Athena’s fiancé then—got the harsher lecture.

But it was dismissed as “children’s mischief” after the Violet Count offered one-third of his domain’s annual tax as apology.

“Tch! Stupid dog. I’m gonna get yelled at. So annoying!”

Punished outside the Empress’s hall, Maur scowled—not at the scolding, but at the nuisance of it.

“I’m not a dog,” Lilith murmured.

Calm settled over her. The heavy, wordless weight in her chest had lifted. For the first time… light. Happy.

Could fighting really feel this good?

…Did this idiot still not know who she was?

She glanced sideways, casual. “You’re not *that* clueless… right? Don’t you know who stands before you?”

Maur smirked, dismissive. “Hard to guess? The moment you shifted—obvious. Only one half-breed in this whole palace.”

The Empress’s bastard daughter. Second Imperial Princess. Lilith.

—So what?

His eyes said it plainly. Unbothered. Unimpressed.

She should’ve felt insulted.

Yet anger wouldn’t come. A strange warmth stirred instead.

Something felt… different.

Same contempt. Same disdain.

But his wasn’t for her blood. Not for being a bastard or half-breed.

He simply despised *her*.

No—Maur despised *everyone* equally.

“You’re all trash.”

His gaze whispered it clear.