Chapter2

I rolled my eyes.

Both of them had taken turns inside me; how could I possibly not know?

It all stemmed from that accident three months ago.

His enemies had slipped him a dragon frenzy potion, but I was completely sober.

When he pinned me against the bed, tough dragon scales covered his skin all the way from his shoulders down to his wrists. I practically thought I was going to be torn in half.

I cried and begged him to go easy, offering every desperate promise I could think of.

But that feral dragon brat didn't listen to a single word.

When I finally woke up on the morning of the third day, he was still passed out.

Covered in bruises and bite marks across my chest, I wanted nothing more than to beat the living hell out of him.

But I couldn't even muster the strength to deliver a few solid kicks.

Wincing in pain and clutching my aching lower back, I managed to burn the ruined bedsheets first.

Then, I sneaked into the hotel's security room, wiped every piece of hallway footage showing my face clean, and pretended nothing had ever happened.

I lowered my eyes, dodging his penetrating gaze.

"I saw it at the training grounds. It was so hideous I wanted to gouge my own eyes out. Don't force me to recall something that disgusting."

Ayla started the countdown again.

Darius thought of something and merely shrugged.

"When you were fourteen and entered the Singing Monarch competition, I was the one who sneaked onto the judging panel and cast the winning vote for you."

The red magic stone flashed once more.

"This secret is known to the other party. The labyrinth judges your attempt a failure."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You knew about that too?"

I let out a cold sneer.

"How else do you think your nudes ended up in the black market auction catalogs?"

During the singing competition that year, someone had uploaded a voice recording of me to the academy's public channel.

At the time, to obtain a rare potion ingredient, I had ventured into the academy's Fairy Forest and tried singing a fairy lullaby to attract the sprites.

That was exactly when the song was recorded.

Someone who had failed their own hunt threatened me while I was singing. I fought them off while continuing to sing, completely throwing the tune off-key.

I didn't think it sounded good at all, but the academy students left frantic comments under the public post.

Spouting nonsense about my "sweet,.loli-like voice.'

I was so furious that, that very night, I posted Darius's nudes and his comms channel ID on the underground auction network.

For a solid week, his communicator blew up with people asking, "How's your stamina?" and "How many years are you willing to be kept for?"

Men and women alike.

Ayla issued a warning.

"You have failed twice. This is your final chance. If the host fails again, the labyrinth will forcibly initiate Option One."

"Five, four, three..."

Darius sat back down on the ground, his dragon tail sweeping slowly across the floor. His Adam's apple bobbed before he spoke, sounding incredibly reluctant.

"When you were ten and our foster father locked you in the basement, I was the one who stole the key and let you out."

My eyes snapped wide open.

At the exact same moment, with a sharp beep, the green magic stone flared to life.

"Secret approved."

Darius and I were both children taken in by a human foster father.

When he was born, the dragon clans were embroiled in a civil war, so his parents entrusted him to our foster father. I, on the other hand, was just an abandoned infant left at the gates of the manor.

We grew up together, but we never got along.

As toddlers, we fought over food.

When we started learning magic, we fought over grades.

When we grew older and entered the academy, we fought over materials and resources.

There was never a single moment of peace between us.

Until we turned ten.

It was discovered that I hadn't awakened any elven heritage, nor did I possess any dragon blood. I was an ordinary human of unknown origin.

Overnight, I went from being our foster father's proudest adoptive daughter to a piece of absolute trash.

Our foster father pointed right at my nose and cursed at me.

"You little mongrel from who-knows-where, eating my food and drinking my water, taking up my adoptive daughter's spot for so many years! Why don't you just die?"

A torrential downpour raged that day.

I was shoved down into the basement, bruising my knees and palms from the painful fall, and the heavy iron door slammed shut behind me.

Our foster father declared he would lock me up for three days to "teach me a lesson."

The basement was freezing and pitch-black, with only a single crystal lamp flickering on and off.

I huddled in the corner, trying to figure out where I would go once I got out.

Go steal bread on the streets? Or head to the black market to become someone's alchemy apprentice?

At ten years old, there really weren't many things I could actually do.

My mind raced in circles as I counted the sound of water droplets dripping from the walls. I couldn't even tell if the wetness on my face was from the damp cellar or my own tears.

Until the second night, when the iron door was suddenly pulled open from the outside.

A lamp shone down on my head.