If she accepted—
She might transform into a swan.
Or die without even leaving a corpse.
If she refused—
She would remain ordinary forever.
A tool… passed from one powerful man to another.
Nakime's breathing, still unsteady from earlier exertion, suddenly stopped.
She didn't even dare take another breath.
From childhood—
She had been bought by Mr. Dai from traffickers.
Raised, trained—
To become the perfect servant.
A gift.
One day to be presented to powerful figures—
In exchange for favor and利益.
A tool.
Yes—
A disposable tool.
And she never resisted.
Because she had always understood—
She had no right to resist.
Reality was never a fairy tale.
Even if she had beauty.
Even if she was obedient, gentle, and well-behaved—
There would be no prince to save her.
There would be no glass slipper.
But now—
She had a chance.
A chance to change her future.
And she believed Mammon would not lie.
Because this boy—
Was someone even Mr. Dai bowed to with respect.
After serving him for two days, she had already understood—
Though cold—
Mammon would never bother deceiving someone like her.
She was nothing but a servant with a pretty face.
Not worth lying to.
"I want it! My lord… please, give me this chance!"
Silence filled the room for a few seconds.
Nakime tightly grasped Mammon's hand.
Her usually calm and obedient eyes—
Now shimmered with tears.
She looked straight into his crimson gaze.
So what if she died?
To her—
She was already lucky.
Very lucky.
Because the first man she served was Mammon.
And he had no twisted habits.
She only needed to serve him well.
At the very least—
Those who were once untouchable—
Now had to treat her politely, if only on the surface, because of him.
Even Chen Jun—
Who used to be just Mr. Dai's bodyguard—
Now treated her with respect.
If there were no other choices—
She would have continued serving Mammon faithfully.
Because she had none.
But now—
He gave her a choice.
And she wanted to gamble.
Not to rise above others.
Not to prove anything.
But because—
She wanted her future to be hers.
Not something defined by others.
She was human.
Not a tool.
"You chose this yourself."
"I'll give you a lot of blood, Nakime… don't disappoint me."
Mammon looked at the girl who had accompanied him for two nights.
That almost twisted determination in her eyes—
Made him smile.
"Whether you become someone above all…"
"Or turn into ashes—"
"Let your talent decide."
He reached out, placing his hand on her slender neck.
His sharp nail pierced directly into her delicate skin.
"Mm—!"
Nakime let out a muffled groan.
The moment pain struck—
Her eyes widened violently.
As Mammon's demon blood entered her body—
Her pupils shrank rapidly.
Veins spread across her eyes, creating a terrifying sight.
"AAAH—!"
She clenched the bedsheets tightly.
A low, agonized cry escaped her lips.
Her entire body trembled violently.
Pain—
Everywhere.
Every bone.
Every cell.
Everything was being torn apart and remade.
The agony was so intense—
She wished for death.
But she endured.
Her body curled tightly.
If she could survive this—
She would become someone new.
Mammon watched her silently.
His expression calm.
Emotionless.
The amount of blood he gave Nakime—
Was the highest so far.
Even more than Mr. Dai.
Not because he believed she had greater talent—
But because he wanted to see—
If this seemingly fragile girl,
With unexpectedly strong will—
Could surprise him.
The Blood Curse—
Its upper limit was, strictly speaking, fixed.
But human will—
Could push that limit higher.
The amount of blood one could endure—
Depended entirely on the individual.
If talent was the first factor—
Then willpower was the second.
When a person's conviction was strong enough—
Their tolerance for the Blood Curse increased.
And the resulting demon—
Would be far more terrifying.
Just like—
Upper Rank One and Upper Rank Three.
Both had their heads severed—
Yet, through sheer will and obsession—
They regenerated.
Upper Rank One fell only when his belief collapsed.
Upper Rank Three—
Chose death when his memories resurfaced.
Meanwhile—
Upper Rank Two, despite his immense talent—
Could not regenerate after decapitation.
Because he lacked emotion.
No emotion—
Meant no obsession.
No conviction.
Thus—
He could not surpass death like the others.
A demon's lower limit was determined by talent.
But its upper limit—
Was shaped by both talent and will.
"If you can endure this…"
Mammon narrowed his crimson eyes slightly as he watched Nakime's face twist in agony.
This—
Was also an experiment.
If she survived—
It would prove two things:
Her talent—
And the impact of human will on adapting to demon blood.
And with that—
Mammon would gain a clearer direction—
For selecting his future Twelve Kizuki.
Despair.
Greed.
Obsession.
Distortion.
Love.
Family.
All kinds of emotions—
He could seek out those bound by their obsessions—
And build his own Twelve Kizuki.