Chapter 1

From the moment I was born, I was taught that my fate did not belong to me. The only reason I existed was to wait for the day I would be sold to some lord, to maintain my father’s rule.

I wanted to learn how to ride, how to shoot a bow, how to fight. But every time, my father would drag me back, force me to kneel beneath the temple of the Sun Goddess, and lash me until my skin split open and my flesh tore.

Above my head, the statue of the Sun Goddess Arya looked down upon me. She held the Sword of the Blazing Sun in her hand and stood upon a crescent moon, symbolizing her eternal victory over the Moon Goddess Luna. Every inch of the temple shimmered with golden light, and the walls were carved with tales of her heroic triumphs over the beasts of darkness.

“You must be punished under the watch of the Sun Goddess. Only then will you learn obedience,” my father said coldly, raising the whip in his hand.

“You know the most important thing about a woman is her body. She cannot have a single scar—otherwise, how can you be sold at a good price?”

I was ten years old that year. I lay on the ground, unable to move, my blood seeping into the cold stone floor of the temple. No one brought me food. No one treated my wounds. I would die here—I was certain of it. The Sun Goddess could not possibly be my god. She showed me no mercy.

A few days later, my father sent a royal physician, who lifted my barely breathing body from the ground. He stood over my sickbed, looking down at me with indifference. “Know your place, and your life will be much easier.”

I quickly wiped away the tears that slipped from the corners of my eyes and turned my head aside.

Ten years passed. I learned to live with my head lowered. Never look up at my father. Never look up at my stepmother. Then my face would not be struck, and needles would not pierce my body. Like a soulless puppet, I was forced to learn everything a princess was supposed to do.

The first lesson was how to please men.

“Sit up straight,” Mora’s voice was as cold as iron in winter. “Do you think you’re feeding pigs?”

I immediately adjusted my posture, legs pressed together, back straight. Mora was sent by my stepmother specifically to “educate” me. She always wore black, her face pale like that of a corpse.

“Remember,” she said as she slowly paced behind me, “a woman’s only value is to please men. You must learn to submit, to cater, to make your master feel satisfied.”

A sharp pain shot through me—she had pricked my back again with that thin needle. I clenched my teeth, not daring to make a sound.

“Spread your legs,” she ordered coldly. “Like this. Don’t be shy. Don’t resist. Your body does not belong to you—it belongs to the man who will buy you in the future.”

I obeyed, shame flooding over me like a tide.

“Good. Now lower your head. Your gaze must be gentle, obedient. Make men feel that you admire them.” Another needle pierced into my waist, and I almost cried out. “Do you think you’re special? Do you think your royal blood means anything?” Mora’s voice dripped with malice. “You’re nothing but a burden. A curse. If not for you, Her Majesty the Queen would have already borne an heir for the king.”

The needle stabbed into my shoulder again, deeper this time. “You’d better pray someone is willing to take you. Otherwise, you’ll be thrown to the beggars outside and passed around until you die in some filthy corner.”

I bit down hard on my lower lip, feeling the needle slide beneath my skin. There were never any scars—it never left scars—but the pain etched itself deep into my soul.

“Tomorrow we will continue practicing how to serve a man,” Mora said with a cold smile as she put away the needle. “Remember, no matter how many wives or lovers your husband has, you must be grateful. Jealousy is the ugliest trait a woman can have.”

After Mora left, I took a deep breath, trying to process the pain left behind by the needles. Through the window, I saw palace servants hurrying about, sensing an unusual tension thick in the air.

In recent days, the entire palace had been shrouded in gloom. From the servants’ whispered conversations, I learned that my father’s kingdom had once again suffered a crushing defeat in its war against the werewolf kingdom. Those beasts who worshipped the Moon Goddess possessed terrifying power at night. Even the blessing of the Sun Goddess could not stop our retreat.

Rumors spread like wildfire—my father intended to arrange a marriage alliance between a human princess and the werewolves, to sue for peace.

My fists clenched unconsciously. Would I be the princess offered as sacrifice?

Werewolves—I had never seen one. I was forbidden from stepping outside the palace. But from the guards’ and servants’ descriptions, they all spoke of them with fear. Werewolves were tall, their bodies several times stronger than humans. They could throw a grown man against a stone wall with one hand. And on the night of the full moon, when they fully transformed, their sharp claws could easily pierce a human chest.

The only reason my father had managed a few victories on the battlefield before was because of silver weapons. Werewolves feared silver— even the slightest wound could cause them unbearable pain. But years of war had drained the kingdom’s treasury. War required money, required food, and under such turmoil, the economy only worsened.

So this day had finally come—my father had to sit down and seek peace, to ensure the stability of his kingdom.

Just as I was drowning in these despairing thoughts, hushed voices drifted from the corridor:

“The werewolf leader has really arrived… I heard he came with an escort and is already in the palace.”

“They’re incredibly handsome—tall, strong, with eyes that glow like amber…”

“What’s the use of being handsome? They kick human heads like balls! I heard on the last battlefield, they sent our soldiers’ heads rolling everywhere!”

“They’re here to buy wives… trading gold for human women. I heard the price is terrifyingly high.”

I clenched my fists, the pain in my body fading as a chill crept up my spine. I knew what was about to happen.

Sure enough, not long after, my stepmother hurried in with her maids. They carried luxurious gowns—the kind I only wore when I was meant to “meet guests.” The maids began dressing and adorning me, and my body started to tremble, because I knew exactly who I was about to meet.

When everything was ready, my stepmother’s face broke into a satisfied smile. “You’re finally useful to this country. Now behave like a proper whore and go please those beasts. Otherwise, don’t expect to leave tonight alive.”

Strangely, death did not frighten me. Compared to living here in humiliation, death felt like a release.

“I understand,” I replied calmly.

As I was led toward the great hall, each step I took felt lighter. I knew I was walking toward hell—but at the same time, I was finally going to be free, wasn’t I?

When the heavy doors were pushed open, I saw my father seated on the throne, my stepmother standing beside him with a fake smile on her lips. In front of them stood several tall, imposing figures.

Their presence seemed to freeze the very air in the hall.

No.

They were not human.

My pupils shrank abruptly.

The man standing at the front—he wore a black fur cloak, his figure towering like a mountain. But what I couldn’t tear my eyes away from were his eyes. Amber. Deep. Gleaming with a beast’s light. At that moment, they were fixed on me.

Not observing. Not evaluating.

Locking on.

As if I already belonged to him. As if I were his prey, and he was merely confirming his prize.

My breath stopped.

A werewolf. A real werewolf stood before me.

But why… why wasn’t I as afraid as I had imagined?

I thought they would be monsters—fangs, claws, reeking of blood. But the man before me, though dangerous, though overwhelming… he was breathtakingly handsome.

I lowered my head abruptly, my heart pounding wildly.

No. I shouldn’t think that. He came to buy me. He sees me as nothing more than a commodity. How could I… how could I find him handsome?

But those amber eyes had already burned themselves into my mind.