Night falls. The air is still.
Most of the guards have left, leaving the area lightly defended. Only a few scattered goblins remain in training.
It doesn't take many to keep a bewitched elf under control. Besides, this place is deep within the goblin nest—no slave has ever escaped since the general took command.
In the dim corridor, a goblin walked along with a face full of resentment, muttering curses under his breath.
"Damn it... damn it!" he hissed. "It's just a female! What's the big deal? She's going to be used anyway." His frustration boiled over. "Did I break her or something? Damn it!"
This was Goblin Zheng, the goblin in charge of handling prisoners during the day. Furious, he stomped over to the guard stationed at the gate.
"I'm here to take over," he grunted.
"Huh?" The guard goblin looked surprised. "Goblin Zheng, what are you doing here? Aren't you in charge of the third patrol team?"
"Don't remind me," Goblin Zheng snapped, waving dismissively. "Some snitch reported me to the general for messing with a female in the feeding room. Got demoted for it."
Zheng clenched his fists, his face twisted with rage. "If I find out who ratted me out, they're dead."
The guard chuckled. "You're an idiot. If you're going to do something like that, at least pick a quiet spot. Why risk getting caught in the open?"
Since the Goblin General took charge, things had changed. Goblins couldn't just do whatever they pleased anymore—especially not in the nest. The general kept talking about "rules," comparing their nest to a kingdom or family.
"You don't get it," Zheng sneered. "I'm not like the rest of you weaklings. If I want something, I take it!"
He hated the new restrictions. Before the general arrived, things had been so easy. Whatever he wanted, he took. If something broke, you tossed it and grabbed a new one.
"Well, good luck with that," the guard chuckled again, handing Zheng the spear. "Just don't disobey the general's orders again. Next time, it won't just be a demotion."
"Get lost," Zheng growled.
Once alone, Zheng grumbled to himself. He felt restless, a familiar itch gnawing at him. Back on patrol, he could have grabbed someone whenever he pleased. But now? Nothing.
"Damn it," he muttered.
His eyes darted around. No one was nearby. He thought about sneaking inside to find the elf but remembered the general's orders. Worse, other goblins in that room might tell on him. Messing with the females in the nursery was strictly forbidden.
Then an idea struck him. That morning, they'd captured some adventurers. Most had been placed under witchcraft—unconscious and defenseless. They were still in the slave room, waiting to be interrogated.
To Zheng, those adventurers were no better than livestock. The males would be killed, and the females... well, that was obvious. No one would miss one if he returned her quietly.
"Just for a little fun," he reasoned. "I won't break her. Just borrow her for a bit."
With that, Zheng abandoned his post. Moments later, he returned with a sleeping woman. She was slender, dressed in black tights and a dark shirt. A black cloth covered her mouth, and her blue hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Even in sleep, she seemed strong—her breathing calm, her presence steady. A short sword on her waist glinted coldly in the moonlight.
The room was dimly lit by flickering oil lamps. Shadows danced across the walls, outlining the grime and stains. The faint yellow glow barely softened the harsh, eerie atmosphere.
***
In the corner, an unusual scene unfolded.
A woman with golden hair, now dull and tangled, lay against the wall. Her once-brilliant locks, streaked with grime, still clung to their natural elegance despite her circumstances. Her face, though worn with exhaustion, held a delicate beauty—sharp yet softened by fatigue. Faint bruises marred her pale skin, and her wrists bore faint red marks where shackles had recently been removed.
She wore a faded crimson dress, its once-rich fabric now torn and stained with dirt. The lace that once lined her sleeves had frayed, and the embroidery across her bodice was barely visible under the grime. Despite the state of her attire, there was a quiet dignity in her posture, as though her noble upbringing refused to be crushed by captivity.
In her sleep, her arms clutched a goblin cub close to her chest, as if protecting him from some unseen threat. Her face, though troubled, seemed calm in the moment—a brief escape from whatever horrors she'd endured.
The goblin cub's long eyelashes fluttered as he stirred. His dark eyes opened, sharp and cold, far beyond what his young face should have held.
The goblin cub, now known as Kaito, watched her silently, his gaze filled with complicated emotions. Carefully, he shifted his body, trying to slip from her grasp without waking her. He hesitated, not wanting to disturb her dreams.
Kaito watched her face, a warmth spreading in his chest.
"Mom... wait for me. I'll be back soon."
With that, Kaito's form melted into the shadows, disappearing from his mother's embrace.