Prologue – Day 1
It was just another ordinary day for the young doctor.
Mid-twenties. Single. No girlfriend. No particular plans. Just a plain day in his quiet clinic. He wasn't expecting much—until a knock echoed from the front door.
He paused, puzzled. Patients usually came during the day, and it was already past sunset.
Curious, he stood up and walked to the door. When he opened it, a strange man stood outside—tall, wearing a dark suit and a classic hat. Something about him felt off, maybe it was his sharp eyes, or maybe it was the quiet smirk playing on his lips.
"It's been a while," the man said, as if they were old friends.
The doctor blinked. "Do I… know you?"
The man chuckled softly. "During the war. You were the only doctor who didn't care which side someone was on. I was badly wounded—bleeding out. Everyone else turned away, but you didn't. You treated me."
The doctor's eyes widened a little. Vague memories of a battlefield hospital flashed in his mind—wounded men, sleepless nights, the stench of blood.
"I came to repay that kindness," the man continued. Then he stepped aside.
Behind him stood a girl—barely a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She had long silver hair, dull and dirty, and eyes that refused to meet anyone's gaze. Her arms and legs were thin, and her skin was littered with scars.
"She's a slave," the man said bluntly. "You saved my life. I give her to you in return."
The doctor froze.
The man tilted his hat. "She's not useful to me. But maybe she'll be of use to you."
For a moment, the doctor just stared at the girl, who looked no more alive than a shadow. Eventually, he sighed. "...Fine."
"Good," the man nodded. "Then I'll be on my way. Have a pleasant evening."
With that, he disappeared into the night.
The doctor brought the girl inside. "Sit wherever," he muttered.
She walked quietly to a corner of the room and sat down on the floor, knees hugged to her chest.
"What's your name?" the doctor asked.
The girl looked up. "Sylvie," she whispered.
The doctor studied her. Her body was marked with more than just scars—there was exhaustion etched into her posture, like she hadn't rested in years. He didn't ask anything else for a moment, but eventually started a slow conversation.
Sylvie answered everything calmly. She never raised her voice. She called him Master without hesitation.
After a while, he gently patted her head.
Sylvie blinked.
What does that mean? she thought.
Still, she stayed in her corner as the doctor returned to work, writing notes and organizing medicine like any other night.
When evening came, the doctor began preparing dinner. He glanced over at Sylvie and murmured to himself, "Guess I need to start making two meals now."
He placed a plate in front of her and started eating his own meal. But Sylvie didn't touch hers.
"Is someone else coming?" she asked quietly.
"Huh?"
"You prepared two meals. I thought maybe a guest was coming… so I should hide."
The doctor frowned. "Why would you think that?"
She hesitated. "There's no bread. No water. And this food… it's too good for someone like me."
Realization dawned on him.
"That meal is for you," he said. "You can eat it."
Sylvie's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Eat."
She picked up the utensils slowly, like she expected it to vanish. The first bite was hesitant, then the second came faster. She looked like someone who had never eaten a real meal in her life.
Later, as the doctor turned off the lights and got ready for bed, Sylvie quietly approached him.
"Is there… a basement?" she asked.
"A basement?"
"A place where I can sleep. I don't want to get anything dirty…"
The doctor clenched his fists. Just how horrible had her past been?
He didn't say anything. He simply opened a door down the hall and showed her a clean, unused room.
"This used to be for patients," he said. "Now people just come here for medicine. You can use this room."
Sylvie looked up at him with disbelief. "But I'll dirty the bed… I'm not clean…"
He didn't answer. He just placed a hand on her head again. Then he turned around and left.
Behind him, he heard her whisper with a small, trembling smile.
"…Understood, Master."
That night, the doctor lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.
A strange feeling twisted inside him.
He didn't know what it was just yet.
But he knew this:
Tomorrow would not be another normal day.
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To be Continue