A slightly skinny young man walked forward, pale-skinned and weak-bodied, with golden eyes and golden hair…
Well—he wasn't handsome or charming at all.
In his hand was a nearly empty sandwich, containing nothing more than two slices of tomato and a piece of lettuce.
To the people of the slums, such a sandwich was nothing short of a dream.
Rolin decided to taste it before turning himself in and facing punishment for his crime.
He looked at the sandwich… then took a bite.
At that moment, for the first time in a long while, he felt pleasure.
He ate quietly, then stopped and muttered:
"Finally… I can leave this damn life in peace."
To Rolin, the place where he grew up was considered hell—
yet to him, it was paradise.
He was raised in the heart of the slums, in an area known as( the Kennel).
As the name suggested, its people were treated worse than animals—so much so that the residents themselves came to accept their worthlessness as natural.
Rolin gently shook his head.
"I hope it's quick… I wonder how I'll die."
The kingdom Rolin lived in was highly advanced compared to the surrounding realms and enjoyed widespread fame.
Before he could finish the sandwich, it slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.
"Damn it… even luck hates me."
He picked it up, brushed off the dirt, and ate it anyway.
A pair of young men passing by looked at him with disgust.
'What's wrong with these idiots? Do they want me to kill them?'
Rolin crossed several districts inside the city. Everyone stared at him with loathing and revulsion.
Well… maybe because he was stupid enough to walk through the rich districts on purpose.
He didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed ruining their moods.
After all, his favorite saying was:
"If you can't make yourself happy—ruin someone else's day."
Eventually, he stopped in front of a massive brown building, perfectly square… or maybe cubic.
It didn't matter. Rolin didn't care much for geometry—
or rather, he didn't care about anything. He was a man walking toward death.
Inside, many people were speaking with soldiers. Rolin ignored them and stopped in front of one guard.
The moment the guard looked at him, his nose wrinkled in obvious disgust.
Rolin noticed.
'What's wrong with this son of a bitch? Has he even looked at his frog-like face before judging others?'
From the bottom of his heart, Rolin wished he could kill everyone who mocked him.
Unfortunately, his magic was weak.
No—there was no need to sugarcoat it.
It was completely useless.
The guard sneered.
"What do you want, slum rat?"
Rolin bit his lip and swallowed the insult.
"I came to turn myself in."
The guard burst into laughter, his frog-like cheeks wobbling.
"And what did you do? Steal something? Lick a woman's feet?
What could a scrawny rat like you possibly do to justify turning himself in?"
Rolin swallowed the insult again, stepped closer, and whispered into the guard's ear.
The guard's face instantly drained of color. He hurried inside without another word.
Minutes passed… no—many minutes.
Rolin was finally placed in a dark interrogation room.
A table. Two chairs. No windows. A small metal door. A single light hanging from the ceiling.
A young woman entered.
She was beautiful—tall and well-proportioned.
Compared to Rolin, who wasn't exactly tall… well, he convinced himself he was "average."
Her long black hair was neatly tied back, her violet eyes shining like polished amethysts.
She wore a loose white shirt, leather pants, and a black jacket.
She looked like one of those radiant heroes who claimed glory without effort.
Rolin whistled unconsciously.
Her expression darkened.
"Why are you whistling?"
He smiled.
"Beauty doesn't exist in the Kennel… except for prostitutes."
She raised an eyebrow, then sat across from him.
"I'm not sure whether that was an insult or a compliment… but thank you."
Even so, Rolin did not relax.
Growing up in the slums taught you one essential skill: distrust.
Trusting anyone could cost you everything—
even your life.
"Rolin Azir. Correct?"
He straightened his posture and placed his hands on the table.
"Unfortunately."
She smiled.
"Do you realize the severity of the crime you committed?
You'll never leave prison—assuming you aren't executed first."
Rolin whistled mockingly.
"Wow. I had no idea. Thanks for telling me."
She laughed softly.
"You're a strange boy. You could've kept quiet and continued living.
Why turn yourself in?"
Rolin's expression darkened.
"I believe your job is to send me to prison.
So do your job."
Her laughter grew louder.
"You really are strange…
But I have an offer. If you accept it—your life could change completely.
If you're lucky, that is."
Silence filled the room.
What was that offer?