Milena never had an easy life.
Her mother worked the streets. Nobody knew who her father was, and judging by the number of men constantly entering and leaving their cramped rented room when she was younger, nobody cared enough to ask.
Her mother rarely looked at her kindly.
Sometimes she drank too much and screamed. Sometimes she ignored Milena for days at a time. And sometimes she stared at her daughter with exhausted resentment, as though angry another mouth existed to feed.
Then eventually—
when Milena was eight years old—
her mother died coughing blood onto thin blankets inside a freezing room.
Afterward, life simply continued.
No tragedy.
No miracle.
No grieving relatives arriving dramatically to save her.
The landlord threw her outside within three days.
Milena learned quickly that starving children became invisible to most people after the first few weeks.
She begged.
Worked odd jobs.
Stole food occasionally.
Apologized afterward even while eating it.
At ten years old, she finally found steady work helping at a fruit stand.
The bakery owner nearby had a son.
He smiled at her often. Helped carry heavy crates. Shared food with her quietly whenever his parents looked away.
Milena eventually fell in love with him simply because he treated her gently.
Later, it felt embarrassing how little kindness she originally needed to become attached.
His parents despised her immediately.
A prostitute's daughter.
Poor.
Uneducated.
Unworthy.
When he insisted on marrying her anyway, they disowned him without hesitation.
So the two left together for a larger city.
And honestly—
for a while—
Milena truly believed life had finally become kind.
They rented a small apartment.
Worked endlessly.
Cooked meals together.
Laughed together.
Dreamed together.
Then slowly—
things changed.
Her husband started drinking.
At first only occasionally.
Then constantly.
Money disappeared faster.
Arguments became more frequent.
Eventually—
he struck her for the first time.
He cried afterward.
Apologized desperately.
Promised it would never happen again.
Milena believed him.
That became her second great mistake in life.
Years passed.
Bruises faded and returned repeatedly. Apologies became shorter. The violence became easier.
Then finally—
the child died.
Milena still remembered the blood.
The unbearable pain.
The doctor refusing to meet her eyes afterward.
"You will not be able to conceive again."
Something inside her broke permanently that day.
Oddly enough, Milena never blamed herself.
She blamed fate instead.
Perhaps some women simply were not meant to become mothers.
Perhaps she had selfishly reached for happiness meant for other people.
Perhaps children instinctively avoided being born into miserable lives.
Her husband eventually found another woman.
Younger.
Prettier.
Pregnant.
Milena laughed bitterly when she learned the girl worked for a powerful underground organization.
Because naturally—
life found yet another way to humiliate her.
Several men arrived at their apartment shortly afterward demanding payment for damaging "company property."
Her husband panicked immediately.
Then offered Milena instead.
Just like that.
She remembered staring at him afterward while quietly wondering whether she had ever truly known the man at all.
Then again—
perhaps she had simply ignored the truth because she loved him.
The irony almost made her laugh.
Her mother sold her body to survive.
And now—
despite all her efforts—
Milena ended exactly the same way.
On her first night inside the organization, she was assigned to serve drinks during a private gathering.
High-ranking clients.
Aristocrats.
Wealthy merchants.
Powerful men hidden behind polished smiles.
The establishment itself looked absurdly luxurious. Golden chandeliers reflected against velvet furniture while music drifted softly beneath the conversations.
Milena wore a revealing black dress chosen specifically to emphasize her figure.
The fabric clung tightly around her soft curves while exposing far too much skin for comfort.
Several older men stared openly when she entered.
Not subtly.
Not politely.
Their eyes lingered across her chest, waist, and hips.
Milena lowered her gaze immediately.
Years of hardship had left exhaustion beneath her eyes, yet her body remained painfully womanly despite everything.
Softly plump in all the places men stared at most.
A mature beauty impossible to mistake for innocence.
Eventually, younger girls entered the room, and the older men quickly lost interest.
Milena almost felt relieved.
She quietly served drinks from the side while trying to remain invisible.
Then suddenly—
the doors opened.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Several men straightened unconsciously.
Others fell silent.
Milena looked up briefly.
And froze.
A younger man entered the room accompanied by bodyguards who remained outside after opening the doors for him.
Black hair slicked neatly backward.
Dark eyes.
Tall.
Sharp.
Beautiful enough to feel dangerous.
His sleek black clothing fit perfectly against a lean figure that looked more suited for violence than nobility. Silver rings gleamed faintly against tattooed fingers.
He looked young.
Far too young.
Yet somehow—
the older men inside the room still treated him carefully.
Or fearfully.
Milena recognized him immediately.
A customer from years ago.
Back when she still worked at the fruit stand.
He used to buy fruit occasionally without speaking much.
She remembered him because beautiful men were difficult to forget.
Their eyes met briefly.
Milena lowered her gaze immediately afterward.
There was no reason someone like him would remember her.
Then suddenly—
"Come here."
The entire room quieted slightly.
Milena blinked.
The younger man sat lazily near the center of the table while watching her calmly.
"Sit."
Confused, she obeyed carefully.
The moment she sat beside him—
his hand suddenly gripped her jaw.
Then he kissed her.
Hard.
Deep.
Without warning.
Milena gasped against his mouth as the room erupted into laughter around them.
His other hand yanked her dress downward carelessly, exposing her chest beneath the golden lights.
Several older men chuckled knowingly.
Like a signal had been given.
The atmosphere immediately became louder afterward.
Filthier.
More relaxed.
Milena's face burned with humiliation.
Yet strangely—
the younger man himself looked entirely calm.
Detached.
Almost bored.
He eventually broke the kiss and stood.
Without another word, he tossed several gold coins onto her lap before turning away.
And left.
Just like that.
The room remained silent for several moments after he disappeared.
Then finally—
one of the older men laughed awkwardly.
"Well then."
Another muttered quietly:
"So that's his choice this time."
Everything changed afterward.
Milena received a larger room.
Better clothing.
Better treatment.
No one touched her without permission anymore.
The other women looked jealous—
but careful.
Nobody dared bully her.
Eventually, Milena learned his name.
Ysilvern Hyde.
The heir to the organization.
And despite being nearly ten years younger than her—
he returned for her constantly.
At first, he only summoned her during gatherings. She sat beside him, poured drinks, and listened silently while dangerous men discussed terrible things around them.
Ysilvern rarely touched her afterward.
Which somehow made everything worse.
Because Milena slowly relaxed around him.
That became another mistake.
One night—
she drank too much wine.
Too much exhaustion.
Too much loneliness.
And perhaps too much curiosity.
So when Ysilvern rested one hand lazily against her thigh beneath the table—
Milena leaned closer first.
She kissed him voluntarily.
The atmosphere changed immediately afterward.
Ysilvern stared at her silently for several long seconds.
Then smiled faintly.
Not warmly.
Not gently.
Like someone finally deciding to claim something he already considered his.
After that night—
everything became irreversible.
He used her possessively.
Completely.
And somehow—
despite his cruelty—
he protected her obsessively too.
She moved into his home.
Guards followed her constantly.
Anyone speaking disrespectfully toward her disappeared shortly afterward.
Ysilvern himself remained terrifyingly calm through all of it.
Like violence came naturally to him.
Like ownership came even easier.
One year later—
he married her.
Milena became the wife of one of the most dangerous young men in the underworld.
She should have felt safe.
Instead—
she felt trapped.
Because despite loving her, Ysilvern never truly treated her like an equal.
He decided everything.
Controlled everything.
Protected everything.
Even his affection felt possessive.
Like expensive chains wrapped carefully around her throat.
Eventually, Milena realized something unbearable.
Ysilvern truly loved her.
And she—
miserably—
fell directly into his trap while calling it love.
So she ran.
She did not know much about the world outside his grasp.
She only followed the strange dream that kept repeating after she decided to escape.
A voice whispered where to go.
And somehow—
she listened.
By the time she crossed the final trade road near the outer regions, her shoes had already fallen apart from walking. The hem of her dress remained stained with mud from sleeping beside ditches and abandoned wagons while hiding from the men searching for her.
She stole nothing before leaving.
Not jewelry.
Not money.
Not even the expensive dresses Ysilvern bought for her.
Only one packed suitcase.
Because some bitter part of her refused to become exactly what everyone always believed she was.
Property.
The closer she traveled toward the Null Forest, the fewer people remained on the roads.
Travelers whispered frightening stories about cursed woods where monsters devoured entire caravans whole. Even mercenaries avoided looking too closely toward the endless dark tree line stretching across the horizon.
Milena almost turned back several times.
Not because she feared the forest—
but because she feared hope.
Then one evening, while exhausted merchants gathered around a roadside tavern, she overheard drunken travelers speaking about a strange village hidden beyond the outer borders.
A place where monsters protected people instead of killing them.
A place ruled by a woman who welcomed creatures and outcasts alike.
A place where snakewomen lived openly beside humans.
Most people laughed at the story.
Milena listened silently.
Because for the first time in years—
she heard something impossible enough to be true.
The final journey nearly killed her.
The forest paths constantly shifted. Strange sounds followed her at night. Once, enormous glowing eyes watched her from the darkness until sunrise without attacking.
Another time, she woke up surrounded by fluffy black creatures silently chewing stolen bread from her bag.
Oddly enough—
they escorted her afterward.
And eventually—
after days of wandering through endless trees and overwhelming silence—
Milena finally saw smoke rising between the woods.
Then houses.
Then voices.
Then laughter.
The village looked nothing like she imagined.
It was smaller.
Messier.
Filled with monsters carrying wood, stones, and food.
A human man screamed while running away from something furry.
Several half-snake women conversed while carrying baskets near the center of the settlement.
And standing in the middle of all the chaos—
laughing loudly while arguing with a gigantic wolf—
was a beautiful woman with mesmerizing citrine eyes.
Milena remembered staring at her silently while thinking only one thing.
Ah.
So this is what freedom looks like.
Later that night, warm laughter filled Jemina's room while rain pattered softly outside the windows.
Several cups of hot cocoa rested scattered across the carpet.
The lamias gathered together excitedly while listening to Milena's story with horrifying emotional investment.
Rosaline already looked close to tears.
One of the younger lamias openly cried.
Lucas drank his cocoa silently like a man regretting every life decision that led him into this conversation.
"I thought tonight would be wholesome," Raisa muttered quietly.
"Well," Jemina replied dramatically while holding her cocoa, "drama is fuel for my soul."
Cyrinne sat nearby listening with narrowed eyes.
"You attract deeply troubled women strangely often," she informed Jemina calmly.
"Thank you."
"That was not praise."
Milena laughed weakly into her cup.
Honestly—
the warmth of the room felt almost unreal.
Nobody screamed here.
Nobody hit her.
Nobody looked at her like merchandise.
Even the monsters outside guarded the village more faithfully than most humans she had met throughout her life.
Then suddenly—
Jemina turned toward Lucas with sparkling eyes.
"Lucas."
The mercenary immediately looked alarmed.
"What?"
"Would you be interested in a relationship with an older woman?"
Lucas nearly choked.
"WHAT?!"
"You know. Mature. Experienced. Emotionally stable."
"You are NONE of those things!"
Jemina gasped dramatically in betrayal.
Milena burst into genuine laughter for the first time that evening.
Even Cyrinne looked faintly entertained.
Lucas pointed furiously.
"You are literally older than me by over ten years, but somehow your way of thinking is far more childish!"
"That," Jemina declared proudly, "is my secret to remaining youthful and radiant."
"You remain a public menace!"
The room dissolved into laughter instantly.
Lucas stormed out afterward with bright red ears while everyone laughed harder behind him.
Even Raisa sighed like someone spiritually exhausted beyond recovery.
Jemina looked deeply pleased with herself.
Then finally—
she gently placed one hand atop Milena's shoulder.
"You're safe here," she said softly.
The room quieted slightly afterward.
Jemina smiled warmly.
"We're all strange people with terrible emotional problems, but we survive surprisingly well together."
Milena stared at her silently.
At her eyes.
The ridiculous confidence.
The warmth.
Then slowly—
very slowly—
something inside her relaxed.
Perhaps for the first time in years.
"I would like to stay," she whispered quietly.
Jemina grinned immediately.
"Wonderful. You're officially one of us now."
"Thank you."
"And Lucas? Bring us more cocoa."
From somewhere outside—
Lucas shouted furiously:
"FINE!"
The entire room erupted into laughter again.