| Chapter 2: The First Meeting

“Wow! Is that the pillar of the arena? It looks impressive even from here.”

“Who did you bet on this time? I’m going all in on Alexei again.”

“You fool. This time it’s a 3-on-1 match. Isn’t it a bit risky to bet everything? By the way, that slave, he’ll be making a fortune. Apparently, a tenth of the prize money goes to the slave since he’s ownerless.”

“A tenth? A slave making money?”

The hot and charged atmosphere of the coliseum.

The massive arena, capable of holding ten thousand spectators, was meticulously designed so that even the rough breathing of the gladiators could be heard up to the third level.

In between the arches, sturdy Roman-style columns supported the structure with graceful curves, while in the lower box seats, columns in the intricate Belizki style were adorned with white cloths, creating private spaces.

Servants, standing beside the velvet red sofas in the box, continuously fanned with peacock feather fans. However, Sergey, sitting with a sweaty brow as he drank wine, paid no attention to the servants or his surroundings.

“Look over there, Natasha! This is the new acquisition I bought recently. I think it’ll be quite useful.”

At Sergey’s urging, the pale-faced woman, called “Natasha,” reluctantly turned her gaze toward the arena.

The heat and the noisy excitement seemed distant to her, as if it had nothing to do with her. She appeared cold and indifferent.

The brutal and bloody fights, where one side often ended up near death, were not her preference. However, Sergey was intoxicated by the violent and barbaric matches. Since ascending to the throne, he had spent the duchy’s budget to build more arenas and buy skilled gladiator slaves.

Sergey Ivanov was Natasha’s stepbrother. After the king’s death, he had been adopted and crowned as the new ruler of the Duchy of Ivanov, all because the late king had insisted on passing the throne only to a male heir.

Accepting an unfamiliar man as her stepbrother felt strange and uncomfortable for Natasha. What was even more unsettling, though, was his strange insistence on always keeping her by his side.

“Technically, we’re not blood-related, so I could still take you as my queen, Natasha. Ha, that’s how much I care for you, so loosen up that frown.”

“Come closer, Natasha. If we’re truly siblings, then there’s nothing to be concerned about, right? I treat you like a sister. But your skin… it’s so smooth. I wonder how soft your skin must be underneath?”

Though he occasionally made incomprehensible jokes like these, Natasha, knowing his temper, couldn’t express her displeasure.

“That slave is the one I’ve worked the hardest on. He’s quite a specimen!”

Sergey boasted like a child seeking praise, looking for Natasha’s approval.

Even though Sergey referred to a human being, a gladiator slave, as “merchandise,” Natasha couldn’t openly reprimand him and simply let the words fade away.

“Merchandise…?”

But she couldn’t help herself, and with a soft sigh, she turned her gaze toward the arena. As her eyes settled on the gladiator standing proudly in the center of the arena, Natasha instinctively held her breath and quickly looked away, as if she hadn’t seen anything.

It had been years since her first encounter with the gladiator matches when, as a child, she had fled in horror. This was her first time back at the arena since she had matured—after all, no one had ever forced her to witness something she disliked.

“Aha, it’s too bad you can’t appreciate the excitement, my lady. You’ll see exactly what masculinity looks like with your own eyes.”

Other noblewomen had murmured these words, blushing and giving knowing glances, though Natasha hadn’t understood what they meant back then.

Now, stunned, she cautiously turned her gaze back to the arena.

The gladiator slave, barely covered by a ragged cloth that only concealed what was necessary, was standing there in full view. His powerful muscles, stronger than any armor, were covered in scars and signs of battle.

Natasha had once found such raw, hulking muscles grotesque, but now, seeing him in the arena, she couldn’t help but reconsider her view on the human body’s beauty. His bulging muscles, even adorned with red marks from past fights, gave him a powerful, almost divine presence—his body glowed with life and vitality.

If someone were to ask what it meant to be alive, Natasha felt that the answer was this gladiator’s body—brimming with vitality and primal strength.

And beneath the thin cloth, the sheer size of his body reminded her of the nickname she had once heard whispered among the people.

‘The Best Pillar of the Arena.’

Although he had only recently become a gladiator slave, Alexei’s reputation had already spread like wildfire among the noblewomen.

Gladiators were fighters who staged violent exhibitions—fights, in simpler terms—meant to entertain the masses in the arena. Though their status was low, their performances provided thrilling spectacles, and some gladiators became immensely popular.

While it was true that skill played a large role in a gladiator’s popularity, the biggest factor by far was appearance.

The blood and sweat of battle drew not just men but also women, all attracted by the same reason: the raw, untamed masculinity of the fighters.

The gladiator’s attire, little more than scraps of cloth barely covering essential parts of the body, showcased their muscular physiques and wild beauty. This extravagant display was something even the cultured noblewomen could admire freely, often behind their fans.

Naturally, the more pronounced the gladiator’s chest, the higher their popularity soared.

And among all the gladiators, there was only one who met every criterion: Alexei Petrov.

He was not only undefeated but also boasted unparalleled skill, an appearance that made every woman’s cheeks flush, and a chest that could be seen from across the arena.

He had even earned the nickname “The Best Pillar of the Arena,” a title with multiple layers of meaning.

Unknowingly, Natasha’s mind wandered to this embarrassing thought as she gazed toward the arena.

That was when she realized that someone had been watching her. The stark contrast between her own calm, pale blue eyes and the raw, fiery red of his had her frozen in place.

For a moment, Natasha couldn’t move, as if her entire body was paralyzed by his gaze. The loud cheers of the excited crowd and the constant chatter of Sergey were drowned out in her ears.

Then, as if it were a natural reaction, the corner of the gladiator’s mouth lifted slightly in a smirk. His sharp, intense gaze twisted in an almost sensual way.

“Ugh.”

Natasha bit her lip and turned her head away.

She had never seen such a gaze before.

People always regarded her, the highest-ranking woman in the duchy, with a sense of reverence and a hint of unease. But this… this was the raw, unrefined look of a man—a “man” looking at her, not a nobleman.

It felt like she had seen something she should not have. Like she had faced something forbidden. As Natasha stiffly turned her head, her eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably.

“What the hell? How dare that slave look at her?”

After some time spent chattering on, Sergey finally noticed Natasha’s lack of response. Turning, he saw her face flushed and her gaze averted, while the gladiator slave continued to stare at her, unwavering.

Furious, Sergey shouted to have Alexei’s eyes gouged out and stomped his feet, but Alexei, still poised in his position, bowed his head slightly and adjusted his grip on his sword.

“Waah!”

The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer as the match was about to begin. The anticipation for the fight caused the atmosphere in the arena to heat up.

In fear that stopping the match and executing the slave would provoke the madness of the crowd, Sergey grumbled and reluctantly sat back down.

‘Just wait. I’ll show him what happens.’

He clenched his teeth, swearing to deal with it once the match was over. Sergey’s oily eyes glinted ominously.