The nightfall descended like a heavy black satin, gently but decisively covering the entire mansion. The twin maids, leftYi and rightYi, after completing their day''s work and washing up, quietly sat in their small, dimly lit bedroom.


    The flickering candlelight swayed softly in the breeze, casting light on their weary but expectant faces.


    This scene had been the same every night recently. Master Buck sometimes summoned them to his room, ordering them to undress and display their bodies.


    However, a year had passed, and Master Buck had never gone beyond this—merely using his deep, cold gaze to wander over their bodies.


    This left leftYi puzzled, her mind clouded by an unsolvable fog, while rightYi felt a sense of relief, silently thankful that fate had not subjected them to the worst outcome.


    In truth, aside from the chilling gaze at night, Master Buck was generally kind to them. He never displayed the temper of other nobles, nor did he speak to them with malice or order them about.


    In the everyday moments of life, he showed them respect and had none of the despicable habits of the aristocracy. For two female slaves who had lost all memory of their past identities, floating like rootless weeds, having such a master was, in a way, a rare stroke of luck.


    leftYi had always naively believed that these calm days would continue like a peaceful lake, lasting until the end of their lives. But tonight, the wheel of fate quietly turned.


    When the familiar summons echoed again, the twin maids instinctively followed their usual routine. They blew out the flickering candle and slowly began to undress in the darkness. Their movements were mechanical and numb, as though it had become an inseparable part of their lives.


    "There''s no need to undress. I called you here tonight to ask you something," Master Buck''s calm voice echoed in the somewhat empty room as he stood, arms crossed, leaning against an old desk. His eyes were deep and mysterious, and one could not discern the meaning behind them.


    The twin sisters exchanged surprised glances, unsure of how to respond. Their eyes were filled with confusion and fear, like two startled fawns. The silence stretched on, making the air feel thick and still.


    "Don''t you want to restore your memories?" Master Buck raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of anticipation flickering in his gaze.


    leftYi did not answer immediately. Her expression grew complex as she slowly lowered her head. An intense internal struggle raged within her. What would restoring their memories even change? As female slaves, their lowly status was already deeply branded on their souls—something they could never change.


    Even if they did remember everything, those past memories would only serve to wound their fragile hearts, like sharp blades. Furthermore, if they refused Master Buck''s request, what awaited them might be cold abandonment, and they would once again fall into endless darkness and despair.


    Just as leftYi was lost in thought, something unexpected happened. The normally timid and easily frightened rightYi, like someone empowered by a mysterious force, bravely lifted her head, nodded firmly, and said, "Master, I want to restore our memories. We both want to..."


    leftYi stared at her sister, rightYi, and saw that her sister was gazing at her with the same firm resolve.


    "Sister, we''ve already decided to live well. Let''s abandon the past and give it to Master," rightYi''s voice was soft but seemed to carry infinite strength.


    Looking into rightYi''s calm and determined eyes, leftYi felt a warm current surge in her heart. She saw deep trust in her sister''s eyes—a trust in Buck Frank. It was the same trust she had shown a year ago when they courageously undressed in front of their master, despite the fear of the unknown.


    Tonight, rightYi had also bravely made this fateful decision for them. They had both made up their minds, and no matter the hardships ahead, they would fight to live.


    Master Buck nodded in satisfaction, a faint smile on his lips. "No need to rush. My method isn''t guaranteed to work." He gently waved his hand, signaling the twin maids to approach the desk.


    His long fingers pointed to the ancient scroll spread out on the desk, its patterns and writing glowing with mysterious light under the dim candlelight. "This is an ascension ritual. Before we can perform it, we need to gather the necessary materials. Do you understand what an ascension ritual is?"


    Master Buck then patiently began to explain the secrets of the extraordinary path. His voice was deep and magnetic, as if recounting an ancient and mysterious tale. As he spoke, the twin maids'' eyes gradually brightened, as though they had seen a glimmer of light in the darkness.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Perhaps, their fated lives, which had been imprisoned, really had a chance for change—like butterflies emerging from their cocoons, reborn.


    "The unknown effects of the ritual are something you must carefully consider. What I need from you are the memories of that arm. If, after completing the ritual, you gain enough power to resist the mundane world, I might even let you go." Master Buck''s words fell like a heavy bomb, stirring waves of shock in the hearts of the twin maids.


    Upon hearing Buck’s promise, the two maids immediately made their decision and agreed to everything he asked. In their hearts, Master Buck was like a lighthouse in the darkness, providing them with hope and warmth. They firmly believed that he was someone they could trust. As for the unknown consequences the ritual might bring, they had already cast them aside in the face of this overwhelming temptation.


    Thus, the three of them sat around the table, carefully studying the ritual recorded on the scroll. This peculiar "Fool’s Angel" ritual seemed to be part of the power system of some ancient and unknown deity, vaguely resembling the goddess blessing ritual described in the teachings of the Sun Goddess.


    However, the materials required for the ritual were extremely odd—three items that Buck had never heard of before: “Firefly Stone Mask, Winged One’s Tongue, and Tear of the Heart.”


    Looking at these mysterious materials, Buck couldn’t help but furrow his brow. These items were not something he could casually seek out in the church’s warehouse, given the strict rules of the church. Any mistake could lead to trouble. At times like these, he could only rely on his clever servant Doug.


    Doug was a master at flattery and opportunistic maneuvering. But there was no denying that he had a natural talent for sniffing out the dark and illicit. After receiving Master Buck’s orders, he dived straight into the outskirts of the southern district, like a hound catching the scent of prey.


    That area was a labyrinth of filthy, chaotic slums, a cancerous growth on the city, exuding a stench of decay.


    In those maze-like streets, Doug asked around and finally stumbled upon a group of suspicious individuals in a nondescript tavern. He was secretly pleased, thinking he had found the right place. However, before he could approach, the group noticed him.


    After a flurry of punches and kicks, Doug was left bruised and battered, but his inherent toughness hadn’t been broken. He gritted through the pain and wandered through the streets, eventually learning of a black market contact from a ragged beggar.


    Using this lead, Doug successfully infiltrated the black market disguised as a beggar. When he next appeared before Master Buck, he was in tatters, filthy and reeking.


    “So why would they accept a beggar?” Buck looked at the disheveled Doug in disdain, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant stench that almost made him cover his face.


    “The beggar is just a cover. They operate through various beggar gangs on the streets. Now that I’ve found the route, whatever you need, master, I’ll get it for you, even if it costs me my life!” Doug said, wiping the dirt off his face with his filthy hands. Though he looked miserable, his face was lit with excitement, as if he had rediscovered his purpose in life.


    Most importantly, he enjoyed the sense of freedom that came with crawling through the underworld. He harbored an unrealistic dream in his heart: today a beggar, tomorrow perhaps a king. Even if he couldn’t become a king, Doug believed that with his exceptional talent, he could make a name for himself in the underground world!


    Buck said nothing in response. He handed Doug the list of the three required items for the ritual, then took out a heavy pouch of money from his coat and handed it to him. It was a substantial amount, part of Buck Frank’s accumulated savings from years of power and influence, and part from his hunting on the border last year.


    The materials of dark creatures had sold for a good amount on the black market. Buck wasn’t worried that Doug would run off with the money. After all, he was a hunter of the church, with the fourth prince Roland backing him. Even if Doug ran to the ends of the earth, he would be found.


    “This money is for you to use in the black market. Once you get the three items, the rest is yours to keep,” Buck’s voice was low and firm, leaving no room for argument.


    Doug carefully took the pouch, weighed it in his hands, and a hint of joy crossed his face. He wasn’t a greedy man; compared to money, he preferred women. As for spending his master’s money to find women? That was something he certainly wouldn’t do.


    As long as he completed his master’s task, Buck would naturally satisfy his desires for women—that had always been their unspoken understanding between a scoundrel and his servant.


    “Rest assured, Master, I won’t disappoint you!” Doug vowed, then dashed back into the night.


    Buck stood by the window, quietly watching Doug’s figure disappear down the dark street. The moonlight bathed his face, casting a deep, complex look in his eyes. Doug was a capable servant; if only he could rein in his impulses and settle down, Buck would have higher expectations for him. Perhaps finding him a wife who could discipline him might be a good idea?


    Time passed slowly in anticipation, and two days later, Doug finally returned with the results.


    Doug, looking tired and travel-worn, approached Buck, carefully pulling two items from his coat: a small bottle containing a clear liquid and a delicate box.


    “Master, this tear is actually made from the tears of a girl in utter despair—it’s not very valuable. But this tongue, on the other hand, is the last one from the entire imperial city’s black market. It’s been preserved for many years, and finding another one would mean searching caves in the deep mountains for dark creatures,” he explained, placing the bottle and box on the desk in front of Buck.


    “As for that firefly stone mask, the black market doesn’t have it, but they did provide some information. They say there’s a strange person in the vast sewer system beneath the imperial city who sells such masks,” Doug continued.


    “A sewer dweller?” Buck frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.


    “They call him the Sculptor,” Doug scratched his head, a mysterious expression forming on his face.