Chapter 109: Slave Seal

Primrose clenched her hands tightly on her lap. “Isn’t there anything I can do? Anything at all to break a slave seal and set someone free?”

“It’s incredibly hard to break … maybe even impossible.” He paused for a moment before adding, “She looks like she’s around eighteen, right?”

Primrose tilted her head. “You think she’s not actually eighteen?”

“Slave seals don’t just bind a person to their master. They also stop the body from aging,” Salem explained. “That’s why most people are sealed when they’re around sixteen to eighteen.”

“Most of them … are girls?” Primrose asked hesitantly.

Salem gave a small nod. “Mostly young girls. And sometimes, young boys too … if they’re considered ’beautiful.’”

Even without asking further, Primrose could already guess the reason behind it.

Many slaves were sold for horrible purposes. She’d heard stories about young girls being trained to please their masters, turned into perfect little dolls for someone else’s pleasure. Most of them were still underage.

Once they grew older and their youthful appearance faded, they were sold again, this time as housemaids. In worse cases, they were discarded or even killed for being ’no longer desirable.’

Primrose always had a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she saw nobles keeping slaves in their homes.

She used to wonder why they wouldn’t just pay people fairly to work in their homes. After all, they had more money than they could ever spend.

If they had enough money to buy slaves for such high prices, then surely they could afford to pay thousands in wages instead, right?

But she eventually learned the real reason when her father once told her, “They don’t do it to save money. They do it for power play.”

As masters, they held control over their slaves’ lives and deaths, pretending to be gods, even though the only real difference between them and their slaves was their amount of wealth.

“But … I don’t think Dr. Silas uses Hazelle like that.” Salem’s voice was low but certain. Somehow, it brought Primrose a small sense of relief.

“What makes you so sure?” she asked.

“I’ve been studying the poison that was in your medicine,” Salem said. “And I found something unusual.”

“Oh?” Primrose leaned forward, intrigued. “You’ve figured out the kind of poison it was?”

“It’s something called Virgin’s Poison,” he said. “The name isn’t just for show. The ritual to create it uses the blood of a virgin woman.”

Salem clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I know it sounds strange, but it’s extremely effective for killing someone slowly. It’s also very hard to detect, especially for anyone who isn’t an expert in poisons.”

“And after a few years, the person might finally realize something feels off. The food tastes strange. Something doesn’t feel right,” he added.

He shrugged. “Unfortunately, by the time that happens, the body is usually already too damaged to be saved. In other words, it’s pointless to detect it once it’s too late to treat.”

That was exactly what had happened to Primrose in her first life.

One day, she’d suddenly noticed a strange aftertaste in her soup, but when Silas and the other doctors said there was nothing they could do, she’d simply chosen to ignore it.

“Is there really no antidote for this poison?” Primrose asked, clenching her hands under the table, trying her best to hide the bitterness rising in her chest.

“I could’ve made one for you if you were still in the first stage,” Salem replied. “But if the poison has already spread too far into your blood, flesh, even your internal organs, then the answer is no. There’s no cure once it fully contaminates your body.”

He looked at her seriously. “Because once the poison starts taking effect, it will deteriorate your body in just a few days.”

So Silas had been right after all. People really could only survive for a few days or weeks once the symptoms kicked in. But somehow, Primrose had managed to stay alive for months.

Maybe she wasn’t as fragile as she once thought.

“But aren’t you currently working on an antidote that can heal any poison?” Primrose asked.

Even though Salem’s goal was to gain profit from humans, she couldn’t deny how valuable that kind of antidote could be in the future.

“I am,” Salem muttered, clearly annoyed that she brought it up. “But it’ll take a long time. I’ve only asked for your hair so far, Your Majesty.”

[If only His Majesty hadn’t insisted I wait until he returned to draw her blood, I would’ve done it yesterday.]

[Why is he so controlling? It’s not like I’m planning to drain her dry.]

Strangely enough, Primrose also felt a bit more at ease knowing Edmund would be there if Salem ever drew her blood.

She steered the conversation back to the poison. “So, how much virgin blood does it take to make this poison?”

Salem paused for a moment, thinking. “If I’m not mistaken, it takes nearly a gallon of virgin blood to produce just one vial of poison.”

Primrose’s face turned pale.

How could that much blood only make a single tiny vial?

No wonder Hazelle always looked so pale. Silas must’ve been drawing her blood constantly.

Primrose gritted her teeth. “Be honest with me. Is there really no way to break a slave seal?”

“That’s not my area of expertise,” Salem admitted. “But I know someone who might be able to help.”

Primrose looked at him intently. “Who?”

“The Marchioness of Moonshadow,” he answered. “She knows more about slavery and slave seals than anyone else I’ve ever met. I’ve even heard she’s managed to remove a few herself.”

He let out a bitter sigh. “But I haven’t seen her since she married that bastard. So I don’t know if she is still able to do that anymore.”

[She never even answered my letters.] He added in his thoughts. [That’s why I kept begging her not to marry him! Why wouldn’t she listen to me?!]

Primrose furrowed her brows when she caught the thought.

It seemed like Salem and Raven had once been close friends.

“She came to the palace earlier today,” Primrose said quietly.

“I know.” Salem let out another deep sigh. “But sometimes, seeing someone for only a few minutes just hurts more than not seeing them at all.”

Primrose went quiet.

She hadn’t known much about slave seals in her first life, but the former slave who once wrote about Raven in the newspaper had said, “The Marchioness freed me from chains I thought would never break.”

In the past, Primrose had thought it was just a metaphor. But now, she realized the “chains” that person spoke of likely referred to the slave seal, one that was said to be impossible to remove.

“Sir Vesper, can you do me a favor?” Primrose asked suddenly.

Salem raised a brow. “What is it this time, Your Majesty?”

Primrose lowered her voice. Her golden eyes shimmered under the faint light in the kitchen. “I want you to make a poison,” she said. “Something strong enough to kill a powerful beast in under a minute.”

Salem’s eyes narrowed. His usual casual demeanor shifted instantly into something far more serious. “Your Majesty … do you realize what you’re asking for?”

[She looks so gentle and sweet, yet here she is … asking for poison like it’s nothing.]

A sweet candy could be dangerous too.

Its sweetness might seem harmless at first, but if consumed too much, it could ruin people’s health.

Eventually, it could even kill.

“You heard me clearly, Sir Vesper.” Primrose gave him a soft smile, but her eyes darkened, as if the warmth inside them had slipped away.

“That poison … it’s the key to the Marchioness’ freedom.”

In this lifetime, she wouldn’t let Raven be imprisoned. But she would make sure that her rotten husband died.

Salem’s expression turned grim. “Do you want me to disguise it … make it look like a heart attack?”

Primrose’s smile brightened, almost too sweet. “I knew I could count on you.”

Beasts were known for their healing abilities, but that didn’t mean they were immortal.

Ordinary poisons wouldn’t affect their strong bodies. But someone like Salem, he could make something powerful enough to silence even the most resilient creature.

Primrose had learned that from Solene. One reason the military kept Salem close was for his ability to craft deadly toxins, poisons specifically made to kill enemies that couldn’t be brought down by normal means.

So making one to kill a single beast? That wouldn’t be difficult for him.

“Give me a few days,” Salem said, his voice calm but sharp. “And I’ll deliver your little … treat.”

Primrose smiled softly. “Take your time. I’m not in a rush.”

After all, she still needed to invite Raven back to the palace and convince her to do something dark, something irreversible.

Something like killing her husband.

“But I also want to ask something from you, Your Majesty,” said Salem.

Primrose blinked. “What is it?”

“I want a vial of your blood once His Majesty returns.”

A vial of blood?! Didn’t he say earlier that he only needed a few drops?

What a scam!

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