Since childhood, Nafiri had learned a cruel truth: the world was not fair.
Born into a humble family of rchants in one of the lesser kingdoms under the rule of the Werewolves, her childhood was shaped by the need for survival and profit. While other children ran free through the fields, playing at hunting or exploring the woods, Nafiri grew up among stacks of goods, numbers scribbled on parchnt, and ruthless negotiations.
Her family's trade extended to all supernatural races—werewolves, vampires, witches, elves, dwarves, and even humans. She learned early that each species had its own tricks, each custor a different greed, and each deal an inherent risk. Her father, a shrewd rchant nad Baeky, taught her the first lesson that would guide her life: money was power, and power was everything.
A normal child might not understand that so soon, but for Nafiri, that lesson was branded into her soul from the mont she first saw her mother weep after losing a shipnt of precious furs to a band of thieves.
No money, no escort.
No escort, no protection.
No protection… you were nothing more than prey waiting to be devoured.
She grew up with that in mind.
Even as a teenager, she demonstrated a rare talent for trade. Where adults saw only goods and prices, Nafiri saw opportunities and weaknesses. Her sharp instincts weren't just useful for detecting scents but also for detecting lies—and, as a jackal demi-human, that perception only grew sharper over ti.
At fourteen, she proved her worth once and for all.
During a negotiation with a group of elven rchants, she managed to sell a shipnt of enchanted relics for five tis the expected value. Her father, who had let her handle the sale out of curiosity, simply watched in silence as his daughter turned a simple conversation into a spectacle of manipulation and persuasion.
When the transaction was complete and the coins fell into her hands, Baeky only laughed—not out of mockery, but out of pride.
"This girl... is going to devour this entire world."
And he was right.
Over ti, her ambition grew. Nafiri no longer wanted to just sell—she wanted to dominate. She expanded her influence, dealing directly with unscrupulous rchants, buying debts, and acquiring valuable information. If sothing was being sold—legal or not—she knew how to get her claws on it first.
Comrce was a brutal ga, and Nafiri played to win.
As the years passed, her na began to echo through black markets and rchant guilds. Respected by so, feared by others, she beca synonymous with profitable deals and irrefutable contracts. Her network of contacts extended beyond supernatural realms, crossing continents and reaching even the darkest depths of the underworld.
But in a world where profit was king, betrayals were inevitable.
And so, in a single mont of carelessness, she fell.
At twenty-five, Nafiri was at the peak of her career. Her na carried equal weight in the halls of nobility and the alleyways of the underworld—respected by so, feared by others, but always indispensable to any major transaction. Her comrcial empire knew no bounds, her fortune piled high like mountains of gold, and her influence stretched across multiple supernatural nations.
Then ca the opportunity for a deal too good to refuse.
A group of shadowy rchants approached her, offering an exclusive invitation to an illegal auction of forbidden relics.
The highlight of the night?
An ancient jewel said to grant infinite longevity to any living being.
The value of such an item was incalculable. It didn't matter if it was real or not—just the rumor of its existence would make kings and emperors wage wars to claim it.
If Nafiri could get her hands on that jewel, not only would her wealth but her influence over the supernatural world reach unimaginable heights.
It was the kind of gamble that separated ordinary rchants from legends.
She didn't hesitate. She invested a fortune, gathered the necessary contacts, and set off for the Human Empire, accompanied by her loyal bodyguard and apprentice, Misty—a young, talented girl who had learned everything from Nafiri and whose nose for opportunities rivaled her own.
But Nafiri wasn't just heading to the Empire for the auction. Her true goal was sothing even greater: to negotiate directly with the Emperor to establish a branch of her comrcial network within human lands. If she succeeded in obtaining this permission, she would have unrestricted access to one of the most profitable markets in the world, expanding her business beyond what any other rchant could dream of.
She believed she was in control of the situation.
But for the first ti in her life, she underestimated her enemies.
The auction offer was a trap. The invitation, a ruse.
And the mont she crossed the golden gates of the empire, the hunters were already waiting for her in the shadows.
Nafiri and Misty had fallen directly into the wolves' den.
By the ti Nafiri realized sothing was wrong, it was already too late.
As she and Misty passed through the city's gates, a troop of hooded soldiers advanced from all sides, like wolves hunting prey. The silver gleam of their blades reflected off the cobblestone streets, and before they could react, a magical explosion erupted beneath their feet.
The impact threw her against a wall. Her vision darkened for a mont, and when she tried to stand, she felt sothing latch onto her neck. A cold tal collar closed around her, draining her strength and preventing her from using any supernatural power or resistance.
Damn it… a magical suppression collar.
Misty tried to fight back. The young girl had yet to be shackled, and with the ferocity of a cornered animal, she managed to knock one of the soldiers down before attempting to pull Nafiri away. But more explosions echoed through the narrow alley, and in the blink of an eye, an enchanted net was thrown over both of them.
"Damn it…!" Nafiri growled, trying to tear through the thick sh, but her arms felt as heavy as lead.
A tall figure approached. Unlike the soldiers, who were cloaked in dark robes, this man wore ornate robes and a brooch with the symbol of the Human Empire—a noble, without a doubt. He looked at her with a gaze of disgust and superiority, as though assessing a piece of cattle before slaughter.
"So, this is the famous rchant?" The man said, pulling out a scroll. "The one behind hundreds of illegal transactions? I must say, I expected more."
Nafiri narrowed her eyes, gathering strength to speak.
"If you're thinking of asking for a ransom, I regret to inform you that my people don't negotiate with scum like you."
The noble laughed.
"Who said we want a ransom?" He tucked the scroll away and gestured to the soldiers. "rchants like you think they can dominate the world with gold… but forget that you're just another commodity when the ga turns."
In the next instant, a sharp blow struck her neck. Everything went dark.
When Nafiri woke up, she was in a cramped cell, her head pounding as though it had been crushed by an anvil. The air slled of mildew and sweat, mixed with the sound of chains and low murmurs.
She tried to move but realized she was still wearing the magical suppression collar, and was chained to a cold stone wall. Her clothes had been replaced with rough, dirty fabric—clearly designed to humiliate prisoners.
She looked around.
She wasn't alone.
In neighboring cells, other figures stared at the emptiness with vacant expressions—n, won, and even so children of various races. So were supernatural like her, others seed to be unfortunate humans. But they all had one thing in common: they were imprisoned like commodities awaiting their buyers.
"Welco to the stock."
A raspy voice sounded beside her. Nafiri turned her head and saw a dark-skinned woman with golden, glowing eyes sitting against the wall, a bitter expression on her face.
"Where...?"
"The underground of the Empire." The woman sighed. "If you're here, it ans you've been captured to be sold on the black market. Don't worry, you're not the only one."
Nafiri felt bile rise in her throat.
She knew human trafficking existed, that corrupt nobles and rchants made fortunes selling exotic slaves. But she never imagined she would end up on the other side of the bars.
And worse, Misty was nowhere to be found.
Her heart clenched.
She needed to get out of there. And fast.
Days passed in a blur.
Nafiri lost track of ti in those filthy cells. Sotis, guards would co and take prisoners, who never returned. The conversations around her spoke of secret auctions, perverted nobles, and underworld hunters who used supernatural beings as commodities.
She tried to keep her head up, but the worry for Misty gnawed at her. Where the hell was she? Was she alive?
Every ti a soldier passed by, Nafiri prepared herself to fight, but the suppression collar made her too weak to even stand. She hated that feeling of helplessness. Her, a feared rchant, a woman who built an empire with her own hands... reduced to nothing.
Until one night, everything changed.
A loud crash echoed through the dark corridors. Sothing—or rather, soone—had smashed through the main entrance of the underground.
At first, the prisoners thought it was just another group of buyers arriving. But then ca the screams.
Screams from the soldiers.
They were screams of terror.
The ground trembled. The scent of blood filled the air, and a wave of overwhelming power spread through the place. Nafiri didn't need to see to know that sothing monstrous had arrived.
She heard the sound of tal breaking, flesh being torn, and voices crying for rcy. One of the guards ran down the corridor, desperate, trying to escape—but before he could reach the exit, a hand grabbed him by the neck and lifted him into the air.
Then she saw him.
A man with snow-white hair, crimson eyes glowing in the darkness, and an overwhelming presence. His clothes were soaked in blood, and in his hand, the guard struggled like an insect caught in a web.
It was there that... everything began...
"Hm?" Dante raised an eyebrow as he entered the room and found his favorite rchant sleeping on a pile of gold coins. The golden glow softly reflected on her skin, and the notes scattered across the counter seed like an improvised blanket.
He sighed, crossing his arms.
In the next mont, Nafiri yawned and stretched, getting up sleepily. "What a dream... damn..." she muttered, massaging her temples.
"Looks like you had quite a ti."
The deep, familiar voice made her freeze. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and her expression shifted from grogginess to sheer shock when she saw Dante casually sitting at the table—on top of the gold coins she loved so much.
"Eh?" She blinked, confused.
"Good morning." He waved his hand, a playful smile on his lips.
"DANTE!!!" She scread, fully waking up.
"Hm, hey." He responded, waving his hand as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Mind telling why the hell you're still here and haven't gone ho to sleep?"
Nafiri swallowed hard. "A-Ah... I... I lost track of ti!" She tried to justify herself, already knowing what would co next.
Dante closed his eyes and shook his head. "I've told you a thousand tis to go ho and sleep. That's why I didn't marry you."
Without missing a beat, Nafiri mimicked his voice perfectly, repeating at the sa ti:
"'I've told you a thousand tis to go ho and sleep. That's why I didn't marry you.'"
The two stared at each other for a mont before a smirk tugged at the corners of Dante's mouth.
"Think you're funny now, huh?"
"I am funny," Nafiri shot back, crossing her arms.
Dante sighed again, but the gleam of amusent in his eyes made it clear he expected this kind of response from her.
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