A massive mansion stood atop a low hill. Within its walls, Shaltier looked down with cold, detached eyes at the master of the house, who had been reduced to a silent pile of gore.
The pile of gore—formerly a Demon of considerable power—had once ruled as the undisputed boss of the surrounding area. However, in the orderly Demon Realm Shaltier envisioned, he was nothing more than unnecessary trash.
Having resolved to bring order to the Demon Realm and begun moving in earnest, Shaltier prioritized two objectives.
The first was a purge. She intended to sweep away the filth that disrupted the peace of the realm—beings who did nothing but line their own pockets and beasts who rampaged at will. The Demon she had just executed fell squarely into that category. He was a man of extreme cruelty who took pleasure in destroying the settlements of weaker races or those who refused to submit to him, kidnapping the survivors and torturing them to death in horrific ways.
Therefore, Shaltier had slaughtered the Demon and every one of his subordinates without a moment’s hesitation.
She could have easily leveled the mansion and erased the bodies along with every trace of their existence, but before doing so, she headed for the basement to address her second priority: securing subordinates. No matter how vast her power, spreading her influence across the entirety of the Demon Realm alone would be an impossible task. She needed eyes and ears—loyal servants to act as her hands and feet.
The basement housed a torture chamber where the mansion’s late master had indulged his depraved desires. The room was thick with the copper stench of blood. Blood-stained instruments were scattered haphazardly, and tattered, rotting corpses lay in the corners. It was a sight that would drive an ordinary person to madness, yet Shaltier surveyed the room without so much as a twitch of her brow.
"Hmm, was this a waste of time? Everyone here is either a corpse or a hollowed-out doll... That fool truly didn't understand the concept of moderation. What a pointless trip—oh?"
Just as a sigh of disappointment escaped her lips, Shaltier’s gaze fell upon a single Demon in the corner of the room. A young girl sat bound in chains. Though her surroundings were shrouded in darkness, the light in her eyes had not yet been extinguished. A thin smile played across Shaltier’s lips.
To the girl, this place was hell. One day, her settlement had been attacked without warning. Those who fought back were slaughtered, and the survivors were dragged to this mansion—to this room of nightmares. Her kin were gone; every last one of them had perished before her eyes after enduring agonies too horrific to describe. She alone had been kept alive, and only because of her beauty.
She had endured countless tortures herself, yet they were never allowed to reach the point of death. The master of the mansion possessed a twisted psyche; he craved the sight of her beautiful face being stained with despair above all else. That was the only reason she continued to draw breath in this abyss.
Then, the hell she thought would last forever was suddenly shattered by a single Demon.
"Heh, those dark circles are quite distinctive... a Hell Nightmare, I see. And one of your eyes has been gouged out? Ah, that’s right. Hell Nightmare eyeballs are used as ingredients for high-level spiritual elixirs, aren't they?"
The robed Demon spoke in a cheerful tone that was utterly discordant with the torture chamber. Looking at Shaltier, the girl was struck by a single, logical question: Who is this person?
"Oh, by the way. I’ve killed every other Demon in this mansion."
The girl’s remaining eye widened in shock at the casual announcement, but her expression quickly shifted to one of realization. Even without combat experience, she could feel that the Magic Power radiating from Shaltier was of an entirely different magnitude. She understood instinctively that this robed figure could dispose of her former tormentor with ease.
"So, consider yourself lucky. You’re free to leave this place."
Liberation. Freedom. As the meaning of those words sank in, what welled up in the girl’s heart was not relief, but an indescribable sense of revulsion. She had prayed for this hell to end. She had begged for freedom. Yet now, there was no peace—only a thick, roiling darkness.
Seeing the girl’s reaction, Shaltier’s smile deepened beneath her hood, as if she had found exactly what she was looking for.
"Does it gall you?"
"What...?"
"Do you hate the Demon who put you through this? Do you hate your kin for failing to protect you? Do you hate me for waiting until now to save you? Or... do you hate yourself for being too weak to stop that Demon? Do you hate your own powerlessness for having no choice but to submit to such senseless violence?"
The girl fell silent. At that moment, she finally understood the black emotion consuming her. Shaltier was right. She was utterly humiliated that she hadn't been able to destroy this hell with her own hands. She was maddened by the fact that she hadn't been the one to kill that hateful piece of trash.
Just as Shaltier said, she hated her own weakness with every fiber of her being.
"I... I hate it."
"I thought you might."
"I hate my weak self! I hate that I couldn't fight back! I hate that I wasn't the one to kill that filth!!"
"Splendid eyes. Truly marvelous."
The girl had met Shaltier’s standards. Despite the madness lurking within her, she hadn't broken; she had gritted her teeth and endured. The more desperate the heart, the easier it is to imprint upon—the easier it is to foster dependency.
"Do you want power?"
"I... I want it."
"Very well. If that is your wish, I shall forge you into something formidable. In exchange..."
Shaltier pulled back her hood and hooked a finger into the metal collar around the girl’s neck, jerking her close.
"Gugh!?"
The girl let out a pained gasp, but Shaltier ignored it, staring directly into her single eye.
"You will become my hands. You will become my feet. You will serve as my eyes and my ears. Discard everything and dedicate your life to me."
The girl stared back, breathless.
"In return, I will give you the power you crave. You will no longer be among those who are robbed; you will stand among those who do the robbing. So, what is your choice?"
The invitation from such an overwhelming presence spread through the girl’s heart like venom. This Absolute One, who had crushed her personal hell as if it were nothing, was telling her to become hers.
An unbearable surge of pleasure rushed through the girl’s soul. Ah, I was born to be ruled by this person. In her warped state of mind, she was certain of it.
"I will. I will be yours... I swear it. My eternal, unwavering loyalty belongs to you..."
The words spilled from her lips before she could even think.
A moment later, the chains binding her shattered, leaving her limbs free. Yet, she did not move an inch. Her master had not yet given her an order.
Shaltier turned her back to the girl and began walking toward the exit.
"My name is Shaltier. Do not forget it. Now, come. From this day forward, you are Pandora."
"Yes... everything shall be as Shaltier-sama desires."
The moment she received her name, the girl cast aside her past without a second thought. It was a useless relic, a name she would never use again. She stood and followed after Shaltier, her eyes burning with a mix of intense madness and bottomless loyalty.
In truth, Shaltier’s actions that day contained a massive miscalculation: she had inadvertently awakened a psychological disposition Pandora hadn't even known she possessed. The sadism she had acquired from her hatred for the trash Demon merged in the worst possible way with an innate, dormant masochism. The result was a dual-natured extremist—a "Hard S" and "Hard M" pervert of monumental proportions. Shaltier would find herself holding her head in her hands over this later.
Alice-chan: "No, honestly... Alice-chan deeply regrets that cool, dramatic invitation I made in the heat of the moment. I never imagined she’d turn into a fetishist who’s basically a hardcore sadist but transforms into a submissive masochist in a state of perpetual heat for a specific person... Even with my eyes, I didn't see that coming. Well, I’ve already used Thought Guidance to skillfully push all those fetishes onto Kaito-san, so... Ah, wait, forget I said that! Gosh, I wonder why Pandora loves Kaito-san so much? It’s just one of life’s great mysteries, isn't it~?"