The General Store Merchant of the Slave Auction
Fifty silver.
It was a hefty sum for an opening bid, but judging by the mood in the hall, it would have seemed stranger if the starting price hadn't been a full gold coin.
Whoever got their hands on that female elf would earn every coin of it back, no matter what they paid.
It honestly made me wonder how a prize like her hadn't already ended up in some noble's possession.
Even without putting her in a brothel, simply standing her in a jeweler's or a dress shop for noble ladies like a living mannequin, displayed out front, would be an advertising windfall all on its own.
At the very least, a run-down inn could strike it rich just having her pour bathwater for guests and serve beer.
The moment word spread that the place kept an elf of peerless face and figure, crowds would come flocking like clouds just to catch a glimpse of her.
And on top of all that, you could actually sleep with her?!
There'd be plenty of men glad to hand over a gold coin for a single night — quite a few of my own customers among them.
"Haa... I have to buy her..."
"Please... just her! Just that one!"
Everyone in the hall was probably thinking the exact same thing.
And so, with one naked elf kneeling on the block, the auction of the century began.
"Fifty-five silver!"
"Sixty!"
"Sixty-five."
"Seventy!"
"Seventy silver! Seventy-five? No one at seventy-five?!"
Sure enough, the bids climbed fast, five silver at a time.
As always, I sat quietly and merely watched — until old Franco abruptly raised his hand from the back.
"One gold!"
"One gold coin! From this point on, bids rise in increments of twenty silver!"
And the old man flashed a grin straight at me.
Was that supposed to look impressive?
Guess he'd been dying to try it himself.
"One gold, twenty!"
"One gold, forty!"
"One and sixty."
"One and eighty!"
"Two gold!"
While the auctioneer scrambled to keep count, the price blew past two gold coins in no time.
At this rate, three would come just as fast.
I couldn't sit here sipping grape juice out of a wine glass forever.
The time had come for the general store of Greenhill to start timing its entrance into the fight.
"Two gold and forty!"
"Two gold, eighty!"
"Three gold!"
"Three and forty!"
The situation was turning ugly.
One by one, the buyers had started shaking out their entire fortunes.
Even if the whole auction went to ruin today, all I had to do was walk away with that one elf.
Three gold coins was, back in my old world, the price of a car — no, of a supercar, the kind you only ever saw at motor shows.
Maybe not Gangnam prices, but enough to scrape together a house somewhere in the Seoul metro area.
Every pair of eyes was dead serious, faces screaming that they had to have that pointy-eared bitch no matter the cost.
Alright. Time to do what I always do.
End this auction. Right now.
With an overwhelming number!
"Five gold."
"Five gol— WHAT?!"
Somewhere behind me, one of the buyers suddenly yelped like a man stomping the brakes at full speed on a highway.
He must have been readying his own bid, and my "five" had startled the daylights out of him.
"Five! Five gold coins! The general store merchant of Greenhill bids five gold coins!"
A new all-time record bid for the Stonefield slave market.
Behold. This is the difference between you people and me.
"That lunatic merchant!"
"Enough is enough, damn it!"
"What the hell does he even sell out there in Greenhill, that five gold comes flying out of him?!"
Cursing finally burst out from every corner of the hall; people couldn't hold it in any longer.
The auctioneer calmed the overheated crowd.
"Come, come! Any more bids?!"
"Bid! Bid again! He's broke! It's a bluff!"
"Bid! You can do it! Stonefield! Are you going to lose to Greenhill?!"
"Or pool your money, two or three of you! Just take turns with the elf, one day each!"
Who were these people cheering for, anyway? And whose corner were they coaching from?
Plenty of cheerleaders on every side — and not one of them willing to follow through with a bid.
They could call it a bluff all they liked; none of them had the confidence to actually put up that kind of money.
Would anyone match me?
"Five gold... and fifty silver."
"Yes! Five gold and—"
Someone had matched me! Who?
A rasping, drunken voice from the back. The stable master.
By now the old man gave off a smell of horse dung cut with wine.
Drunk. Properly drunk, out of his mind.
"What? Think I can't pay? I'll sell off a few of my horses. Who cares about horses at a time like this? I can ride something a hell of a lot better than a horse."
It didn't feel like mere drunken bravado, either.
"Ahh..."
On the platform, it was the auctioneer who now swayed as if he were the drunk one.
He stood to pocket a fat commission off this sale; he probably felt like he was dreaming.
Fine. Let's fight.
"Six gold."
"Wha—?!"
For an instant the auctioneer's legs seemed to give out; he grabbed the podium and gulped down a glass of water.
Six gold coins. Honestly, that was money I couldn't pay this very second.
"Look here, merchant. Don't overreach yourself. What do you figure you even clear in Greenhill, hawking a few farm tools and candy for snot-nosed brats?"
"You're one to talk — why not focus on your actual trade and go sell some horses?"
"Horses, people — what's the difference? I've been thinking of switching over to the hole business before long. Looked into it, and it seems to pay better."
"So? Shall you be going higher, or not?"
When I asked with cold eyes, the horse dealer's drunken gaze sobered, if only for a moment.
What I'd just said carried the unspoken threat: make one more bid here, and I might drop out.
"If you're so confident, go ahead. Bid again."
"You little—"
"Try calling another number. You can always sell a few more of your precious horses. Or wait — wouldn't that leave your stable empty? Planning to keep a single elf in that whole big stable of yours? What a colossal waste of space."
"You wanna die, boy? Who the hell does a piece of trash that rolled around in cow shit think he is, talking to me like that?!"
Face crimson, Franco seized the wine bottle beside him by the neck and rose from his seat.
At that, my personal bodyguard, who had been waiting against the wall, came striding over with his hand wrapped around his sword hilt. The auction house's own guards only turned up a good while later.
Go on, take a swing. Do that in here and see what happens to you next.
Money really does buy everything.
I smiled up at Franco, pleasant as could be.
"...Going to bid?"
"You bastard... eat well, live long, and feast on nothing but that elf's hole!"
Why, thank you for the kind words.
And with that parting curse, Franco stormed off.
Drunk as he was, and lecherous as he was, the man had been in the horse trade long enough to know when he was beaten.
The auctioneer, barely recovered, shouted:
"Six gold... six gold... a-any more bids? None?! Then... sold! To the... general store merchant of Greenhill!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Once the slave market ended, the bidders and spectators cleared out fast.
Meanwhile, payment and the handover of the day's lots were handled quietly behind the auction platform.
As always, I deliberately stayed until the very end. Even from the auctioneer's standpoint, it was cleaner to process the customer who'd spent the most money last.
"Ah! Lord Luciel Gathergold! Thank you so much for today, truly! Your purchases have already been loaded onto your carriage."
"...You feeling all right?"
"Oh, quite all right, my lord. My heart did race a little during the auction, but... in any case, the sale went off without a hitch, and that's satisfaction enough. More importantly, I'm relieved you came to no harm. When a big lot goes up, there are always jealous, senseless bidders about. Haha."
My current manner of speaking was quite deliberate.
It was something experience had taught me: in this world, when dealing with subordinates or people in the service trades, it was only natural to talk like a somewhat older gentleman — it actually put them at ease.
Call it a pointed reminder that he and I were not standing in the same place.
As he spoke, the auctioneer flipped through his ledger to write out the receipt.
On the table behind him, money pouches stuffed full of silver and copper were already piled high.
That was the take from the male slaves alone.
And I was about to pay more than twice that.
Before, I'd always paid the asking price in full. But today, I had no intention of being so agreeable.
"Let's see... once again, females only, my lord. As ever, much obliged. Ten in total, including one pregnant female — three gold and fifty silver. And your winning female elf at six gold makes nine gold fifty all told!"
"Here you are."
I handed over the money pouches I'd prepared: one sack holding fifty silver, and then, from inside my coat, a small silk purse from which I counted out three gold coins.
The moment he saw the gold, the auctioneer's face brightened.
But when my hand stopped short, he checked the coins and looked up at me in puzzlement.
"Uh... and the elf's price?"
"You know, it's funny. A thought just occurred to me — I'd say that merchandise you're passing off as an elf needs some additional verification."
"Verification?"
"Spare me the chatter. Bring her here."
I had the elf brought back before us.
Poor thing — the female elf was as bare as the day she was born, the coarse mat they'd draped over her earlier having long since torn away.
"..."
Seeing the elf's naked body this close was, frankly, unreal.
She must have suffered terribly on the road here, yet unlike the other slaves, her skin carried no reek of manure — only a fresh, flowery scent.
So this was what a female elf's sweat smelled like.
Perhaps she'd been trembling in fear of being violated; though it wasn't a hot day, her whole body glistened with sweat.
Self-control. Get a grip.
I forced down my excitement, wrenched my head away from the naked elf against every instinct I had, and fixed the auctioneer with a glare.
"I know a thing or two about elves. This is no elf."
"Impossible!"
The auctioneer jumped as if stung.
"What on earth are you saying, my lord? This merchandise is — if I may say — something we worked very hard to procure—"
"It's a half-elf."
"!!!"
The word half-elf cut him off mid-sentence.
The auctioneer hurriedly began pulling on his silk gloves.
Customers hated merchandise being handled with bare hands, so on the block he always wore those gloves when touching goods.
With one gloved finger he touched the elf's ear, and it flinched, pricking straight up in alarm.
"It seems you didn't look closely earlier, my lord. Observe this ear — the ear of a true, pureblood—"
"A pureblood elf's ears aren't this short. At least half a handspan longer, minimum. Look carefully — they need to be at least this long. And—"
I stretched my palm above the elf's ears, gauging their length.
"Her whole build is practically identical to a human woman's. Height, the overall proportions and curves of the body, the shape of the face — and above all, here!"
I cupped the underside of one of the elf's breasts, lifted it slightly, and let go.
Slosh.
Whoa... damn, that's heavy?
Like lifting a water balloon filled two-thirds of the way.
One of the elf's breasts rose, full and voluminous, then dropped with a wobble under gravity.
And I could see the spot my hand had pressed flat spring back to shape in the blink of an eye.
This softness! This bounce!
Incredibly soft, with a weight that felt wonderful in the hand.
Breasts this big, this soft and springy, were next to impossible to find on the women of this world.
Choose bounce and you gave up size; choose size and you got sag.
All the more so in a land with no concept of the bra — of corrective undergarments at all.
Was it because I hadn't touched a proper pair of breasts in so long, or because she was an elf?
Either way, I had to summon every ounce of restraint I possessed to keep my composure.
Looking thoroughly cornered, the auctioneer produced a handkerchief and dabbed the sweat trickling down his forehead.
Then, heaving a long sigh, he looked at me.
"Why on earth are you doing this now? Why raise this only after winning the bid?"
Wait — it was actually true?!
A real half-elf? I only floated that to knock the price down.
She read as more human than elf, if anything, so I'd just thrown it out as a gamble...
Still, you couldn't call this pure dumb luck.
My confident tone, the air that came off my clothes and bearing, my hardline stance — together they'd made the man confess his false advertising all on his own.
I had plenty of questions about where this half-elf had come from, but closing this deal came first.
"Oh? Is that really what you wanted? Then perhaps you should have said so before the auction began?"
"You should never have bid on this merchandise at all, my lord! You should have let it go to someone else!"
"I see. A half-elf, instead of a pureblood elf."
...
"Fine! Then I should have stood up right there and shouted it, shouldn't I? The merchandise on that block is not a pure elf but a half-elf with human blood, so I decline to bid on this lot! — over and over, loud enough for every soul in that hall to hear!"
I raised my voice on purpose.
My voice rang out and rolled through the empty auction house.
I can't vouch for anything else, but lungs I've always had.
The man deflated completely.
"Please, lower your voice..."
For a long moment I simply glared at him and said nothing.
Finally, resignation written across his face, the auctioneer sighed and spoke.
"Very well. Then we'll strike today's elf sale from the record and—"
"Why?"
"You said you didn't want her because she's a half-elf?"
"I knew she was a half-elf from the start. That's why I tried to buy her."
"What is that supposed to mean?!"
"I knew she was a half-elf, and right here, right now, I'm going to buy her again — at a half-elf's price."
"What did you say?!"
"Because then we both walk away satisfied. You get to protect the honor of the Stonefield auction house, and I get my half-elf at a fair price."
"I don't understand. Why would you say such things, my lord..."
This guy was denser than I'd thought. Still doesn't get it?
"Give me a discount."
"Oh, for pity's sake!"
"Give. Me. A discount."
Haggling down the price of a lot already won at auction.
Unthinkable even in the world I came from.
Of course, it was hardly normal here either — but here, money bought anything.
All it took was a loud voice, a quick temper, some sweet-talking, and a talent for arguing.
Knowing how to curse a little now and then helped, too.
"Why would I do that? Elf or half-elf, this merchandise has more eager buyers than I could count — yourself aside, that is!"
"In that case, the moment I walk out of here, I'll simply go telling every citizen of Stonefield that this auction house sells fraudulent goods."
"Fine! All right! Enough already!"
I'd won.
In the end, the auctioneer waved his hands in surrender, and that settled it.
The half-elf's price was finalized at three gold — exactly half the original winning bid.
She was a half elf, after all.
Even that was serious money, so the slave market hardly took a loss.
Either way, I'd pulled off a real coup — and if I went around blabbing "half-elf, half-elf" to everyone, the house's name would suffer, and even its regulars might slip away.
Well. The important business was done. One small problem remained...
All the money I'd brought — silver and copper included — came to five gold in total.
The few silver coins left over were my emergency fund, travel money for getting home, and couldn't be touched.
"Credit again?! You've already haggled the price down, and now this — you really are too much!"
"Come now, cut me some slack. I'm a general store merchant, am I not? Have I ever once left a debt unpaid?"
"That's true enough, I suppose. But what business could a country general store owner possibly have, that he needs this many female slaves?"
The auctioneer grumbled, in the tone of a man who knew perfectly well and knew better than to say.
Seeing that sullen look on his face, I decided it was time to bring out the goods.
Very well — a peace offering. I couldn't pay him, but I'd throw in one of my store's most popular items, free of charge.
From inside my coat I produced a single rectangular bar of chocolate.
"That's—?! Chocorit?!"
"Chocolate. You tried some before, didn't you?"
"Ahh... chocolate!"
The auctioneer's eyes lit up instantly.
Yes. Chocolate, that's the one.
That palm-sized milk chocolate bar, about 4,000 won at retail.
Order it by the fifteen-bar box and stockpile it, and you could get it far cheaper.
I'd prepared for exactly this.
Because no one in this world hates sweets.
The half-elf, who had been staring at the floor this entire time, suddenly raised her head.
What is that? — she was gazing at the bar, unblinking.
"Do... do be sure to pay in full by the deadline."
Swish.
When I waved the chocolate at him, urging him to take it, he snatched it up at once and tucked it inside his coat.
"To tell the truth, I've been rationing the one you gave me before. That smooth sweetness of Chocorit — even if you gathered every rare sugar in the world, its flavor could never be imitated—"
"That stuff has an expiry date, you know. Don't eat it quickly and it'll spoil on you."
"It can't be! Is Chocorit not immortal, like honey?"
"Finish it within a month at the outside. And it's not 'Chocorit.' Chocolate."
"Ah — chocolate. Chocolate."
"...Ch...co...late."
It was a tiny voice, barely audible — but I heard it, clear as day.
The half-elf's mouth was mimicking my words.
And so I agreed to pay the balance by the following month, and signed a written pledge to settle the remaining one gold and fifty silver in full.
Don't get the wrong idea. This was no place that let things slide so easily.
It was only possible because it was me.
And because I had leverage on him.
The chocolate helped, too.