Picking Up a Slave (2)
"Right this way, my lord."
I followed Bilbeckman into another room.
Graaagh!
There, a woman was confined in an iron cage no larger than a closet.
She glared out with such ferocity that it seemed she was promising to kill Bilbeckman the moment she got free of this place.
Gray hair, blue eyes. There's no doubt about it.
The sole survivor of the Flash Wolf Clan, a tribe that had once been powerful enough to swallow an entire kingdom whole.
Seina Grant.
"As you can see, she's terribly wild. A bit difficult to train, this one."
"No matter. I'll take her."
I didn't deliberate long. I tossed a single gold coin onto the floor.
"Haha! My, what a generous spender you are, my lord."
The man scooped up the fallen coin and stepped toward the cage.
"Ah, one thing to note — no refunds, my lord."
"Just open it already."
"Of course, of course."
Screeeech! Grind-grind-grind!
The moment the lock holding the iron bars firmly shut came undone, she sprang at the man as if launched from a coiled spring.
GRRAAAAGH!!!
It was less the movement of a human than of a beast. She hadn't been allowed proper rest or food, yet she could still lunge like that — no doubt thanks to her absurd physical abilities.
"Whoa there! That gave me a fright!"
But Seina's attack stopped dead just in front of the man. The chain around her neck had caught taut.
"Stay quiet. Unless you'd like another taste of the lightning."
The man approached her with a slimy smile, then grabbed the chain around her neck and wrenched it roughly.
"Ghhk!!"
Seina writhed in pain. She seemed to have lost even the strength to resist, her body sagging into resignation.
"That's enough."
I couldn't just stand there watching, so I walked up to the man and extended my hand.
"Haha, my apologies. Of course — the new master."
He handed over the leash with exaggerated courtesy.
"Not that. I want the key."
"Ah."
Scratching his head once, the man fished the key out of his pouch and passed it over.
I crouched down to meet Seina's eyes as she sat slumped on the floor.
Grrrrr...
True to her deep hatred of humans, she regarded me with open wariness.
Just as I was showing her the key, worried she might startle, and slowly moving to undo her chain—
"One moment, my lord."
"What is it?"
"You should apply the slave brand first. Otherwise she'll run off before the day is out."
"I'll handle it my own way."
"Truly a strange customer you are..."
Ignoring the man's muttering, I turned the key. With a soft click, the chain came loose.
At the same instant, Seina looked up at me, her face full of suspicion — as if to say, what's your angle?
"I have no intention of harming you."
I showed her both my open hands to set her at ease. She was at that stage where her hatred of humans burned hottest.
"My lord, I have far finer merchandise in stock. Are you certain you won't browse a little?"
Bilbeckman rubbed his hands together with a greasy smile. Well, it made sense from his perspective. I'd just bought a slave with no market value — he probably figured he'd landed himself a sucker.
"Not necessary."
"Haha, then do come again anytime."
With that, he handed me a shoddy little business card. A slave trader, of all people, carrying business cards — when had he even made these?
"Haha! It's the age of commerce, isn't it? A man has to keep up with the times."
As if he'd read my mind, the man answered swiftly. I gave a noncommittal nod and accepted his card.
"Until we meet again, my lord."
"Yes. Let's make it soon."
The words carried a great deal of meaning. Because the man would be bidding farewell to this world before long.
Seina Grant was a character who appeared in the late game, a steadfast ally to the player. Beyond her overwhelming combat prowess, her breathtaking beauty had charmed the hearts of every player who saw her.
The reason I'd sought her out early instead of waiting for her proper late-game debut was simple investment strategy. Werewolves were a race with the absurd constitution of growing stronger by merely breathing. Raise one well, feed one well, and it was like a pension for your retirement.
"Eat."
Steam rose from a succulent roast chicken. Seina and I had left the slave market and come straight to an eatery. Looking at how gaunt and hollow-cheeked she was, I figured feeding her had to come first.
"What's your scheme?"
Seina, hood sunk deep over her head, stared at me with a face brimming with suspicion.
"You looked hungry."
"...I'm not hungry."
She jerked her head away as if vowing never to take a single bite.
"Fine, suit yourself."
Paying her no mind, I sliced off a bit of chicken and put it in my mouth. Naturally, her gaze followed me.
"Is there something on my face? Why are you staring?"
"I'm not staring."
"I see."
Showily, I dipped a glistening piece of perfectly cooked chicken into the sauce. She watched the morsel with her mouth hanging open, eyes boring into it.
Just eat it already, you stubborn fool.
She'd clearly been starving for days — how much hatred did a person need to hold out like this? For the journey ahead, keeping her well-fed mattered.
In the end, I set my knife down with a clatter.
"I'm stuffed."
"......"
"Come on. Couldn't you help me finish it?"
Grrrowl.
Right on cue, Seina's stomach growled.
"...I'm not hungry."
And yet she maintained her position of not eating to the very end.
"Aren't you planning to get revenge on that man? Then replenishing your nutrients would be the smart move."
"!"
Seina's eyes went wide. Her expression demanded an explanation — how did you know?
How could I not?
She was the type who never let go of anyone she'd sunk her teeth into, until death did them part. Favors repaid tenfold, grudges repaid tenfold. That was Seina's conviction, and the wellspring of her strength.
"I won't stand in your way."
Bilbeckman was trash who sold demi-humans and small children — anything that turned a profit. Later in the story, he would sell a child whom the Hero treasured like her own little sibling into slavery, and the enraged Hero would beat him to death with her bare fists.
In other words, he was a man doomed to die regardless, so killing him early cost me nothing.
"...Why? Do humans have no bond even with their own kind?"
Seina looked at me with a strange expression, as if I'd surprised her.
"Wearing a human face doesn't make someone human. In fact, I'd wager you've seen plenty of that kind yourself."
"......"
She would know better than anyone. That this world held things crueler than any demon, and that they wore human skin.
"What did Bilbeckman do to you?"
But then a question occurred to me. Even granting her hatred of humans, Seina wasn't the type to go around shouting about revenge so openly. What could have been done to her?
"He beat me and starved me for disobedience."
An unexpectedly simple answer. Surely that alone wasn't reason enough to want him dead. There had to be something more.
"Is that all?"
"He ordered me to grovel at his feet."
"!"
I'd been about to take a drink of water, and set the glass down on the table instead.
So that was it.
To the wolf clan, bowing one's head was a sacred act — a vow of lifelong fealty. For a werewolf of noble blood to grovel before a mere human was tantamount to being ordered to cast away her very life. And worse — the one giving the order was her own captor, her enslaver.
"A man fit only for death. I'll help you kill him."
Dying on the street would be more courtesy than he deserved.
At my words, Seina flinched.
"You'll help me? Why?"
That part's simple.
She was a talent destined to become my sword. Killing a man who was going to die anyway, and winning Seina's trust in the bargain? An absolute bargain.
"I don't help because I have a reason. I help because I can."
Besides, I wanted to help her on a personal level too. I'd been a devoted fan since the old days.
For a brief moment, Seina wore an expression that looked almost moved. But she quickly twisted her face as if nothing had happened and spoke.
"I can't trust you."
"If I had some other purpose, I'd have branded you with the slave seal. You're a demi-human — you know exactly what that would mean."
The slave brand. It meant eternal subjugation. The moment the brand was inscribed, a slave became bound to absolute obedience to their master's commands, unable to stray beyond a fixed distance.
"...Then what would you do if I ran away?"
"Nothing I could do. But tell me — do you have anywhere to go? How exactly would you live?"
I answered with deliberate indifference. She had no rebuttal, and pressed her lips shut.
In the story, demi-humans were portrayed as beings who received nothing close to a warm welcome from humankind. Striking out on her own would come with no small number of obstacles.
"...What's your name?"
Seina stared at me as if I were some strange, unknown creature.
"Gerard will do."
"Gerard... so that's your name."
One hour and thirty minutes. That was how long it had taken since our first meeting for her to ask my name.
Still, her guard seems to be coming down somewhat.
Slow going, but we were making progress.
"What's your name?"
"Seina."
"Right, Seina. Enough chattering — eat. Getting your essential nutrients is critical if you're going to have your revenge."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Reaching her hands toward the table, she began shoveling food into her mouth, hurried and graceless.
"......"
It was a rather pitiful sight. Like a cat soaked through by the rain, finally burying its face in a can of tuna after days of nothing.
Just how long did that bastard starve her?
Even as the question rose in me, I couldn't help but admire her. She'd been this hungry, and she'd held out this long right in front of the food. Truly befitting a werewolf of superior bloodline.
"Eat slowly."
"...more, please."
Seina mumbled something around a mouthful of food.
"What was that?"
"One more plate..."
"......"
The girl who had demolished an entire chicken in the blink of an eye opened her mouth again. I could only gape at the sight.