The Ferocious Beastkin Slave

As expected of a man like Vermin, who didn't hesitate to make money through illegal means, his bed was incomparable to the ordinary one in my room. No matter how much I stretched out my limbs, I couldn't even fill half of it, and the bed and pillows were so plush that drowsiness overwhelmed me the moment I lay down. The warm, soft blanket went without saying.

But unlike falling asleep comfortably, I snapped my eyes open upon waking and scanned my surroundings. Fortunately, the room was quiet. No one was holding a dagger to my throat. No matter how comfortable my body felt, my mind wasn't at ease, so deep sleep was impossible. Live like this for the next five years? I'd collapse from nervous exhaustion first. It wasn't just about enduring five years—I had to quickly root out the sources of trouble before then. That was why I'd chosen that beastkin slave as my first target.

I sat up and surveyed the area before cautiously slipping out of bed to wash up. The warm water eased some of my tension as I cleaned myself. Yeah, let's think positively. Vermin died in every ending, but there was no route where the story started with him already dead. That meant no chance of dying before the main story kicked off. Instead of worrying about now, focus on reducing future worries.

Feeling refreshed after washing, I shook the water from my hair when Yenika's voice came from outside. "Master Vermin, I've located the beastkin slave you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mentioned."

"Good news. Where is she now?"

"At the Northeast Mountains Slave Market. It's far, but I've prepared a teleportation scroll."

"Understood. I'll be out soon—wait for me."

I dried my hair completely, dressed, and opened the door. Yenika, waiting behind it, immediately handed me the scroll. As I took it, I caught her eyes and flinched. The amethyst-like purple irises that once sparkled brilliantly were gone. Instead, they flickered unstably, like the candles at a black magic altar. Dark circles shadowed her eyes as deeply as her ever-present black outfit.

Had she stayed up all night searching for the beastkin slave I mentioned? She must not have slept while I was at the altar either. It made me feel a little guilty that she worked so hard for me.

Yenika, handing over the scroll, clasped her hands at her exposed navel and bowed as always. "I'll escort you to the beastkin slave."

"You're coming along?"

"Yes. I'll guide you personally—I've prepared everything for the journey, entering the market, and reaching the slave you specified."

She was so enthusiastic I couldn't even ask if she was tired. She'd even brought a maid to tidy my bed and prepare fresh linens while I was away. I knew she was ready to lay down her life for Vermin, but feeling it firsthand was something else. So devoted to me. Vermin would have taken it for granted, but to me, Yenika looking up after preparing everything seemed incredibly commendable.

So I decided to praise her as much as I could. "You're useful after all."

I spoke as calmly as possible and placed my hand on her head. Then, gently stroking her hair a few times to avoid messing it up, I added, "Keep serving me like this."

It wasn't some grand scheme. She worked so hard, and I had a hunch things would go smoothly if she stayed on my side. Even if the original story never showed her betraying Vermin, better safe than sorry. Plus, with her short stature, I couldn't resist petting her head. How could I hold back from stroking that gap moe of her petite height and cool professionalism?

I figured she wouldn't react—or worse, complain about being treated like a kid. But after a brief daze, she lowered her head slightly, accepting my touch. As I stared in surprise, she lifted her head again, her violet eyes brimming with inexplicable anticipation.

What's with her? What does she expect from me?

"I'll guide you right away." Yenika unfurled the teleportation scroll nonchalantly, and I followed, still puzzled.

The slave market wasn't much different from the Slave Warehouse—if anything, it was worse. Slaves were dragged around like rags, and whips cracked against the disobedient. Unlike the silent warehouse, the market buzzed, but none of it was pleasant. I struggled to hide my disgust and nausea.

"This way." Yenika seemed unfazed, probably from experiencing humanity's ugliness firsthand.

I followed her through the throngs, passing far more slaves than in my warehouse, until she led me to a secluded spot.

"This is…"

"Where unsold slaves gather. They'd prefer being sold over coming here."

As she described, it was grim. Damp and reeking like my warehouse, but the slavers treated them stingily. Warehouse slaves had a chance of sale; these had lost all value. Wounds scarred their bodies, and some lay so still I wondered if they were dead.

But the atmosphere at our destination shifted entirely.

"Grrr…!" A chilling beastly growl echoed nearby. Is that a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beastkin or an actual monster?

"Get lost…! You filthy, cowardly bastards…!"

She spoke human words, so beastkin it was. And mouthing off despite captivity? Definitely the one I sought.

As I approached the source, guards parted. Yenika had announced me, and my overwhelming presence deterred them.

Finally inside, it looked like a monster caged by force.

"Untie me, and I'll rip you all in half!"

The beastkin in the circular arena's center matched my image perfectly: bright silver hair with animal ears atop, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a tail at her spine, sturdy sharp claws, and vicious fangs. Common beastkin traits, but extras: slitted yellow eyes glaring hostility, bandages tightly compressing her chest—ripped already from discomfort—and shackles, cuffs, collar to restrain her temper.

One glance confirmed it: my target. Too powerful to hold without a mobile iron cage, soldiers spears trained on her. She could shred bars and hearts if she wanted, but unfamiliar with the suppressive magic, she held back.

As I approached slowly, a market overseer greeted me. "Master Vermin, you've arrived? I heard. Interested in this one?"

"Yes."

"I can't fathom why you'd want such a monster. She's worse than dead stock."

The slaver whined wearily. As I stared silently, he continued. "She's killed plenty. And containing her costs dozens, hundreds times more than ordinary slaves. No value, but hard to dispose of."

Of course it's hard—she's no ordinary one.

"So please reconsider. We'd love to cull her, but we don't want to cross you."

"No need to worry. I'll handle it." I beckoned the slaver away and advanced.

Locking eyes, the beastkin slave crouched like a hunter, growling. "What the hell are you? Lower than beasts."

"First time seeing me?"

"Humans here are all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same without seeing. Filthy scum."

"No need to be so guarded, Karyl."

Karyl. That was the beastkin slave's name. A key player in Shadows Choice, unbeatable until the protagonist powered up late-game. A ferocious beast who rampaged to slaughter slavers after gaining freedom from enslavement. Fail to handle her right, and her grudge might tear me apart first. I was strong, but she was special.

"…How do you know my name?"

As Karyl growled, ferocious energy surged around her. A message window appeared before me.

That was why Karyl was special. Among beastkin, from the most combative tribe, favored by the divine beast spirit Tigrion. Unlike aloof gods or transcendents, Tigrion was ready to risk oblivion to shred Karyl's humiliators.

Still, my reason for seeking her was clear. I turned to the slaver calmly. "Fine slave. I'll buy her."

All eyes turned to me. Murmurs erupted.