Kill Me Already
The ceiling was unfamiliar. Of course, the ceiling I saw every time I played mobile games was always strange and shitty, but this was different. The actual ceiling above my head was unfamiliar. A ceiling made of stone— no matter how I thought about it, it felt wrong. Like the phrase "LG Twins winning the championship." Come to think of it, that liquor they said they'd open if the team ever won… it must have turned to vinegar by now. My house ceiling had been wooden, after all. Maybe the ceiling monster that was Grass-type had evolved into a Rock-type.
When I looked at the walls, I realized I was inside an iron cage. It wasn't a proper prison, though—there were no guards, and across from me was a young girl locked up, trembling in fear. No matter how you looked at it, there was no way they'd throw a child like that into a real prison. If someone was caging people without regard for age or gender, there was only one possibility.
"Shit. I got drunk, passed out, and got picked up by slave traders."
Getting robbed while drunk hadn't cost me my wallet or bag—it had cost me my life. If this went wrong, even my chastity might be in danger. Just you wait. My body may yield, but my spirit never will!
"Ugh, my head…"
The hangover still hadn't faded, but I decided to calmly recall what had happened yesterday. I had run away from home because I was embarrassed by the magic name that fourteen-year-old Werner bastard had come up with. Then I'd gone into a tavern and chugged rum like crazy… and even ordered wine on top of that. My one-line review of getting drunk, passing out, and being captured by slave traders was this:
"Kuuuuueeeeeeerrrrgh!"
I desperately wanted some bean sprout and dried pollock soup to cure this hangover. My stomach was burning so badly I felt like I might throw up again. The sour sting of stomach acid hit my nose. At times like this, I wished I had that stew Airi used to make. Even if it looked like goblin vomit, it was surprisingly good for hangovers.
While indulging in that pointless fantasy, I lay back down on the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe I should just sleep a little longer before leaving. Honestly, I wasn't worried at all. I was one of the top three mages on the continent—what was there to be afraid of? Unless they had slapped some special restraint on me that sealed magic, I could just blast my way out with spells.
Clink.
"Ah, fuck?"
When I looked at my ankle, a red restraint was fastened around it. Shit. They really had put a magic-sealing restraint on me. Why the hell was that thing here? And why the ankle, of all places? They hadn't touched any minors yet… Though, thinking about the age calculation in this world, Airi had only just come of age. Even if I was walking a tightrope in hell with three women, an ankle bracelet was a bit much.
"Let me out, you bastards!"
The fear that I might be sold to the Orc Queen and end my life as a breeding stud wrapped around my entire body. This wasn't some TS story—this was a slave episode. Something had definitely gone wrong. If they wanted to do a slave episode that badly, they should've TS'd a character named Vernia instead of Werner. Come to think of it, if Vernia got TS'd and thrown into a slave episode, she'd be sold to some perverted noble and fall into female corruption. That was even worse.
I grabbed the bars and shook them, but they didn't budge. Werner's pure physical strength was decently strong, so the fact that they held firm meant the construction company from this era had built them with real artisan spirit. They should've embezzled the construction funds and made them a little shoddy instead. Thanks to their damn artisan pride, escaping had become unnecessarily difficult. Where the hell did this era's embezzlement spirit go?! Shoddy construction, embezzling construction funds, and the president running off with the money—those were the three great virtues you had to keep in mind when running a construction business in the country I used to live in.
"You bastards from the Construction Guild!!! The moment I get out of here, I'm tearing you all limb from limb!!!"
If this was a medieval fantasy, it should follow medieval authenticity. The quality should be garbage, they should only make the same things over and over with no innovation. But what the hell was this? This iron cage was sturdier than modern-day Korea. I didn't know who it was, but there was definitely a Steve Jobs of the cage-making industry in the Construction Guild. I firmly resolved to snap that bastard's neck. Geniuses die young, so the one who brought innovation to cage-making should die young too.
Tired of shouting, I quietly sat in place, and all sorts of random thoughts came to mind. Who would buy me… The Orc Queen I just mentioned—she was the first one I brought up, so she'd be the main heroine position. I'd commit suicide immediately. Then the perverted noblewoman who would newly intrude—the TS version of the perverted nobleman I just mentioned. Unfortunately, since TS characters weren't my preference, I'd commit suicide right away. The perverted nobleman who liked men. The homosexual version of that guy from earlier. I didn't know why there were so many versions like some Fate Saber, but if I got caught by him, I'd commit suicide too.
Just then, the cage opened and two figures wrapped head to toe in robes entered. Since they might not be human but elves or some other race, I referred to them as "figures." Anyway, slave traders wrapped up like that from head to toe… I'd seen that somewhere before. Mostly in eroge.
"Do you bastards have tentacles? Or did you come to carve some weird tattoo on me?!"
Guys who looked like that always pulled out tentacles and violated the heroine. Or they were dark mages who carved strange tattoos.
"Kkeut, kill me! I don't value my life at all!"
I wasn't a princess knight, but I'd always wanted to say this line at least once. For some reason, when you said this line, they never actually killed you. Even in historical dramas, when people begged "Please kill me!", they didn't. Except for King Yeonsangun and the Kill Room member.
Unless these guys were the reincarnations of King Yeonsangun and the Kill Room member, they hadn't come to kill me. But the figures steadily approached.
"Don't come closer, I can shoot! I can shoot!"
Even when I screamed like Jung Ma-dam had possessed me, they walked right up to me and stopped.
Shit. They really were the reincarnations of King Yeonsangun and the Kill Room member. Not TS, but Joseon kings reincarnated as slave traders. Just as I was thinking I was definitely going to die, the reincarnation of King Yeonsangun held out a wooden bowl toward me.
What, was this poison?
"It's a meal. Eat quietly."
Those two had just come to give me food, and I was the only one making a scene. Ah, this was embarrassing. It was all because of that damn Steve Jobs of the Construction Guild. As I seriously pondered whether to twist that bastard's neck to the left or right once I got out, I gulped down the soup the slave trader had given me.
"Huh?"
What the hell, why was this delicious? This was the kind of soup that even Ramen Critic Aris would smile like the Buddha while praising. If I added noodles to this, I could open a shop and sell it with One Piece figures on display. Plus, my stomach was burning and I was craving something warm—exactly the kind of thin soup I'd wanted. I resolved that even if I escaped and slaughtered all the slave traders here, I'd at least spare the chef.
Once my stomach was somewhat full, the burning sensation disappeared. As expected, soup was the best for hangovers.
"By the way, shit… haa…"
A sigh escaped me. What was I supposed to do now? A grand mage getting captured by slave traders… Even a passing dog would laugh at this. They didn't seem to know my identity, though. If Airi found out, she'd definitely tease me for ten years.
"Haha, Master, aren't you ashamed of getting captured by slave traders?"
"Ayy, I should've saved up my allowance to buy my slave master! Then I could've just—!"
"Oh, look, there goes that slave uncle who got caught by slave traders! Where did his owner go?"
I didn't even need to see it—this was obvious. Just imagining the scene made me angry, and I slammed my fist against the wall. Yeah, I should use my wits. In movies, when someone collapses from stomach pain, their companion calls a doctor, and when the guard opens the door and comes in, the companion subdues them and escapes. The problem was that I had no such companion. So this was why Luffy went around gathering crewmates. I went back to the bars and shouted.
"Hey! I mean, sirs! My stomach hurts—could you call a doctor, please?!"
Life was a solo run. If you had no companions, you played single-player. Besides, I preferred single-player games anyway. The slave trader who approached me said this:
"Why do you people always complain about stomach pain on the day you're captured? Please hurt somewhere else for once. I'm so sick of this."
Ah, so other seniors had used this method often too. I felt a strange sense of pride for upholding the ancient tradition of prisoners suddenly complaining of abdominal pain from ancient times to the present.
"It really hurts! Shit, are you going to shit your pants during the slave auction? Even buyers wouldn't want a slave who shits their pants, right?"
Even I wouldn't buy a slave who shit their pants. I'd rather buy an elf slave. Wait, thinking about it, that was dangerous too?
"Don't worry. There's someone specific who wants you."
"What?"
"There's someone who put out a wanted notice across the entire country saying they'd buy you for three golden chests."
Shit. They already had a reservation before the official sale. It wasn't even a new iPhone.
"Who is it?"
"The Grand Duke of the North, Glacia Winterhart."
Shit… So it was Werner's fiancée. I blamed Glacia's father, who was also Werner's colleague.
"Brother, you really raised your daughter wrong…"
Zeke was the same, and that brother was the same. The people around Werner really raised their daughters like shit.