Body Swap (2)
The Blue Tower Lord's laboratory—Ariel's research space—was far larger than any one person could possibly need. But then again, it made sense; Ariel handled all his sleeping, eating, and living right there in the lab. The place even came equipped with a bedroom and kitchen, making it practically a full home. The fact that he had only one slave, Terria, to tend to it all might have been a bit harsh on her.
And Ariel had a hobby of tormenting her whenever the mood struck.
—Crash!
The plate shattered against the floor, shards flying everywhere. The sandwich it carried ended up smashed on the marble tiles. Of course, Terria had made the sandwich. She stared at the mess, unable to hide her dismay.
"Make it again. You call that something people eat?"
"Yes, Master."
But on second thought, maybe I should retract that bit about tormenting her for fun. I had perfectly good reasons for hurling the plate.
"Try it yourself and judge. Even a starving mutt wouldn't touch that."
"……"
Of course, the sandwich Terria had brought for breakfast was actually pretty decent. Pretty decent, that is. There was plenty of room for improvement. And didn't that justify the plate toss?
"What are you waiting for? I said eat."
Yeah, that's how I saw it. I pointed at the mangled sandwich on the marble floor, and Terria slowly sank to her knees. She flicked her eyes up to check my gaze, her face holding a sliver of hope that I might call it off. Fat chance.
She started picking up the dust-covered bread bits with her fingers and eating them. I sipped my coffee leisurely, watching her, when something I'd planned yesterday but forgotten popped into my head.
"Oh, right, Terria. Put this on around your neck."
I pulled a red Magic Restraint Choker from my pocket—it looked just like a dog collar—and tossed it to her.
"Th-this… Yes, Master…"
"It only unlocks to my mana, so don't go begging some rando to take it off. Won't work."
"…Yes."
"Huh, now that I look, it does kinda resemble a dog collar. Guess a mutt suits a dog collar after all. Should I lift your humanization magic for old times' sake?"
"No, Master. I like it like this."
The moment I mentioned humanization magic, she responded with desperate urgency. Just kidding, of course. She already had humanization magic active. It hid her fox-beastkin traits—the fluffy ears and swishing tail. And she needed it. Simple reason: she couldn't go outside as a beastkin.
Social views on beastkin in the Empire were rock bottom. Calling them subhuman wouldn't be an exaggeration. Ever since the beastkin rebellion three years ago got brutally crushed, people ground their teeth at the sight of them. The uprising was savage; most combat-capable beastkin were killed or captured, but plenty of Imperial soldiers died too. No need to explain the hatred from those who'd lost fathers or brothers.
And considering Terria's stunning looks, she'd get kidnapped and sold to a brothel in a heartbeat. That'd be a headache for me. If I sent her on an errand and she vanished, sure, I could track her down—but it'd be a pain. What other master worries about his slave like this? She should count her blessings having me.
Which other owner personally casts spells to protect their property?
"Aw, I was hoping to fondle those fluffy ears for a change."
"……"
I fixed her with a lustful stare.
"The collar suits you. No different from what street whores wear, huh?"
"I'm…"
Terria flinched. Her varied reactions to my taunts never got old, no matter how many times I saw them. Same as always. Whenever I eyed her body with hungry intent, she tensed up without fail. How could I not keep teasing her? Not my fault.
I had no real intention of jumping her bones, but even if I did, she couldn't resist. So why didn't she just resign herself? It was a bit puzzling. Did she not realize how it stoked my sadism?
"I've told you a million times, Terria—I have zero interest in your body. My fiancée's more than enough to handle."
"…But noblemen keep mistresses on the side."
She shot back boldly. I countered immediately.
"So you're saying you're that impressive? Confident in that body of yours, huh? Fair enough—you are pretty."
"Yes…"
"But you're a slave. A beastkin slave, at that. The kind that'd be whoring in some back-alley brothel. Aren't you grateful I haven't sold you off there? If I deigned to fuck you, you should be thanking me. So why the long face?"
"…I'm sorry, Master. I overstepped with my nonsense."
"Yeah. So shut up and do as you're told. Clechia's coming soon—prep something simple."
At Clechia's name, Terria's already pale face drained further with fear. They didn't get along. More like Clechia unilaterally despised her.
Clechia was my fiancée. It didn't take much brainpower to figure out why she hated my slave. Same worries as Terria—fearing I'd turn her into a sex toy. No wife likes her husband taking a concubine, especially a prettier slave.
So Clechia often suggested swapping her out. I always refused, claiming good help was hard to find. Excuse, sure—selling Terria would be no issue—but I didn't. For someone as rational as me—mages tend that way, but I was extreme—even I couldn't explain it.
No real reason not to ditch her. Just a gut instinct saying I shouldn't. Pity for her plight? Her beauty? Nothing fit. One hypothesis: keeping a beastkin around to eternally remind me of comrades lost in the rebellion three years back.
Lost in thought, Terria spoke cautiously.
"Um, Master… Sorry, but your schedule didn't have your fiancée visiting today…"
"Nah, no biggie. Your sandwich pissed me off first thing. So really, it's your fault."
"……"
That was it. Tormenting slaves doesn't need grand reasons.
And then the lab's intercom buzzed.
—Ariel. Can I come in?
"She's here already."
I snapped my fingers. Magic. The lab door swung open, lights brightening. My fiancée Clechia stepped in lightly, shrugging off her thick coat against the January chill and draping it over a chair.
"Ariel, it's midwinter—still holed up in the lab? You could head back to the mansion and rest."
"Magic research doesn't wait. And this project's at the final stage—don't wanna break momentum."
Clechia puffed her cheeks.
"Tch. You won't even tell me what potion it is, acting like it's top secret. That's why we barely meet."
"That's why I called you over today—I missed your face. Jealous of a potion now?"
"Jealous? Nah, but seeing you like this is nice."
She grinned and came to my side, plopping into the chair next to me. I pecked her cheek lightly. Sweet vibe, if anyone was watching. Me? Just routine.
Only Terria fidgeted in the corner.
"Terria. Stop standing around—fetch some tea."
"Yes, Master."
She headed to the kitchen area. Only then did Clechia seem to notice her, glancing over. Her eyes widened briefly, then she got serious.
"Ariel. What's with that red choker?"
"That? Just a magic tool."
"Hmph. Looks like the ones sex slaves wear. You straying on me?"
"Misunderstanding. You know you're the only one for me. It's just a restraint—blocks the wearer's magic by suppressing their mana. Can't cast a thing."
Clechia still tilted her head, doubts lingering. Same old jealousy toward Terria.
"But she's no mage? Useless toy, then?"
"I'll need it soon. Sorry, can you let it slide? You'll know why in a few days."
I smiled reassuringly. Fair point—it did look like sex-appeal gear. But I couldn't explain. The choker was insurance for if Terria swapped bodies with the Red Tower Lord. To keep that punk from going berserk with spells.
"Mmm. Still feels off. Makes me uneasy."
"Clechia. Three years, and you know I've ignored that slave completely. No ulterior motives here."
"Still… bad feeling."
More jealous than I thought. Her pout was kinda cute. Maybe genuine sulk. I smiled softly.
Then Terria returned with a tray of refreshments. Clechia whispered in my ear, out of her range.
"Hey, Ariel. Mind if I hit her? You say you don't care, so it should be fine, right?"
"Don't dirty your hands. I'll do it. Terria, over here."
What a troublesome woman. I beckoned Terria. She approached warily, tense.
And—
Slap!
"Kyaa…!"
The slap sent her stumbling to the floor. Her lip split, reddening further. A vivid handprint bloomed on her pale cheek. My palm stung a bit—I'd hit hard.
Terria gaped in shock and fury, hands trembling.
Clechia burst out laughing.
"Pfft, Ariel! Too hard? Go easy next time."
"You seemed that jealous. Still worried I'll stray to a slave?"
"Your face says it all. Looked at her like furniture. Hehe. That's enough. Get her out of sight."
"Got it. Terria, go to your room."
She retreated, looking defeated. I wanted to tell her: compared to other beastkin slaves, this was cushy. At least not under some alchemist doing vivisections. And I never tormented without cause. Just now proved it—better clear Clechia's suspicions, or who knows what she'd do. No other master cares this much. Wonder if Terria gets that.