Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Hunt the Weak First. (2)
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Information is an asset. Especially the intel that a noble house was buying slaves—it was particularly valuable.
With the backing of nobles—no matter how coerced—they could expand their influence even further.
'Even if right now I'm stuck in this backwater, handling slave errands.'
Someday, he would advance to the capital's 'headquarters' and become a high-ranking executive barking orders at his underlings there.
On a bright autumn afternoon, Noah dreamed such dreams.
"Hya."
The coachman slowly brought the carriage to a halt. The meeting spot was a rundown alley in Cader Territory's Seventh District.
'Let's fleece them good today, too.'
Humming a tune, Noah hopped down from the carriage. He rounded the corner toward where his client waited.
The man always arrived before Noah, shrinking into the shadows to avoid prying eyes.
'Hm?'
Noah tilted his head. The spot where his client usually stood was empty.
'What? Did he ditch me unilaterally?'
Dumbfounded, he scanned the surroundings.
"Hey there."
An unfamiliar voice stopped him.
He turned to see a figure in a familiar gray robe pushing off from the wall.
'Huh?'
Noah stared at the man, masking his surprise.
'The voice is different?'
It was the soft tenor of a young man. The languid drawl at the end of his words was oddly alluring.
"Who might you be?"
At Noah's question, the young man cocked his head.
"Came to buy some spoons."
Spoons was underworld slang for slaves.
"Spoons?"
Noah pretended not to understand.
'Better to play it safe, just in case.'
His cautious nature had kept him alive in this brutal underworld.
With the usual client replaced by a stranger, caution was warranted. Slave trading was illegal in the Empire, after all.
"Quite the cautious one, aren't you?"
The young man chuckled softly.
"We agreed on five spoons here, right?"
He crossed his arms and leaned casually.
"The old guy who was supposed to come had something come up, so I'm here instead. That work?"
"Ah."
Only then did Noah relax his guard. Knowing they wanted five and the original client's details confirmed it.
"I see. My apologies. This business requires such discretion."
"Hm, yeah. Fair enough."
It was a generous agreement, as if bestowing a favor. He seemed accustomed to such apologies.
Now Noah examined the robed youth closely.
Taller than Noah by far, with a slender yet solidly balanced build visible beneath the robe.
Though his face was hidden, it was probably quite handsome.
With a curious look, Noah asked,
"May I ask your relation to the original client?"
"Does it matter?"
"Pardon?"
The young man replied curtly.
"We just buy and sell spoons. I don't chat up guys for fun, so shall we move on?"
"Ah... Understood."
Noah replied in bewilderment, bowing his head to hide the prickling irritation.
'Why's this punk using informal speech nonstop?'
The former middle-aged client had been wary of Noah but never rude. This youth was different. His breezy attitude and cheeky tone grated on the nerves.
'Calm down. Client, he's a client.'
Noah quelled his rising frustration. He was, after all, committed to customer service.
'He's right, anyway.'
In his mind, the youth had already been demoted to "punk."
'What matters is the deal.'
Above all, this youth represented a premium client who bought slaves steadily and in bulk. No need to ruffle feathers.
"Yes, quite right."
Noah quickly plastered on a smile.
"Five items. No special requests, so I prepared standard spoons."
Another slang term. Gold spoons, silver spoons, white spoons—different names based on slave qualities.
"Then, the transaction."
Noah said so, waiting for the youth—specifically, for the money from his pocket.
With such words, the old client would always fumble a coin pouch from his pocket with slightly trembling hands. But today seemed different.
"I'd like to see the goods first."
The youth said instead of reaching for money.
"Pardon?"
"Who pays without seeing the goods? How would I know if this bag has forks or knives?"
Noah felt the anger he'd suppressed earlier bubbling up again.
'...This bastard, really?'
The guy was a master at getting under people's skin.
'Client, client.'
He swallowed the mantra he'd been repeating like a prayer. Only after grinding it to dust did he calm.
Hiding his emotions with effort, Noah put on a hurt expression.
"Don't you trust us? We've had no issues in past transactions."
"I do trust you."
The youth said in a tone that sounded anything but.
"Just making sure. If there's a problem later, I'm the one who gets it in the neck."
He added with clear discomfort,
"My master has a terribly foul temper."
Noah felt his curiosity pique. Finally, a clue about the client he'd always wondered about.
'If I handle this guy right, maybe I can pry some info?'
With that thought, Noah grinned ingratiatingly to stroke the youth's ego.
"Ah, in that case. Understood."
Noah led the way to the carriage.
"Let's take a look together."
He methodically inserted three keys from the bunch at his waist, and the firmly locked door finally opened.
"Hoo."
The youth approached the carriage with a hum.
Inside, five slaves sat leaning against the walls. Blindfolded, of course, with gags and restraints on wrists and ankles to prevent escape.
Noah began his friendly explanation.
"I dosed them with medicine just before coming, so the effects are still active. If transport takes time, I can provide more. Once home, just give the antidote, and they'll be right as rain."
He added with a discreet wink,
"Of course, if your master prefers them drugged, you can leave them as is."
The youth was silent for a moment. He merely inspected the slaves meticulously in the dim evening light.
"Hmm."
Then, suddenly, he hopped up onto the carriage. Noah startled and scrambled up after him.
"What are you—!"
"Want to see up close."
The youth approached the slaves and began examining them thoroughly, just as he said.
'...Good lord.'
Watching, Noah was left speechless.
'The guy has nerves of steel.'
Most would recoil at slaves sprawled inside a carriage.
The sight of humans stripped of all rights and dignity, reduced to mere merchandise, wasn't pleasant.
That's why the original middle-aged client always turned away when Noah opened the carriage.
'Though he probably wouldn't have asked to see them in the first place.'
Noah was thinking that when the youth called out.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"This slave's in terrible shape."
"Pardon? No way..."
Noah scurried over to check the slave the youth pointed at.
"Look at these muscles. So scrawny, he can barely hold a spoon."
"..."
"We're buying slaves, not adopting invalids."
For reference, the slave before them was a sturdy man in his thirties.
'No, what do you expect from a slave? If he were that healthy, why would he be here?'
While Noah gaped in disbelief, the youth pointed at the next slave.
"And this one? What kind of expression is that? Doesn't look servant-ready at all."
In truth, all the slaves had the same expression. They were all drugged and asleep.
"..."
As Noah stood speechless, the youth went further.
"This one's no good either."
This time, a young female slave—the youngest and freshest of the five.
"Pardon? She's quite premium..."
"She's ugly. Kills the appetite."
Noah shut his mouth.
His disbelief turned to displeasure. The youth was clearly nitpicking.
"What do you—"
"I'll pick in person at the shop. Take me."
Noah stopped mid-sentence. He scowled in exasperation.
'To the shop in person?'
The shop disguised as a normal store during the day. They'd never brought a buyer there.
The very existence of client dissatisfaction was a problem. Taking this youth would make Moritz explode.
Noah replied awkwardly.
"That won't do."
"I'm in more trouble than you. If I don't bring back proper slaves, I'm dead."
"Then tell me the conditions. I'll fetch ones that match."
Despite Noah's persuasion, the youth stubbornly shook his head.
"It's a bit secretive to explain. I'll just pick myself."
Noah thought,
'At this point, after bringing slaves, secrecy's moot, no?'
His gut boiled at the youth's stubbornness.
This youth had been making him uncomfortable from the start. They should've wrapped up by now, yet here they were bickering.
The youth even began glancing around the carriage interior.
"Tsk, no wonder they're like this. Shouldn't you at least lay down some straw on the floor?"
He fiddled with the door leading outside.
"After dosing them with drugs, does that even matter?"
His tone mocking.
Noah could endure no more.
"Hey! Hands off!"
He growled and grabbed for the youth's shoulder, but
"Urk!"
Suddenly slammed into the carriage wall. His cheek hit first, head ringing from the impact.
"Urgh."
Noah let out a stifled groan.
His right shoulder screamed in agony. A vise-like grip had wrenched and pinned his arm.
"See,"
The youth's nonchalant voice came from behind.
"I want to go pick them myself. Still not getting it?"
Noah twisted defiantly. But that only made his twisted shoulder hurt more, unbearable.
"Grk, I said no! I'll go get them!"
As he spoke, his left hand groped at his waist. The moment he quietly gripped his ever-present dagger,
"Whoa there."
The youth's other hand clamped his wrist.
"Carrying something dangerous? Bad habits."
A snickering laugh came from behind.
"Urgh...!"
Noah's arm trembled, face flushing with effort. But no matter how hard he tried, the gripped hand wouldn't budge.
'What kind of strength is this?'
It was like a child against an adult, an overwhelming powerlessness crashing like a boulder.
"Need help?"
The youth asked from behind in an amused tone. Noah snapped.
"Let go right now!"
Instead of replying, the youth hummed. Then, still gripping Noah's wrist, he began to move slowly.