Chapter 1
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 1: There’s No Way a Liberated Slave Would Be Obsessed
I read a novel with a ridiculous premise.
It was a story where the master liberated the slave, but the slave became obsessed instead.
Things like returning to the master on their own two feet, crying and begging to become a slave again. Or cherishing a rough shackle like it was a wedding ring. Or considering becoming a slave, living as a slave, and dying as a slave to be the ultimate truth of life.
Every single bit of it is nonsense.
If there really is someone who thinks like that, they must be a masochist. Otherwise, it makes no sense.
How can I be so sure?
‘Why else? Because I am a slave, fuck.’
At first, I thought it was a dream.
I slept and woke up normally, but instead of my familiar ceiling, I was greeted by iron bars.
But it wasn't a dream.
Inside the bars, people in shabby clothes were imprisoned, and I was included among them.
Shackles were fastened around my wrists. It was an appearance similar to slaves that existed in the West in the past.
‘My skin isn’t dark, though.’
Not only that, my body had shrunk to about the size of a middle schooler, and it wasn’t even my original body. It was what they call possession.
‘Others get to possess fallen nobles at the very least, so why am I the only one who’s a slave?’
I didn’t know how any of this happened, but I could be sure of one thing.
What awaited me was not a rosy isekai life, but a future as pitch-black as a coal miner.
It didn’t take long for that future to become reality. Soon, I was sold to a noble man along with some slave girls.
Then, for me, who had nothing but this body, a sole hope appeared.
It tightens tremendously well.
───────────────
Wow! A Status Window!
Right, if I possessed a body, I can't be without this. I would have been hugely disappointed otherwise.
But the content is meager. It’s closer to a slave certificate than a status window.
In that empty status window, a few phrases caught my eye.
The name is the same as my original name.
And the status is...
‘What the hell is a sex slave?’
And what is Vacuum Suction?
What exactly tightens well?
“Hehehehe. What a very cute child. I am your master from now on.”
The middle-aged man who purchased me called me to the bedroom. He scanned every corner of my body with a creeping gaze.
This bastard is my master?
Is he gay?
Was his name Odo because of some macho marine meme?
But everyone else here is a girl except for me?
“This master will make you into a proper lady.”
“I’m a guy, though.”
“Hehehe. Making such cute excuses. There is no way a lovely child like you is a boy...”
“No, really.”
I immediately pulled down my pants and performed the helicopter.
“What? You’re really a man? That can’t be! The slave merchant clearly said female? Anyone can see you’re a cool-type beautiful girl!”
My face reflected in the mirror.
Black hair reaching down to my shoulders glowed faintly with a blue hue, and my eyes were a sparkling gold.
Along with my delicate features, secondary sexual characteristics hadn't arrived yet, so I did look like a girl.
It’s understandable to misunderstand.
“Excuse me, so what happens to...”
“Do you think I have a taste for men? I must get a refund immediately!”
“Meow!”
Fortunately, my first life as a slave ended without much trouble.
Having instantly become a second-hand slave, the next place I was sold to was a Guild Expedition.
“Scream and lure the demonic beasts.”
That was the order given to me and the other slaves by Jack, my second owner.
They would stay in the safe zone, so we were told to go and draw the monsters' aggro. Simply put, we were bait.
“Hraaaaaaaah!”
We screamed with all our might and ran for our lives.
Then, boars as big as houses, clad in iron armor, chased us casually like mad.
The slaves who stumbled were trampled by the boars right there. Only I barely managed to survive and rejoin the expedition.
“They’re here! Attack!”
“Today is a pork party!”
Thus, the subjugation of the boars took place, and the result was.
“Kuaaaak!”
“Retreat! Retreat!”
Ta-da, annihilated.
It wasn't a pork party; it was a human meat party.
Most of the expedition died, and the owner, Jack, was hit by a boar's body slam and became a star in the sky.
“Irion is free! No one can stop Irion!”
If the owner dies, it’s only natural that the slave becomes a free body. Or is there evidence that I’m a slave? There isn't, right?
‘If you have a problem with it, bring the contract.’
I ran to a nearby city.
There was a bit of commotion, but it wasn't too late. I just need to live a normal isekai life starting now.
Fantasy world?
Okay, I’ll be an Archmage.
“Halt. Present proof of your identity.”
However, my grand dream was blocked at the city entrance, let alone becoming an Archmage.
“Eh, I don’t have anything like that.”
“Then you cannot enter. Wait, what is that on your neck? A shackle? Don't tell me, are you a runaway slave?”
A shackle had been on my neck since the first time I became a slave.
I wanted to break it, but it was metal, so it wouldn't break even if I tried until I died.
“Hey, check the shackle. The subordination contract might still remain.”
“Huh?”
The guard fiddled with the shackle on my neck. Then, a blue light, like a game effect, flashed.
It looks pretty.
But what is that?
“No mistake. It’s a runaway slave. However, it seems the owner is dead. The owner section is blurred.”
Wow, this shackle had that kind of function too. I thought it was just a plain accessory, but it wasn't.
Named: A Magic Tool.
This is fantasy.
“The owner died? Then don't tell me?”
“Nine out of ten times. He killed the owner and ran away.”
“Killed the owner and ran away? Who? Me?”
“Don’t play dumb, you heinous bastard. Guys like you who stab their owners in the back should be thrown into the mines. I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”
The shitty thing about this world is that escaping isn't everything.
If it were the Joseon Dynasty, burning the slave papers would be the end of it, but this is a fantasy world where magic exists.
Since the contract between master and slave is made with magic, there’s nothing you can do even if you run away.
‘No wonder the status window remained the same.’
In the end, not even a day after setting out for freedom, I became a slave again.
This time, I was stuck in a mine, swinging a pickaxe all day long.
A slave miner with no dreams and no future.
I was destined to die here after doing nothing but mining for the rest of my life, never seeing the sunlight.
What do you mean 'rest of my life'? How am I supposed to do heavy labor with this body, estimated to be only 14 years old?
Dying from overwork is the standard outcome.
‘But I didn’t die.’
For a whopping three months.
What saved me was none other than the Status Window.
Mines ore extremely well.
The Status Window faced another renewal as I changed jobs to a slave miner.
During the process of going from a virgin slave to a loose slave, I figured out a few things about this status window system.
First, skills are determined by what kind of slave I become.
Before, when I was bait, I had the [Survival Instinct] skill.
Before that, when I was a sex slave, I had that shitty [Vacuum Suction] or whatever.
And now that I’m a miner, I got the [Mining] skill.
In other words, a skill optimized for the assigned role is attached. So that I can perfectly carry out the owner's orders.
And second, the proficiency system.
Unlike skills, this is the first time I’ve seen proficiency since becoming a slave miner.
‘Because before, my slave life ended before I had time to build up proficiency.’
This proficiency system is quite complex.
Originally, proficiency means getting better the more you experience it, but this isn't simply on the level of ‘getting used to it by doing it a lot.’
From the moment the text [Mining] was embedded, the grip of holding the pickaxe changed.
How to swing the pickaxe.
Where to hit to split the rock.
Knacks beyond the time invested were attached. Like a sort of game correction.
This was the reason I could do mining with this meager body while keeping my mental health intact.
However, there was a fatal flaw in this proficiency system.
‘Actions not suited to the role are not recognized as proficiency.’
Walking stealthily doesn't generate [Stealth], and punching into the air doesn't generate [Martial Arts].
As if telling me that a miner slave doesn't need such things.
And the last, the third point.
“Here is the quota.”
I handed the sack thickly filled with ore to the supervisor.
“Done already?”
“Of course.”
The supervisor looked at me with suspicious eyes. Unable to easily erase his doubt despite my confident attitude, he checked the sack.
“Hmm...”
“No problems, right?”
“You really did it all.”
A reward is given.
Like this.
If I carry out the owner's order, it gives a reward. Just like a game quest.
On my own, swinging the pickaxe all day might raise proficiency by 5% if I'm lucky, but fulfilling an order gives a whopping 20%.
And that’s every day.
‘Is there another sweet burning event like this?’
I don't have to be chased by monsters, don't have to get my ass opened by a gay bastard, and although meager, they give me meals regularly.
To think this heavy labor looks decent is a bizarre phenomenon. Past me, just how much did you suffer?
Thanks to this, I am the fucking ace in this mine.
“What are you staring blankly at? Did you think it was over just because you filled the sack? There is no rest for a slave. Go and fill a new one.”
Of course, working too hard is also poison.
The supervisor shook out the sack and returned the empty one to me.
I took the sack without a word and returned to my original spot. I started mining again.
—Clang! Clang!
Right next to me, a fellow miner slave looked at me pathetically.
“Sigh, this foolish bastard. I told you, just pretend to do it roughly, but you never listen. do you think those guys will let you out if you work that hard?”
Wow, you really hit the nail on the head. You’re asking questions almost from a slave rescue architect’s perspective.
He is absolutely right. A slave only loses if they work hard.
Whether a corporate slave, a slave to the state, or a real slave. You have to know how to read the room appropriately to survive.
‘But I don’t plan on being a slave forever?’
If the opportunity comes, I will escape.
The series of processes where I build stamina and raise proficiency are the foundation for that time.
I have to build up my internal stats when I can. It would be troublesome if I lacked stamina when running away later, right?
‘Fortune comes to those who try!’
A few days of mining after that.
“What? Bardick came to buy slaves again? He bought a whole bunch last time.”
“I don't know either. Since they aren't proper gladiators, they probably all died fighting. Anyway, we need to send a few.”
Listening to the guards talk, it seemed they were looking for gladiator slaves.
The kind that fights in the Coliseum.
It might be a golden opportunity to escape this mining hell, but I wasn't keen on it.
‘How am I supposed to fight demonic beasts?’
I would usually volunteer, but not that. I almost died to a demonic beast before coming here.
If I enter the Coliseum, I can't even run away. It’s better to just dig ore and pile up proficiency here.
If I hold out diligently, a much better opportunity than this will come.
A insanely pretty, big-breasted, rich noble sister will recognize my true value and take me away.
Yeah, definitely.
“Hey, you there, Blackie. Leave the pickaxe and follow me.”
But the guard pointed at me.
My skin isn't dark, but because my hair is black, I'm called Blackie in the mine.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. From now on, you’ll be working as a gladiator, so keep that in mind.”
“Hey, there are plenty of bigger guys. That fist-sized kid looks like he can’t even lift a sword. Give us a different one.”
That’s right, you bastard.
I look like I can’t lift a sword, but is it okay for me to hold a pickaxe and mine?
If you know, get me out.
“You don’t know anything. I’ve watched him while working as a guard, and although he’s small, he mines several times more ore than others.”
“That guy?”
“Yeah. His strength is extraordinary. Enough to be a gladiator with no issues. I guarantee it.”
“Hmm, if you say so...”
Uh oh. I think something went wrong.
This isn't what I wanted.
“Wait a moment. I’m a kid so I have no strength, and I’m weak so even if I become a gladiator I’ll just die without doing anything? Maybe get someone else...”
“If a slave bastard is told to come, he comes. Why so much talk? It doesn't matter if you die. Watching powerless guys like you struggle to survive before dying is the flavor of gladiatorial combat.”
These primitive psychopath bastards.
Truly people of an era who watch executions as entertainment.
What are the transmigrators doing?
Hurry up and come write comic books!
Make board games!
Write novels!
There is no copyright in this world!
Spread true entertainment to these primitive things!
But unfortunately, it seems they haven't come to this world.