Into a New World
The man seems intent on buying me. I had merely shaken my head listlessly when asked a question, but for some reason, it must have pleased him. The guard opened the iron cage. In the few days since I had possessed this body, this was the first time a slave had been sold from the very last cell.
I extended my foot cautiously, but my body lost its balance and swayed. Perhaps it was because I had been sitting for so long; standing felt unfamiliar. As if this were a common occurrence, the guard handed me a wooden rod lying nearby. I had assumed it was for beatings, but it seemed it was meant to serve as a makeshift cane.
"She can't even stand properly on her own. Shouldn't you lower the price?"
"If I lower it any further, I'd be paying you to take her," the shopkeeper replied with a hearty laugh. Whether he was happy to clear out his inventory or simply found the joke genuinely funny, it was the kind of laughter that made the observer feel strangely relieved.
As I walked slowly toward the exit, the gazes of the other slaves converged on me. Most of them looked at me with pity. They must have found it pathetic that a child like me was being sold off. Or perhaps it was because the man didn't look like a good master. A slave trying to pick their master—that’s the kind of thought a philosopher-slave might have. When you look at a slave, the slave looks at you too. Something like that. In reality, though, a slave has no power at all.
In contrast, slaves like me who hadn't even been shackled yet seemed to have a lot on their minds. I don't want to be sold to a person like that, but if someone is going to buy me, it has to be someone like him. Or perhaps, I’m just envious that she’s being sold at all. That must be what they were thinking.
I turned my body slightly to look at the cell I had just left. They all wore faces no different from any other slave. Only one person—the beastkin who had led the bullying against me—wore a different expression. Resentment? Frustration? A feeling I couldn't quite pinpoint seemed to be dripping from her eyes. I hadn't noticed in my confusion, but now I saw a large scar crossing one of her eyes. She must have covered it well with her hair to hide the flaw.
As our eyes met, her wolf ears twitched. What would happen to those who weren't sold? I shook my head vigorously. If the man changed his mind right now, that would be my fate. Rather than getting lost in such imaginings, it would be better to fawn over him, even just a little. I tried my best to walk properly, and before I knew it, I was in front of the door.
Beyond the door was a staircase leading upward. I hadn't known because there were no windows, but it must have been a basement. An inexplicable tension filled the air. Until now, this room had been my entire world. Beyond these stairs, everything was a new world. I gripped the rod tighter.
Alright, let's go. Into a new world.
The place we moved to was another room not far away. There were no windows, and candles placed all around flickered, illuminating the interior. In the center of the room, a large cloth was spread out. On the cloth, a circle filled with geometric patterns was drawn in dark dye. The furniture was placed symmetrically—almost obsessively so. Anyone could guess that it held some ritualistic significance.
"Sit," the guard said, tapping the center of the cloth with the rod. I pondered how I should sit before kneeling. This would surely make me look more like a slave. The cloth looked like it had been washed once, but it was stained with dark red spots here and there. I wondered if there was any reason for blood to be on it. I hoped it wouldn't hurt.
"Will you go with the basic terms? If you wish to add or change the content, an additional fee will be required."
"And the basic terms are?"
"A slave who inflicts deep wounds on their master will have their heart burst and die, and if the master dies, the slave dies as well."
The transaction was proceeding steadily in the meantime. More than that, heart burst and die—what a terrifying thing to say. My tail fur stood on end.
"What about things other than direct wounds? Like if they steal money or harm family members, what happens then?"
"That level can be handled through discipline, so few people bother to add it to the imprint. Unless, of course, they have a vast amount of wealth to lose." Saying this, the shopkeeper glanced at the man’s expression. Even without testing him, it was obvious he didn't look like a rich man.
"Change the first part," he said after a moment of contemplation. "If they intentionally inflict a wound, destroy their mana nerves. Do it like that."
"Are you sure you want to go that far?"
"Is there a problem?"
The shopkeeper sighed and continued, "First of all, that kind of imprint... is usually only carved for mages. Depending on the race, they might react more sensitively, but usually, it's hard to expect anything more than suppression as punishment."
Especially for a beastkin, the shopkeeper added, looking at me. The man didn't show much reaction even after hearing that.
"And the cost will be high. The conditions, too. If a condition like 'intentionally inflicting a wound' is included, the cost of the imprint jumps several times over. If you want that imprint, you'll have to pay much more than the price of that slave."
As the shopkeeper finished speaking, the man reached into his pocket and handed over a small pouch.
"If you have this much money, wouldn't it be better to buy a different, decent slave?" The shopkeeper’s tone softened.
"Mind your own business." The man’s tone remained cold. "Since it’s a difficult imprint for my level, I will call in a dedicated mage. Please have a cup of tea in the meantime."
Keep a close watch. With that final instruction to the guard, the door closed. In the flickering candlelight, shadows split into many pieces and danced along with the light. I had clearly heard the conversation, but I couldn't quite grasp it. Wait, am I a mage?
Time to organize one's thoughts while alone is truly precious. Indeed, you never know until you've lost it. It seems I have possessed a body in a media with a fantasy setting. At first, I thought it was simply an isekai reincarnation or possession, but seeing a man who walks around with "I am the protagonist" written all over his face, I couldn't help but realize it.
If I went outside and saw Asians everywhere, I might be confused, but this... whether it's a game, a novel, or a manga, I don't know exactly, but judging by the development so far, it’s definitely a slave-themed story. You know the type: a protagonist who needs a comrade who won't betray them buys a slave, falls in love, and happens to save the world along the way. Thinking about it, a crisis of chastity seems imminent, but I'll put that aside for now.
What bothers me most is the content of the imprint. According to the shopkeeper, the man—or should I call him the protagonist?—wants an imprint that isn't commonly used. He doesn't look wealthy enough to throw money away without knowing anything, so naturally, that must mean I am a mage or some other magical profession. More importantly, how did the protagonist know that fact?
The most likely scenario is that the protagonist knows the future. If it were a novel, the protagonist would know the plot, and since I was a magical class, he would have come to recruit me. Then, in the original work, am I the commemorative first slave, the heroine? That’s a bit problematic.
Even if the memories of the body were mixed in, I don't have the memories of this body. Being pinned down by a man with the mind of a sane adult is... I felt a chill. No, it’s not necessarily set in stone; he might be trying to change the future. The idea of being the heroine... the future? He could be a protagonist in the middle of a regression. He came to find me, who becomes a successful archmage in the future. A future archmage who was actually a former slave—that’s a popular cliché.
Perhaps I was a villain who held the protagonist back? Saving a heroine who would turn into a villain in the future—that’s a decent story, too. I hope I wasn't too wicked in the previous timeline. It would be troublesome if it were a dark cliché where he keeps me by his side to torment me on purpose.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Maybe it's because my body hurts that I keep having bad thoughts. Or perhaps the protagonist has an ability related to emotions. Since that genre poured out of Japan for a while, the probability is high, and I might even see the protagonist secretly whispering, "Status Window!" The sense of stability is lower compared to the previous scenario, but it might be more comfortable. Protagonists who know the future often show self-righteous sides. As a slave, it would be exhausting to keep pace with the protagonist.
As I organized my thoughts, my mind calmed down. After all, protagonists in this genre are usually kind-hearted. If it were an adult novel, that would be a different story. But if that were the case, the most important first heroine would usually be a slender elf or a voluptuous beastkin, not a child like me. There must be a reason I entered this young body. Mix in some growth, add a spoonful of parenting-genre vibes, and later on, grow into a cool, overpowered magic-wielding comrade... huh? Like this, like that.
Let's act like a child. At first, be a bit shy, then slowly open my heart, hesitatingly grabbing his sleeve, and later on, let out a few giggles... Perfect! I'll leave the main wife position to a comrade who joins later and enjoy a pleasant fantasy life. I miss home, but that’s only if the protagonist does something for me to get involved in anyway...
While I was thinking, I heard voices from beyond the door. I had a sad thought. From now on, I am a poor child who has suffered great pain and closed her heart. A child who is quiet, somehow ephemeral, and seems like she would disappear if left alone. Let's become that kind of slave. I made that resolution.
Not long after, that resolution was broken. I wailed like a beast at the burning pain I felt as the imprint was carved into me.