Spilled Beer and Desperate Gambits
Inside the fridge, there were a few bottles of booze.
"Ugh..."
Arin realized that she hadn't suggested drinking together—she'd just asked me to buy her some alcohol.
I need to ask properly...
But it was still the middle of the day. Not the right time to set a sexy mood. She'd have to wait longer. Beg again.
Should I... smile?
She hadn't spent much time observing my expressions, but from what she'd seen, I mostly looked at her with a blank face. Not friendly. Not leering with filthy lust, not sweet-talking her body with smiles. Just... like I was staring at a rock.
Still... I have to do it.
It scared her. She couldn't tell what made me happy or angry. Her laziness tugged at her.
Isn't it fine to just live like this?
No.
But this wasn't the time to slack off. The unknown terrified her. Why was he giving her so much? What value did he see in her to treat her this well? If time passed without her knowing, one day he'd discard her for no reason, and she wouldn't be able to resist.
At the very least, he has to use my body.
If things stayed like this, he could toss her aside anytime. Sure, just "falling into his arms" wouldn't erase return reasons entirely. Court battles were messy, and owners had far better cards than slaves. If he set his mind to it, ditching one slave was no big deal.
But...
Still, it would give him a reason not to discard her. Take her virginity, let him hold her. She'd become a convenient tool—no need to spend money seducing her, no ass-kissing to lure her to bed. That alone would give her value. It might seem worthless compared to the money she'd received, but at least it would be one obstacle if he ever decided to dump her.
I came out of my room.
"M-Master!"
Arin rushed toward me desperately. She couldn't meet my eyes. Her voice dripped with servility; her body trembled with fear. Even so, she forced her mouth open.
"Tonight... could you... drink with me...?"
I looked at her silently. Thinking something over, maybe.
Did I mess up...?
Arin's pupils shook. Her head was bowed so low, I didn't notice.
"Sure."
So casual again. Like it held no value at all. I turned back, opened the fridge, and grabbed some coffee. For a moment, Arin wondered if the conversation had even happened. Her pounding heart felt like it had conjured the whole illusion—that she'd made the suggestion.
"What time?"
His matter-of-fact question shattered the delusion.
"E-Eight!"
She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Her head was full of whether this drinking session would even happen—not how to prepare for it.
"Sure."
I nodded nonchalantly. Arin bowed her head and waited until I went back to my room.
Only after I was gone did she finally catch her breath.
"I-I need to prepare!"
It wasn't something Arin could easily grasp, but the slave market had made it clear: the man who bought her was filthy rich. Regular booze might not cut it. At the very least, she had to plate the snacks properly.
There should be some decent snacks at least!
She washed some fancy-looking glasses shoved in a cupboard somewhere and neatly arranged cookies and jerky on a plate.
Evening came. I emerged. Sat down casually. Arin was the only one shaking.
The beer mugs are chilling in the fridge...
She hurriedly pulled one out. After a quick glance, she cautiously approached my side.
Pouring drinks feels so sexy, right? Like in those hostess scenes...
Recalling the skimpy outfits and erotic pouring from movies, Arin subtly thrust her chest toward me.
A little more, just a little more...
She wasn't wearing a bra, so a bit more push and she'd brush against him.
"Eek!"
But her knowledge was warped. You can't pour steadily when pressing your chest against a perfectly seated man. Even twisting to make contact, she had no idea what sensation her breasts squishing against a "man's body" would bring.
For a split second, she felt her body wobble. Still gripping the bottle.
"Kyaaah!"
She dropped it. Before hitting the floor, the bottle spectacularly sprayed its contents everywhere. My pants were soaked.
Luckily, it caught between my legs on the chair leg and didn't shatter. But no denying she'd ruined the drinking session.
"S-Sorry!"
Arin's eyes spun like cartwheels. I tilted my head, seeming annoyed.
"It's fine."
"...Huh?"
"I'll go wash up. Clean it here."
I stood casually and headed to the bathroom.
Failed again...
Arin sighed deeply, grabbed a rag, and wiped the floor.
...Am I useless even at this?
Maybe she could handle "staying still" or "enduring." No matter how disgusting or humiliating. If she thought I can't survive if I don't endure this, maybe she could. But actively seducing a man? Too much for her.
What do I do...
Her worries deepened. Meanwhile, I washed up, changed, and sat back down.
"...Eh?"
"You said we should drink."
The glasses and beer were lukewarm now; the snacks a bit soggy. But the session continued. Arin sat across from me like she was on pins and needles. I looked at her.
What the hell does she want?
He seemed harmless, but utterly incomprehensible. Until she asked to drink together, I'd thought maybe she needed someone to meet. I didn't care who she hung out with as long as no crimes—though I'd never explicitly permitted it. Next chat, I should spell that out.
So I'd thought.
But what was that?
Trying to pour and rubbing her chest on my arm, spilling it everywhere.
She seems scared but purposeful.
Talking to her felt like a hassle, but this warranted hashing it out openly.
I returned. Kim Arin fidgeted like a guilty dog, avoiding my gaze.
"..."
I took a sip. She was still trembling.
"You too—"
I stopped. In this situation, this power dynamic... what words made "don't be scared, drink" casual without half-formal stiffness?
You drink too felt pushy. Am I drinking alone? sounded like indirect blame.
I should've done this before...
I'd drunk with others plenty, but rarely with subordinates. Hard to gauge how to keep the convo going.
"Ugh..."
Still, better I start than leave it to her.
"...Got something you wanna talk about?"
"Huh?"
She looked up. Tears welled in her eyes. A bit wronged. My pants got soaked, so why's she crying for me?
"You suggested drinking. If you just wanna drink, go ahead."
"No. It's... um..."
"If you wanna meet people, go out anytime."
"...!!"
Her face flushed; she shook her head vigorously.
Come to think, that needs prep too.
She had her phone, but probably not activated. I'd cover the plan, maybe lend a card for food.
"I just... well..."
A bit frustrating, but I got it. Unsorted emotions—or shame in voicing them—made anyone stutter. Just give her time.
"I feel like I'm useless to you, Master..."
"Hm?"
Desperately seeking her own value? This complicates things. I'd pegged her as someone who'd blissfully enjoy rest or freedom without suspicion.
"It's been days since I came here... no touching. No orders. You do so much for me."
"Doesn't matter. Just don't cause trouble and stay put."
"Huh?"
"Just stay put. That's it."
Believe it or not, that was the truth. I looked at her silently.