Branded - 6
"S-so, what happened? Did you kick her out?"
"No choice."
I hadn't wanted things to go this far, either.
"...That's rough."
"It was her choice. If she'd just apologized, promised it wouldn't happen again—even one word—I wouldn't have kicked her out."
The luggage on my shoulder felt needlessly heavy. I wasn't some great person. Just a guy who'd gotten lucky and made a fortune. Compared to Arin, I was nothing special—a worthless human in every way. Even if it was Set-a on the other side, nothing changed. I couldn't know her feelings or what kind of life she'd lived. No way to know. A guy like me, with healthy parents always giving me more love than I deserved in a harmonious home—maybe I had no right to lecture her on "moral issues."
Still, I hated having my things taken from me. Just like how I'd bought slaves to avoid taxes. Right now, it might just seem like petty insults. I knew it was wrong, but seeing the death count from that "victim" she'd gamed with, I could understand her anger a little.
But if Set-a kept spewing abuse and committing crimes thinking nothing would happen—if she realized that in the end, I'd be the one taking responsibility as her owner... I couldn't imagine what she'd do next. Shoplifting, theft, scams—who knew.
...
I had to stay cold. This wasn't for Set-a's sake. Not guidance, not discipline, not tough love. If I really cared about her well-being, I wouldn't have chosen to kick her out right away. I'd have locked her up, banned her computer and phone. Or beaten her senseless to stop the bad behavior. Rough as it was, that would've been for her happiness. Living as my slave wasn't so bad. Way better than prison, at least.
I just didn't want that. Whether it was her body or the money for refunds, it wasn't worth the effort to "fix" her.
"I see..."
Arin let out a deep sigh.
"Regretting it?"
"Nah, it's just... she's pitiful. She did something bad, sure... but prison for that?"
No matter how strict the penalties had gotten, no one went to jail for trash-talking in a game. The real punishment was the expulsion I had imposed. She'd dodged prison by becoming a slave, so the moment she lost that status, back she'd go.
Even I thought it was a bit unfair. I'd decided we couldn't live together, but I didn't wish actual prison misery on her. Whether Set-a was unhappy or happy didn't matter. As long as I didn't have to bear her crimes.
My ideal "precise punishment" was exactly that much. But I couldn't choose it. It wasn't allowed to me.
"Don't overthink it. Let's rest."
"Yeah..."
It felt like the mood had shattered. Maybe buying slaves wasn't such a great idea after all.
I gently caressed Arin's breasts. She was stressing over me for no reason. I wanted to comfort her.
...Nope, not gonna work.
At the same time, I shook off any lingering regrets about Set-a. If I lived alone, if she were my first slave, I could've shouldered the risk. Spent more time on her. Fixed the aggression, healed the trauma.
But Arin was what mattered to me. Neglecting her for Set-a? No way.
At some point, she climbed on top of me. No words needed—we both knew we wanted each other.
/////
Really? This... easily?
Set-a's predictions had all been wrong. Only after the refund process finished, at the very last moment when she could seek a new owner, did she truly feel it.
He said it wasn't with the money my dad gave...
That was probably true. No reason for him to lie. If it were a lie, there'd be no need to refund her.
Then why...
Set-a wavered, but deep down, she had to admit it. He'd just pitied her and taken care of her out of sympathy.
Why?
No reason. He wasn't some charity getting donations for selling her. Not a teacher obligated to protect her. A total stranger. Whether she rotted in prison, died on the streets, or cursed him out—it was none of his business.
Ah...
And Set-a realized it too late. Only after he'd cast her out.
I don't want this...
This was her last chance. But almost no one came looking. Virgin or not, she was damaged goods—sold once as a slave, now back on the market. People suspected she'd serviced men everywhere but her "front," even if intact.
She didn't blame them. In their shoes, she'd think the same.
"Heh heh heh... You the slave bitch? Huh?"
A man with greed and fat dripping from his face leered at her obscenely. The type who figured a cheap price meant he could force her down, no matter what.
"...No."
"What? You fucking cunt. Unless you wanna die in the slammer, say 'thank you' and follow me."
Set-a was weak. Everyone knew it.
Her time was running out. Hours in the waiting room, barely any interest. Even those tempted by looks or price backed off when they saw her record: Criminal—expelled by owner.
At first, someone decent-looking came...
Her father had been relieved to hear she'd sold. But he hadn't heard about the return yet. No more came from his "promotion."
And even if they did, she'd never find someone like her first owner.
Se-in...
For the first time, she vaguely recalled her stranger-owner's name.
Now she felt it. He'd been too good for her— a chance gone forever. Maybe she should've clung to him no matter what. Shouldn't have let pointless defiance sway her when he questioned her crimes.
But now, meaningless.
...Guess I'll die.
Set-a recalled her time as his slave.
Thinking back... it was good.
No exaggeration—the happiest, most comfortable period of her life. She'd been unsatisfied only because she saw it as compensation for her lost childhood. Angry because she thought it was her father's "atonement" money.
But it was all illusion. Now she'd pay for throwing away his kindness.
"Time's up. Come on."
Prison, huh...
She knew the remaining steps. Assigned a cell—prison life begins. Then, final meeting with the "former owner" to declare slave status revoked. Then, true convict.
They'll sell my body.
Private prisons could profit off inmates. Selling women's bodies was prime business. No happiness, no freedom, not even birth control. Endlessly violated, popping out "meaningless lives," then discarded like trash.
Time passed. Set-a was dragged away. Out of the clean slave market, into the filthy, sinister prison.
"This the new meat?"
Two torturers eyed her lazily.
"Still technically a slave, but owner dumped her. Kicked out right after cops for online harassment."
"Damn, harsh."
"Built-up grudge, probably. Anyway... Chuseok's coming, right? Leave her be, and post-holiday she'll be taking clients nonstop."
They were human too. Wanted holidays off, hated their jobs like anyone.
"True, but... slave status could still flip?"
"He dumped her himself. Won't meet. Hey, just process her now."
"Yeah?"
"No one's checking. Got leftover drugs?"
"Just enough for her."
The old torturer nodded with a grin.
"Good, good. I wanna see my daughter this Chuseok, you enjoy newlywed life. Just process and done."
"Takes time?"
"Marinate her rough, finish after holiday."
Their tone—treating her like meat—sparked primal dread in Set-a.
"Don't struggle or we both get headaches. Relax your arm. Needle coming."
The torturer grabbed her arm. Until then, Set-a thought she'd accept it calmly.
"...Huuuuuuuuuugh!!!"
Until the drug hit her veins.