The Forgotten Slave's Arrival
Through my headphones, I thought I heard a faint sound. '...' I didn't look away from the game. This was a crucial moment. I needed to deploy workers as fast as possible and produce the materials required to resolve the hostile event just as quickly.
The bell rang again. It didn't seem like anything important. Ever since I'd struck it rich, tons of people had been bugging me. This was probably just one more of them. The event in the game took priority right now. 'I don't think time's gonna be an issue...' But it wasn't going to be easy. I had to store the produced goods in the warehouse, then have workers haul them back to the 'event site.'
'Production... what the hell. Why'd production stop.' A worker was on break. The 'rest periods' that hit every few minutes had to strike right now, of all times. '...Screwed.'
It was too late. No matter what I did now, I couldn't stop the negative event. The bell rang again.
"Haa..." I knew it was pointless, but somehow, that bell seemed to have rattled my nerves and ruined my game. Not many people came to my house. I'd locked the safety chain before opening the door. Someone had once tried to barge in insisting we talk first. No one had pulled a knife and threatened me yet, but who knew when that might change.
"I don't believe in religion. No ancestral rites, no insurance, and I ain't buying any meds..." Rubbing my eyes, I opened the door—and couldn't help but freeze at the sight of the woman standing there.
Kim Arin. My slave.
"I..." She looked on the verge of tears, her eyes glistening.
"Makeup, s..."
"I'm sorry!"
I'd yanked the door to slam it shut, but she beat me to it.
"Huh?"
"Ow!"
She'd lunged inside only to smack her forehead on the chained door.
"Ow ow ow..."
"Hold on, just a sec..."
I hurriedly unhooked the chain and ushered her straight to the bathroom. Soon, I heard the sound of running water.
'...Forgot all about this.' If slaves were delivered right after purchase, I wouldn't have blanked on it like this. But three to five days was plenty of time for me to conveniently forget that a 'slave was moving into my house.' And in the meantime, more than three visitors had shown up at my door. The first two made me think, 'Maybe a slave?' But by the third, I'd completely forgotten and treated them like any old peddler.
"Haa..." Having someone else in the house was going to feel awkward. But I wasn't about to pay the singleton tax out of spite, so this was unavoidable.
'Should I move to a bigger place?' Not a bad idea. Moving sounded like a hassle, but if it got unbearable, bailing might be best. As long as we shared an address—meaning I had a 'woman living with me'—that was enough, and I had the cash to snag a massive place where I'd never run into a 'roommate.'
'Eh, I can decide after living with her a bit.' If it didn't work out, I could always kick her out. I had money to burn. No need for something extreme like a 'refund.' I could just find her a new place, let her live there, and bring in a fresh slave.
'Though that might not be the best choice either...' A master was someone who'd stripped—or more precisely, been entrusted with—a slave's human rights. With rights came responsibilities. If I tossed her out and she got tangled in something like violence or fraud, I'd pay the price. Not the full punishment in her stead, but still a hefty hit. Since masters could force slaves to do anything, slaves were treated like they lacked full mental capacity or were criminal minors—unable to bear full responsibility.
"Ex, excuse me..." She emerged from the bathroom. She was pretty, just as I'd noticed before. Stunning, really. If I wasn't careful, she might wrap me around her finger. Though with her trembling in fear right now, she didn't exactly look like the type who could.
"Follow me."
"Y-yes..."
I showed her to the room I'd prepared. Bed, desk, wardrobe, bookshelf, chair. Nothing fancy, but enough to live comfortably right away.
"Tell me if you need anything. Use whatever you want."
That should do it. I didn't want to waste more time. Leaving her behind, I headed back to my room and sank into my chair. I fired up the game again. Slipped the headphones back on.
/////
'Nothing... happened?' Arin felt dread in the excessively peaceful time.
'This is weird, no matter how you slice it.' She'd braced for a lot. Without that resolve, she wouldn't have come this far.
'Does he not care about me?' If he was filthy rich, maybe. Even if he wasn't planning to assault her right away, buying her first and ravaging her later wouldn't be that strange.
'But...' This case was different. She hadn't explored the whole place, but it wasn't some extravagant mansion like in dramas—the sprawling chaebol estate. More like a clean, spacious new apartment. And no signs of other slaves.
'What... what am I supposed to do?' She'd unpacked. But she hadn't thought past that.
'Wasn't I supposed to get jumped right away?' Not some horny girl's fantasy. At least, not her right now. A normal girl glancing at guys at school, thinking 'They're all fantasizing about banging me... One slip and I'll get raped...' would just be a chick with a dirty mind. No real chance of it happening, no real reason to worry. But if a guy and girl from a club head to a motel, ready to hook up, and nothing happens? Not having lewd thoughts would be the weird part. And being a sex slave put her in an even more overtly sexual dynamic than that.
'Taming, naked doggy, virginity-loss sex... wasn't it all supposed to happen? Isn't it?' She'd heard and seen things. Not that she'd prepared perfectly, but she knew what happened after becoming a sex slave. Stories of being stripped naked, body kneaded every which way to 'get used to the master's touch.' Tales of inhuman abuse and humiliating acts to make her forget she was ever human. Accounts of being ravaged mercilessly, heedless of her pain in the heat of lust.
But nothing had happened to her.
'What should I do...' She'd only brought clothes to wear. She had her phone, but no courage to use it. What if the master snapped, 'What kind of manners are these, on your first day with the phone?' and the nightmare torments began?
'Nothing happening... honestly isn't bad.' Hot wax on bare skin, forced humiliating poses. After enduring horrors like that, she might desperately crave this 'do-nothing' time. Or maybe he was just giving her time to settle in.
'At least make me do housework...' Even there, she lacked confidence. She'd crammed cooking and cleaning from her mom last minute, but she wasn't a pro. As long as she didn't shatter dishes washing or botch the fire and earn brutal punishment, she'd count herself lucky.
But the worst agony tormenting her right now wasn't boredom or anxiety.
'I'm hungry...' She hadn't eaten. She wanted to ask what to eat, but stepping out meant facing the horrific punishments she'd imagined like nightmares.
'Scary, but...' Night had deepened, but hunger gnawed. Her mother's voice echoed.
-No matter how much a slave, starving her without food is wrong. Speak up boldly!
'Should I...?' He was probably asleep by now. Arin slipped quietly out, peeking around.
'Ah, still up!' Light leaked from somewhere. But his room door seemed shut.
'C-carefully... If I move quietly, maybe I can find food.' She hadn't checked the kitchen yet. With luck, snacks.
'He said use whatever I need...' This wasn't wrongdoing. Just moving stealthily so he wouldn't notice.
'Careful careful... turn on the light...' She eased the switch slowly—too scared. The 'click' might expose her rebellion.
'Just do it. Somehow, find something...' She'd trained at home on 'snack-hunting without waking Mom.' Her night vision was decent.
'One, just one. Only one...' Straining her eyes, scanning, she spotted a snack box. Trembling hands opened it—then a man's voice from behind.
"You scared me. Why not turn on the light properly."
The master was right behind her. The light flicked on.
"Eeeeek!!!"
Arin collapsed right there.