Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Can't Move from Acupressure
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"Um, uh, then just a little."
Finley spoke as if she might burst into tears, her face flushed bright red.
Yes!
I finally got permission and inwardly cheered.
However, I didn't want to startle Finley, who was shrinking back like a frightened deer, so I casually slipped off her sandals.
Her small, soft soles soon came into view.
I'd seen so many women's feet—especially Elfriede's, to the point of boredom—that I thought there was nothing special about them.
But now that they held meaning, they felt as intimate and secretive as any other part of her body.
Plop.
Finley buried her face in the pillow, hiding her expression.
Maybe to conceal her embarrassment, but either way, it was a relief for me that I didn't have to meet her eyes.
"Um, then I'll touch them now."
"...."
There was no response from Finley. I took her silence as assent and placed my hands on her feet.
Soft.
Her soles were as smooth and plush as a baby's skin.
Unlike Elfriede's icy-cold feet, these radiated a warm glow, making them quite pleasant to touch. And because of her petite build, they were adorably small.
"Hnngh...."
Perhaps sensing my touch, a pained groan leaked from Finley between the pillows. Her ears, peeking through her blue hair, were flushed crimson, as if about to burst.
"Um, then I'll finish quickly."
I fixed my gaze on Finley's small, dainty feet, which fit perfectly in my palms.
There, on the center of her left sole, slightly above the middle—
The spot that dipped in when she curled her toes had a red mark exactly the size of my thumb, glowing faintly.
It was as if it were begging me to press it.
I placed my thumb there and, just like before, pressed down firmly—squish.
Not just pressing, but I remembered to circle it clockwise as well.
"Hn, hngh, hnghk...."
From Finley, her face still covered by the pillow, came sounds like she was about to sob. For some reason, it made me feel like a villain defiling her purity, filling me with guilt.
But despite the guilt, my erection strained even harder, ready to burst. Getting aroused from touching a woman against her will and hearing her cries?
No different from a beast.
No, this is medical treatment.
I mind-controlled myself like that.
"Hk, hk...."
In the dimly lit treatment room, shrouded in twilight darkness, the only sounds were Finley's sobs and the occasional groans from other patients.
Everything was still.
Was it my imagination?
Just as I thought that—
Ding.
『Cured Finley's Insomnia.』
『Karma Value +10』
The now-welcome text appeared, and at the same time, I felt something whoosh out from the tip of my thumb.
My head spun slightly, but that was it.
"Ugh, uh...."
Finley, who had been sobbing face-down into the pillow, shuddered violently with her shoulders, then collapsed onto the bed.
Worried something had gone wrong, I hurriedly checked her pulse at the nape of her neck. Fortunately, she hadn't lost consciousness—she had simply fallen into a deep sleep.
*
Finley opened her eyes again the next day, after the morning sun had risen high. Having come to her senses, she approached me shyly as I swept near the treatment room with a broom.
"Um, what happened to me yesterday...."
"You suddenly fell asleep. I didn't wake you since it seemed tough."
"I feel like I slept deeper than ever before. I can't even remember the last time I slept this soundly."
"Sounded like sweet sleep to you?"
"Sweet sleep?"
"In my hometown, that's what we call a deep, sound sleep."
Finley murmured "sweet sleep, sweet sleep..." a few times, then nodded.
"You're right. Sweet sleep—it fits perfectly. It really was sweet sleep. It's been years since I became a healer, and I haven't slept properly... It's amazing...."
Finley suddenly burst into tears. I couldn't understand her emotions and grew flustered.
A side effect of the treatment?
As I wondered, Finley wiped her tears and said,
"Keep tearing up for no reason. Weird. I'm not sad at all. Since I woke up, the tears won't stop. Nothing went wrong, right...?"
"Looks like the bad energy is leaving your body. The insomnia's draining out as tears."
"Really?"
Really?
How would I know?
I was just spouting something plausible.
In my mind, quack chiropractors and sham herbalists were like that. My dad was one, for example. What would he have said?
"Actually, tears are bad for the body. That's why it's trying to push them out. So, if you feel like crying, just cry."
"I-is that so?"
Her eyes, teary as they were, sparkled brightly. Maybe it was my imagination, but they held trust—or something like it.
The words of a quack with no track record are weightless.
But a peddler's words, backed by proof before your eyes, deceive people.
Many cult leaders start with claims of curing illnesses—and some even showed real miracles, they say.
Of course, I have no intention of becoming some amateur like that. Damn, thinking about how I ended up in this world because of a cult makes my blood boil.
"Oh, I have something for you."
Clink.
Finley, who had been crying steadily, pulled a bundle from the loose pocket of her white healer's robe and held it out to me.
Probably money.
I knew it was, but snatching it outright seemed too greedy, so I pretended not to know.
"What's that?"
"The promised amount. 30 silver.... I want to give more, but I don't have any, so this is all."
"Ah, I see. That's plenty. Actually, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you much."
"No!"
Finley yelled at my modest pretense.
"Huh?"
"N-no! It was amazing! Really! I trained as a healer in the temple, so I thought I knew a fair bit about the human body. But what you showed me, Mr. Hassan, was different. The 7th cervical vertebra, the misaligned pelvis, reinforcing and correcting the ligaments...."
Finley rattled off medical terms I couldn't follow.
From the gist, it seemed my actions required knowledge far beyond what was expected.
Finley continued.
"And that neck meridian point, and the, the sole.... You can't do that without fully understanding the mana circulation structure. It's incredible. Like taking a step closer to the mysteries of the body!"
"I-is that so."
"Anyway, it was truly amazing! Like the incarnation of Clefios himself!"
When was the last time I received such pure praise?
My stomach tickled, my face burned, and I didn't know what expression to make.
After becoming an adult who had to fend for himself.
And after being abandoned like an orphan in this inexplicable world and turned into a slave, praise felt distant from me.
Finley's gratitude and acclaim hit my chest heavier than the hefty money pouch in my hand, after years of only whips and abuse.
"Honestly, I don't have confidence in copying it, but if I work hard, maybe I can perform such wonderful arts too?"
"If it's you, Finley, you'll definitely get there someday."
Whether she would or not, I didn't know—blessings are free.
Seeing her refreshed face from the sound sleep, her dark circles faded, her beaming smile—I hoped she would.
I'm not a bad person, after all.
"Anyway, Finley. I'll put this money to good use. I have some shopping to do, so I'll be out today."
"Shopping?"
"My freedom."
Holy shit.
Even I thought it was a pretty cool line. I tucked the 30 silver into my bosom and stepped out of the treatment room.
Step, step.
Before my eyes stretched Calcuta, the city where mud and filth littered the ground, alleys choked with trash.
Calcuta is a melting pot of adventurers—thieves, heretics, thugs, and con artists all eyeing my pouch and my ass.
Pigeons and giant rats clambered over a drunk—or corpse—sprawled on the street, and no one batted an eye. That's the vibe here.
Normally, I'd slink along listlessly, head down. But today, with money and pride restored, I strode forward with light, confident steps.
With money, dignity, and no Elfriede in sight, the world is beautiful.
*
"What the fuck? What'd you just say, you shitty slave?"
The burly bald man snarled at me.
My sky-high pride and self-esteem from moments ago plummeted through my shoulders into the depths of my gut.
This was the slave management office in Calcuta.
I'd come to buy my slave papers—my freedom.
But the grim-faced warden, veins bulging on his shiny bald forehead, berated me.
"Fuck, you want to be free?"
"Yes, sir. I brought the money. Here's 30 silver. By regulation, paying my body price makes me free—right?"
"Right, but 30 silver? Easy money for a slave? Where'd you get it?"
Damn.
I should've expected this.
A slave like me in this world showing up with big money out of nowhere—suspicious as hell.
"I earned it legitimately."
"Fuck, they all say that. But if it's stolen, you're not a slave anymore—you're a criminal headed to prison. Prison. Know what that is?"
Criminal. Prison. Dark underground dungeons flashed in my mind—cages swarming with rats and maggots, rotting inmates inside.
I'd never been, but I knew people who went in and never came out.
Prison was no place for humans.
As I thought that, the bald warden bundled the coins ten at a time on his desk and asked,
"Can you prove where this money came from?"
"Yes, sir. From Healer Finley. Contact her."
"Healer Finley— the one at the White Deer intersection?"
"Don't know the street name, but a young woman with short blue hair that suits her well."
Thinking of Finley's face, I missed her. When had I grown so fond of her gentle softness?
"Blue hair. Yeah, that's her. Hey, lackey. Go verify."
The bald warden spoke to a young clerk who'd been listening. Iron collar around his neck—he was a slave too.
"Yes, sir!"
He dashed off so fast his feet barely touched the ground.
"Went to check. Try running, and you're dead, Hassan."
"Yes, sir...."
Something about the bald man made me tremble.
Like how criminals fear police cars. To a slave like me, this slave warden was terrifying.
Plus, his bulging muscles made him look badass.
If his skin were darker, he'd be a dead ringer for The Rock.
Bare-handed, I'd lose nine out of ten.
"Nervous? Confess you stole it now."
"I didn't steal it."
"Oh? Cocky, huh. Won't work on me, though."
The bald man was nitpicky as hell.
He was just doing his job, but from my side, it was agonizing.
As I fidgeted in the chair,
Jingle.
The door bell rang, and the clerk rushed in, panting, out of breath.
"C-checked. Ha, huff.... It's real. Got the handover form too."
"What? Real? This is really his money?"
The warden scowled, displeased. Meanwhile, I felt like I'd been pardoned, my old heartburn vanishing.
"See? Told you it was mine."
"A freed slave. Once in a blue moon. Anyway, kingdom law is law. Take it—your papers."
The warden pulled a small scroll from a drawer and handed it to me.
After about two years,
I was finally free.
"See you later, Hassan. Once a slave, always a slave. Debt or trouble, you'll fall back."
Like hell I'll see you again, fucker.
I'd let you live 'cause I'd lose in a fight, you prick.