Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Revisiting the Black Market (3)
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Following Cheshire, we hurried into the circus tent, and as if he'd been waiting for us, the clown sauntered up from the underground warehouse.
He held a cigarette in his left hand and a whip dripping blood in his right. Had he just been flogging slaves with it?
Blood splattered across his face and body suggested as much.
As I sized him up, the clown smirked and spoke to me.
"Back again. And dragging that damn guide along..."
His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. He clearly wasn't thrilled about me bringing Cheshire, but since we were customers, he couldn't chase us off. With a heavy sigh, he led us underground.
"Still filthy as ever."
"Hmph."
Cheshire waved a hand in front of her nose as we descended, and the clown slave trader just snorted without retort. Undeterred, she jabbed again.
"Filthy beast. Clean up and live like a civilized being."
"You didn't come here to bicker. Tone it down."
They both fell silent after that. Seizing the quiet moment, I scanned the surroundings. Last time had been too rushed to take it all in, but today I had the leisure to examine the cells closely.
True enough, the circus tent's basement was packed with iron-barred cells crammed full of slaves. Every kind of race filled them to bursting, all howling and clamoring.
All sorts of races locked up...
Among them wriggled frogmen and amorphous blobs like slimes. It looked like they'd captured every sapient being they could get their hands on. The whole setup felt like a deranged lunatic's warped zoo, driven by some obsession to collect one of every species.
What grated even more was how they just left them there. The cells overflowed with the sick and the broken, reeking of every foul odor imaginable. They'd been rounded up like children in a playpen but received zero care. Some slaves lay sprawled motionless, already dead. Strangely, no maggots crawled on the corpses.
They really run this place however they please... No wonder Cheshire gave him an earful.
I grimaced in disgust. Not out of pity for them. I just knew I'd be doing business here a few more times, and sloppy management like this could leave me buying a diseased dud—or worse, one that croaked before I could claim some hidden talent. A little more care would make the purchases worthwhile. The clown seemed utterly disinterested in actual commerce, which was a shame.
Lost in those thoughts, I followed Cheshire deeper into the basement when suddenly one of the cells to my right rattled violently. A woman's scream pierced the air.
I whipped my head around to see a woman frantically shaking the bars in a frenzy. Spotting that she'd caught my attention, she screamed straight at me.
"Hey! You there!! Y-you...! You're Korean, right?! I heard you talking last time!! You speak Korean! I'm Korean too!! Please, get me out of here!!! I can't take it anymore!! Please, just get me out!! I'll do anything!!"
I stared at her blankly. The clown ahead of us glanced back slyly.
"Curious?"
"A little."
"Want me to show her off as merchandise? She's a powerless human, but if you wanna play savior... Fine by me. She's dead stock anyway—might even boost my favor with you."
"No. Pass."
I had no use for some ability-less human. She wasn't even that pretty. No value in saving her.
"W-wait!! Don't just go! Please help me!! Hey!! Get me out!!! I'll... I'll be good! It'll feel amazing, promise! Hey!!"
"Quiet!"
As she shrieked after me, the clown swung his whip. It flew straight at her with eerie precision, far longer than it looked.
Snap!!
"Aaaagh!!!"
Flesh tore at the impact, blood spraying. She screamed, clutching the wound before crawling to the back of her cell, huddling and trembling.
Watching her, I suddenly wondered how she'd ended up caged here.
"So why's she locked up?"
"Devils dumped her cheap. Some shady deal with them. Even sold her own kid, and this is where she washed up. Dumb bitch. Still, devil worshiper's got potential. Carrying the demon spawn and all—perfect live sacrifice."
"Huh..."
Hearing she'd been sold by devils killed any interest instantly. Learning she'd sold her own child snuffed out the faint flicker of curiosity too.
Probably got possessed or tricked into some demonic pact and tumbled down here. Fallen for the whispers, dragging her kid into the abyss—no sympathy there. And pregnant with a devil's spawn? God knows what abomination that'd birth. Some Omen-style Damien?
Shaking off the weird thoughts, I noticed the clown had stopped and was presenting a lineup of slaves.
"Here's today's special picks. Choose one."
Nude slaves stepped forward. Before their introductions, I asked the slaver,
"Do I have to pick just one?"
"Yup. Can't go higher. Unless you bring me a sapient I fancy—then maybe two."
"One you fancy... You wouldn't glance at plain humans."
"Unique. Special. Distinctive. Otherwise, not even a look. Don't waste effort—pick one."
"Got it..."
I'd figured out how to snag two, but finding—and handing over—some rare, special snowflake for him? Unlikely. He'd never let go of something he wanted anyway.
One it is, then.
I shoved stray thoughts aside and focused on selecting the best of the four.
"You. Introduce yourself first."
At the slaver's command, one trembling slave stepped up.
He was a ragged old man. The way he shook made me wonder what use he'd be.
"I... I'm Hellas... Second-grade alchemist from the Elixir Workshop... I can brew anything but elixirs..."
"Hold up. What?"
"Pardon...?"
What the hell did this crazy old coot just say?
Alchemist?
"You a Player?"
"Heavens, no... Just a decrepit old alchemist..."
Not a Player, then—a genuine article.
"You can really make potions?"
"Yes, of course... With enough materials... Can't do elixirs, but most anything else... Just give me ingredients and time..."
Like some mad scientist: hand him mats and time, he'll whip up whatever potion. Hard not to be tempted.
This guy's solid...
Downside was no pretty witch—just a wrinkled geezer—but experience counted for something.
A potion-maker had to be useful somewhere. Plus, Hee-sun Noona was growing vitality herbs on the rooftop with her skill; he could brew something from those.
"Noted. Slaver, what's the old man's price?"
"40k for this fossil."
I checked my coins and prodded casually.
"Kinda steep for a near-corpse."
"Cheap as it gets. Won't last ten years. Prime age? 80k."
"Huh..."
No haggling room—he was already selling low.
"Alright. Next. Introduce."
"Kehit. I'm Malroc. Tunnel-digging master. Sniff out ores like nobody's business."
Mole-man. No tunneling needs, so pass. Less appealing than the alchemist anyway.
"I'm Enkea. High resistance to poison, disease, curses. Expert night servant. Buy me, human. I'll bear your offspring unquestioningly—for life."
Third was a female lizardman flicking her tongue nonstop. Green scales, creepy vertical slits for eyes. Trying to seduce with a wink? Her look turned my stomach; night service or not, hard pass.
"Last one. Introduce."
"Ahem... I'm Loran. Former royal guard knight of a fallen kingdom. Ragged now, but hand me a sword and I'll take a dragon's head."
Scarred face across a long gash, buzzed hair giving off soldier vibes.
"This one's 10k. Nickname: Braggart Loran."
"H-hey... Don't sabotage the sale. Ahem. Doppelganger Loran. I can shift appearances freely. Males only."
Loran swept a hand over his face and morphed into my spitting image. Impressive ability.
10k coins too... Hmm...
Ultimately, I went for the alchemist. Loran's shapeshifting, the mole-digger, eager lizardwoman—all solid, but the old potion-maker edged them out for utility.
The clown produced a slave contract. I had Cheshire vet it first; once cleared, I signed.
He hawked basic clothes for 2k coins. Couldn't parade a naked geezer around, and his wrinkly hide wasn't a good look.
The old man got a threadbare brown robe and a plague-doctor beak mask. Dressed like that, he resembled a deranged cultist—surprisingly fitting.
"Bought everything? Scram."
"Was already leaving. Let's go."
"Yep."
We were herded out like pests. As we cleared the door, the clown closing it tossed over his shoulder,
"Come solo next time. Got better stock. You like girls, right?"
"Uh, yeah..."
Liked women fine, but no way alone. Safer with Cheshire, even if quality dipped. Solo might end like that Korean woman—caged by him.
Especially me: half-human half-demon, servant of evil gods. Prime "special distinctive" merchandise for his tastes. Vowed never to come solo.
My tepid reaction got a tongue-click before he slammed the door. Confirmed gone, Cheshire trashed him.
"Psycho bastard. Once he fixates, you're celled or bust. Solo? Who knows what he'd pull."
"Yeah, I know. Always with you."
"Hahaha! Smart. Central square next!"
I grabbed her hand. Hellas got yanked by his collar mid-stumble into instant teleport to the square.
"Whoa... Tons of people..."
"Right? This is the normal vibe."
Floor of unknown beast pelts, mishmashed architectures, obelisks and pillars everywhere. The central square buzzed with otherworldly brightness and cheer, packed with nonhumans.
Last visit, underground guards had cleared stalls and shuttered shops. Today? All open, night-market energy.
"Food galore. Sights too. Wanna tourist a bit?"
Checked my wristwatch. Barely an hour gone. Cheshire's speedy escort let me wrap up fast.
Over three hours left—plenty for fun.
Plus, she was beaming; tough to say no. Head to the crooked alley in an hour, find the door easy.
She'd said with her, max 30 minutes to the exit.
"Heh. Fun with Cheshire? Hell yeah."
"Great! Let's go wild!"
"Uh... where... is this...?"
Caught up in square-date hype, the old man trailing us piped up fearfully, gawking at bizarre bipeds.
"Hmm... Gramps."
"Y-yes...?"
"Wait over there."
"Pardon...?"
Cheshire eyed him before pointing at a building. Sign in unknown script, chained human illustration. Looked like a human pet hotel to me.
"Wh-who...?"
"This geezer."
"500 coins per hour. Up front."
I flashed my wrist at the cyclops bald giant—three meters tall at the door—prepaying generously for three hours.
Transaction done, collar snapped on Hellas. Dragged to a room with bed and mini-toilet. Cages everywhere held pet humans. Eerily alien prison.
"Now, playtime?"
"Yep."
After, I trailed Cheshire around the square. Skewered weird two-legged tentacles. Tossed darts at live pygmies in a deranged street game. Won a star plush with an eyeball in the center; handed it straight to her.
"Cute gift from a cute human. This makes me happy."
Doll cuteness aside, Cheshire lit up. Mission accomplished.
An hour of dating later, we sat side-by-side on a bench by a fountain spewing red water.
No way that's... blood...
High odds it was human blood. Now I caught a faint metallic tang.
Mulling a seat change from the gross scent, Cheshire leaned on my shoulder.
"First normal date ever. Hardly anyone trustworthy here. Never strolled relaxed like this."
"Oh... I see."
"Yeah. You're comfy. Nice scent off you. Best: you're weaker than me."
"Huh..."
Weakness as a plus? Fresh take.
"So... remaining time at my place?"
"Pardon...?"
Her home... She was inviting me over.
Glanced at my watch naturally. 2 hours 10 left. 1 hour 30 extra playtime before door-hunt.
"Sounds good."
"Hehe... Knew it."
She slyly rubbed my chest.
Arm-in-arm, we headed to her place.
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