The Blind Girl Who Became a Slave (2)

"So. Satisfied now?"

"Y-yes... Thank you..."

Still, I didn't actually know. Not yet. They had said I looked like a girl. They had never said I was one. Even before puberty, people used to tell me I seemed like a girl, so the question was still open—and besides, sensation in this body was incomplete. I still couldn't tell whether it was there or not. A cat in a box, in the purest sense... or rather, a certain something in a box.

"Tulan, just pick her up and take her. She's blind anyway. She won't be able to fight back."

"Damn it."

A man with a thug's drawl grumbled and slung me over his shoulder like luggage. This was more frightening than I had expected. In that endless dark, it felt as if my body were being lifted while I clung to a single rock, and I thrashed against the uncanny sensation of drifting through the blackness.

"Hold still!!"

That earned me a scolding. He trudged on with me over his shoulder. Convenient enough, I'll grant him that. The ride, however, was abysmal. I couldn't move my arms or legs; something cinched my neck, and an arm locked around my waist. Every step drove his shoulder into my stomach, and a nausea climbed in me as if I were riding a horse with my eyes shut.

What kind of place bound a person like this? No one doing honest work, that much was plain. They kept calling me prime goods, fretting that my value as merchandise would fall...

Oh... surely not.

"Slave... traders...?"

"Oh. Only just figured it out, did you? You really are thick."

I had smashed them so thoroughly, and still they had crawled their way back up. Slavery itself was not illegal under imperial law, but the traders who kidnapped people and sold them by force had run so wild that I had hunted them down and purged them clean. Even then, Elencia's schemes had proved their worth—

Damn it. What did any of it matter now? Let the slavers run rampant. Let people be dragged off by force. I was no Hero anymore. I was nothing. I had lost the courage to do what was right. I was only someone whose eyes had gone dark.

The footsteps stopped. A rusted iron door shrieked open.

"Ha... Coming all the way out here was annoying enough, and I had to haul baggage like this on top of it... Hey, brat! You're alive because of that face. Otherwise I'd have already beaten you to death."

I was laid out on a flat, hard bench. My arms were drawn up over my head, and a click sounded as the restraints on them locked together. The same click came from my legs.

What were they trying to do? If I was a slave, they could just sell me and be done with it... No. It was too soon to give up. Once my senses returned to normal, I would still have a chance to run.

"Why aren't you here yet!"

"Sorryyy. Running a little late."

A woman had appeared out of nowhere, her tone light and careless. From the rasp of her voice, she was quite the smoker.

"Move faster, Baze."

"Ahaha. The one before this put up quite a fight, that's all."

"Now that I think of it, you've been ridiculously busy lately."

"The slave market's tomorrow, isn't it? I haven't had a moment to blink all week."

"Tch. I'll let it slide this once."

And what, exactly, did this woman mean to do to me?

"Let's have a look. Oh my? Wherever did you find such a pretty child?"

"Got lucky. She was collapsed in the street, so I loaded her right up."

"A fine catch, the day before market. I'm jealous."

"Hahaha! If she sells for a fortune, drinks are on me!"

"Oh my, how generous. Shall I start right away, then?"

Heels clicked toward me. She yanked my shirt free of the waistband and shoved it up past my chest.

"It'll sting a little. You'll bear it, won't you?"

Murmuring like some quack of a doctor, she set her fingers against my lower abdomen.

What was she trying to—

"AAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!"

"There, there. You're taking it so well. It won't take long."

"HIAAAAAAGH!!!!"

"Does it really have to be branded in a place like that? There are more respectable spots. Over the heart, for one."

"HUAAAAAAGH!!!!"

"Ah, if the strain on the heart gets too heavy, they can die. And branding this spot is the trend these days."

"Uwaaaaaaah..."

"I'll never keep up with the way rich people think."

"Hhk... heuugh..."

"See? Oh my, it's already finished. It came out beautifully."

"And why that shape again! There are plenty of fine patterns these days!"

"Oh, Tulan, you really don't know a thing. Haven't you heard this is what's selling with female slaves lately?"

"Haa. I've been in this line of work a long time, and I still can't understand it."

What had she done to me? This sensation was like...

"Hhk... what... did you..."

"Oh my! A tough young lady, aren't you? Usually, once it's over, they faint, or just lie there drooling."

"What... did you do... to my body... hah..."

"Well, it's nothing a slave girl needs to concern herself with, but you bore it so nicely. Shall I tell you?"

"Hey. Hand her over already, so I can get off work."

"So stingy. I'll make it quick, all right?"

"Tsk. Hurry up and finish."

"Hmm! Very well then, miss. Do you see this scarlet, heart-shaped brand? This is what's called a slave brand."

"A slave... brand?"

"Well? It came out pretty, didn't it? Do you like it?"

"She can't see."

"Oh dear... Anyway, slaves these days all come with one of these. It's practically required. Managing slave certificates is such a bother, isn't it? Carve the imprint, and the information etched into the soul—the slave's name, sex, age, and the like—is stored in the mark. And an imprint like this comes as a set: the slave's brand, and the master's crest. Keep your hand on the master's crest, and the slave's information flows straight into your head. Mm. In a word, it's a certificate of slavery carved into the body. And since we ought to make sure it works, shall we give it a try?"

Nothing like this had existed in my time. Since when...

"AAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!"

"And whoever holds the master's crest can punish a slave who won't listen, just like that. Well? A little expensive, but terribly convenient, don't you think?"

It was a pain like something laying a hand on the soul. Whatever produced pain of this kind was, without a doubt...

"Black magic..."

"Oh my, how did you know? That's right! Black magic. There are so many in this line of work these days, I'm finally managing to put food on the table."

They were called mages, and yet in truth they resembled alchemists, producing something out of materials and offerings. They earned the name of mage because what that work yielded was magical. They did not simply cast with mana. They cast by paying a price. Pure mana vanished the instant a spell was spoken, but black mana, offered up with a sacrifice, could endure forever, depending on the offering. It could even breathe a magical effect into other objects. No one could deny how convenient the art was.

They were called black mages because they also laid harmful workings—curses, hallucinations, and worse—upon a person's body, and even upon the soul. For the sake of stronger ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠magic they committed acts no ethic would stomach, and there were those who had offered up their own souls as the price. Rumors spread that they would give even their own sons and daughters as reagents. How else had the art come to be called, in bitter mockery, daughtercraft? Conflict with the Church had followed, and they had been cast out. It was a power that should never have been able to step into the open like this, and yet...

"Black magic... how..."

"Did you grow up in the countryside, perhaps? Or is it because you can't see? There's no trade more promising these days than black magic, you know? Business must be booming. I even hear they've made ships that fly."

Black magic, promising?

"We really do have the Saintess to thank. I've gotten so busy it's becoming a problem."

"The Saintess...?"

"That's right! The Saintess lifted the restrictions on black magic. I'd love to give her a kiss for it, but I hear she went missing quite a long time ago."

The Saintess... No. The Saintess was missing?

What in the world had happened in eleven years?

"Hey! That's enough! Let's go home!"

"So impatient. Well then, I hope you meet a good master, pretty miss. And Flok, take the crest. I don't need to explain how to transfer it, do I? Put the payment through as usual."

The click of heels faded from the room.

"What a nuisance. Hey! Let's go!"

A few metallic clacks, and my arms and legs came free. The restraints themselves still seemed to be on me. He slung me over his shoulder once more and trudged off.

I was carried like that for quite a while, until we seemed to arrive somewhere damp and close. It was a place sunk in quiet, and yet it murmured with sorrow. An iron door creaked open, and I was thrown onto something faintly soft. A bed, most likely.

"This is your room! ...Not that saying so will mean much to you. If you need to relieve yourself, do it anywhere on the floor. Food and drink will come in on schedule. I don't know what kind of life you lived outside, but don't complain. A room with a bed is already the best there is."

The iron door rang shut with a clang. He must have closed it and gone. But it would not do for him to leave just yet. Thanks to that soul-piercing pain, a good deal of my sensation had returned. If I was right, escape might not be impossible.

"E-excuse me! What's going to happen to me now?"

"How should I know a thing like your fate! If you're lucky, you'll be sold somewhere decent."

"Right... so when am I being sold...?"

"Why do you have so many questions... You're being taken to the slave market tomorrow and sold. Satisfied? I'm leaving!"

The trudging grew distant... then turned and came back this way, faster than before.

"Ah!! Right! Hey! Don't try anything stupid, and don't go hurting yourself! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You're blind, so I'm not worried you'll run, but hurting yourself won't do either of us any good. We get less money, and you get sold into an even filthier house. Understand? Just shut up and sleep! I'm really leaving this time!"

This time, the footsteps truly receded.

The tension drained out of me all at once. I had only been waiting to die, and it had come to this. I couldn't begin to tell whether I ought to be glad or wretched. In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one light, the chance at the revenge I had longed for might have found me. In another, I had lost the eternal rest I had wanted.

I collapsed onto the bed and turned it over for a while... A problem with no answer was better thought of simply. And so, since I had lived anyway, I decided I would have my revenge. I would kill Elencia. I would destroy the house. As for the rest of the party... I would think about them later.

First, though, the problem was getting out of here. Thanks to that pain, I had only just managed to claw back nearly all the feeling in this body. Now, perhaps, I could try.

In my days as the Hero, Ki Sense had let me grasp everything within a hundred meters of myself. Once I learned to open it, I was never taken by surprise. But the art had one enormous flaw. It demanded absolute concentration—that much was obvious. I could use it while my focus was locked in an exchange of blades, yet the moment I was cut, the sense slammed shut. To use it at all, I had to close my eyes and cut down the information coming in; if it collapsed without warning, I was left briefly blind. For anyone fighting at close range, it was a terribly dangerous technique. That was why only ranged fighters, like the Divine Bow, had ever used it. Now that I was blind, it had become useful to me as it could never be to anyone else.

I folded my legs beneath me to open my Ki Sense, and I concentrated. Through scent, I read the flow of the air. Through hearing, I took in even the faintest vibration. Through touch, I felt the rebound of waves.

As if I were looking down on the world from a god's height, everything within that space became visible. There was no color. In the dark it all wavered gray, and still I could see. A damp ceiling, blooming with mold. A bed of some hard material, worn with age. A stone floor, lumpy and crudely tamped. I could feel it... a radius a little over a meter, with me at its center.

Damn it. I collapsed straight back onto the bed.

Escape? As if. All I could do was hope I met a decent master.