Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Man Who Almost Became a Slave
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“Heh heh, you've brought a prime catch.”
“Prime in every sense of the word.”
“No wonder you're late. You found him on the road?”
“Yes.”
The slave inspection was finally over.
I'd been manhandled by other men not once, but twice.
It was so infuriating and humiliating that I could barely breathe.
They ignored me completely, chattering among themselves.
“We handed him over in a village we stopped at on the way. Didn't want to risk damaging the merchandise if he resisted, so we waited until he let his guard down. That's why we were a bit late.”
“Now that you mention it, yeah. Not a scratch on him.”
“...Our deal's still on, right, Mr. Greg?”
“Of course. Just remember I was joking earlier. Seeing the goods now, I'm embarrassed I lost my temper back there.”
The mood was great.
After a successful deal, they exchanged pleasantries.
“Time to settle up. Come into the room.”
“Yes.”
Jack came out of the room after paying.
In his hand was a heavy leather pouch.
“Kahahaha! Drinks are on me tonight! Let's party hard!”
“Yes, sir!”
Jack led his men out of the Wild Flower Merchant Group branch building.
Leaving only us slaves behind.
Slaves who couldn't even dream of resisting—
Not long after, Greg emerged from the room.
He held something like a strange stamp in his hand.
I knew what it was.
The other slaves did too, instinctively stepping back.
“Don't resist. If I mess it up, your heart could give out and you'll die.”
Greg pressed the Slave Brand seal down.
On men and women alike, right over their hearts.
The only difference was men got it on their chest, women near their shoulder blades on their backs.
“Guh...”
The beastkin couldn't resist.
Greg's men surrounded us, radiating killing intent. No room to fight back.
They hunched their shoulders and accepted the brand being carved into their flesh.
It was the lesser evil.
One by one, the brands were applied. My turn was coming up.
Should I struggle?
Or just stay still?
A whirlwind of thoughts raced through my mind.
My life.
My fate in this world.
What would be waiting for me at the happy ending—
“Move and you're dead. I paid good money for you. If you cost me that, I won't let you die easy.”
Greg saw me as merchandise.
He'd bought me to turn a profit greater than what he'd shelled out.
If I broke, so did his investment.
He warned me of that.
He'd make sure I didn't die cleanly.
He declared he'd torture me without shame.
“You crazy bastard...!”
“Good, you've still got some fight in you. That's a plus.”
“......”
“Plenty of buyers prefer slaves with spirit. Especially those depraved perverts into men.”
Men.
The word made me want to puke every time.
The idea of my life ending as some gay bastard's sex slave sent chills down my spine.
“Whether you're topping or bottoming, just behave for now. If you don't want to die, you need to survive as long as possible, right?”
The seal glowing with blue energy touched my body.
Why couldn't I just slap his arm away?
“Ngh...!”
An unknown energy seeped into my heart.
My instincts screamed a warning.
I could no longer resist Greg.
Terror of death gripped my chest.
“...Fuck—.”
Squeeze—
Pain crushed my heart.
The moment I felt hostility toward Greg, my mind went blank white.
“Hah, hah...!”
I sorted my emotions.
Somehow distracted my mind elsewhere.
Emptying my thoughts freed me from the pain.
‘...Insane...’
Even in the original novel, slaves popped up occasionally.
Most groveled before their masters.
The level of control varied by the owner's temperament.
But most were tyrannical brutes, so slaves often foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
Thinking that was my future filled me with suffocating dread.
Why had it come to this?
Why couldn't I resist—
“Take the slaves and wash them up.”
“Yes.”
Greg returned to his room after branding us.
He paused at the door and turned back.
“Oh. The keys.”
One of his men approached and took the keyring from him.
It was the one Jack had been carrying.
With the Slave Brand in place, no need for restraints anymore.
The handcuffs, shackles, and bindings came off.
But escape? Not a chance.
His men swarmed in, assigning themselves to each slave.
A stinking brute stuck to my side.
“Ngh!”
“Pathetic.”
The moment I tried to shove him off, my chest throbbed.
Like icy hands ripping my heart out.
‘...Right, that's how it works.’
The master owns the slave.
Ownership transfers when the brand is handed over.
Slaves can't harbor hostility toward their master.
More broadly, they can't act without orders.
No commands like attack, fight, kill?
I can't oppose anyone.
No rights.
“Resist and it only hurts you. Just accept your place.”
“...Accept my place?”
“Better for your sanity. Deny reality all you want, it'll just make you suffer more.”
“...I could get sold to some gay fuck and have my ass torn apart, and you want me to accept that...?”
Luckily, badmouthing nobles was fine.
Greg didn't seem to hold nobles in high regard.
“Stay quiet and you'll end up as Almond Pocky or soybean paste stir-fried chili peppers...”
“Almond Pocky? Soybean paste stir-fried chili peppers? What the hell's that?”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
As the reality sank in, I let the man drag me off.
We washed up in a bathroom with hot water.
Being a novel world, this part was ridiculously advanced.
On my chest was the brand Greg had carved.
The Wild Flower Merchant Group's emblem.
Same as the one on his men's shirts.
“...Fuck...”
Speechless.
I couldn't comprehend how things had gone so wrong.
If I'd started normally, I could've done something.
Never expected them to sell me off as an Eastern Continent human—
Was it my sin for not anticipating this?
My fault for being complacent after landing in this world?
Regret always comes too late.
“Hurry up.”
“......”
Less than an hour after being sold to the Wild Flower Merchant Group, I was headed for the auction stage.
I followed the man, still damp, naked as the day I was born, waiting behind the stage.
“Sob. Sob...”
“Mommy...”
Slaves in the same boat as me lined up.
Not many familiar faces.
Slaves from all over.
They didn't come from just one place.
Except for the sturdy male beastkin males, everyone trembled in fear.
─ 20 million sol! 20 million sol! Going once? 20 million sol! Congratulations to bidder 18! Sold for 20 million sol!
Outside, a female auctioneer called bids and celebrated sales.
20 million sol.
Sol was like the won, so you could think of it that way.
The slave just sold went for 20 million won.
‘Fuck.’
Standing at the auction stage made it all too real.
The brand on my heart. Being sold at auction.
It was sinking in deep.
One by one, slaves went up.
Sold at various prices.
─ 100 million! 100 million sol! Raising the increment to 10 million now! 110 million anyone!?
The busty cat beastkin with killer curves fetched a whopping 120 million sol.
The cheapest was a burly tiger beastkin male at 7 million sol.
─ Next up...
The female auctioneer glanced backstage.
Our eyes met.
No one in front of me.
─ A very rare slave—not a beastkin, but a human! From the Eastern Continent, with no ties to the Western Continent!
“Onto the stage.”
The man managing the slaves shoved me forward.
I stumbled onto the stage.
The auction house was simple.
Tiered seats fanned out around the central stage, perfect for bidders to eye the goods.
From the stage, countless masked eyes stared back, making me shrink involuntarily.
Everyone wore masks.
Varied designs hid faces and identities.
Though in the original story, those in the know all knew anyway.
‘Fuck...’
Brilliant lights bathed me.
Spotlights zeroed in.
─ A human male with great looks, build, and even impressive manhood! Rarity speaks for itself, and the quality is flawless!
The female auctioneer approached, introducing me.
She held something like a mic, but with a white crystal head instead of gray.
Enchanted with voice amplification magic.
─ Starting bid: 10 million sol!
The auctioneer kicked off the bidding war.
Number paddles shot up nonstop.
Many never lowered theirs.
─ 100 million sol! Increment now 10 million!
The bidding heated up.
After 150 million, just two remained.
They kept jacking up the price.
─ 200 million sol! For the hesitant bidders, time to show him hard!
The auctioneer reached for my dick.
I tried to dodge, but couldn't move.
Thanks to Greg's Slave Brand.
Still, better than nothing.
A woman's hand meant less mental damage.
‘Please...’
All I could do was pray.
‘Please, let number 7 win.’
They wore masks.
But I could still make them out.
7 was a young woman, 16 a fat old man. Locked in battle.
My life was already ruined.
But if there was a less ruined path, I'd take it.
But—
─ 300 million sol!
─ 300 million sol! We have 300 million!
“......”
The auctioneer made me hard, and 16, seeing it, upped the bid by 100 million.
Judging 300 million too steep for my value, 7 dropped out.
“N-No...!”
─ 300 million sol! Going once? 300 million sol!
The auctioneer confirmed the sale with satisfaction.
To 16, that crazy pervert—my life—
Boom—!
At that moment, an explosion rocked the auction house entrance.
The fancy doors shattered, debris flying far.
Bidders, the auctioneer, even Greg watching from backstage—all eyes turned in shock to the entrance.
“Phew! Made it just in time!”
A clear, haughty voice echoed through the hall.
Arrogant and aloof.
She brazenly poked her head in after wrecking the place.
She swung a sword to clear the smoke.
Ash-gray hair swayed, sky-blue eyes locked on...
Me.
Then down below.
Where the auctioneer gripped my dick tight.
To keep it erect—
In an instant, Ashy's form vanished.
Thud—
A head rolled across the stage floor.
The female auctioneer's.
“......”
The hero here to flip the table.
Of all people, Ashy Grayfield.
The heroine abandoned by readers for her shitty personality.
“Hey, Puppy.”
Ashy shrugged off her academy jacket and draped it over me.
Her bright smile eased my tension somehow.