Chapter 10: Confession (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 10: Confession (2)
Mirabelle confessed everything about her past.
How she was a witch, how the clergy had come to her village, what had happened to her mother, and how she had ended up being sold as a slave—everything.
It wasn't to evoke pity.
Her listener was a ruthless, unscrupulous slave trader. Even worse, he was Karami, the man known as the Slave Reaper. Mirabelle wasn't optimistic enough to delude herself into thinking that appealing to his emotions would solve anything.
A child forced to face reality too soon was bound to mature quickly.
That was why she had planned to live her whole life hiding it. The moment someone reported her, she would be hunted as a witch.
The reason why Mirabelle, who had thought this way, had suddenly revealed her secret to Karami was…
‘Why?’
She asked herself, but the only answer was another question. She couldn't figure out the reason herself.
And yet, if she had to find a reason… yes. It was probably because she had felt a strange warmth from his touch, from his embrace.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt the warmth of another person's body.
It was a ridiculous thought. To feel goodwill from a slave trader. If anyone else heard, they'd say becoming a slave had driven her mad. But what could she do? It was how she felt.
Mirabelle watched Karami, trying to read his expression.
Now that he knew his slave was a witch, how would he react? He would surely be flustered. Protecting a witch was punishable by execution. He might even fly into a rage.
Whatever it was, it would be satisfying to see. Karami always maintained an unreadable poker face. She was secretly looking forward to the moment it cracked.
But contrary to Mirabelle's expectations, Karami kept smiling from beginning to end, not seeming to care one bit that she was a witch.
As if.
“Haha, and what of it?”
Like a man who didn't know the meaning of the word ‘flustered.’
At that, it was Mirabelle who was flustered.
“What of it? I'm a witch! Anyone who protects a witch gets punished. You could die because of me!”
“Whether you're a witch or an evil god, Miss Mirabelle, it makes no difference to me. I am a slave trader. The only thing I care about is value.”
“Value…?”
Karami nodded.
“You possess a value that is simply untouchable, Miss Mirabelle. Even I can hardly fathom its depths. If I were to abandon someone like you for the mere reason of being a witch, wouldn't that make me a fool? I'd have to quit the slave trading business.”
Mirabelle's indigo eyes widened as if they would pop out of her head.
Mere?
Did he just say mere?
She had been abandoned even by her own father just for being a witch, yet here was Karami, a complete stranger, treating it as something ‘mere.’
Mirabelle couldn't comprehend it.
She didn't want to comprehend it.
If she accepted it, if she thought, I see, it would mean she was abandoned for something trivial. And if that were true, what did that make the person—her own family—who had abandoned her for something so trivial?
Karami didn't even care that she was a witch.
Just as Mirabelle's eyes began to gleam with hatred for someone, Karami seized the opportunity and whispered sweet, honeyed words.
“You don't have to be so resentful. The purpose of this journey is to meet him, after all. Let's go and ask him. Why did he abandon you?”
Yes, that's right.
“Until that moment comes, Miss Mirabelle, you just need to focus on your magic practice, just as you have been. You don't need to worry about anything else.”
She had to master magic.
To repay the suffering she'd endured because of that man a thousand times over.
“When everything is over, I will send you to your mother's side, Miss Mirabelle.”
To her mother, who had departed for a place she could never reach?
The words were like a death sentence.
Mirabelle's shock was fleeting.
Creeak.
The gears of logic that made up her thoughts began to turn in reverse.
‘Ah, I see.’
The girl had realized.
The light she had lost so long ago could never be reclaimed.
Even if she could turn back time.
Unless she was born as someone else.
From the moment she was born as Mirabelle, the ending would be the same, no matter how many times she repeated it.
What was the point of yearning for something she knew she could never get back? No. There was no need to be shackled to this mortal life.
And what's more, the one by her side was Karami, the Slave Reaper. Her only savior, the one who could free her from this suffocating reality.
“I will liberate you from this hell. You can work hard until that moment comes, can't you?”
Complete liberation.
To be free, casting off the shackles of life.
Mirabelle replied with a smile. A radiant smile, the likes of which she had never shown before.
“Yes, Master.”
*
“By the way, Master. Why did you buy me back then?”
Mirabelle suddenly asked a fundamental question. There was no longer any hesitation in her voice. The girl who had been uncomfortable calling Karami ‘Master’ now fully acknowledged him as such.
Through their recent conversation, Mirabelle had learned that Karami judged others by their value.
But thinking about it more closely, it was strange. He had only just learned she was a witch, and her talent for magic had also been revealed in the not-so-distant past.
Before that, she was just an ordinary, worthless girl with nothing special about her. That was who Mirabelle was.
So what exactly had Karami seen in her at the Slave Carnival to buy her? What had he seen? And for a thousand gold coins, no less, which was hardly a pittance.
“First, it's because I have an eye for people. When I look at someone, I can roughly see how high they will climb, and when I look at another, how far they will fall.”
“And the second reason?”
“Second, it was because your eyes were dead, Miss Mirabelle.”
Mirabelle tilted her head at his puzzling words.
Karami continued his explanation with a sly, sinister smile.
“I very much enjoy molding people who are floundering in despair to my will. I guide them to the highest place they can reach, and then, I liberate them. The pleasure of that moment is so exquisite it's hard to describe.”
They were perverted words.
Mirabelle had never heard anything more so.
It was tantamount to showing a blind man the world and then gouging out his eyes.
The worst of the worst hobbies.
Anyone else would have condemned him for it.
But Mirabelle was different. Because of it, she had been given a chance at salvation.
‘I understand now.’
The dozens of slaves who had passed through Karami's hands must have all felt the same way she did. They must have all left with happy expressions on their faces. It was a story only his slaves could understand.
Other slaves would never know this feeling.
Ah, the poor things. This was an ecstatic sensation that only those chosen by him could feel.
“Master, what should I do now? I should train my magic, right?”
Mirabelle's will surged violently.
The one who took her in when her own family had abandoned her.
The one who would grant her salvation.
She had to repay him before the day of her liberation arrived.
What she, a lowly slave, could do for Karami. It was to raise her own value even higher. Then, Karami would be able to feel even greater pleasure.
That was the role of a slave.
But belying Mirabelle's newfound passion, Karami's reaction was indifferent.
“What are you talking about? It's time to wash up and go to bed.”
“…Huh?”
Mirabelle glanced out the window. Dusk had settled thickly over the world, and it was growing dark.
“Using magic at this hour will get us complaints.”
And I, the slave's master, will be the one to receive them, Karami added.
A deep sigh escaped him, and his weary eyes hinted at some great hardship, as if he had a past he didn't even want to recall.
At that, Mirabelle's blazing will flickered and died. She felt it wouldn't be wise to push the matter here.
I should just go to sleep quietly.
*
“Hehehe.”
What was she so happy about?
Mirabelle snuggled right into my arms and giggled.
‘What in the world is going on?’
I realized something was wrong when we had finished getting ready for bed.
Mirabelle's condition had been so poor that I'd had to find an inn in a hurry, and the only room available had a single bed.
I'd asked the innkeeper if there were any other rooms, but he'd said they were full. Apparently, adventurers had flocked here because of rumors that a dungeon had appeared.
In the end, we had no choice but to sleep in the same room.
“I'll sleep on the floor, Master.”
“Absolutely not.”
What on earth had caused this change of heart? Ever since our ‘heart-to-heart,’ Mirabelle had started acting like a devoted slave. She was so polite, as if she were a maid from a noble house.
The sentiment was commendable, but I couldn't allow it. As a lover of slaves (female ones, that is), making her sleep on the floor was ungentlemanly.
Besides, who knew if she'd later bury me in the ground for ‘revenge for making her sleep on the floor that day’ and send me to my eternal rest? I'd rather sleep on the floor myself than let Mirabelle do it.
After reaching an agreement, we finally decided to sleep in the same bed. Mirabelle was small, so it wasn't too cramped for the two of us.
The problem was her position.
Normally, when a man and a woman who aren't in a relationship share a bed, don't they sleep back-to-back? But Mirabelle fidgeted for a moment before snuggling into my arms.
And now she was giggling, saying how nice it was.
Why did the kid's personality change so suddenly?
Was it because she met the clergy? Did her mental state shatter, causing her to give up?
‘Sigh, this isn't good.’
I'd never seen Mirabelle smile so brightly. If her condition had genuinely improved, that would be fine, but if not, I needed to take action.
I'll have to try and get her back to normal tomorrow.