Chapter 11: Neck Ring
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 11: Neck Ring
The day after we narrowly averted a catastrophe.
I announced to Mirabelle, “Let’s take the day off today.”
People, machines, animals—everything needs a proper rest.
It would certainly be nice if Mirabelle quickly became self-sufficient, but pushing her too hard would only burn her out. In fact, even in TOS, every slave had a fatigue stat that increased the more you made them work.
When fatigue maxed out, they could barely function, and the probability of an accident increased exponentially.
Given the nature of the tycoon genre, where everything interlocked like clockwork, one hiccup could cause a fatal disruption elsewhere.
A smooth operation was only possible by properly balancing work and rest.
Besides, it seemed like it would be a while before the dungeon appeared, so I decided to give Mirabelle a break. I was also still bothered by what happened yesterday.
“Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”
“Somewhere I’d like to go?”
“You’ve been working hard lately. This is your reward.”
Mirabelle tilted her head.
Her eyes seemed to ask, Isn’t it natural for a slave to work hard? I used to think so, too, but it turned out that wasn’t always the case.
I’d learned that while raising the beastkin slaves. Some worked diligently, while others freeloaded off the hard work of their peers.
The moment the game became reality, the kind of slacker you could find in any workplace had appeared among my slaves.
But who was I?
A Korean.
No matter the environment, I couldn't rest until I had achieved maximum efficiency. And in a tycoon game, of all things?
Oh, shit. I can't stand for that.
I’d foam at the mouth and have a seizure if efficiency dropped.
Anything that ruined efficiency was absolutely unacceptable. After some thought, I decided the solution wasn't punishment, but reward.
Punishment is for shitty small-time company bosses.
So, I rewarded the slaves who worked well, giving them special meals or an allowance. The others would see that and start working hard, wanting the same.
By that same logic, it was time to reward Mirabelle for her hard work.
“Anywhere is fine. Whether it’s a place you want to go or something you want to buy, feel free to tell me.”
“Then, new clothes…”
“Just a moment. Let me ask the person in question. Miss Mirabelle, you like the maid outfit, don’t you?”
“No…”
“She says she loves it. The Miss Mirabelle in my head is so fond of it that she wants me to buy her several more.”
“…”
Mirabelle stared at me with cold, dead eyes.
You crossed the line first, Mirabelle. I can’t yield on this. Unfazed, I glared right back.
Our staring contest lasted for a few seconds. Mirabelle was the first to admit defeat. It seemed this Mirabelle was also fond of the maid outfit.
She went back to thinking, this time more seriously.
“In that case…”
The words she finally spoke were…
*
Mirabelle strolled along, pulling snacks out one by one to eat.
So she chose Slime fritters in the end.
After buying a bag of them at the market, we set off to explore the city.
Mirabelle, munching away on the fritters, had stuffed her cheeks like a chipmunk. When her eyes met mine for a moment, she fumbled with the bag and pulled one out.
“Hewe.”
“I’m good.”
Mirabelle’s expression fell.
But even that pitiful look wouldn’t work on me. I let it slide last time, but not this time. I had just seen one of the fritters wriggle.
While touring the city, we stopped by a magic tool shop. Ever since she started learning magic, Mirabelle had taken an interest in them.
She had bought one or two back in Riveria, only to completely disassemble and analyze them. What else could you expect from a witch? She was like an engineer from another world.
Mirabelle looked at the magic tools. Like a newborn baby just opening its eyes, she toddled around the shop with a curious expression.
I just stood there waiting patiently, holding my staff like a boyfriend waiting for his girlfriend to finish shopping.
“Little lady, you seem quite interested in magic tools.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Oh my, I seem to have startled you. My apologies.”
Mirabelle flinched at the shop owner’s words. She had gotten much better around me, but she still hadn’t shed her timidness in front of others.
Finding even that adorable, the old woman chuckled as if looking at her own granddaughter.
“Is that man your older brother?”
“No. He’s my master.”
“Master?”
“I’m his slave.”
The moment the word “slave” left Mirabelle’s lips, the old woman shot me a death glare. It was a look that said, What kind of human trash would enslave a child like this?
What? You wanna fight? I might not be able to beat Mirabelle, but I was pretty sure I could take an old woman.
As if sensing her own defeat, the old woman quickly turned her gaze back to Mirabelle. That made my record for the day 2-0.
Her affectionate gaze toward the cute girl had changed to one of pity for a poor slave. The old woman clicked her tongue at Mirabelle.
Mirabelle froze, then turned her back to the old woman. From my angle, I was the only one who could see her expression.
Huh…?
I thought I saw her eyes contort in anger for a second. But the moment she met my gaze, she gave me a sweet, smiling crescent moon of an eye, and the look was gone. Was I just imagining things?
“Let’s go, Master.”
“You don’t want to buy anything?”
“There’s nothing worth buying in a place like this.”
“Ah, yes…”
In the end, we left without buying anything.
“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go? If not—”
“No, there is a place.”
Mirabelle stated her wish in a clear voice. She led the way with brisk, almost angry steps to an accessory shop.
Has she gotten interested in dressing up?
As far as I knew, Mirabelle was far from the type to care about her appearance. Being a witch, she was only ever interested in musty old tomes or magic tools, like before.
Then again, she was a girl. It wouldn't be strange for her to develop an interest at any time. Maybe I should give her a little nudge, in case she was hesitating.
“Haha, so Miss Mirabelle is interested in accessor… ies…”
My words trailed off the moment I saw what Mirabelle was looking at. Because she was staring at a shackle. The kind you put on a slave.
…?
Why was she fiddling with that?
Just in case, I asked.
“You’re not interested in the shackle, are you?”
“A little.”
What?
Of all the countless accessories, why a shackle?
“I’m a slave, but I don’t have any kind of mark, right? That’s why people get confused, like just now.”
“That’s not really a problem, is it?”
“But everyone says things to you, Master.”
Well, it was particularly bad in my case.
This wasn't the modern era where slavery didn't exist; any family with a bit of money owned at least one slave. And what was one? Some had them in the double digits.
Considering that, I only had Mirabelle. And even taking into account that I was a slave trader, people were unusually harsh with me.
The cause was probably Mirabelle herself.
She was just so pretty.
People wanted to dote on her, so when they heard she was a slave, it sparked a backlash.
But I had no idea why Mirabelle was worried about that. In any case, I was against it. As a slave aficionado, I couldn't have her walking around in shackles.
“You really don’t have to. I got used to the negative looks a long time ago.”
But Mirabelle shook her head vehemently, insisting that wouldn't do.
“You’re not someone who deserves to be looked at that way, Master. Don’t worry about me and just pick one.”
“No, I…”
My head was spinning. The scene reminded me of some feminist manga from the islands. The one where even after her limbs are cut off, everyone, man and woman, is happy in the end…
“Hurry.”
As I hesitated, Mirabelle pressed me.
My mind reeled, but with Mirabelle being so insistent, I had no choice. As I’d said many times, Mirabelle was the one in charge. I couldn't afford to displease her.
Which one would be good?
The red one was too flashy and looked like a dog collar, while the gray one was too drab…
In the end, I chose a black shackle. It was simple, and it suited Mirabelle’s quiet atmosphere so well that it looked more like an accessory than a restraint.
“I think this one looks the most decent…”
“Then I’ll take that one.”
Rustle.
Agreeing readily, Mirabelle swept her hair over her shoulder and presented her small face. The way she waited with her eyes closed, she looked like someone about to accept a marriage proposal.
The only problem was that this was a neck ring, not a finger ring.
I don't even know anymore.
Whatever happens, happens. I carefully fastened the shackle around Mirabelle’s slender neck, which looked like it would break at the slightest touch. It locked with a soft click.
“There. It’s on.”
Mirabelle stroked the shackle on her neck with a gentle hand, and a faint smile graced her lips, as if she was pleased with it.
*
Having gone everywhere we could think of, we found ourselves with nowhere else to go. So, we took a nondescript walk along the road.
Mirabelle walked beside me. It might have just been my imagination, but she seemed to be holding her shoulders straighter than before.
Whenever other slaves passed by, she would glance at them with a superior smile. It was… like the look of a rich madam carrying an expensive designer bag.
I couldn't understand why she was making that face, but she was.
Watching her made my mind a mess.
Am I raising this child wrong?
In the game, if you built up enough affection, the slave would sometimes make advances on you. If you had adult verification, they’d even make sexual appeals quite often.
My concern was that it wasn't the right time for that yet. We hadn't been together long enough to build that much affection, and the only item I’d given her was the Heavenly Covenant.
Even then, now that this was reality and not a game, it was hard to believe her affection had grown. After all, Mirabelle had been repulsed by the memento of a dead person.
What the hell is going on?
It had been a day where my attempt to normalize Mirabelle had only made things worse.
After a few more days of fretting, the dungeon finally appeared.