Chapter 3: Mirabelle, the Abandoned Witch (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 3: Mirabelle, the Abandoned Witch (2)
“Ah, yes. Mirabelle. How does Mirabelle sound?”
The moment the man gave her a new name, the girl with dead eyes lifted her head, her pupils dilating.
Because that was Mirabelle's real name.
A name her parents had supposedly spent sleepless nights agonizing over, a name meant for her and her alone in this world.
But once she became a slave, Mirabelle was never called by her name again. The slave trader hadn't cared to ask for her name; after deeming her a valuable commodity, he had simply slapped the classification ‘number 17’ on her.
Mirabelle, for her part, didn't bother to reveal it. She had decided to discard her name then and there. Her mother, who had given her the name, was dead, and her father had abandoned her.
To Mirabelle, her own name was like a curse.
And now, the curse she thought she had cast aside had latched onto her again. And through a man she had never met before, no less. The Reaper, who called himself a gentleman, wore a sly, knowing expression.
“Do... Do you know me?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“That name you just said... it's my name.”
Her original name was the same as the one given by a man she'd just met. Could this truly be a coincidence?
Things like that, things that felt like fate, didn't just happen. Mirabelle was certain this man knew her. That must be why he'd spent a fortune—a thousand gold coins—to buy her. Where could he have seen her? Was he from her village?
“Yes, it is your name. Because I just gave it to you.”
But the man deflected with a smile that made his true intentions hard to read. She couldn't let him lead her on. Mirabelle squeezed the words out.
“Th-that's not what I mean. My name was Mirabelle even before you gave it to me.”
“How strange. Didn't you say just a moment ago that you didn't have a name?”
“W-well, that's...”
Mirabelle couldn't answer. The lie she had told so thoughtlessly had come back like a boomerang to bite her.
She felt like she'd walked into a trap.
It was deeply unsettling.
Her head spinning, Mirabelle couldn't think of a proper question and just repeated what she'd said before.
“Do... Do you know me?”
“Of course not. Do you know me, Miss Mirabelle?”
Mirabelle shook her head.
“This is the first time I've seen you as well.”
In person.
I'd always seen her through a monitor. I wasn't lying. Just omitting a few details.
Naturally, Mirabelle didn't believe him so easily. Though she was afraid to meet his eyes, she watched Karami with a gaze full of suspicion.
Just as she looked like she was about to say something else, Karami beat her to the punch.
“There's no grand reason why I chose the name Mirabelle. It's simply because I felt it suited you best.”
“You... felt it suited me?”
“The name Mirabelle comes from the word 'miracle.' A miracle—a mystery truly beyond human comprehension. You exude that kind of mysterious aura, Miss Mirabelle. In my life as a slave trader, I've seen mages, clergy, and even elves, but I've never felt anything like this.”
Mirabelle's expression turned to one of disbelief once more. When she had asked her mother about it long ago, she'd said the same thing—that it came from the word 'miracle.'
Of course, the specific reason was different. Her mother hadn't mentioned anything about a mysterious aura; she'd said that Mirabelle's beautiful, healthy birth was the miracle, and that's why she'd chosen the name.
Though she seemed to accept his plausible explanation, Mirabelle didn't let go of her suspicions so easily. She still didn't like the name.
“S-still, I don't want to be Mirabelle.”
“But I was under the impression you said anything would be fine.”
“I don't like it.”
Karami stroked his chin, looking troubled.
“Well, if you really hate it, we can choose another name. I have no hobby of tormenting others. Hmm, your hair is black, so how about... Blackie?”
“...What?”
“No, on second thought, you have a cat-like face. In that case, how about Kim Chunbae?”
Mirabelle's pupils trembled, darting left and right. Karami was pondering with a serious expression, muttering inscrutable words like 'Nabi' and 'T'ekkaluk.' He wasn't joking; he genuinely thought those were good names.
If this continued, she'd end up stuck with some bizarre thing that barely qualified as a name. With her soul already in his grasp, Mirabelle had no way to resist.
If that was the case, she'd rather...
“I'll just be Mirabelle. I like it.”
“Right? I thought it was a good choice, Miss Mirabelle.”
As if he'd been waiting for just that, Karami accepted without a moment's hesitation.
The long, drawn-out introduction was finally over.
The stiff atmosphere had eased somewhat, so it was time to move on to the next step.
Grumble.
But then.
A cute stomach-rumbling sound came from somewhere. Mirabelle whipped her hands over her stomach and glanced nervously at Karami, who gave her a wicked grin.
*
Frantically.
What was the point of all her previous wariness? Mirabelle inhaled the food spread before her without even chewing.
'Is she a person or a cat?'
She was just like a cat that would hiss whenever you made eye contact, only to start gobbling up a can of tuna the moment you offered it. But if you tried to touch it, it would bare its claws.
Well, it was understandable. She probably hadn't had a proper meal since she became a slave. So, what I ordered for Mirabelle was the inn's specialty dishes.
I don't recall ordering a side of 'That bastard is fattening her up to eat her,' but I accepted the gossip as a service filled with affection and received it with gratitude.
My lifespan just increased by three years.
Had she forgotten I was sitting right in front of her? Without uttering a single word, Mirabelle sucked up the food like a vacuum cleaner.
She scraped the bottom of the soup bowl clean, then set it down with a cheerful clink!
Then she gulped down a glass of water.
And to top it off, she wore the happiest expression in the world. I was speechless.
“Was it that good?”
“Yes... It was the most delicious thing I've ever... I-it wasn't.”
“Haha, is that so? I paid good money for this, and you say it was no good. I'll have to have a word with the innkeeper. Tell him my slave said the food was disgustingly bad. That she wouldn't eat it even if you paid her.”
“W-wait! I didn't say that!”
As I started to get up, Mirabelle urgently grabbed my arm. What's the matter? I feigned ignorance and studied her expression.
Mirabelle stared intently at the floor, her lips trembling, before she finally managed to speak.
“I-it was delicious. The best thing I've eaten recently. S-so please don't do that.”
“The innkeeper will be delighted to hear that. I'll be sure to pass it along before we leave.”
All we did was share a meal, but the atmosphere was clearly much more relaxed than before.
As expected, there's no better way to win someone over than buying them a meal. With her stomach full, I could literally see the door to her heart creak open just a little.
“Now that you've eaten, it's time for a change of clothes.”
“Clothes?”
“Yes.”
I gave Mirabelle's attire a quick scan from top to bottom.
Perhaps because she was a high-end slave sold at the Slave Carnival, she was quite clean for a slave. However, the thing she wore—a piece of cloth roughly cut and draped over her—could hardly be called clothes. She clearly needed a new outfit.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, 'why'?”
“I may not know much about the world, but people don't usually feed slaves meals like this, or give them new clothes just because their old ones are dirty.”
“That's not necessarily true. The noble lady who tried to buy you at the auction would have done the same.”
“But you're... the S-Slave Reaper, aren't you? A Reaper wouldn't treat someone well for no reason.”
“You're right. As a merchant, I don't offer kindness without expecting something in return. You understand that well. Don't forget it. That wariness of yours is an excellent trait.”
I didn't argue and simply agreed. After all, taking care of Mirabelle was clearly an act for my own benefit.
And so was what was coming next.
The corners of my mouth curled up into a wicked smile.
“Miss Mirabelle, you will have to satisfy my... personal desires.”
*
“Hic...”
Mirabelle let out a cute little sob.
I looked at her new outfit and let out a soft chuckle.
The clothes I had given Mirabelle. It was a maid outfit. And not just any maid outfit—one with a skirt so short it showed off everything from her thighs down! And white garter belts!
Because of the short length, Mirabelle tried to pull down the hem of her skirt, but it was no use.
'I chose a short one on purpose, after all.'
I'd prepared it for her a long time ago. I had a rough idea of her body size from the in-game information. I just didn't know it would suit her this well.
Mirabelle looked like a character straight out of an erotic doujinshi. The girl, an embodiment of timidity, glared at me with a look of contempt.
“W-why this outfit, of all things? What are you going to do to me...?”
“I just felt like putting you in it.”
“What...?”
“It's my preference.”
There was no other reason.
I wasn't going to make a girl who'd suffered enough do chores, and I certainly wasn't going to make her a sex slave. Besides, who can resist putting a cute girl in a maid outfit?
This isn't some 2D illustration I'm used to seeing; this is the real deal.
And a super shy one at that?
'A cute witch in a maid outfit. Oh shit. There's no way I can resist this.'
That was the reason.
“Alright, our business here is done. Let's go.”
Liberate Narsha. Rescue Mirabelle.
There's nothing left for me in Kalia.
“Go? Go where?”
The next destination was decided from the start. It wasn't even a choice—it was the one place we absolutely had to go now that I'd rescued Mirabelle.
“To Riveria, the city of magic and mystery.”
The project to make Mirabelle a Great Witch has begun.