Slaves of the Colosseum (4)

Apparently tired of explaining any further, the Lanista simply hurled the letter he'd been holding at us.

"What the hell did you do to get fan mail already?"

Go Gyumin shot a bewildered, hollow laugh at the letter sailing through the air.

I picked it up slowly and unfolded the paper. Luxurious stock, written in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flowing cursive. It should have been in an ancient Roman tongue, but for our convenience, the words read themselves in Korean.

"Siwoon, it seems you threw quite the flashy punch out there."

"……."

Jang Siwoon, looking embarrassed, turned her gaze to the empty air and coughed.

"So who exactly wrote this letter to me?"

"Shut up and follow me. They are not someone the likes of you are entitled to ask the name of."

As the Lanista opened the door again, his murmured voice was unusually low and quiet. Whoever had written to Jang Siwoon was evidently quite the high-ranking figure.

'I did not expect this kind of atmosphere. It's throwing me off.'

It was a completely different scene from the damp air of the Colosseum's underground or the training school. No wonder we'd walked so long down that dim, secluded passage after leaving the underground corridor.

A room perfumed with a subtle fragrance, elaborately carved pillars, even the texture of the fabric spread across the floor—this was the living space of a noble.

And there, sprawled in a chair, sat a woman. The noblewoman who owned this room, without a doubt.

At the Lanista's command, we stood silently in place. The noblewoman rose from her chair and approached us, and in her languid movements there was an unmistakable air of leisure.

"Oh my. These slaves are wearing both shirt and trousers. To think they haven't even been changed into foreign garb…."

Her tone dripped with the same unhurried ease as her gestures. Even the way she appraised us came as naturally as breathing.

As the three of us stood there awkwardly frozen, the noblewoman gave a soft smile and ran her hands over our clothes.

"I am Claudia. Your owner."

"!!"

"My servant captured you and made you slaves."

Well, she was a noblewoman who kept slaves. She had every reason to be arrogant toward us.

"You haven't entered the arena yet, but I hear you put on a very fine street brawl. No—perhaps it wasn't a fight at all, but a one-sided assault, was it?"

Fluttering her long lashes, the woman looked us over one by one. Even being praised, none of us relaxed.

'Slave gladiators in ancient Rome lived lives that hung on the whims of the nobility, after all.'

"Now then. Which of the three threw the punch?"

At Claudia's question, Jang Siwoon raised her hand. Startled, Claudia drew close and inspected her frame. Perhaps she liked Jang Siwoon's body—smaller than the noblewoman's, but sturdy and compact—because Claudia smiled and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Haah. In that case, you two are unnecessary. Go back out."

"!!"

The moment Claudia finished speaking, my heart dropped like a stone.

'This isn't just some simple break. She's an NPC we've suddenly been brought before—there has to be useful information or an opportunity here.'

Jang Siwoon might extract the information and relay it to us later, but still.

"You two wouldn't last a single day in this Colosseum anyway. Leaving now wouldn't be such a bad thing."

…This didn't feel like a mere evaluation. It felt strongly like a selection. The anxiety that being thrown out of this room would be the end of us kept my feet rooted in place while my mind raced.

And then—

"These two are stronger than I am. They were very mighty warriors in the East."

Jang Siwoon laid out the lie with a perfectly straight face. Claudia narrowed her eyes slyly and stared at the two "mighty Eastern warriors"—me and Go Gyumin.

"Is that true?"

"Yes."

"If it turns out to be a lie, your head will leave your shoulders."

"Yes. The three of us will see to it that Lady Claudia is entertained together."

Unshaken in the slightest, Jang Siwoon coolly held Claudia in place. At the word 'entertained,' Claudia's lips curled slowly upward.

"Entertained? Ahh—"

That subtle change of hers was somehow even more ominous. Claudia patted Jang Siwoon's shoulder with her long fingers, then began to stroke it, slow and deliberate.

'Something about this feels off….'

Suddenly I recalled the hedonistic lives of Roman nobles I'd read about once in a book. A life lived at the very height of luxury and pleasure.

A warning light flickered on in my head.

'Jang Siwoon. You're looking at a Roman aristocrat far too innocently.'

The instant I understood the gap between Jang Siwoon's idea of "fun" and Claudia's, I opened my mouth on reflex and blurted out:

"Let us tell you tales of our exploits!"

At my almost-shouted words, Claudia gave a little hum through her nose.

"Tales of exploits, you say."

Claudia beckoned lightly to the servants, who immediately moved to fill the cups. A sweetly fragrant wine was poured into the goblet in her hand.

"Slaves all carry the same heroic war stories."

Claudia took a sip and added, with studied indifference. Drunk as she seemed on decadent pleasure, she appeared to need something to break her boredom.

"We are not mere slaves."

"Not mere?"

"We are to fight in the Colosseum soon. And our opponents will fall before us."

"Barely worth the word."

Claudia looked at me and shook her head with a disappointed face. No matter how much I emphasized our strength, to her we were just more slave gladiators she'd seen pass through countless times.

"I can kill anyone."

I wondered if I'd opened my mouth too wide in my effort to seem special—but in that instant, Claudia's eyes glinted, ever so slightly.

I didn't miss the change. Wearily smiling, I pressed on.

"Before that—how we've fought. How we've survived."

"……."

"Why not hear it from us directly?"

It was a very brief silence, but it felt long. A slave is a fly whose life sways at a noble's whim, and my heart pounded every time Claudia raised her cup and set it down.

"Intriguing."

Claudia drained the wine in her cup, set the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠goblet down on the table, and tapped its rim with her thin, long fingers. Tap. Tap. The regular sound spread softly through the room.

"This is the first time I've met a slave gladiator so talkative."

Claudia still didn't seem to hold much expectation for me and Go Gyumin as gladiators. But as entertainment, we apparently weren't bad, because her laughter showed an overt flicker of interest.

"Very well. Go on, then."

"Haha. You fought with singing?"

"Yes. She was a woman who unleashed attacks with an enormous voice."

"A talking rabbit, too. Truly astonishing."

"Yes. There were truly many battles."

While I spun our war stories, Claudia reacted with every manner of expression, clearly enjoying herself. Go Gyumin, whose gift of gab only surfaced when he was performing pansori, and Jang Siwoon, who had no gift of gab at all, stood quietly by.

'I'm no great orator myself, but of the three of us, I figured I was the least likely to cause a disaster.'

Apparently Siwoon and Gyumin felt the same, because they kept their mouths firmly shut and only sent me encouraging looks.

"What a relief I decided to spare all three of you. If not for the woman gladiator, I was going to hand the other two over as food for a starving lion."

"……."

If Jang Siwoon hadn't lied earlier, Go Gyumin and I might have been disassembled into data inside a lion's mouth by now. I flinched, my body trembling for an instant, but I absolutely refused to show it.

"The stronger our opponent, the more we found another way through."

"Attend me, then."

"……."

'Climbing the tower, and now I've been demoted to cupbearer.'

At Claudia's command, I forced my expression into composure and poured her wine. Perhaps she liked how deferentially I served it, because the corners of Claudia's mouth kept curving upward.

"That's how we survived, somehow, and made it this far."

"To know how to survive… that certainly has value. Few survive long in the Colosseum."

The blood-red liquid swayed slowly in the cup.

"Most of them… simply spill their blood, and that is the end. But to merely die, and—"

Claudia swallowed half of that red wine cleanly down her throat.

"—to die as a spectacle, those are different things."

Then she turned the cup upside down and splashed the rest onto the floor.

'Ugh—'

The red liquid splattered at my feet, fouling the surroundings. Having to keep catering to a noble's arrogant whims was quietly grating on my nerves.

"Which do you think will be remembered longer?"

A short question, but a weighty one.

"The one who's shown, I'd say."

Jang Siwoon, who had been standing silently all this while, answered without hesitation. Had she noticed me gritting my teeth and stepped in to help?

"Indeed. You have more sense than I gave you credit for."

Satisfied, Claudia bestowed an aristocrat's praise upon the three of us.

"The duels here are not mere fights. The spectators crave blood, yes—but they crave a story in the same breath."

Her finger traced a slow circle in the air, as if sketching an invisible stage—the circular arena.

"Who kills whom, how, and how beautifully. How beautifully one dies."

"……."

"Every part of that process becomes 'the spectacle.'"

In other words, the Colosseum's duels weren't simple fights—they carried the character of staged performances, complete with direction.

"So mindlessly charging in would be rather dull."

"Then the staging would change depending on the opponent, wouldn't it?"

I carefully added my opinion to Claudia's words—ostensibly playing the attentive servant, but secretly angling for a hint.

"Staging, is it. Yes. The audience is the judge. You must aim for the heart."

"I wonder if our opponents can also aim for the heart, as we can."

"The one you'll face this time is… not your ordinary sort of gladiator."

At last, a hint spilled from Claudia's lips. Without so much as blinking, I listened as quietly as I could.

"Massive build. Immense strength. Even if several ordinary men threw themselves at him, he would not fall easily."

At that description of our opponent, Go Gyumin's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. Jang Siwoon looked at me with a troubled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expression too. Of course we'd expected a strong opponent, given that three Visitors would be attacking together.

'Even so, the description is way too terrifying. Is it some kind of animal?'

"And his vision is unique."

…Unique vision?

"Instead of taking in everything broadly, he fixates on one thing—and then he sees nothing else."

"Why is that…?"

"Because his gaze touches only one place."

It felt like solving some cryptic riddle, and I found myself frowning without meaning to.

'His gaze touches only one place. Does he have only one eye?'

"All ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the more entertaining for it. The spectators love him."

I rapidly pieced together the information Claudia had given me. An enormous frame. Overwhelming strength. A peculiar structure of vision.

"Then we should exploit his weakness, claim victory, and take the crowd's hearts."

"Did I say anything of the sort?"

"……."

"Interpretation is your own affair."

"Then why did you tell us at all?"

At my question, Claudia rose slowly from her seat. The hem of her dress flowed down like a ripple.

"Because I am your patron and your owner. I have to raise your odds of winning."

As she moved toward the door, she turned her head one last time.

"Simply winning is no fun. When you defeat a monster, you must become great heroes."

A monster….

"I expect great things. Do be sure to provide me with pleasure."

Claudia departed into another chamber, and the servants quietly ushered us out, closing the door behind us.

'I didn't learn exactly who our opponent is, but now I can make an educated guess.'

It was the word 'monster'—the one Claudia had mentioned last—that kept nagging at me.