Preserving the New Slave
It was the same old grill house I always went to, but today it was strangely packed. It was a tasty spot that usually stayed pretty quiet—had word gotten out? Park Si-young, the civil servant, waited for me with a slightly sulky expression. Even so, she picked up on my footsteps like clockwork and greeted me loudly the moment she spotted me.
"Hey, Seongha! Long time no see!"
"What do you mean 'long time'? It's been less than a week."
"Some VIPs call their assigned civil servants every other day. Not that it's usually for anything good!"
It was our usual corner table, but the moment I sat down, I could feel eyes converging on us. Men always drew attention, but today it felt excessive.
"Do other people meet their assigned civil servants that often?"
"Yeah, mostly for that stuff? They screw up, then call the civil servant like, 'Can you fix this for me~?' Covering up weird crimes or whatever."
In this world, orders to unprotected women or sexual harassment weren't crimes by law. Still, if it was bad enough to need covering up, they'd probably inflicted at least permanent injury.
"Thinking about it that way, you're such a nice guy, Seongha. You don't make many demands, you listen well... Wait, that sounds weird. Makes you seem like a total pushover."
"Enough. So why'd you call me this time?"
"Oh, just checking how you're getting along with your new slave. Definitely not because I was craving meat!"
She rambled on about how she'd get the side-eye from city hall if she had downtime, how she'd aced her exams to get assigned as a dedicated civil servant but still caught endless flak, how she and the other civil servants at city hall were all equally starved for sex, so why was she the only one taking heat. It turned into a full lament session.
"Anyway, uh, damn. This isn't exactly a fancy place for secret talks. This is top-tier intel, and it might leak..."
"Huh? What secret talk..."
Park Si-young leaned in close, whispering.
"Someone posted online about you meeting me here. That's why it's crawling with people—all gunning for you from afar."
"Ah."
No wonder it was so crowded; there were a ton of women with heavy makeup too. Looking around consciously, I spotted some dressed in outfits too revealing for just walking the streets.
"Anyway, how's the slave? Better than expected, right?"
"Yukiko's always pretty... treats me well. But it's not like I have zero worries..."
"What is it?"
Seeing her beaming with curiosity made me wonder if I was really consulting the right person.
"She doesn't sleep. I knew she slept little, but it's bad—asked her, and it's three? Four hours before she works nonstop."
"Pfft, aren't you the one not letting her sleep? She looked like she might struggle handling all that pent-up lust on her own..."
"Ah... haven't gone that far yet."
Park Si-young's face turned serious. She crossed her arms tight and sighed.
"Ah. Got it. So you've kept your new slave pristine and fresh for almost a week, but she's working too hard, and you want a way to stop her?"
Her tone carried a hint of resentment, but I couldn't figure out why.
"Well, if you're asking, I'll tell you. Order her to sleep. Her type won't listen to 'rest for your health' crap."
"Tried something like that, but... she keeps insisting she's fine."
"Sigh... Then order her indirectly. Say, 'I can't sleep— just lie next to me.' That'll do it."
Wasn't that the classic 'hold hands and sleep' seduction ploy? But with her pouting glare, I couldn't say it.
"Ugh, if you hate it, just sell the slave! You paid a fortune!"
"Okay, got it. I'll do it."
Yukiko looked fine on the surface—that's what worried me most. She'd be better off showing fatigue; instead, she seemed to be burning mental energy just to appear okay.
"Speaking of which, yeah, you paid a ton for that slave."
"Is it expensive? No clue."
"If all slaves cost this much, how rich would you need to be to own a thousand?"
"Never bought one, so no idea."
Park Si-young pulled out her phone, digging through messy files until she found something.
"This... about four times market price? Pretty, talented. Most have 'flaws' one way or another, so market-wise, even higher."
"'Flaws' meaning...?"
"Like older women who aren't virgins? Or bad personality, poor bedroom skills, whatever."
"Like she's merchandise... And the cost per Yukiko doesn't even hit minimum wage."
"She is merchandise."
Park Si-young got dead serious. Her chopsticks never stopped on the meat, but her attitude was firm.
"Seongha, how much do you think an oahole costs? Pre-war prices."
"Dunno, but under 100,000 won?"
"Slaves can talk, cook, have heads and limbs. Harsh, but women imported as slaves get zero human rights treatment. Legally."
"...I know."
No matter how exalted men's status had become, crimes beyond tolerance existed, like she said. Sexual harassment was innocent only up to touches or dirty talk; full-on rape with penetration was a clear crime if the woman resisted and reported. But slaves got protection only under the premise of being 'owner's property.' Punch her, kill her—it was just 'destroying your own property.' Unless corpse disposal sparked environmental issues, no defects.
And it all stemmed from women 'voluntarily consenting' for better lives. The official slave title, 'Voluntary Sexual Servant', stung every time.
"That's why imported slaves are extra proactive, desperate. Hard to snag a return ship, and without recognized skills or connections for work permits, they can't earn a living."
Even at the slave market last time, no ugly faces—beauties everywhere. They'd scraped East Asia's finest. Fail to get picked despite max effort? End up in dirty work, crime syndicates, or starving.
"Mood got dark. Anyway, point is... Yukiko worked her ass off to catch your eye, so don't be too harsh—or treat her like royalty. Got it?"
Her smile eased my mind a bit.
"Yukiko was registered exclusively for you at the market—if you ditch her, hard to find another owner..."
"Wait, that's real?"
"Yeah, 'exclusive slave request' system. Not popular. Like job interviews—risky to all-in on one. Better to pitch to every owner at market."
"Then why have it?"
"Red ocean market—stand out, get priority appeal... Some VIPs won't touch non-exclusives."
That sparked a question.
"How'd Yukiko know about me to request exclusive?"
I'd gone to the market first-time; no info I was buying slaves.
"Huh? True... Uh..."
"It's fine. I'll ask her."
Park Si-young rubbed her temple, then waved it off.
"No, I'll look into it. Probably nothing special."
"Problem?"
"Maybe, but minor if anything. Info leak probably—my job as dedicated civil servant to handle."
She grinned confidently: leave it to her.
We finished eating and stood.
"Don't sweat it, Seongha—just make Yukiko sleep! Command her 'sleep tight'. Essential!"
/////
The moment I opened the door, Yukiko right there in the entryway startled me. In her maid outfit, hands neatly clasped, she bowed deeply.
"Welcome home, Master."
She didn't always wear the maid outfit at home, but sometimes she'd surprise with a skimpier version or other revealing clothes. This was a full two-piece set—not overly exposing, but her breasts swelled prominently even over the fabric, and the corset-squeezed waist looked impossibly slim, still stirring desire.
I angled so she couldn't glimpse my crotch as I headed to my room. Post-Yukiko, the spotless room felt awkward no matter how many times. I'd been gaming hard when I realized the time. Usually I'd drag to bed past 3 or 4 AM for phone scrolling, but tonight, bed early.
Finding her was tough. I'd simulated dialogue endlessly, but it faltered from the start. She was cleaning one of the house's many unused rooms—needlessly vast, full of empties she tackled whenever time allowed.
"No need to push. Told you these rooms can stay."
"Ah, Master. Sorry for not noticing. Any orders?"
"Um..."
Deep breath, script ready.
"Can't sleep. Put me to bed."
Any elaborate persuasion crumbled facing her. For a guy with few woman convos outside family, talking to her overwhelming poise was high difficulty.
She froze, uncomprehending.
"Sorry. How may I assist?"
"Just... change to sleepwear, come to my room, lie with me."
Face burned saying it. Park Si-young's push had swayed me, but this felt clumsy as hell.
"Understood. One moment—finish this room, then right away."
"No. Sleepy now—change and come straight."
Unintended irritation slipped out; I startled, but cleaning unused rooms at sleep's expense irked me.
"Understood."
Back in my room, I sat on the bed. Heart pounded. Checked for discomfort spots. Light knock on the closed door. I steeled myself and said come in.