The Slave Trader's Eye
The first-floor reception room of the mansion, after returning from an outing. As I leaned back into the sofa, Silvia, dressed in her neat maid uniform, approached and bowed her head.
"Master. The slave auction house has contacted us to report that the sale of the two managers who were embezzling from our two business sites has been completed."
"The profit?"
"Three gold coins."
The price of lives for those worthless flies. I gave a light nod.
Tap. Tap. Light footsteps echoed across the marble floor. A silver fluffball darted energetically behind Silvia's skirt, racing back and forth across the first floor without a care.
"Kyuuung?"
The creature spotted me on the sofa and immediately changed targets, scampering straight to my feet. It was a beast that shoved its head against my shin while wagging its short tail furiously. I flicked its forehead with a finger as it tried to bite the hem of my pants.
"Progress on the training of the slaves currently undergoing discipline?"
"Among the combat personnel, one has dull spear technique combinations, and the other shifts their weight outward when striking," Silvia reported, drawing from her notes.
"It's not the arms that overcome the weight of the spear—it's the lower body that provides the center. Have them wear sandbags on their feet for a week."
"Understood."
"For the one whose weight shifts outward on impact, tell them to rebuild their lower body balance from the ground up."
These were instructions rooted in ruthless practicality and survival in real combat. Thanks to Victor's memories, I could deliver fast, precise feedback. Silvia's hazel eyes absorbed every detail without missing a single point.
"Among the maid slaves, one is quick with calculations but weak in managing food supplies, while the other is learning etiquette but still falls short."
"Send the quick-witted one to the kitchen. Knowledge without field experience only creates fools. As for the one lacking in etiquette, teach her the deficient areas yourself."
"I will."
"Once the remaining personnel are ready, integrate them immediately into the schedules of the completed slaves. There must be no wasted time."
Silvia bowed her head, committing the orders to memory.
As the report drew to a close, Elina entered the reception room, armed with a light leather cuirass and an iron sword.
"You called for m... ah."
Her gaze, which had been rising to greet her master, dropped downward. Rua, who had been playing at my feet, had suddenly leaped onto Elina's boots.
"Kyuuu!"
Clear, bright eyes looked up at her, front paws planted on her shin. The pupils of Elina—once called the Reaper of the Battlefield—softened faintly. She reached out and carefully scratched under Rua's soft chin.
"Pick it up and follow."
At my dry command, Elina hastily wiped the happy expression from her face and lifted Rua into her arms.
Inside the carriage heading toward the capital's slave market, Rua had settled comfortably in Elina's lap across from me. It seemed she had been eagerly anticipating this moment for some time; her hands never stopped stroking the fluffball's back.
"Master. May I ask a question?"
She carefully parted her lips while still rubbing under Rua's chin. I gave silent approval with my eyes.
Elina glanced down at Rua in her arms once before meeting my gaze.
"This child's name... does it have any connection to my former family name, Valois?"
A clumsy guess. I let out a light chuckle.
"They are the ones who tried to cut off my breath."
"......"
"I have no hobby of engraving hatred onto a beast that eats from my coin."
Elina's shoulders stiffened visibly.
"......I apologize. I briefly entertained a foolish misunderstanding."
A clean acceptance, quickly acknowledging her own sentimental error. Yet even as she spoke, Elina's hand never stopped gently stroking Rua's soft fur.
The carriage arrived at the largest comprehensive slave market in the capital. The air rang with lively hawking cries and the cheerful clink of coins. Yet beneath that overflowing vitality, a thick layer of despair clung to the endless rows of rusted iron cages.
The grotesque contrast between the market's living, breathing energy and the utterly crushed dignity of those inside. The slaves within the cages wore nothing but thin rags barely better than coarse burlap sacks. Buyers, under the pretense of appraising the goods, lifted and prodded those rags without hesitation.
"Hoho. Just look at the muscle density hidden beneath this tough hide. My bedchamber nights are particularly long and lonely, you see. I needed a sturdy stud that could plow the fields tirelessly until dawn, and this one seems absolutely perfect."
A corpulent noblewoman whose layered chin wobbled with every breath. She used the jeweled tip of her cane to blatantly poke and lift the front of a large minotaur beastman's ragged trousers.
A lewd touch gauging the heavy weight that swayed heavily beneath the thin cloth.
"Madam's refined eye is truly exceptional. This one boasts innate stamina and a beast's recovery ability. I guarantee you will have no regrets on those nights."
The slave dealer's oily flattery. The noblewoman, eyes gleaming with greed, tossed a pouch of gold coins without mercy.
"Wash him thoroughly and deliver him cleanly to my inner quarters. Tonight I shall thoroughly savor just how many times that vaunted recovery can withstand my weight. Hoho."
The moment the deal was struck, the slave manager pulled out a parchment stamped with a red magic seal and chanted a short incantation. Crimson magical energy snaked out from the parchment and coiled around the minotaur inside the cage like a serpent.
Crackle—!
"Kwaaaaaagh!"
The acrid smell of burning flesh and the beast's scream. A hideous brand in the pattern of the noblewoman's family—climbing roses—seared into the beastman's skin.
Across from them, a nobleman with a greasy, protruding belly roughly kneaded the inner thigh of a voluptuous female slave wearing only a single scrap of cloth.
"Hng...!"
The woman swallowed a pained moan, but the man only tightened his grip with sticky pleasure, savoring the elasticity of her flesh.
"Kuk kuk. The curves of her breasts and pelvis have ripened so deliciously. She'll make the perfect toy to toss into my underground banquet hall that I haven't opened in so long."
The man clicked his yellowed teeth with a vulgar smack of his lips.
"Even if the men bite and tear at her like beasts for days and nights, she won't break easily."
He roughly grabbed the woman's buttocks with his thick palm, then turned to the dealer with a cackling laugh.
"Just cover her with a carpet and throw her into the cargo hold of my carriage. Before I present her to the guests, the owner must first thoroughly appraise every nook and cranny to see if she's worth using."
Merchandise collared and violated like consumables. As Elina walked through that horrific scene, her blue eyes trembled faintly. The memory of standing on the auction block with her dress torn, forced to endure the ghastly gazes of countless men. She bit her bloodless lips tightly and stuck close behind me with a hardened face.
That was when it happened.
"Kwaaaaaagh!"
A piercing scream suddenly tore from a corner of the alley. A slave who had slipped his shackles and tried to flee was rolling across the dirt floor. The clear price of defying his owner. The brand on his collarbone burned with red heat, searing his flesh. The dealer mercilessly cracked his whip across the bloodied man's back.
A scene where human value had been completely castrated.
Elina, who had turned her eyes away, suddenly stopped dead in front of one particular cage.
Beyond the rusted iron bars, a very young girl, all skin and bones, was trembling violently. She looked so frail she might stop breathing at any moment. At the pitiful sight, Elina's eyes shook violently as deep pity welled up.
"Do you want to take her out?"
A direct question. Elina opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and shook her head.
"......No, Master."
With an indifferent gaze, I gestured toward the countless bloodied wretches trapped in the surrounding cages.
"If I tossed a few gold coins, I could pull her out of there right now."
"......"
"But tomorrow, dozens of identical children would fill that empty cage again. Unless you shatter the very structure of this industry that drags the powerless into the slaughterhouse, your meager sympathy is nothing but a waste for your own self-satisfaction."
A cold truth that tore reality apart. The bitter expression on Elina's face showed a tangle of complex emotions. She had never once considered the true underbelly of the world in her former noble life.
Today's procurement goal: ten combat slaves and five managerial slaves to properly run the business. While they had sufficient potential, I needed personnel who could be put to immediate use rather than buying bloodied wretches to train from scratch.
The situation called for selecting items in their late teens to early twenties—those whose foundations were already laid—so they could be deployed in real combat after only three or four months of training.
Victor's slaves. For this highly regarded brand not to break, I couldn't simply buy any slave and put them to work. I lacked the supernatural ability to see hidden potential at a glance or the use of holograms that the original Victor possessed.
But the combination of the data and intuition Victor had accumulated through experience, along with my own background as an M&A specialist who had evaluated the worth of companies and employees in my previous life, was nearly perfect.
I meticulously examined the old nameplate hanging on the first cage. The place of origin and the crime that had made them a slave. Then I sharply scrutinized the balance of their body, the rhythm of their breathing, and the shape of the calluses on their finger joints.
"Stand up."
At my command, the large man didn't even twitch. His dull, unfocused eyes showed he had completely given up on life after rolling across the harsh floor for so long.
Clang—!
The waiting dealer cracked his whip violently toward the cage.
"His Lordship is speaking! Get up right now!"
At the ear-splitting crack, the man reflexively flinched and staggered to his feet. Large build, uneven stance between his feet. An unbalanced posture with weight shifted outward. It was already an incurable habit etched deep into his bones. A clear calculation that forcing him would shatter his knees first.
I was about to turn away without regret when Rua, nestled in Elina's arms, sniffed the man's scent, opened its mouth wide, and let out a huge yawn.
"Kwaaahm."
I paid no attention to the beast's cute complaint and moved on to the next section.
A thin, scar-covered woman crouched in the corner. The original Victor had strictly avoided purchasing female combat slaves. The issue of perfectly isolating their quarters from the male slaves, the hassle of maintenance, and above all, the calculation that unnecessary incidents in a blood-boiling breeding pen would erode organizational discipline.
But that rule had been broken the moment I took in Elina. On the contrary, leaving Elina isolated in such an environment would likely create psychological defects. In a structure of strict control and clear rewards, groups naturally and blatantly check one another, divide into classes, and become the most perfect shackles that devour each individual's will to resist from the bottom up.
The most basic principle of organizational management.
I turned my steps toward a damp cage in the corner of the market. There, a scrawny woman crouched like a stray cat. Her skin, visible through the gaps in her rag-like clothing, was covered in countless small knife scars and marks. Eyes filled with the wary vigilance of a wild beast ready to bite through any collar at any moment.
The crime listed on the nameplate was attempted assassination. Normally, an assassin who targeted a noble would be summarily executed on the spot or end their life in a torture chamber. The fact that she had survived and been thrown into the slave market meant one of two things: either she had endured horrific torture to extract information about her client but never opened her mouth, becoming too troublesome to dispose of—or the noble who had been her target had deliberately thrown her into this gutter to inflict humiliation and shame worse than death.
I drew a crude dagger from the belt of the dealer guarding the cage and hurled it mercilessly toward the crouched woman's forehead.
"Catch it."
Chop!
The woman, who had shown no movement, reflexively sprang up and snatched the flying dagger. Not grabbing it with her entire palm, but using a reverse throwing grip with the blade slotted between her index and middle fingers. Even the unconscious step that began on the ball of her foot to silence her movement.
"Did you fail because your skills were lacking?"
At my dry question, the woman glared with bloodshot eyes.
"An assassin who failed her mission, surviving and caged like a beast. Doesn't that shame you?"
She ground her cracked lips and spat out a voice filled with malice.
"As long as I draw breath... I will survive somehow and without fail drive a blade into that bastard's heart."
A vengeful spirit that clung like a vengeful ghost. I rubbed my chin and spoke indifferently.
"What owner would pay money for a slave blinded by personal grudge?"
"......!"
"With thinking like that, you will never leave this cage for the rest of your life."
The woman's pupils shook horribly. But what caught my eye was not her despairing expression. It was the perfect balance of the muscles in her back and shoulders that had not crumbled even in this harsh environment. If an assassin of this caliber had failed, it proved that the target was no ordinary figure, or that an overwhelmingly skilled individual had been guarding their surroundings.
There was sufficient value for investment.
I declared to the woman without emotion.
"If you absolutely must fulfill that petty revenge of yours, then stab your own throat right now."
"......!"
"The moment my brand is engraved, you will never again speak of revenge according to your own will. If you hate that, then rot and die in this cage for the rest of your life."
A harsh binary choice. The woman gripped the dagger with trembling hands and, without hesitation, drove the tip toward her own throat.
Bang—!
Just before the blade could tear her skin, I kicked the old cage violently with my boot. At the eardrum-shattering roar and vibration, her hand reflexively froze in midair.
"With that much venom, you could make for a useful little rat."
The woman's shaking pupils. I thrust the cold terms of the contract through the bars.
"Five years."
"......!"
"Serve as my blade during that time and prove your perfect worth. When the term expires, I will release your collar and personally throw you into the middle of the hunting ground for the revenge you desire."
A lifeline thrown into a swamp of despair. A mad will to live exploded like fire in the woman's eyes.
My meticulous calculation—to inject the most perfect fuel of vengeance and squeeze the asset's efficiency to its limit. As I gave the dealer a curt nod to proceed with the purchase—
"Kyuuup!"
Rua perked its ears toward the woman and let out a short, cheerful sneeze.
No one around paid any meaning to the tiny sound. I, too, tossed the gold coins to the dealer without mercy.
I couldn't select only combat personnel. This time, I moved to another cage to examine talent for practical business operations.
The crime on the nameplate: embezzlement and fraud. Black ink stains beneath the fingernails and a back curved like a turtle's. I asked the scrawny man beyond the bars indifferently.
"When the southern empire's wheat harvest was cut in half, what is the first measure a trading company must take?"
My sudden question. The man flinched but quickly rolled his eyes shrewdly and answered immediately.
"Not to hoard the wheat... but to seize all the wagons and transport routes heading south, thereby taking control of the logistics throat."
Unwavering pupils.
"The standard for instantly identifying a rotting trading company is—"
"Not its flashy exterior, but the ratio of bad inventory piled in the warehouse and the scale of hidden debt from backers concealed in the ledgers."
Clear profit-and-loss calculations that leaped out despite his shrunken body.
"How much mischief did you pull in the company to get dragged here for embezzlement?"
A pointed interrogation. The man swallowed dryly, then stared straight at me with bloodshot eyes.
"I committed neither a single act of fraud nor any embezzlement."
"......"
"I am in this gutter because I refused to sign the rotten double ledgers of my superiors."
A desperate sense of injustice untainted by lies. In that moment, I saw the man's true value. A vicious conviction that refused to compromise even a single number in the books, even when his own neck was on the line.
Once again, Rua's sneeze sounded beside the man. I tossed the gold coins without hesitation.
After that, I scoured the market thoroughly, selecting slaves based solely on my intuitive judgment. And without fail, beside every one I chose with conviction, Rua's small sneeze could be heard.
A series of strange yet adorable coincidences. From behind me, Elina swallowed a deep sense of awe at my eye for spotting hidden talents that could never be measured by appearance alone.
As the sun began to set, in front of the handover area where the targeted slave purchases had been completed. The fifteen men and women I had bought stood in a line on the dirt floor, now incorporated as new assets of the Victor Trading Company. The brand of two crossed swords had been seared beneath their collarbones.
The large carriage rented for transport back to the mansion. After confirming that the driver was loading the branded slaves into the cargo hold one by one, Elina and I boarded the passenger compartment.
Inside the rattling carriage. On Elina's lap across from me, Rua spun around on her smooth, white bare thighs—avoiding her hard cuirass—as if searching for the softest angle. Having found the optimal spot, it rested its chin on the inside of her thigh and let out a comfortable breath.
It was just as the carriage was about to depart.
"Make way! Fresh goods that just arrived from another continent!"
A commotion arose at the entrance of the slave market. Dozens of large cargo wagons rolled in, kicking up clouds of dust. A slave dealer from another continent had arrived at the market with a massive group.
I, who had been holding the carriage door, stared outside in silence. After all, useful manpower was always welcome. The moment I chose to take one last look before returning to the mansion, the instant I opened the compartment door and moved toward the dealer's cargo wagons—
"Kyuuup! Kyuuup!"
Rua, who had been curled up on Elina's thigh, suddenly let out two cheerful sneezes in quick succession toward the wagons.