The Slave Merchant

The large manor stood in a back alley of the royal capital.

I was visiting a slave trader.

In a spacious reception room furnished with luxurious décor, I met the slave merchant.

A portly, middle-aged man with a gentle smile sat across the table from me.

Even I, with almost no common sense, could tell that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“So then, what business brings the former Hero to my establishment today?”

“I’ll be direct. I quit being a hero, so I came here to buy a slave.”

“Oh my… that is quite something.”

The slave merchant stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Then he sized me up from head to toe with the corner of his eye.

—He’s probably guessing how much money a man fired from his job might be carrying.

He might even be thinking of how to overcharge me.

But that was fine.

Honestly, I had already accepted that I might get swindled for the first one.

I was terrible at bargaining.

So I would get a slave with common sense, make them my advisor, and avoid being tricked from the second purchase onward.

Unless they were incredibly strange, they’d surely have more common sense than a greenhouse-raised fool like me.

The slave merchant spoke cautiously.

“And… what purpose do you seek in a slave?”

“I want one who can handle daily chores and has common sense. Age or gender doesn’t matter.”

“I see.”

The slave merchant fell even deeper into thought.

For the first one, all I needed was someone who could be my advisor, so I didn’t care if they were a man, a woman, a child, or an old person.

The merchant tilted his head.

“You say you quit being a hero—have you decided on your next occupation?”

“No, nothing. I don’t even know what I should be doing. I want a slave who can advise me on that too.”

I spoke plainly. As I keep saying, I’m awful at negotiation.

The slave merchant frowned.

“…Forgive me for asking, but what can you do besides slaying monsters?”

“Nothing… Other than hero work, I can’t do anything.”

“So I thought… I understand.”

He nodded with a face that said he understood everything.

His attitude bothered me, so I asked:

“How do you know that?”

“I know that Lord Alec has fought for the kingdom ever since childhood. One might say you reached your current age without ever learning any occupation besides being a hero. Therefore… I believe you will have no choice but to continue working in monster suppression.”

“So that means becoming a border soldier, or perhaps an adventurer?”

“Yes. For someone like Lord Alec, becoming an adventurer—accepting monster-slaying requests or exploring dungeons—would be ideal.”

“I see. I guess being an adventurer is my only option.”

I didn’t really know what that job entailed, but if it was just slaying monsters, maybe I could manage.

But would I earn enough? Could I make a living?

I knew nothing.

After thinking for a while, the merchant snapped his fingers.

A thin, elderly butler rushed over.

After the merchant whispered something into his ear, the butler left the room.

“Please wait a moment. I will bring a slave perfectly suited for Lord Alec.”

“I’ll rely on you.”

I had no idea whether it would be “perfect” or not.

—It’s fine if I get tricked on the first one. What matters is after that.

I had finished half my tea when the door to the reception room opened.

One by one, spaced out, beautiful girls walked across the wide room and lined up against the wall.

The first was a well-built woman with long blonde hair down to her waist, her ample chest bouncing with each step.

The second had short orange hair and long, toned limbs that made her look athletic and healthy.

The third was a delicate blonde girl—her pointed ears suggested she was an elf.

Spacing them out was probably to give time to inspect each one.

But I was left breathless.

—Eh? Slaves like these?

They were all so beautiful I felt nervous even speaking to them.

And at the same time, I thought: they must be expensive.

As expected, I was being set up as an easy mark. It was frustrating, but I accepted it.

However, not all of them were young women—the fourth was an old lady leaning on a crooked staff.

Her deeply wrinkled face and hooked nose made her look like a witch.

…No—green hair with streaks of white.

I’d fought something like her before. A witch, after all…?

While I was startled and wary, the witch herself grimaced the moment she walked in.

Had she sensed my uselessly abundant holy wave energy (Serâge)?

The fifth person finally entered the room.

She wore a white nun’s habit—unfitting for a slave.

She looked in her late teens or early twenties, a beautiful girl with a calm, mature air.

Her steps were graceful, demure, and her shining silver hair swayed as she walked.

—But then.

She bowed as she entered, and upon seeing me, her violet eyes widened so much they almost spilled out.

“…!”

She tried to speak, but hurriedly covered her mouth with her hand.

—What was that?

Did she know me?

Perhaps we had met during my hero days.

While I searched my memories, the slave merchant stood and began his explanation.