Chapter 5: The Librian Road
I arranged a carriage for our journey to Libria.
As Mirabel climbed into the carriage, her expression was clouded with unease. Though she had yet to awaken her magical powers, she likely sensed her witch identity deep within.
After all, it's the root of all her misfortunes.
But I had no other choice. I needed to make Mirabel a witch to liberate her in her most powerful state.
In truth, freeing a slave only required meeting the bare minimum conditions. For Mirabel, that condition was removing her "distrust of humans" debuff.
The priests who had saved her killed her mother. The only family she had left betrayed her and sold her into slavery.
If I could resolve those issues and help her trust again, I could meet the requirements for her release.
But this was a Tycoon game.
Sure, a basic roll of seaweed and rice makes kimbap, but adding beef, spinach, and other ingredients turns it into a premium beef kimbap that sells for more. The same principle applied here.
I was going to invest everything I could into Mirabel to maximize her potential and, in return, reap the highest possible rewards. And teaching her magic was non-negotiable.
The carriage rolled along the forest path, the scent of trees and the chirping of birds filling the air. Everything felt peaceful.
I thought I heard the distant cries of some wild beasts dying, but I chose to ignore it.
With nothing else to do during the ride, I decided to check my status.
[Name: Karamir]
Title: Slave Hunter
Points: 27,000
First, the title.
Titles don't mean much in this world. In some games, titles provide stat bonuses, but not in Taosle. This is a slave-raising tycoon, not an RPG where I grow stronger.
But there was something curious. In the game, the title "Slave Hunter" didn't exist. It seemed that because people had started calling me that, it became an official title in my status.
Next up, the points.
Points are the currency earned by freeing slaves. You can use them to buy various items from the shop, but their most useful feature is converting them into gold.
The exchange rate is 1 point = 1 gold. In other words, it's real cash. With 27,000 points, I had 2,700 gold ready to use in case of emergencies.
Now, let's check the skills.
[Master Negotiator Lv.3]
Your words become more convincing and persuasive.
The description is vague, but the effect is real. Even if I say something ridiculous, it makes people stop and think, "Wait, could that actually be true?"
This skill had saved my skin more times than I could count.
But then there was this skill…
[Possession: Slave Trader]
You have been possessed by the soul of the slave trader Karamir. Your soul is synchronized with his.
This skill was meant to help me adjust to this world, so I wouldn't freak out when I saw someone die right in front of me. Instead, I'd just shrug it off with, "Ah, well."
The downside was that it altered my speech patterns. It wasn't just, "Ah, well," but more like, "Ah, well, it seems they've gone to meet their maker." And always with a sly smile.
That got me into so much trouble.
And it probably would again.
I closed the status screen and glanced across the carriage at Mirabel.
Her eyes were fixed downward, tracing an invisible line to the ground, her expression filled with the same gloom she had when I first saw her at the slave market.
When I had named her or dressed her in the maid outfit, she had shown some sparks of life. I had thought, "Maybe things will get better," but it was only temporary. Her wounds were deep, and they weren't healing easily.
But I wasn't one to just sit back and let her wallow. After all, a cute girl is much more valuable when she's smiling. As her master, it was my job to improve her mood.
"You're sitting in a way that shows your panties," I said casually.
"…"
Mirabel snapped her thighs together and glared at me as if I were some kind of pest.
I simply shrugged.
"Well, I did buy them for you, didn't I? No need to hide it—I already know what color and pattern they are. Haha."
"Th-that's completely different!" she shouted.
Her voice was louder than I had ever heard it before. Definitely an improvement.
By the way, they were white lace.
"Don't you have any questions for me, Mirabel? We'll be spending some time together, so it wouldn't hurt to get to know each other."
"Spending time together…? Not forever?"
"Did you want to stay with me forever? Ah, this sudden confession… I'm not sure I can handle it."
"…"
"Just kidding."
Her expression grew so cold I felt the need to apologize.
"When I said 'spending time together,' I didn't mean I was going to kill you."
"Kill me? I've heard the stories. I know why they call you the Slave Hunter."
Clearly, she doesn't know.
"What did you do to all those slaves?" she asked, her voice filled with suspicion.
"What slaves are you talking about?"
"The beastkin slaves. You bought dozens of them."
"Ah, them. Of course, I remember."
How could I not?
They were the first slaves I bought after being possessed and were responsible for my success. Without them, I'd still be working odd jobs at that inn.
"I sent them to a better place. Somewhere much nicer than the Kingdom of Trawl. They're probably doing well by now."
"Oh…"
"I imagine when I visit, they'll welcome me with open arms."
I loved telling this story.
"They'll welcome you, alright. Just so they can return everything you did to them," she muttered darkly.
"I certainly hope so."
Maybe then I could live happily ever after. Although, I'd be long gone by the time they got their revenge.
After two days of travel, we finally arrived at Libria.
"Halt. Do you have proof of identification?" asked a guard at the city gates, his tone strictly professional.
I pulled out the identification papers I had gotten from the Slave Traders' Guild.
"A slave trader… tch."
The guard's face twisted as if he were biting into a sour apple, but I was used to reactions like this.
"Libria's no place for scum like you. Get lost."
"As far as I know, there are no laws barring slave traders from entering the city," I replied calmly.
"You dare quote regulations at me, you filthy slave trader? I'm warning you—get lost while I'm still being nice."
Thud.
The guard shoved me roughly with his gauntleted hand, causing my scrawny frame to stumble back like a piece of paper in the wind.
So tiresome.
I knew exactly what this was about. He wanted a bribe. He was demanding a cut of the dirty money I had earned.
Funny how money becomes clean when it lands in their pockets.
But there's no point arguing.
This world runs on power, and I didn't have any. Instead, I put on my best smile and reached into my inner pocket.
"I understand completely, sir. However, I have important business with a noble inside. I wouldn't want to keep them waiting."
"You trying to threaten me now?"
"Haha, of course not. We all have to make a living, right? Here's a little something for you and your friends."
I handed him a pouch containing twenty gold coins. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
A guard's monthly wage was about 10 gold. I had just given him two months' pay as a bribe. It was a lot, but better to overpay than have him come back later asking for more.
I hate unnecessary trouble.
The guard stared at me, wide-eyed, and I flashed him a friendly smile.
"May I enter now? The noble is waiting, after all."
"Oh, y-yes, of course. Can't keep a noble waiting. Go right in."
"Thank you."
The guard stepped aside, and I walked through the gates with a calm, measured pace, Mirabel trailing behind me.
"How much did you give him?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"Twenty gold."
"T-twenty… gold?"
Mirabel began counting on her small fingers, whispering, "That's… one bread, two bread, three…," before letting out a shocked, "Eek!"
Her reaction was so cute that I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Why so surprised? After all, Mirabel, you cost a thousand gold."
"A-a thousand…"
Her face went blank as she tried to comprehend the amount. Her fingers stopped counting, and her mind seemed to drift off into space.
The first thing to do in any new city is to secure a place to stay. You don't want to be left without a bed for the night, especially in a world where the streets could be as dangerous as the wilds.
The inn I booked was called the Mage's Rest, conveniently located near the heart of the city. Fitting for a place like Libria, the City of Magic.
I got a two-person room, with two single beds.
Typically, a slave would sleep on the floor, but I was a gentleman—a gentleman among gentlemen. There was no way I was going to make my adorable slave sleep on the cold, hard ground.
"You can take that bed, Mirabel," I said, pointing to one of the beds.
"M-me?" she stammered.
"Yes. It would bother me if you slept on the floor. We have an early day tomorrow, so get some rest. I'll be going to sleep now—I'm exhausted from the long carriage ride."
I kicked off my shoes and lay down on my bed. I could feel her eyes on me, but after a while, the room grew quiet as she blew out the candle.
Meanwhile, back at the Brian estate…
"Lady Narsha is missing!"
"Where could she have gone? She was just in her room a moment ago!"
"Narsha! Where are you?"
The estate was in chaos once again. Two years after Narsha's return, she had disappeared in the middle of the night, and the entire household was in a frenzy.
"…"
Not far from the mansion, a lone figure stood beneath a tree, gazing at the estate under the moonlight.
It was Narsha Brian. Once more, she silently whispered an apology.
"Mother, Father… I'm sorry."
But a life without him was unimaginable.
The world may call Karamir a "Slave Hunter," but Narsha knew the truth. He was nothing like the cruel figure people imagined.
And she knew something else too—he was just as much of a lost soul as she was.
Narsha gripped the sword she had taken from the estate and turned her back on her family.
"Wait for me, Master."
She didn't understand why he had left her behind, but there had to be a reason. He was always seeing things no one else could comprehend.
Still, it hurt. How could he leave without saying a word?
When they met again, she would ask him.
"I'm coming to keep the promise we made—to be together forever."
And she'd deliver her revenge as a bonus.