'Jully?' It was the first time she had heard someone refer to her by her name.
As she stood there, her eyes fixed on the child they had been assigned to kill once their task was complete.
Positioned behind Vorila and at her father's side, the young woman gazed straight ahead at a healthy child who, at first glance, appeared much like other noblemen's offspring.
His plump figure indicated that he was raised in comfort, likely indulging in lavish meals while characteristically tormenting and abusing their slaves.
Not that she believed any child from a noble family could be innocent; she had witnessed far too many instances to perceive them otherwise.
They were nothing short of little demons, leading her to scar her own face in the hopes of appearing grotesque and unappealing to such children.
She couldn't understand the genuine smile on his face when he talked about giving them a name.
Having seen numerous children, even at the tender ages of ten or eleven, attempt to use her as a plaything, she was acutely aware of the predatory nature that festered in their hearts.
Her own mother had been sacrificed to a nobleman for her beauty, a sacrifice that filled her with dread, believing she too might meet a similar fate.
In a desperate act of survival, she fled from that place, burning her own body in the process.
Lacking any formidable abilities, she had contemplated how to better utilize her body and learn to defend herself, yet each thought felt futile.
Her sole talent lay in her ability to manipulate metals, which was not as powerful as it might seem.
It allowed her to manipulate only one kilogram of metal, but there was a cooldown of one month.
It was painfully evident that even if she were to forge a sword and attempt to wield it, she would remain defenseless for another month thereafter.
With no one to train her or treat her as a fellow human, having been born into slavery, she had witnessed enough horrors to extinguish any will she might have had for retaliation or revenge for her mother's fate.
'No, they're all the same.'
She closed her eyes, fully aware that despite his youthful appearance, this child was a demon in the making, even for merely contemplating the ownership of a slave at such a tender age.
She recognized that the path he was on would undoubtedly lead him to become a devil like the others, taking pleasure in cruelty and destruction.
So, she resolved to follow her master's orders and carry out the assassination of that child.
After all, he was a nobleman, and killing him could potentially offer her life a new purpose, a means to achieve revenge, even if it was at the behest of yet another noble.
Given his status, she had ample justification to eliminate him before he became a monster.
Upon her arrival, she had witnessed their territory, already ravaged by relentless snow, devoid of any vegetation.
For her, living in this barren place meant certain death.
He couldn't even extend the decency of providing his people with adequate food or sufficient crops, much less offer a single loaf of bread to his slaves.
Rather than starve, just like their prior master who had denied them even a crumb, forcing them to forage for grass and weeds, it seemed wiser to execute her mission and end this child's life.
She wanted to survive and live.
And she would live even at the cost of killing someone.
'Is it done already?' she thought as she noticed the merchant had finished explaining the intricacies of the slave seal to the young child.
She doubted the boy would remember any of it, as it was likely just a fleeting curiosity that he would soon forget.
"I see, so you're saying we need to embed this drawing onto the back of the slave and then drop a single drop of blood onto this paper, right?"
Lucian gazed intently at the drawing, struggling to make sense of the complex symbols interspersed within the star-like shape.
The small inscriptions at the center only added to the confusion, making it difficult to discern their meaning.
"Yes, that's correct, but it's not something a normal human can accomplish. We need mages who are knowledgeable in that ancient language," Vorila replied to the child with earnestness.
He quietly communicated through subtle gestures, emphasizing that due to the confusing language and its designs, replicating it and placing it on the slave's body was impossible without an expert like mages who were able to write these runes.
For without understanding the meanings behind those symbols, the task was impossible.
"Huh? But isn't this just copying and pasting these exact shapes?" Lucian tilted his head, his confusion evident as he looked at Vorila.
He couldn't understand why a mage was necessary when it seemed so simple to him.
"Copy?"
Vorila blinked in surprise at the child's insight.
It was clear that Lucian was no ordinary four-year-old; his intelligence shone through as he articulated his thoughts.
Rather than perplexing himself with the complexity of the task, Vorila merely nodded.
"Yes, you could say that, but only if you'd be able to do it." He refrained from mentioning how challenging it would be to accurately replicate those intricate scripts.
A single misstroke could result in failure.
Even mages need so much concentration and focus.
"Hm, I understand," Lucian remarked, skimming through the document while observing the body language of all three individuals present: the merchant and his two slaves.
He sensed their intentions—he was aware they planned to kill him once their task was complete.
Not because he could read minds, but rather, through experience, he understood the thought processes of people like them.
After all, Lucian had led this man to believe he was using Lucian for years, making this man busy in his own dream world until Lucian was at least strong enough to move and write on his own.
In the end, he was literally a 4-year-old child right now, with a weight of already more than 24 kg.
All this time was needed for him to become accustomed to training regularly and to adjust himself to this world, understanding it, learning its language, and gaining all the knowledge he could while laying low.
Additionally, he needed to write down every bit of memory he had from those couples inside his survival manual. Being busy with other tasks, it was possible for him to forget those memories, even a small bit of information, which made him rest for three years since his birth.
Now that he had developed a solid foundation and strengthened his body to at least move like a normal child, he instructed the merchant to procure a slave seal.
"But how does someone become a slave? Do they need to consent, or can they be forced into it?" Lucian posed one final question, eager to understand the conditions that governed enslavement.
After all, he wanted his first slave to be a fat, wealthy gorilla merchant.