[Mirabelle, the Outcast Witch]
Mirabelle was exactly who she said she was in her status window.
Born in a small town with no name, she was an ordinary girl who lived in a small inn run by her parents.
With her cute appearance and bubbly personality, it wasn't hard for her to win the hearts of the local boys.
One day, time passes slowly. An outsider came to the village.
A paladin and a priest had gotten separated from their group while slaying a demon and were lost. Exhausted and dying of exhaustion, they were lucky enough to stumble upon Mirabelle's village.
The clerics found themselves tied up in Mirabelle's inn.
But the faithful see things that others do not, and feel things that others do not. Magick, for example, or evil curses.
Or the aura of a witch.
The clerics sensed a witch's aura in the inn, if nothing else, but it was not Mirabelle's. She was an ordinary girl, not yet awakened as a witch.
Witches are an immutable maternal bloodline, so if Mirabelle was a witch, then her mother was a witch.
The day her identity is discovered.
The escape began in the middle of the night. Mirabelle flees, holding her parents' hands, unaware of the consequences.
But as the priests sent word to neighboring cities, the siege tightened, and Mirabelle's mother, realizing it was impossible for them all to escape, chose to sacrifice herself.
To let just the two of them escape while she stalled for time.
The plan succeeds.
But Mirabelle's mother was burned at the stake in front of a huge crowd.
'It's a pretty tear-jerking story up to this point.
Trouble came next.
Unaware that his wife and daughter were witches, he sold Mirabelle into slavery as revenge for being cheated out of his life.
He cursed her a lot for this, saying how could he sell her? The father, and the game company that made tragedy porn.
I apologize.
A witch who lost her mother, was abandoned by her father, and enslaved.
Mirabelle, an abandoned witch.
That's the basic story of Mirabelle.
"Pale, pure white skin. Soft hair the color of the night sky. Abandoned by my father, I'm looking for someone to save this poor girl. Oh, and a virgin, of course."
The Master of Ceremonies recites Mirabelle's physical description, and pauses. A slave with a story resonates with some of the more sensitive ladies.
In other words, they're scrambling to sell her for the highest possible price.
"Then the starting bid is 50 gold."
Fifty gold.
It's a bargain if you know Mirabelle has magical talents, but no one here knows that. It's based solely on her looks.
Fifty gold for a slave whose only value is her beauty. There's no such thing as a scam. They're just trying to make a quick buck.
"Sixty gold."
"Sixty-five gold."
"I'll pay 75 gold."
But contrary to my expectations, the bidding goes up just as the moderator planned. That's how they make money. I'll have to spend it later. I learned a lesson.
"200 gold."
Just then, someone else bids much higher.
It was a middle-aged nobleman, his flesh shriveled. The way he looked at the frail Mirabelle, he looked like a man choosing a courtesan in a brothel.
It was lurid, and it burned with lust.
"I'll pay two hundred and thirty gold."
The other accepted.
A noblewoman in a rich dress, her face covered by a fan. A maternal figure who had fallen for the emcee's emotional maneuvering.
Pig and Mamang exchange sharp glances.
"You see that poor girl as a sexual object. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Just give her up. I'll let you live a happy life in my mansion."
"What are you talking about? A girl's happiness reaches its peak when she's under a man's legs. Three hundred gold."
"Three, 330."
"Four hundred."
The pig called out eight times the minimum bid, which was enough to keep a commoner's family of four well fed and entertained for years, and he threw it at a mere slave.
You're like a man who can't control his greed and throws money away. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
....
"Isn't that me?
I think back to the time when I paid hundreds of thousands of won for a girl. At least it's real, so I can touch it, I was a data cruncher....
'Kaaaahhh fuck. Stop packwidth!'
Enough with the self-pity.
The auction is coming to an end. It's a great way to get the most out of your time. The man confirms his victory.
The man declares his victory, the corners of his mouth curling up ugly as he envisions the future.
"Then I'll pay a thousand gold."
But what can I do?
There's a reason I can never give up.
A new bidder, well over double the previous bid. The crowd's eyes snapped to me.
"Noh, Karami the Slaver?"
"I thought you felt sorry for him when he was sold to the Dervishes, but it turns out he was a bargain?"
"I suppose so. It's better than dying, after all."
Well, I didn't kill anyone.
Call me a gentleman, not a slaver.
The man's eyes, so sure I had won, trembled with embarrassment at the unexpected ending.
Can you pay a thousand gold for a slave?
A thousand gold is enough to buy a mansion for some nobleman, but not me.
If you buy a package that costs ten thousand, you get a thousand gold plus some Zabari merchandise, which means that a thousand gold to me is ten thousand yuan or less!
While the rationalization is in full swing with such a miraculous calculation, the moderator takes over.
"That's a thousand gold, do you want more?"
"...."
The man finally looked away.
At twenty times the starting price, the moderator didn't even bother to hide his smile.
"Then the auction is over, Karami the Slave Reaper wins for one thousand gold!"
People cast pitying glances at the girl, some of the more sensitive ones even crying. Others glare at me, ready to shout profanities.
I say, "I'm not a reaper.
***]
I was handed the Mirabelle by the organizers.
Normally, a slave would either be fitted with a binding collar or branded with a magical effect, but I didn't need either.
I didn't realize it at first, but it's magic, and I've been asked, "Are you a sorcerer?" from time to time.
It's kind of nice to have people look at you with envy, something I didn't feel when I was a slave trader.
I returned with Mirabelle to the inn I had arranged for her. The innkeeper gave me a look on the way in that said, "That piece of human trash brought back another slave," but I shrugged it off.
I walked into my room and flopped down on the bed. An inn with a plush bed was more expensive than other places, but in the modern world, it was non-negotiable.
I'd pay a little more.
"Quite a harvest today."
I was well rewarded for freeing Narsha in the best condition possible, and I managed to get a crimson orb from Count Brianne.
I spent more money than I expected, but I also brought Mirabelle back with me, and the story couldn't have gone better.
....
Despite my intentions to lighten the mood, there was still a chill in the air.
Mirabelle stood somewhere, like an expressionless doll. Her eyes were vacant, the kind of vacant gaze you'd expect from someone with no life.
"Tsk.
Well, that's to be expected.
Your mother sacrificed herself for the family, and your father sold himself into slavery. She must feel abandoned by the world.
The first thing I need to do to save this poor girl is to open up and let her know she's not in danger.
I put on my best smile.
"Are your legs sore from standing for so long? Why don't you sit down?"
I patted the seat next to me, but Mirabelle didn't move. She shrugged and withdrew her hand.
"You don't have to sit down if you don't want to."
"...."
I don't know if this is a conversation or a monologue. My tightly closed mouth refuses to open.
But I can't give in here. This is the first step.
"Well, let's at least have a common name. My name is Karami. They call me the Slave Reaper, but I pride myself on having lived a fairly good life despite my tinnitus, so you needn't be intimidated. What's your name?"
"......uh...nothing."
My first answer. I asked for her name, and she didn't have one. You've been called Mirabelle your whole life.
She hides it on purpose. She doesn't want to use the name her father gave her, the name he sold her.
"Hmm, no name, that's awkward."
"...."
"But I can't be a gentleman and call people Slave #1 or #2. If you don't have a real name, is it okay if I call you whatever I want?"
"...."
Mirabelle doesn't respond to anything I say. I have to force her to respond.
"Hmm, I wonder which one would look good.... Ah, yes. Mirabelle, Mirabelle, what do you think?"
Yeah~ If you don't want to talk, don't talk.
But your name is Mirabelle.