My name is ‘Kaito,’ and I’m a 17-year-old junior in high school.
I like working out, video games, and wasting time. I hate responsibilities and public speaking.
And right now, I’m sitting in a shaky wooden wagon being dragged through the dark wilderness by some kind of lizard-horse hybrid.
Why?
“Ah, that’s because I’m a slave.”
“Who are you talking to?”
The cart sways gently as it travels, but I remain still—mostly because I can’t move. Two armed people flank me on either side, their weapons resting lazily across their laps. The interior of the wagon is surprisingly decent, furnished with a bench and a thin carpet stretched across the wooden floor.
There are rectangular openings on each wall, likely meant as makeshift windows, though they're just wide enough to throw someone out of. If I weren’t so close to one of those windows, I would have leaped out myself a long time ago.
A collar rests tight around my neck—a black metal device cold against my skin.
Shortly after the woman known as Navi-I-forgot-her-last-name declared me as her slave, she quickly outfitted me with the collar around my neck, the thing closing quite quickly.
Judging by the sick smile on her face, I can come to the conclusion that she enjoyed every second, something that scares me.
I’m still processing the fact that I’m a slave.
Couldn’t I at least be a servant?
Don’t slaves do more laborious work, while servants get to do more household work?
I always figured if I got isekai’d, I’d at least get magic powers or a sword. Instead, I got a legally binding iron choker.
Dammit.
I guess I’ve come to accept my circumstances. It’s much better than being ripped to shreds by god-knows-what in that forest.
I sigh and glance to my left.
I turn to my left, where a young woman, who seems to be around my age, sits, writing down on what I assume to be a scroll. She’s wearing white fitted armor, with a navy black coat draped over her shoulders. She has long, flowing, black hair complemented by purple eyes, something that sends a warning signal up my brain.
Is that natural?
She has a calm, dignified air to her, like someone you’d see in a library.
Maybe she’s nice?
“You a slave too?” I say, attempting to start some kind of conversation.
She remains fixed on the scroll. “No. I am a member of this party.”
What a concise answer. Too concise.
“I see, I see,” I say, nodding my head. “Uh, do you think you can do me a favor and try to convince Snowball over there to let me go? You seem rational. Also morally grounded.. probably.”
Maybe she can do something about my impending doom. Please, do something.
Use the goodness in your pure heart.
The woman stops writing, then looks at me, her eyes full of what I hope to be confusion. Her head doesn’t shift with the wagon’s sway, and for a brief second, I swear she’s a mannequin with skin.
“You have not even introduced yourself, yet you ask a favor from me? Do you lack basic manners? I see now why Lieutenant Highergald has brought you in as a slave.”
I agree with the first part of what she said, yet the second part feels like a stab in the gut. The tone of her voice cuts through my gut as well, adding insult to injury.
I’m about to utter something that’d be better off not said when a pair of arms wrap themselves around my neck, choking me.
“Hmph—Ghh?!”
I get pulled back.
“Aw! Is he already trying to escape? That’s not fair, Mr. Slave, you haven’t even been with us for long!”
The voice is high-pitched and cheerful, belonging to a ponytailed girl, her eyes large and wide. She’s wearing a closed jacket, but I can still see the armor underneath. She’s clearly smaller than me, with a face most guys would label as a ‘knockout’.
Yeah, more like I’m going to knock her out as soon as I get out.
Perhaps the most unique thing about her is the strange insignia under her left eye.
By the way, is this jacket over armor some kind of fashion?
Never mind that, this crazy bitch is gonna choke me out!!
“Khkhh!”
“Arivia, you’re strangling him.”
“Huh? How can you tell?”
Maybe my flailing hands and my purple face, idiot!
Said ‘Arivia’ releases my head from her clutches, leaving me a choking and coughing mess. I’ve come too close to death too many times for comfort, seriously.
She seems quite unbothered, her face looking as if she just finished playing with her favorite toy.
I grab at my neck, hoping I can at least feel the skin, but alas, I’m met with cold, hard metal.
She turns her head to the person leading the weird horse lizard things. Navi.
“Say, Navi, how’d you come across this guy anyway?” Arivia calls out, looking toward the front of the wagon.
The voice calls back.
“First off, it’s Lieutenant Navi. Second, I found him with a mimic, the guy was about to be fed to a whole nest of them. I guess you could say I saved him, but I really was just there to take it out.”
“What even is a mimi-”
“A mimic, more commonly known as a Mimos, a creature that often takes the form of others, luring victims into a nest, then consuming them. Mimic populations often are located in the province of Nyassarenth, specifically within west and east Norovia.”
I turn to the long-haired woman.
Her eyes are closed as if she’s memorized the words by heart.
“Man, Asakawa’s so cool!” Arivia exclaims, her hands clasped together. “Memorizing passages like that... it’s amazing!”
How can someone be so optimistic when someone in front of them is getting sent off to slavery? No, seriously, it’s quite concerning. She’s talking like an excited schoolgirl despite the grim occurrence in front of her.
I get being optimistic, but it’s quite scary at this point.
The night wind whistles softly through the wagon, the clatter of wheels a constant drumbeat beneath us. Every now and then, I hear a distant animal cry or something rustle in the trees
“Speaking of, Arivia, do we have a place for the slave to stay?” The girl, Navi asks from the front.
“Didn't I tell you my name earlier for a reason…”
“Huh, what was that, Kaito the Slave?”
Arivia snickers.
Even Asakawa covers her mouth, her shoulders lightly trembling.
Aren’t you the cold, composed type!? You’re breaking character!!
I groan, leaning back.
I feel the floorboards creak in front of me, presumably someone approaching me.
“Don’t worry, Mr slave, you’ll be living nice and cozy!”
I perk my head up.
“Yup! You get your very own barn! Fresh hay! And you don’t even need a toilet!”
“...You mean there isn’t one, don’t you.”
“Same thing, right?”
I bury my face in my hands.
“…Do you enjoy mocking me?”
She's not nodding, but judging by the look on her face, she's enjoying every second of it.
In a final plea, I turn to her with tired eyes.
“Please… just let me go.”
Hopefully, she gets my predicament and will understand and empathize with the poor boy in front of her. After all, there has to be someone here with a good heart! There’s absolutely no way somebody would be alright with accepting a slave, right? Basic empathy articulates so.
There must be some good inside these people!
Arivia raises a lantern to my face. I wince a little at the sudden brightness.
“Hey, Asa…”
Yes, say something like: ‘I don’t know, I feel kinda bad…’!
“He looks like a cat, right?”
“Nope, you’re all heartless monsters!!”
“Yes, I can see it. His pupils are quite small, like a cat’s.”
Is this the rest of my life? Working for a bunch of girls who should be in school, enduring countless insults, and being forced to work like a bull?
Is this where my life is headed?
Ever since I’ve been sent to this world, everything has gone wrong. I have no responsibilities, yet I'm tortured with other methods. Is this a cruel joke?
My shoulders shake like I’m going to start laughing or crying. Or both.
And that causes something I was hoping to avoid. Something I feared from the very bottom of my heart.
“Hey, Asa, there's something in his pocket!”
No, not my smartphone. Please.
Arivia crawls over to me, grabbing my poor phone. If I attempt to even take it away from her, I’m sure she wouldn’t even hesitate to lop my hand off, so that's not an option.
She holds it up to her face, confused by it.
If I recall, it’s on about 70% with the camera shattered. Most probably due to the various things that happened earlier.
To these people, who look like they walked straight out of a medieval-themed gacha game, it might as well be alien tech.
If I rate them by stars, it’ll be something akin to, Asakawa a 4 star, Navi a 5, Arivia a…
Wait, focus.
Arivia dangles it as Asakawa inches closer, observing the phone. By the way, the two of them ignore my presence and are practically leaning on my poor head. I’d be excited if it weren't for these two being utter monsters.
“It seems to be a device of some kind.”
Arivia glances at me, an excited look on her face.
“What is this, do ya know?”
I sigh.
“It’s a smartphone.”
“Smart.. Phone?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a..”
Wait, I can take advantage of this situation. They're painfully unaware of this 21st-century masterpiece.
“A bomb. It’s a bomb that activates whenever I want. Yes, the blast radius is enormous, and it’ll take out everything near us. So if you don’t release me-”
“Mr. Slave, do you think we’re stupid?”
“Eh?”
“If this were any kind of weapon, you would’ve used it hours ago. Now I want you to really think about that.”
“..I uh, I was saving it for when I get to your base! So I can blow it all to hell!”
I know it’s a failed convincing attempt, but it’ll work if I believe.
Arivia ignores me completely and turns to Asakawa, pointing something out on the phone. A few seconds later, they’re both giggling. Giggling.
They’re ignoring me!
Their faces glow under the soft blue light of the screen, eyes locked on whatever they’ve uncovered. Meanwhile, I’m just… here. The human furniture they’re leaning on.
A smile across Asakawa’s face makes me uneasy.
Wait, how did they even unlock it? Wait, no, I think the face recognition software opened it for them, since they did point it at me earlier.
Dammit, figure out what they’re seeing that’s making them laugh! I try to angle my head to view what exactly they’re laughing at.
Arivia quickly turns the phone around, pushing it in my face.
“Mr slave, is this you?” She says through laughter.
It’s a picture of me, flexing in a mirror, sticking my lips out.
My face turns a bright red.
I often used to take pictures of myself after every day working out, to get the dopamine release that my efforts were actually going somewhere. But if someone ever found out, I’d die of embarrassment, mainly because of the faces I make.
And that’s what’s going on.
“Well? Anything to say?” she teases, swiping gleefully through my photo gallery.
Wait, how did she figure that already? How is she already that comfortable with the interface?
Are people really into this kind of thing? Being labeled a slave and getting insulted? Well, I’m not that kind of person, so please, god, get me out!
Still giggling, she crawls to the front of the cart to show the phone to my final enemy.
I hear it. The snicker.
“Kill me now…”
Coming back, Arivia is still snickering to herself.
“For you to be making those kinds of faces, you must think you’re quite the looker, Mr slave.”
I groan.
“...Can I get my phone back?”
Asakawa takes it.
“No, we’ll be using this for further research purposes.” She says as she puts it in her pocket.
Someone save me, please. I need a hero, a miracle, a Meteor. I’ve barely met these people, and they’re already having the time of their lives bullying me. I’m not the guy for this.
This can’t be my role in this world. I didn’t get isekai’d just to become a punchline.
The creaks of the wagon are the only thing that responds to me.
I imagine a smirk on the moon, grinning at my plight.
_____________________________________________
It’s been about another hour, and I find myself nodding off, but every time my chin makes contact with my chest, I feel a jolt of pain.
The other two captors are sitting next to me, playing some kind of board game I’m not sure I can understand. I can feel the bags under my eyes piling up due to the lack of sleep.
“Who are you guys anyway?” I ask, watching their game.
“Ah, dammit it, trap card…” Arivia calls out as she dejectedly stares at the card. She then lifts up the piece that I assume to be her player, and places it two meters back.
“We are a party of individuals that take jobs across Soraya, often specializing in monster extermination, bounty hunting, and jobs of that caliber,” Asakawa replies, rolling a 12-sided dice.
“Event.”
She then pulls a card.
“‘You find yourself on a bridge located in a large ditch. You cross it. Move 4 spaces.’”
“Aw, man!” Arivia pouts.
I perk my head.
“So are you guys like mercenaries? Taking jobs for money?”
“Yeah, I guess you can call it something like that,” Arivia says, rolling her dice. “You really don’t need to know this, by the way. We’re just telling you because we feel like it.”
The die lands. I think it’s a six. The numbers are weird—jagged like they were etched by someone in a hurry—but they vaguely resemble a mix of Latin digits and Japanese characters.
She pumps her fist.
Moving her piece, she continues.
“Sable Veil. that’s our name.”
“Veil.. is that the reason you guys wear those jackets?”
“Perhaps,” Asakawa begins, looking at the now closely approaching Arivia. “However, these are not regular jackets. They are forged by Vavior particles, resulting in a more versatile yet light defense.”
“Then what’s with the armor underneath?”
“You can’t be too secure in just slime armor, as anyone can have anti-armor weapons… something we figured out the hard way. By the way, we’re in the same space.”
She says the last sentence to Asakawa.
“Ah, it's a fight then.” Asakawa declares.
Asakawa rolls first. A ten.
Arivia’s face is trickling with sweat. She’s got one chance and one chance to take victory with her, or else she loses.
She swallows, clears her throat, then rolls.
“Damn it! An eight?! So close!”
She moves her piece four spaces back, looking defeated. I think I even saw her mime a single tear down her cheek. I'm starting to understand this game, but I'm not fully there, given the exhaustion.
_______________________________________________
The landscape around us has turned from a cluttered forest to a flat grassland, with strange cow-like creatures sleeping in the distance.
Various stars blanket the heavens, the white dots contrasting with the splash of black.
In Earth terms, I'd say it's about 12 pm at night.
I try to lie on my side and curl up, but there isn’t enough space in the cramped wagon. Sitting upright is no good either—the collar presses into my neck if I slouch too far.
Still, I try.
With the other two passed out on the wagon’s top deck, I shift onto my side and face the wall beneath the bench.
I don’t want to see whatever weird sleeping faces they make, anyway.
I sigh as I take a deep breath.
I zone out and stare at the wall. When I'm nervous or have a lot on my mind, I'll tend to stare for a while at the subject of my nervousness. Or the alternative, zone out and stare into space. It's a bad habit of mine that's gotten me into trouble multiple times in the past.
But, wow.
I've been transported to a new world, ran from a kobold, ran into a mimic, and am now getting sent to work as a slave for a group of mercenaries. While a regular person might find these particular events overwhelmingly bad for themselves, I sadly can't say the same for everything for me.
There's a sense of dread ultimately lingering at the back of my mind, yes, but at the same time, it's a direction I can take that's far better than aimlessly wandering until something else that defies logic comes along and eats me.
In this world..
Jobs, money, social ladders—those things don’t seem to be the ultimate measure of a person’s worth. These people roam freely, live how they want, fight monsters, and take odd jobs without the kind of responsibilities that slowly eat away at you over time.
This isn’t reality. It’s fantasy.
And I want to live.
...Not as a slave, of course. That doesn’t exactly fit my definition of living to the fullest. So I’ll escape. The moment I get the chance, I’m out.
That Navi girl used magic, or what I assumed it was. If magic exists here, then maybe—maybe—I can get some kind of ability. Like in the shows. The underdog protagonist who turns out to have a hidden power, some rare trait that turns the tide.
I'm not a narcissist, but it'd be cool to have that.
After all, that's human nature, correct? We all inherently want something that makes us stand out from the rest. Not necessarily strength, but some kind of quality thing that makes us different. Of course, after witnessing media with that kind of fantasy being granted to a character, one would want to attain this kind of wish. But the coldness of reality often does not allow it to prevail any further.
But even if reality doesn’t often allow that wish to come true…
Even if most of us just end up as background characters in someone else’s story…
The desire to stand out—to be someone—that’s real.
And it’s okay to want that. To be someone who stands out from the rest. The main character of the story.
Groaning, I turn onto my left, attempting to face away from the wall, given that my neck has begun to hurt.
Maybe… Maybe I can start a new chapter in this world.
Of course, I’m not seeking to work the rest of my life away working for some mercenary group, so I’ll attempt to escape at the first chance I get.
My eyes slowly close, everything turning dark within my vision. The world comes to a halt.
I close my eyes.
Wait, Ow, ow, my arm.
_________________________________________________________
It walks, no directive in sight.
It serves no purpose, just a blight.
Power surges through its veins, a reminder of its strength.
Yet that strength never has a length
It is a creature, dead and alive
Yet possess no drive.
________________________________________________________
“Damn, he’s real heavy, huh?” A strained voice slips into my ear, followed by a crushing pressure around my neck.
My eyes shoot open.
I’m being dragged across the dirt, held up by my collar like a bag of trash.
“Oh, you’re awake!”
The voice belongs to Arivia, her eyes bright.
“..Wha-”
Before I can finish the thought, she lets go.
Thud.
I hit the ground, a cloud of dust kicking up beside me.
Groaning, I raise my head to get my bearings. The sun is out now, casting the sky in a pale blue glow. Clouds drift lazily overhead, scattered and uneven—giving the sky an almost chaotic texture.
Ahead of me stands Asakawa, her body facing towards something in the distance.
The sun is quite bright, causing me to squint ever so slightly. I can make out the object in the distance, yet cannot tell what exactly it is.
Raising my hand to shield my face, I wince.
My jaw nearly drops onto the dirt.
A massive mansion—no, a castle—towers in the distance, nearly blotting out the sun behind it. Tall spires crown its rooftops, each one perfectly symmetrical. The colors are not anything unique, just neutral earth tones—but somehow, that only adds to its otherworldly presence. It stretches out so far, it might cover half a mile in length.
And at the center, a crystal structure juts out like a crown, piercing toward the sky.
Even from here—eighty meters out—it still looks colossal.
That’s where I’m going to live?
Hm, maybe being a slave isn’t so bad.
“Arivia! You coming?!” Navi calls from the path ahead, walking up next to Asakawa. The two of them are walking towards the trail leading into the mansion.
“Nah, I’ll stay behind and show him the ropes!”
Ah, that’s right, I’m a slave. Everytime I think about that, it makes me feel like laughing at the absurdity of the statement.
The two companions of hers nod, and continue walking.
Wait, don’t leave me with her.
Arivia crouches in front of me, hands on her knees with a playful grin. “Well, follow me, Mr. Slave. You’ve had a good sleep, so now’s the time to get workin’!”
She stands straight, standing over me, hands on her waist.
Having no choice, I place my hands on the dusty ground, pushing myself up to my feet.
That's when I realize that the pain in my shoulder and arm are gone.
I flex my arm, surprised that it’s no longer mangled.
Taking note of this, Arivia beams, “A messed up arm is nothing a Nymaril spell can’t fix!”
I have no idea what she’s talking about.
A rumble in my stomach rings.
Come to think of it, I haven't eaten anything but a single ‘fruit’ since yesterday. If they expect me to work, I need to be at least half satiated, or I'll risk collapsing and making them lose a potential worker.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“You guys got anything to eat..?”
I get that I’m a slave, but who says even the lowest of people can’t ask for basic amenities? There's a sort of ‘human rights does not apply’ factor, but I'm sure they can make arrangements here.
Before I can think any further…
“Nghh!!”
A shock of electricity shoots through my body, assaulting it.
I can feel the jolt of electricity going through my body like a wave of burning pain.I t feels like fire wrapped in metal I grit my teeth.
Falling to the ground, I’m left a panting mess. Each breath of mine feels like stab in my gut.
My vision shakes as I look up at her.
“You....”
Arivia tilts her head, still smiling, and dangles a small stick between her fingers. It has a wooden button on top.
“This is the first thing you’ll need to learn,” she says sweetly. “That collar around your neck? It’s called an Arc Collar. It sends shockwaves through your body whenever you step out of line.”
“You asked for something without giving anything in return. That’s a no-no.”
She presses the button once again.
I wince, expecting the same pain, but this time, I feel a simple jolt, similar to touching a metal object in the winter.
“That’s a signal for when one of us wants you to help or clean up. I’m not telling you which jolt signifies who, but I’ll provide a hint. It’s numerically coded. If you don’t make it within a certain time limit, no matter where you are…”
She puts her hand close to the button, making me instinctively wince again.
She smiles.
“Don’t worry, I’m not that mean. Now follow me.”
Arivia spins on her heel and starts marching down the path, cartoonishly exaggerated steps like she’s in a parade.
I stare at her back for a long moment.
Then I sigh, stand up again, and begin following her.
Because I have no other choice.
I’m really in danger here. If I truly want to live a life worth living, I can’t risk staying here any longer. As soon as I get the chance, I’m going to leave this cursed place.
Arivia spins around once again.
“...What’s with the tense face? You’ve already got a scary-looking face, so let's try not to accentuate those features, mhm?” Arivia calls, her body facing me.
“Ah, sorry.”
“No matter!”
Our footsteps crunch under the heavy dirt, one of us wearing heavy metal boots while the other is outfitted with regular running shoes. The air is quite cold, giving me the impression of fall. Something that’s quite confusing given the heat of the forest earlier. Perhaps this world doesn’t have the same logic when it comes to weather, curiously enough.
After about five minutes of walking, we come across a small barn, not too large, but not too small.
It’s on the verge of collapsing, with a large dent in the middle right of the roof. The wood looks roughly cut and weathered, almost as if it was thrown together with whatever could be found.
Walking over to the front door, something that seems to be on it’s last hinges, Arivia turns the knob. With an extremely concerning creak, the door opens, revealing a terrifying view.
Scattered farm tools cover the ground, rusted and jagged. Wooden stalls line the walls like a cheap horse stable. A pile of hay slumps in one corner, and across the dirt floor are dark brown lumps that I really hope are just clumps of mud.
Seriously, why can’t I get the treatment most servants and slaves in forms of media get? Living inside the main house, a cute owner…
“Stop being so shy and head in!” Navi says, pushing me inside.
I stumble, barely catching my feet. The smell of feces fills my nostrils, presumably belonging to the creatures that lived in this barn. The air’s thick and hot, trapped by the insulated wood like a poorly designed oven.
Arivia walks in clutching her nose as well.
“Well, home sweet home as they say. The smell’s quite bad, but I’m sure you can manage Mr slave!”
“I get the whole ‘sarcastically cheerful’ thing, but you’re on a different level...”
Suddenly, her arm slams into my throat.
I crash into the wall, breath caught in my lungs. Arivia leans in, pressing her forearm against my neck, her body weight keeping me pinned.
“Listen,” she says, voice cold. “Quips like that make it sound like you think you’re above your place. I don’t like that, Slave.”
Her eyes glare into my soul, like a corpse staring back at me.
“We are not your friends. We are not your family. There is nothing between us and you. The relationship between us is like that of a farm animal and a farmer. You are not a person to us. You’re a tool. A creature to be used. That is it. You are to live working, and die working. So, the next time you speak up…”
She lifts the stick in her hand—the one with the wooden button—and spins it between her fingers like a dial.
Is… that to increase the voltage?
She hovers her finger over the button.
“I don’t think i’ll have to say it, yeah?”
I can feel my eyes shifting downwards in anger.
I hate people like this.
I hate people who talk to others simply because of their circumstances. People who, just because they live upstairs, think the people downstairs are inferior to them. Why don’t you come downstairs a bit and see how fast I knock you out?
Taking a note of my expression, she smiles.
“Be careful not to say anything!”
Turning my head to the right, I mutter, “Fine.”
She releases her body from mine, standing in front of me. Then she gestures to the entire barn, tapping her foot.
“Your first job, clean this entire barn, head from toe. If I even see a single speck of dirt, there's a shock with your name on it.”
I stare at her blankly.
Then sigh and give a half-hearted nod, my head dragging along like it’s too heavy to lift.
Turning around, she smiles.
“Good luck Mr slave!” She calls over her shoulder.
She then walks towards the door, opening it. However halfway past, she stops.
“Oh—and just so you know. Even if you’re not done, we’ll still call you when we need something. It’s up to you to memorize whose shock is whose.”
The door then closes, leaving me in darkness. Just as darkness that was in front of me moments ago.
“Bitch.”
Glancing at the area around me, I place my hands on my waist. Surprised by my hand touching cloth, I realize I’m wearing a shirt.
When did that get there? Albeit a tattered and old one, it’s still something. It’s similar to what you’d see a peasant in a fantasy story wearing.
At least I get that commodity.
I’m used to cleaning, so this isn’t really all too different, just larger in scale right?
All I need is:
- A broom
- A dustpan
- A couple of rags
- Buckets, sponges
- Maybe a scrub brush.
Question is, I have no idea on where to get those, so that’s going to be fun. It seems that I must leave this place in order to find those tools.
Though before I leave, I should open these windows.
After doing just that, I push open the barn door, exciting the area, and meeting the bright sun. It shines down on my eyes, something I need to cover.
Wait, they left me unattended. I can take advantage of this opportunity.
Glancing for any kind of leeway, I come across a large metal gate spanning across the entire premises.
Ah, it’s barbed.
Sighing, I accept my situation. I lazily search for my earlier objective once again.
A dirt path lays in front of me, leading to…
Scratch that—it’s massive. Easily 30 meters wide, maybe more. The water glistens under the morning sun, shimmering and swaying with a strange calm. Behind it stands another tall iron gate, stretching high into the sky. No way out there, either.
To my right, I catch the towering rear of the mansion, rising like some grand cathedral. And down the trail, a small door built into the base of the structure—probably an employee entrance. Or a servant’s.
Well, if they catch my looking around, I can just say I needed to find some tools right? That’s an excuse I can take advantage of.
I begin walking down the path, pretending to take in the scenery like it’s some peaceful morning stroll.
The sky is bright blue. Almost too cheerful for a place like this.
My feet hit against the sandy path, kicking up little clouds of dust.
“Clang!”
The sounds of metal rings out across the landscape. Turning to my right once again, I continue to hear the sounds of metal striking against metal. I’m in a safe environment, so I assume it can’t be anything dangerous.
I’m close to entering the mansion, however…
The curse of curiosity strikes again.
Spinning on my heel, I take a sharp right, heading towards the area behind the pool. As I walk the sounds grow louder and louder, and more of the area is revealed to me.
Behind the pool, the landscape unfolds. The area levels out, revealing two long white stripes running parallel down a rectangular field. A wide circle in the center. Looks like a training ground—like a sports field turned war zone.
Ah, it’s a training arena.
That’s when I see a figure standing in the sole middle, it’s form twisting and turning, parrying what I assume to be swords. The object in their hand is enormous, almost the size of their body. How are they handling it so well?
Given the curves in their body, I’m assuming it’s a woman.
Another figure is swinging at her, yet its body does not move.
It moves like a machine, keeping the four swords it holds swinging at her. To my shock she’s partying all of them.
She doesn’t just defend.
She flows.
I now find myself standing about 5 meters away from her.
Suddenly her head snaps towards me, and with a swift “Off.” the machine halts instantly, blades still mid-swing.
She sheaths her katana with one smooth motion, the hilt clicking home as she begins walking towards me, seemingly particularly angry some stranger interrupted her session.
I begin to back away, now realizing I shouldn’t have showed up in the first place.
As she steps into view, I can make out her general details. She wears a large coat yet it’s not outfitted on her, simply swaying behind her form. Her long blue hair is tied in a ponytail, a few strands free to frame her face.
Now, I’m not one to point out facts that dont benefit me, but let’s simply state that she might have shoulder pain because of two big reasons.
To be honest, I feel quite bad for women who possess large-
I try not to stare, but...
Let’s just say the way her body’s built probably puts some serious strain on her shoulders.
Honestly, I feel kind of bad for women like that—must be hell on the spine—
Clink.
A chill creeps up my neck.
I glance down.
The edge of a katana rests just below my chin, angled in a backhand grip—fast, controlled, deadly.
“Who are you?”
I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my face.
Well, it’s not like she can pierce through the collar.
A portion of the blade enters the collar area like butter.
…I spoke too soon.
“A-ah, I was just exploring this area but it seems I got lost and can’t seem to find my way out.”
She eases the tension in her arm, allowing me to rest briefly.
Yes. Fall for it. Show me the way out so I can run through the meadows and laugh at the memory of this nightmare. I’d feel bad taking advantage of someone clueless—but I doubt I’ll feel much guilt with the wind in my hair and freedom at my back.
Sadly, she glares once again.
Unfortunately, her glare returns with renewed sharpness.
“You’re no ‘explorer’. The homunculi don’t allow anyone onto the premises. Not even guests.”
Damn.
“O-oh! Aha, yeah, you caught me. I’m actually a worker! I was sent to check the mansion’s structural integrity. I got a bit lost, and my shift’s about to end, so I was just—uh—trying to find the exit…”
She suddenly sheaths her katana with a click, exhaling like I’ve somehow wasted her time
“Hmph, so you’re the slave Navi was talking about.”
Don’t say it so casually!! And how’d you figure it out so quickly!!
“Normally, I’d cut off that tongue for lying to me, but you’re a slave, so that’s going to be an issue.”
The look on my face probably resembles a child who just got caught sneaking snacks before dinner.
I stand there, speechless.
“Well, since you’re clearly not busy-”
“Ah actually, I have to-”
“Go ahead and clean that shrapnel.” She says, waving her hand as she starts to walk away.
“Man, I’m hungry..” She mumbles to herself.
After she makes a sufficient distance away, I grin. Yeah, like I’m going to listen to her. I’m busy you b-
A shock rattles through my entire body. I collapse onto the dirt, writhing as pain floods my nerves.
“Ah—!”
My vision shakes. Muscles twitch. I can barely breathe.
“Huh, so it does work.”
Glancing up, My eyes caught onto the small stick-like remote on her hand. She has a curious expression despite inflicting so much pain on me.
“I was going to stop and tell you my name, but you’re standing idle.”
She crouches over.
“Kaelira Kaen.” Then she straightens and walks off without another word.
“Oh—cleaning supplies are in the indoor garden,” she adds, almost like an afterthought.
Placing my hand on the cold ground, I grab at my head, attempting to stabilize it. How can these people act so normally after shocking me nearly to death? The pain, it’s so strong.
What kind of world is this?
Why do I have to go through this?
Sighing, I stand up. Well again, for the 100th time, there’s nothing I can do.
Glancing around, there's an assortment of shrapnel splattered across the ground. Glancing at the ‘machine’ I notice that the swords are almost chipped off. How sharp was that katana, and how hard was she swinging it?
I walk over to the debris and start gathering the pieces. I’ve got no tools or bags, so I shove most of it into my pockets. Thankfully, none of them are sharp enough to cut skin—though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t flinch every time I grabbed one.
Sighing, I exit the training area, my fingers tingling.
Kaelira said the cleaning supplies were located around the indoor garden. I’m assuming that the giant white window filled structure located to the far left of the estate is the garden.
It’s a bit of a walk.
Well, Kaito has no choice.
I begin my journey.
________________________________
It’s been around 5 minutes, and I’ve made it in front.
The front doors are entirely see-through, showcasing the lush greenery scattered inside. The knobs are small and compact, just large enough for my hand to grip. I twist one, and the door glides open smoothly.
Inside, the flowing of water and the smell of plants I've never seen or smell enter my system. The environment is its own ecosystem with various insect-like creatures flying around.
I like this. It’s a completely different kind of nature than what’s outside—wilder, less artificial—but no less organic. Though sadly my vision fails me as plants fill every crevice and corner, the only form of direction I have is the white tiles in front of me.
I walk carefully, my head swiveling left and right, drawn to every flicker of color or rustle of leaves.
It’s like every plant has a world of its own. The colors accentuate the different forms of the plants, making them stand unique from each other. They’re all plants yet different enough to be in their own league. They’re unlike anything I've ever seen. The bounds of logic don’t apply to them, yet that’s what makes them beautiful in their own right.
“Like what you see?”
I let out a girlish scream, turning around and nearly falling.
The voice belongs to a tall man—no, thing—with a helmet shaped like a skull. But it’s not quite a helmet. The sockets are deep and humanlike, but the jaw is slightly off. He wears an old-fashioned suit—like something out of the pre-industrial era—and stands a head taller than me.
Then, he speaks.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it? I’ve always loved living things.”
Which is ironic because..
His jaw is moving.
I’m talking to a skeleton man.
A skeleton man whose face defies every biological rule I know. There are no muscles, no skin, yet his jaw moves like it’s alive. Black smoke wafts from the top of his skull and curls into the air—cold, with no heat, and vanishing almost instantly.
I’m left a stuttering mess as he takes note of my expression. He then turns his head, curious.
“You seem quite surprised, are Wights not commonplace where you come from?”
Finally gaining my composure, I sigh.
“No, not really.”
“Ah, I see then. My name is Korshak Vilhelm von Grimm. But Kors is fine.”
“Ah, it’s nice to meet you…Kors..”
The first person in this hellhole to greet me like a human… Is a skeleton. Well, it’s better than nothing.
I offer my hand up to him.
When he takes my hand to expect, I’m half expecting a bony response, yet his hand is surprisingly solid. He firmly grabs it then shakes it.
“I am the fifth member of this party, and am responsible for tending to the gardens. My Thauma aspect is—ah, forgive me. That’s not something I should reveal so casually..” He stops himself.
“I apologize Mr…”
“Uh, Kaito is fine.”
“I see, Kaito. What brings you here on this fine day?”
“Sniff..”
“...Mr. Kaito, are you alright? You seem quite emotional.”
Thank you. Thank you for referring to me as a normal human being. I’ve finally been called by my name.
Is this redemption? Will my cards finally play out right?
“It’s nothing.”
I glance away. “Mmm, Oh yeah, I’m here to search for some cleaning supplies, Kaelira told me they were here.”
“Captain Kaen gave you instructions, then I shall assist.” He gestures toward the far-right corner of the room. For a moment, I don’t even follow where he’s pointing—too distracted by the impossible way his jaw moves when he speaks.
How does he pronounce words despite lacking lips?
Shaking my head, I look towards the area.
“Ah, thanks.”
Grabbing the tools, I turn toward Kors and begin heading out. So far, I’ve got a sponge, a bucket of water, a mop, and a scrub brush. Not exactly high-end equipment, but I guess I’ll have to compromise and try using the mop for dust, too.
He nods at me and I return the gesture—a silent thanks. Whether it’s for calling me by my name or pointing me in the right direction, I’m not sure. But I’m grateful all the same.
__________________________________________________________
Sighing, I find myself panting outside the the barn. My hand braces against the wall holding up my body weight. I had sprinted all the way from the garden fear gnawing at me the entire time. With the sun setting, I was convinced Arivia might zap me again if I was late.
I’m surprised that almost the entire day has passed, but I guess that’s how time works. It slowly creeps past you. T
Groaning at the reminder that my new “job” still isn’t over, I force myself to open the barn door. The air inside smells a little fresher now that I’ve managed to crack open a few windows earlier.
A faint clattering sound echoes through the corridor.
I freeze.
Slowly, cautiously, I turn around—and nearly collapse in shock.
At the end of the corridor stands a Kobold, lying down. Its form is similar to a lion resting.
Next to it stands Asakawa, her form unmistakable. She’s observing it, like a mother watching her children sleep.
“Th-th-!”
“Be quiet,” she says flatly. “Kalcifer hasn’t gotten sleep in several days. Don’t disturb him.”
Still stunned, I shuffle over to her side, keeping one eye glued to the creature, silently praying it doesn’t suddenly lunge and turn us into minced meat.
“H-Hey… why is there a Kobold inside the barn?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?” she replies. “This one in particular belongs to the estate. It is used for mainly transportation.”
“…Huh?”
“Are you unfamiliar with Kobolds?”
“Well, I thought I wasn’t, But please—go ahead, info-dump me.”
She shifts slightly, her expression remaining flat and lifeless, like the walls around us.
“A Kobold is a creature that typically resides deep underground. Most grow to the size of two adult humans. Unlike other creatures, a Kobold’s skeletal system is external.” She gestures toward the swirling black mass at the center of Kalcifer’s body. It rises and falls rhythmically, like it’s breathing.
“That mass is a compression of all its organs—heart, lungs, everything—into one singular unit. Because they live in darkness, they do not have eyes. But about a week ago, Kobolds started surfacing—aside from Kalcifer, that is. The reason remains unknown.”
I walk closer to Kalcifer and crouch down to get a better look. His skull shape’s noticeably different from the one that attacked me earlier.
My hand instinctively clutches my arm, remembering the sharp, wet pain of fangs sinking into flesh.
“…So how’d you tame him?”
“We offer him human corpses.”
“W-What!?”
“No. I am joking.”
Don’t joke like that! Stick to being cold and brooding!
I let out a long sigh.
“Hah… that was pretty funny, actually.”
“Yes. I know.”
I glance sideways at Asakawa.
She’s either completely unaware of how creepy she is or just doesn’t care.
Then she turns and starts walking away.
“You’ll be living with Kalcifer now. Your next job is to take good care of him. He’s our only functional means of transport—at least until the Lionels are active again.”
“…Yes, ma’am,” I mutter.
Without another word, she exits the barn.
I stare at Kalcifer, who’s still peacefully asleep.
Well… guess I’d better get to cleaning.
_______________________________________________________
If there were a montage of me cleaning, it’d start with me backing away from Kalcifer, terrified he’d wake up and snap me in half. The next shot would involve me sneezing violently—repeatedly—to my own horror.
But despite all that, I managed to rise victorious.
Cleaning wasn’t really an issue, given that well, there was nothing that was overly dirty. Just feces, which, despite being disgusting, managed to be cleaned easily. There were some parts that just wouldn’t scrub off the floorboards, so I had to use almost all my strength trying to scrape it off the ground.
The real problem was the patches of gunk that wouldn’t come off the floorboards. I had to pour all my strength into scraping them free.
They were green, bulbous growths. I had no clue what they were, and frankly, I didn’t want to know. I just cleaned them.
Right now, I’m mopping the floor, the sound of wet splashes echoing through the barn.
The only source of light is a small lantern hanging from the top of the barn, barely illuminating what I can see, but being useful nonetheless.
Kalcifer’s form is still in the same spot, sleeping deeply.
Put to work.
I could be doing so many things besides this, I could be exploring this world, fighting a dragon, training, or doing anything one typically does in a fantasy world.
Instead, I’m here. Scraping sludge off floorboards. Flinching every time a monster breathes in its sleep.
My grip tightens on the wooden mop.
I need to leave this damned place.
Before I can finish my thoughts, the door swings open. Navi stands in the doorway.
“Follow me. Don’t ask questions.”
Seeing as I’m pretty much done with my task, I drop the mop and follow behind her.
The lights from the mansion shimmer against the night sky. The black moon hangs above—shining, despite having no color.
Navi walks through a set of double doors.
I follow, and the moment I step inside, my eyes nearly fall out of my face.
The interior is a warm brown with golden accents lacing the furniture. A massive chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a brilliant glow across the room. On either end of what I assume is the main hall are two grand staircases spiraling upward like they belong in some royal estate.
The carpet beneath my feet is a bright, almost regal red.
As we move past a hallway, I spot something… strange.
A tall, elongated creature made entirely of what looks like metal parts is cleaning a wall with a large cloth. It moves slowly but precisely—almost mechanical, like clockwork. Yet it’s thin. Too thin. I can see a metal rod arching through its back like a visible spine.
“Kratt! Is dinner ready?” Navi calls, stopping in front of me.
“Yes… Misss… Highergald…” it replies in a chilling, metallic voice.
Wait. That thing is a servant?
And I’m the slave?
The human being is the one outside scraping barn floors while this nightmare monster is polishing walls? This world is so backwards, it’s comical.
Still, I decide to keep my mouth shut and follow Navi as she walks up the staircase.
As our feet echo up the steps, I ask the obvious question.
“Uh… where are we going?”
“Party meeting.”
“Wait, does that mean I’m a part of—”
Navi turns her head, her expression blank but somehow still offended.
“Hahh? No. You’re cleaning the bathroom. You know how to work pipes, right? The water system’s out of control.”
I sigh.
Of course.
After a few turns and a walk down another corridor, she stops in front of a large door—painted red and trimmed with gold.
Before she steps inside, she gestures lazily toward the end of the hallway, where I spot a simple door. The bathroom, I assume.
Groaning under my breath, I start heading toward it, but then I stop.
The double doors to the meeting room aren’t fully closed.
Just slightly ajar.
I glance over my shoulder, then lean closer. No harm in listening, right?
Inside, I see the party seated around a long table. All of them—except Kaelira Kaen.
She’s pacing the room, speaking. I can’t hear her clearly, but I inch closer, carefully. There’s clear tension in that room.
Her voice sharpens.
“—He might be working with them. That’s something we’ve been paid to prevent.”
Kors speaks calmly,“Then what do you propose, Miss Kaen?”
Kaelira’s eyes narrow. Her presence commands the room.
“We storm the town tomorrow morning. Before sunrise…”
Her voice cuts through the air like her blade.
“And kill the bastard.”