Chapter 11

Mirabel revealed all of her past.

From the fact that she was a witch, to how a cleric came to the village, what happened to her mother, and how she ended up being sold into slavery.

She had no intention of evoking sympathy.

Her counterpart was a merciless slave merchant. More malicious than that, known as the Death God, Carami. Mirabel was not optimistic enough to think that appealing to his emotions would result in anything good.

Children who face reality too quickly tend to mature early.

Thus, she planned to live her life hidden. The moment she was exposed, she would be hunted as a witch.

The reason Mirabel suddenly revealed her secret to Carami was…

“Why is that?”

Even when she asked herself, all she received in reply was a question.

She couldn’t even determine the reason herself.

Yet if she were to find a reason… yes. It must be because she felt a strange warmth from his touch, from his embrace.

It had been a long time since she felt anyone’s body heat.

It was a ridiculous story. Feeling kindness from a slave merchant? Others would say the slave had gone mad. But what could she do? That was how she felt.

Mirabel watched Carami for his reaction.

Now that he knew she was a witch, what would he do? He would surely be troubled. Protecting a witch would mean execution. Perhaps he would become enraged.

Whatever it may be, it seemed like it would feel good. Carami always maintained a poker face, making it hard to read his thoughts. She anticipated the moment that would be broken.

However, contrary to Mirabel’s expectations, Carami maintained his smile from beginning to end. Unfazed by the fact that she was a witch.

As if to say.

“Haha, what does that matter?”

Like a person who doesn’t know the word ’embarrassment.’

Rather, it was Mirabel who was flustered.

“What do you mean, what does it matter? I’m a witch? If you protect a witch, anyone will face punishment. Because of me, you could die!”

“Whether Mirabel is a witch or a dark god, that doesn’t matter at all. I am a slave merchant. What I value is only worth.”

“Worth…?”

Carami nodded.

“Mirabel possesses an unparalleled value. Even I find it hard to fathom its extent. If she were to be discarded just for being a witch, that would be foolish, wouldn’t it? I should stop being a slave merchant.”

Mirabel’s azure eyes widened as if they would pop out.

“Just?”

Did he just say ‘just’?

She had been abandoned by her father for the mere reason of being a witch, and now here was Carami, a complete stranger, viewing her as ‘just’ that.

Mirabel could not comprehend.

She did not want to accept it.

If she admitted, “So that’s it,” it would mean she was someone abandoned for no reason. Then, what about the family member who discarded her for being nothing?

Does Carami not care that she’s a witch either?

When Mirabel’s eyes gleamed with hatred toward someone, Carami seized the moment and whispered sweet words.

“You don’t need to be too indignant. The purpose of this journey is to meet him. Let’s go ask why he abandoned you.”

Yes, that’s right.

“Until that moment comes, Mirabel should just focus on practicing magic as you are now. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

She needed to master magic.

To repay the pain she suffered because of that man a thousandfold.

“When everything ends well, I will send you to your mother.”

To the place her mother went, from which she could never return?

It was a statement akin to a death sentence.

For a moment, Mirabel was startled.

Click.

The gears of logic that constructed Mirabel’s thoughts began to turn in reverse.

“Ah, I see.”

The girl realized.

The light lost long ago could not be reclaimed.

Even if time could be turned back.

Unless she were born as someone else.

From the moment she was born as Mirabel.

No matter how many times she repeated it, the ending would be the same.

Knowing full well that she could not reclaim it, was there a need to long for it? No. She didn’t need to be tied to the present.

Let alone, the one by her side was Carami, the Death God. The only savior that could help her escape this stifling reality.

“I will free you from this hell. Until that moment comes, you can work hard, right?”

Complete liberation.

To shed the shackles of life and be free.

Mirabel smiled and replied with a brightness she had never worn before.

“Yes, Master.”

***

“But, Master, why did you buy me back then?”

Suddenly, Mirabel threw out a fundamental question.

In her voice, there was no longer any hesitation. The girl who had felt awkward calling Carami her Master now completely acknowledged him as such.

Through the recent conversation, she learned that Carami judged people by their worth.

But when she thought about it carefully, it was strange. She had just found out she was a witch, and the fact that she had talent for magic wasn’t revealed that long ago either.

Until then, she was an ordinary girl, undistinguished and worthless. That was who Mirabel was.

So then, what exactly did Carami see in her to buy her at the Slave Carnival? What did he see in her eyes to pay a hefty amount of gold?

“The first reason is that I have an eye for people. I can roughly gauge how far this person will rise and how far that person will fall.”

“And the second?”

“The second is that Mirabel’s eyes were dead.”

Mirabel tilted her head at those perplexing words.

Carami continued to explain with a sly grin.

“I really enjoy manipulating those who are floundering in despair. After leading them to the highest point they can reach, I liberate them. The pleasure at that moment is indescribably delightful.”

It was a perverted statement.

Mirabel had never seen something quite like this.

It was akin to saying one would show a blind person the way and then pluck out their eyes afterward.

A perverse pleasure among perverse pleasures.

If someone else heard it, they would have condemned it.

But Mirabel was different. It was because she had earned the opportunity of salvation because of this.

“I understand now.”

The dozens of slaves who passed through Carami’s hands likely shared the same feelings as her. They all must have left with happy expressions. It was a story only his slaves could empathize with.

Other slaves would probably never know this feeling their whole lives.

Ah, how pitiful they must be. It was a euphoric sensation that only those chosen by him could experience.

“Master, what should I do now? I should focus on training my magic, right?”

Mirabel’s will surged violently.

The person who took her in after her family abandoned her.

The person who would grant her salvation.

She had to repay him before the day of liberation arrived.

Something that a miserable slave like her could do for Carami. It was to further elevate her own worth. Then Carami would experience even greater pleasure.

That was the role of a slave.

However, despite Mirabel’s fervent passion, Carami showed a dull response.

“What are you talking about? You should wash up.”

“…What?”

Mirabel looked outside through the window. The twilight had heavily descended upon the world, growing dark.

“If you use magic at this time, there will be complaints.”

And those complaints would be received by her Master, herself, Carami added.

The deep sigh escaping him and the weariness in his eyes hinted at great burdens. As if he bore a past he wished to forget.

Mirabel’s burning enthusiasm flickered and dimmed. It felt like it would be unwise to push it further here.

She should go to sleep quietly.

***

“Hehehe.”

What could be so amusing?

Mirabel snuggled up in my arms, giggling away.

“What on earth happened?”

The realization that something was amiss came once all the preparations for bed were finished.

Because Mirabel’s condition had been so poor, we had to hastily secure accommodations, and the place we ended up at was a room with just one bed.

When I asked the innkeeper if there were any other rooms, the response was only that they were fully booked. It was because information about a dungeon being discovered led to an influx of adventurers.

In the end, we had no choice but to share this room.

“I’ll sleep on the floor, Master.”

“That’s not happening.”

What on earth had changed in her mindset?

Ever since they had shared genuine conversations, Mirabel started to act as a devoted slave. She was behaving as if she were a maid from aristocracy.

Though her heart was admirable, absolutely not. As a slave enthusiast (limited to females), it was not gentlemanly to have her sleep on the floor.

Moreover, later on, she might declare, “That day you let me sleep on the floor was revenge,” and bury me into the ground, putting me into eternal sleep. I could sleep on the floor, but not Mirabel.

After discussing this, we ultimately decided on the conclusion of sleeping in the same bed. Mirabel was small in stature, so it didn’t feel cramped even with two people lying down.

The posture was the problem.

Normally, when an unrelated man and woman lie in the same bed, don’t they back away from each other? But Mirabel wriggled and snuggled into my arms.

And she laughed as if delighted.

What caused this sudden change in her character?

Could it be that meeting the clerics was the cause?

Had her mental state crumbled and led her to give up?

“Hmm, this isn’t good.”

I had never seen Mirabel smile so brightly before. If her condition truly had improved, that would be fine, but if not, there might be a need for measures to be taken.

I would try to normalize things by tomorrow.