Chapter 29

Victor, the Master of the Assassin Guild.

Another title that describes him is ‘Shadow Duke.’

He creates daggers from shadows and unleashes slaughter, reminiscent of a duke dancing with his wings spread.

The feather-like daggers begin to dance, illuminated by the torches.

“Graaah!”

“Hey, it’s an ambush! Arm yourselves and fight back!”

The mercenaries attempt to respond too late, already heavily intoxicated. They collapse indiscriminately, unable to react to the daggers flitting through their base.

Puff, puff, puff.

The bodies of the mercenaries impaled by the shadow daggers flutter like feathers, droplets of blood drifting like petals.

The scene was so beautiful that it seemed less like a battlefield and more like a stage.

In the center of this noisy stage, Carami leisurely approached, as if in a different dimension. She neared the elf, who had collapsed in pain, lost to consciousness.

[Eternal suffering elf Arfia]

She was the second main slave.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s really an elf.”

Victor, who had swiftly finished the cleanup, stood beside Carami.

Adding credibility to the principle that ‘assassination is easy if there are no witnesses,’ when the daggers vanished, all the mercenaries were overlapping with their own shadows.

“Could you break the prison door? With the shackles too.”

“Are you sure? If she wakes up and acts out, it might be difficult for me to subdue her alone.”

“It’s fine. That won’t happen.”

Though it was uncertain how she could be so sure, if Carami said so, then that was that. With that thought lingering in the back of his mind, Victor swung his dagger.

Evil.

A soft slicing sound followed, and the iron bars and shackles were sliced like straw.

“Ugh!”

Carami lifted the collapsed Arfia.

“What will you do with that elf?”

“What’s a slave merchant going to do with a defenseless elf? That’s a completely pointless question.”

“Hmph.”

“Are you perhaps feeling any reluctance now?”

“Surely not. I wouldn’t qualify for that.”

Carami and Victor exchanged trivial remarks as they stepped out of the gruesome slaughter scene.

On the way back to the city.

Victor glanced to the side.

An elf that lives only on dew.

Arfia looked fragile at first glance, but even that made Carami break a sweat as she carried her.

“You seem to be struggling. Wouldn’t it be better if I carried her?”

“Phew, haha… It’s fine. My slave is my responsibility.”

How to describe this—whether to call it responsibility or foolishness. Victor felt a complex emotion.

***

“Is this really an elf?”

“What do you mean, ‘this’? You should say ‘this person’!”

What could it be…

Arfia contemplated in the darkness.

The high-pitched voice, typical of children, was something one could hear anywhere in the world. Her head was already spinning, and with the chaotic noise hitting her eardrums, it only made her dizzy further.

But why could she hear the children’s voices?

Arfia rummaged through her memories.

She woke up after drinking only to find herself kidnapped by humans and locked in a cage. She asked for alcohol as the pain surged, but was coldly refused.

After that, her consciousness slowly faded away, but just before she lost it, something seemed to have happened…

“I can’t remember.”

There was no helpful memory.

In the end, Arfia decided to pretend to be unconscious to gather more information.

“Uh, just now… my ears twitched…”

“How interesting. Your ears are so long. Is this for real? Can I touch them?”

You shouldn’t do that.

Elves have sensitive ears. Touching them indiscriminately would be a huge violation, dear human children.

“No. You shouldn’t touch them recklessly, as Carami oppa said.”

Carami oppa.

I don’t know who he is, but thank you.

Arfia tried to keep pretending to sleep, but it was clear that just listening had its limitations. She couldn’t stay like this forever.

She slowly opened her eyes.

Four children were peering at her, their faces close enough to touch.

“She opened her eyes!”

“She’s regained consciousness!”

Because they were too close, the fact that she had merely squinted was revealed. Arfia, closing her eyes tightly and sighing inwardly, smiled gently.

“Ahaha… Hello?”

“Hello!”

“Your greetings are polite. But can you move back a bit? You’re too close.”

The children withdrew their faces.

Well-behaved children are cute, regardless of species. Arfia slowly raised herself and looked around.

She was lying on a pure white bed. There was another identical bed right next to it, and some furniture that seemed to be a storage unit.

For humans, it was an utterly ordinary interior, but to the elf Arfia, it all felt unfamiliar.

“Where is this…?”

“This is our house!”

“House? Not a prison?”

“A prison? Wait, was that sister a criminal?”

“Not exactly…”

What in the world happened?

Now that she thought about it, all the shackles that had been on her body were gone. However, Arfia could not feel relief at all.

“Oh?”

Not just anywhere, but her soul had been shackled.

Arfia was greatly alarmed.

‘Why, why of all things?’

Contract of the soul.

It had a vastly different meaning for elves.

An elf loves only one person for their entire life. To leave proof of that, they make a pact of a thousand years with their beloved under the World Tree.

If the vow is broken, the pact transforms into a curse, taking root in the soul. The remaining life will be spent in terrible pain.

Yet the shackles were on Arfia’s soul. It had already been tainted. It meant she could never share love with anyone again.

“……”

Arfia felt an indescribable emotion. It was a thought that had been predictable since she was captured as a slave, but… the fact that her soul was tainted came as a huge shock.

“Sister, are you okay? Your expression doesn’t look good.”

The children peered in, worried. Arfia forced a smile.

“Uh, yeah. But are you all slaves too?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, yes…”

“I’m not.”

“Me neither.”

Not only had they kidnapped her, but they also made these children into slaves. Arfia bit her lip.

“Where is the person called the Master?”

“Carami oppa? He’s upstairs waiting.”

Mister Carami. I thought he was a good person, but it seems he is not.

What kind of person would taint their own soul? To confirm that handsome face, Arfia got off the bed.

“Ugh.”

For a moment, Arfia was dizzy, swaying. As she stabilized, the pain surged. Cold sweat poured down.

“Sister, are you okay? Your expression doesn’t look good.”

“I’m fine.”

Somehow calming the worried children, Arfia left the room and went upstairs.

In the tavern, two men were chatting.

An old man with graying hair and beard.

A strikingly handsome man with black hair.

Thanks to the shackles on her soul, Arfia could instinctively feel that this man was her Master, the Carami oppa the children called.

And… though she did not want to admit it, in elven culture, he would be considered her lifelong partner.

‘…He is certainly something.’

With that level of attractiveness, she wouldn’t feel inferior even beside an elven man. Of course, that didn’t mean she developed any good feelings.

As Arfia stepped out, Carami greeted her with a smile.

“You finally woke up. I was starting to worry you might never awaken.”

Putting off her response, Arfia stared at Carami intently.

What kind of person could he be?

What’s his personality like?

‘He doesn’t seem outwardly bad…’

But if he were a good person, he wouldn’t have made those cute children into slaves. He wouldn’t have orchestrated their kidnapping either.

Calmly analyzing, Arfia quickly reached a conclusion.

“Set me free.”

“Pardon?”

“I said to set me free.”

Direct confrontation, no beating around the bush.

That was Arfia’s choice.

“Not only did you kidnap me and make me a slave, but you also recklessly marred my soul… and even made those young children into slaves. Don’t you feel any guilt?”

“Haha, of course not. I take pride in my actions at all times.”

“Is this… an action to be proud of?”

“Absolutely.”

Not even considering the taint on her soul, looking at the smirking Carami made her blood boil.

“Ugh.”

Arfia let out a small groan.

The playful children, fueled by her heightened emotions, began to act out joyfully. Arfia pounded her chest in frustration.

“Why are you doing this? Are you not feeling well?”

“It’s n-nothing….”

“Then I’m glad to hear that.”

Carami took a drink.

“Instead of awkwardly standing there, why don’t you come over and have a drink with me?”

“What?”

The word that directly pierced through Arfia’s long ears.

‘Drink?’

Arfia’s eyes widened.

‘Do masters typically drink with their slaves?’ she thought, but that wasn’t the important thing.

If there was alcohol, she could suppress the feeling of pain gnawing at her like a thorny vine. It was not because of any selfish desire to drink human alcohol.

“Ahem, there’s nothing better than alcohol when it comes to having a conversation with an awkward person.”

Having rationalized it while clearing her throat, Arfia sat beside Carami. He poured alcohol into her glass and slid it toward her.

A clear liquid of a light blue hue.

It was alcohol Arfia had never seen before.

“What is this?”

“It’s Lunablume. Alcohol made from the petals of the moonflower. I believe it will suit your taste.”

Though hesitant to drink, seeing Carami drink it openly reduced her caution. She sniffed and took a sip.

A soft and delicate first taste. The scent of moonflower lingered on her tongue. As the drink slid down her throat, it felt as if she could feel the coolness of a moonlit night.

The serene ambiance of a moonlit night enveloped her.

“Wow….”

“How is it?”

“Woah, it’s really delicious. I never knew alcohol could taste this good.”

Just from drinking a single glass, her tense body loosened up.

The intoxicating fumes spread through her body, and the playful children started to wobble. The invincible kids grew quiet as they succumbed to the alcohol, and the pain faded away.

“A good drink doesn’t discriminate between species.”

“Exactly! You really know a thing or two!”

Arfia sprang up, eagerly agreeing.

At that moment, silence enveloped the space.

When she regained her senses, she saw everyone’s eyes wide open, staring at her. Victor, too, had his eyes round, along with the four children peeking down from above.

Only Carami smiled like a fisherman who had cast his bait.

“Typically, every time you take a drink, a veil pulls back a layer.”

Arfia’s face flushed, and feeling embarrassed, she sat down again and took another sip.

“Did you say to set me free?”

“Yes. Why, will you set me free?”

“Hmmm, as much as I would like to do that, if I set you free like this, the losses would be significant… Ah.”

He had no intention of doing that. As Carami pretended to ponder, he let out a brief sigh as if he had come up with something.

“Then let’s do this. Let’s have a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Who can drink more. If you win, I will set you free as you wish. How does that sound? Doesn’t that make me a good Master?”