First Slave

Chris, after leaving the guild, takes some time to explore the town. He takes in the atmosphere, the bustling streets, the merchants shouting about their wares, and the occasional adventurer walking by in their worn-out gear. But amidst all this, his eyes lock onto something far more interesting—a man leading a chained slave through the streets.

The sight sparks his memory.

Right, I wanted one too.

He observes the slave—a human woman, dressed in ragged clothing, her posture submissive. The man leading her looks like a common merchant, not particularly wealthy but clearly someone who deals in such matters.

Chris doesn't hesitate. He approaches the man with a casual stride, his noble-like outfit giving him an air of importance. The merchant barely has time to react before Chris locks eyes with him and whispers:

"Tell me where you got her."

The Command Spell takes hold instantly. The merchant's pupils dilate, and his resistance crumbles. His mouth moves on its own.

"There's a man… a furniture merchant… His name is Durnas. But he also sells slaves in secret."

Chris smirks. Furniture, huh? Sounds like a cover if I've ever heard one.

He leans in slightly, his voice low. "How do I get in?"

The merchant, still under the spell, spills everything. "Durnas won't sell to just anyone. You need a reference. Tell him 'I need a special shipment for the underground storage.' That's the passphrase."

Chris nods, committing the words to memory. "And if he asks who sent me?"

"Tell him Boren did."

Chris pats the merchant's shoulder. "Good job, Boren. You won't remember this conversation."

The man blinks, looking dazed for a moment before continuing on his way, completely unaware of what just transpired.

With the information secured, Chris heads toward Durnas' shop. It looks like an ordinary furniture store—wooden chairs, tables, and cabinets neatly arranged for customers to browse. An older man with graying hair and sharp eyes sits behind the counter, looking Chris over the moment he enters.

Chris walks up confidently, lowering his voice just enough to sound like someone who belongs in this world's underbelly.

"I need a special shipment for the underground storage."

Durnas narrows his eyes slightly but doesn't react beyond that. "Is that so? And who told you about me?"

Chris smirks. "Boren."

The merchant lets the name settle in the air for a moment, then nods. "Follow me."

He leads Chris through a back door and into a dimly lit room with a single desk. Behind the desk, a large wooden cabinet stands against the wall. Durnas pulls a hidden lever, and with a soft creak, the cabinet slides open, revealing a hidden staircase leading downward.

Chris followed the merchant through the staircase which revealed a secret room, so no one could hear them. He on a paper draws a map for chris to reach the place and hand it over to him.

"Since you're new, I'll only give you the location. We don't discuss business here. Go to the lawless district, to the warehouse with the black sigil painted on its doors. Knock three times, then once more after a pause. Someone will let you in."

Chris nods. "Got it."

Durnas gives him a warning look. "If you cause trouble, you won't leave that place alive."

Chris chuckles, stepping away. We'll see about that.

The lawless district is everything Chris expects—dirty streets, broken buildings, and people who look like they'd slit your throat for a single coin. But he walks through it fearlessly, his noble appearance and confident stride making people think twice before approaching him.

He reaches the black-sigiled warehouse and follows the instructions—three knocks, a pause, then one more. A small window in the door slides open. A pair of suspicious eyes peer at him.

"Who sent you?"

"Durnas."

The door unlocks, and Chris steps inside.

He finally reaches his much-awaited destination—the underground slave market.

But instead of an array of exotic slaves, the sight before him is disappointing.

There are slaves, yes—but mostly humans. And not even the kind he's looking for.

Muscular men meant for labor. A few women, none particularly attractive. No beastwomen in sight.

Chris frowns, his excitement fading.

A nearby slaver is speaking to another man, frustration clear in his voice.

"All the good stock was in the last shipment… but those damn beasts ruined everything. The guards protecting the caravan were useless! They got wiped out, and when we sent people to recover what we could, all the slaves had already escaped. Even the treasure was gone."

Chris listens, and then it clicks.

He knows exactly which incident they're talking about.

So that caravan was headed here…

Chris exhales, shaking his head in amusement. If that wild beast hadn't attacked, he wouldn't be here trying to buy a slave—he would've been the one getting sold.

"Lucky me," he mutters under his breath.

For now, though, his mission isn't over. Even if there are no beastwomen here, he still wants a slave. And if this place can't provide one, he'll just have to figure out another way to get what he wants.

Chris let out a sigh, feeling both relieved and disappointed. Relieved that he wasn't the one being sold, but disappointed that there weren't any beastwomen for sale.

'Damn it, I was really looking forward to getting a sexy one…'

As he turned to leave, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.

His instincts flared, and he quickly turned, ready to shake off whatever was clinging to him. His gaze landed on a cage, and inside it, a boy around his age stared at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

The boy had dark brown hair, tangled and unkempt, but his ocean-blue eyes shone even in the dim light. His expression was clear—he was begging to be taken away from here.

Chris scowled, immediately yanking his arm free.

'A damn guy? What the hell?'

He didn't come here for this. He wanted a hot, submissive slave girl, not some random boy. His displeasure was evident as he turned away without a second thought.

However, the slaver noticed his reaction. Seeing a potential high-paying customer walking away dissatisfied, the man quickly stepped in, eager to salvage the situation.

"I deeply apologize for that, sir!" The slaver barked, eyes narrowing at the boy. Without hesitation, he unlocked the cage and yanked him out by the arm.

"You damn brat, ruining my business!"

A loud slap echoed through the room as the slaver struck the boy across the face. The force sent him tumbling to the ground, but he didn't cry out. He just gritted his teeth, his body tensing as he awaited the next blow.

Chris watched, his expression unreadable.

He could have just ignored it. The kid wasn't his problem.

But for a brief moment, an image flashed through his mind—himself, bound in chains, thrown into a cage, waiting to be sold to some unknown master. If not for the wild beast that attacked, he wouldn't be standing here now.

'That could've been me…'

The thought made something in his chest tighten. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hey," he said, his voice sharp.

The slaver froze mid-swing, looking up at Chris in confusion.

"How much for him?"

The slaver hesitated, then quickly straightened up, eager to make a sale.

"For him, sir? He's in poor condition and doesn't have much use for labor. He's not fit for pleasure either and you don't seem to be the one to seek pleasure from a man,so I can offer a low price. Normally, I'd say 80 silver, but for you, I'll make it 70."

Chris stared at the beaten boy, his expression unreadable. He didn't need a male slave, but for some reason, the idea of leaving him here didn't sit right with him.

'It's cheap anyway.'

But even then, there was no reason not to haggle. He had the perfect way to do it.

His eyes glowed faintly as he activated his Command Spell.

"You'll sell him to me for 50 silver," Chris said smoothly. His voice carried an unnatural weight, slipping directly into the slaver's mind.

The merchant blinked, his resistance crumbling in an instant.

"Yes… 50 silver is fine," he said, nodding as if it was his own decision.

Chris smirked, pulling out the coins and tossing them onto the table.

"Pleasure doing business," he said, before glancing at the boy. "Get up."

The boy, still stunned by everything happening so fast, scrambled to his feet. His blue eyes flickered with confusion and disbelief, but he remained silent, stepping toward Chris.

"S-sir!"

Chris turned, not looking back as he left the slave market.

He had come for a beautiful beastwoman, but instead, he walked away with a scrawny, battered human boy.

'Not exactly what I wanted…'

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the boy walking beside him. The kid was quiet, his head lowered as if expecting another beating at any moment.

"What's your name?" Chris asked.

The boy hesitated, then softly muttered, "Leon."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "And your parents? Where are they?"

Leon's hands clenched at his sides. "I… don't have any."

Chris stopped walking. "You're an orphan?"

Leon gave a small nod, not meeting his eyes. "I was living on the streets. I got caught when I was looking for food."

Chris exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Great. Just great.'

He had figured he could dump the kid back where he came from, let his family deal with him. But if Leon really had no one… that meant he was his responsibility now.

Chris clicked his tongue in annoyance. He didn't plan on taking in some starving street rat, but here they were. He did buy the kid, after all.

Which meant, like it or not—

Leon belonged to him.