Lost in thought, time slips away, and finally, the door opens. I glance up eagerly, and my jaw drops. ‘Holy Mother of God!’ I exclaim internally. She is the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, both in this world and the other!
A beautiful young girl walks in who I can only assume to be Ayame, followed by a lady employee caretaker, who bows and leaves once the slave steps inside the room.
She stands before me, a vision of exotic beauty with delicate, East Asian features. Her skin is pale and smooth, a striking contrast to the rags she wears. Her dark black hair is neatly kept, falling just to her shoulders, framing her pretty face with its crystal blue eyes that seem to pierce right through me.
Despite her wardrobe’s current perilous state, her slender, short frame exudes an undeniable grace. (picture)
I say she has a slender frame, but that doesn’t mean she is flat as a board at all; even through her rags I can confidently say that she has the right curves in the right places. Thin waist, perky breasts and a tantalizing behind are definitely a given.
I wonder why they dressed her in such cheap rags, though. As a combat slave, basic leather armor would be more fitting. Then it hits me- they’re already selling her at a huge loss; proper clothing would just be extra expense. At least, the caretaker made her extremely presentable aside from her attire.
An iron collar is clasped around her neck, a stark reminder of her social status. Her feet are bare, devoid of any shoes which only add to the aura of vulnerability that surrounds her. For a moment, I am speechless, captivated by the blend of fragility, beauty, nobility, and strength she emanates all at the same time.
I ain’t a simp, so I do my best to gather my composure. After all, if she sees that I’m infatuated before our talk even begins, she might use it against me. This isn’t a date; it’s a serious negotiation. “Hello, Ayame. My name is Quinlan. I understand you have the right to refuse me, but I’d like to get to know you and understand your situation better.”
Ayame’s gaze remains steady, unwavering. She steps further into the room, the soft rustle of her ragged attire the only sound I hear as she takes a seat opposite me. Her demeanor is calm, almost serene, despite the harsh conditions she’s endured.
Once she is seated and focused on me, I begin. “Let’s talk. I’d like to hear your story and see if we can find a path forward that suits both of us.”
Ayame sits gracefully, her eyes never leaving mine. “Ask your questions.” She states rather nonchalantly.
“First, I would like to know why you have refused your previous buyers. What is it that you seek in your potential master?”
Ayame’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of emotion in her eyes- perhaps a hint of tiredness. “Before I get to the most crucial point in this regard, I would like to clarify that I am a warrior, not an exotic commodity that you can parade around town.”
Understandable, she probably had a lot of potential buyers who were more interested in showing off this oriental beauty to their friends than taking her into combat situations. “Fair enough. Since we are already on the topic, could you tell me more about your origins? I’ve not yet seen someone with similar features to yours.”
She nods, her serene calmness not leaving her striking features. “I can’t tell you many details because I’m not aware of much either. I don’t know if you are knowledgeable about the geography of this world. It is an archipelago with many continental islands scattered around the globe. My clan traces its lineage from a different continent than the one we are on now.
I don’t know how or why, but many thousands of years ago, my clan migrated here.”
Oh! So we have many continents in this world. How cool. Makes me want to go on adventures and explore all of them.
“I see. Thank you for expanding my worldview.”
She doesn’t react, so I continue. “Your first request, or rather requirement, is completely fine with me. I’m looking for a combat slave to help me level up. I’m very weak and new to the world of fighting and because of that I have difficulty entrusting my life to a stranger who can backstab me at a single moment’s whim.
So I would need you to act as a sort of trainer, bodyguard, and mentor figure for me.”
She narrows her eyes slightly, as if assessing my sincerity. I take that as my cue to elaborate further.
“I understand that as a beautiful woman, you might prefer a female master-”
She suddenly interrupts me, “no, women are crueler than men in my experience. A male master will stare at me lecherously and use me as eye candy to stroke his ego, while a woman master would get jealous of my looks and all the attention I get just by walking down the streets while minding my own business and make my life infinitely harder.
Furthermore, while I never had a master before, in general, I had many bad experiences with women but only minor annoyances with men. One gender wants to ruin me and the other just wants to woo me. Of course, that is not to say that all women are as such; I’ve had friendly encounters too.”
“Women’s jealousy, huh. I didn’t think of that. No woman wants to be outshone by her slave. Lucky me then, I suppose. You can outshine me to your heart’s content.” I joke, which might have resulted in the faintest of smiles appearing on her lips. Perhaps.
I’m not sure as she regained her strict ice princess attitude in the blink of an eye.
“As I was saying, I will respect your words. I’m a total newbie, so I would value your input greatly. I won’t brush your words off just because you are ‘beneath me,’ so to say. I admit that I’m a proud person, and, as you said, having you as my slave would be stroking my male ego quite a bit, but I find no shame in following your advice.”
She seems to appreciate my honesty as her narrowed eyes relax once more. Hearing that I acknowledge her beauty and my interest in her physical form must’ve assured her that I’m not trying to deceive her. I’m no saint, and I don’t intend to pretend to be one. I bet a lot of men told her that they are not at all interested in her while their body language said otherwise.
She has ‘interviewed’ a lot of ‘applicants,’ so she must be able to spot lies quite easily by now, so I will just be truthful with her.
“I feel like I must warn you that I’m not only at the very beginning of my journey in attaining levels but also am quite poor. I have no home, I only have a few silver coins to my name, and we will need to pay three silver coins weekly for your contract, so our living conditions might not live up to a lady’s standards.”
She smiles clearly for the first time since we met. “Even sleeping under the naked night sky would be more accommodating than my current living situation, so that is not an issue for me. In fact, having such a fresh start makes me a bit excited. From rags to riches, as they say.
Quite literally in my case, bastards didn’t even give me clean rags…” She mutters the last sentence under her breath, but I manage to catch it.
In the end, I replicate her smile. The conversation is turning out well so far. From rags to riches- I like the sound of that.