<Chapter 5>

The caravan leader spat out phlegm and walked outside. The scrawny man glared at Laren with an expression that seemed to say, “Know that you survived thanks to me,” before quickly following suit.

‘If it weren’t for you in the first place, I wouldn’t even be here.’

Laren ground her teeth softly under her breath.

“That guy, plus a noble lady and a young elf. This time, the profits should be quite substantial.”

“Absolutely, we’ll set the highest prices.”

With a thud, the heavy door closed, leaving only the faint light of a lantern illuminating the interior. So it’s definitely a slave caravan. Laren let out a thin sigh and absentmindedly turned her head, only to find deep navy-blue eyes gazing back at her.

‘…What is this creature?’

A sudden shock struck her heart, and Laren clamped her mouth shut. Thump-thump, thump-thump. Her heart was pounding so hard it wouldn’t have been strange if it burst right out of her chest.

“Stay quiet.”

A low voice flowed from the lips of a boy who didn’t even look ten years old. The vacant gaze, mismatched with his baby fat that hadn’t fully faded, created an eerie atmosphere. As Laren’s eyes grew hazy, the boy tilted his head in puzzlement, causing his black hair to cascade messily over his ear.

“Oh my goodness… So cute…”

Laren brought her bound hands to her face and murmured without realizing it. At the sparkling eyes and unexpected admiration, the boy’s brow furrowed deeply. It seemed the comment about being cute had rubbed him the wrong way.

“Wow…”

It was the perfect kind of cuteness that tugged at a woman’s heartstrings. Even frowning, he was adorable. If a stranger looked at you with such longing eyes, it could definitely feel off-putting—I get that.

“Hello?”

The boy pushed Laren’s suddenly approaching face away with his small index finger, his expression hardening. Though her head was forced back, even that action was cute, so her blue eyes refused to leave him.

“How old are you? Eight? Nine?”

“Shut up.”

“Ten, maybe? But you’re a bit small for that.”

The boy found Laren’s endless curiosity unsettling. A face sparkling like that in a slave caravan? She must be mentally unhinged. A sense of dismay crossed his face at the thought of getting tangled up with the wrong person.

“Aw, trying to sleep?”

Ignoring her excessive friendliness, the boy simply closed his eyes. His furrowed brow clearly showed his annoyance, but Laren arbitrarily decided it was because he was young and needed lots of sleep, nodding in understanding.

Even his eyelashes were cute, growing in such a pretty shape—it made her heart flutter wildly. Careful not to wake the boy, Laren quietly shifted her body and turned her gaze to the surroundings.

‘If I were alone, I could escape easily enough with magic…’

She wasn’t exactly brimming with kindness or a sense of justice, but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore the weak in a place where their futures were obviously doomed after being sold. Especially since it reminded her of Kana, whom she’d rescued from a slave caravan before—it made it even harder to walk away.

‘Hmm…’

She hesitated because of the mana restrictions, but the sleeping boy beside her solidified her resolve. Leaving such a cute child behind to escape alone would be utterly villainous, a sin. Playing the role of the righteous one didn’t sound so bad.

Focusing mana into her bound wrists, it flowed as freely as ever. Thanks to mages being rare, fortunately, there were no devices specifically restraining magic. As Laren glanced around, her eyes landed on the young elf in the corner of the warehouse.

‘A face like that…’

The young elf stared blankly into space with eyes so empty it wouldn’t be surprising if she dropped dead at any moment.

Young elves are protected by their kin deep in the forests and only become independent upon reaching adulthood.

‘How did they capture an elf who looks no older than six or seven?’

Laren’s gaze lingered on the young elf for a long time. Across from the elf, against the wall, sat a woman clutching her dress closed. Even at a glance, the expensive gown and her fine hair—disheveled as it was—marked her unmistakably as a noble young lady.

She seemed exhausted from crying so much, leaning against the wall, but her fist gripping the dress was trembling. As Laren examined the noble lady, she touched her chin thoughtfully.

‘…Why does she look familiar? I’ve never met ladies from other houses.’

Since she hadn’t gone through her debutante yet, she knew no noble ladies by face. And yet, there wasn’t anyone she knew who resembled her.

“Herr Helian.”

“Huh?”

The boy, whom she’d thought was asleep, spoke indifferently. In that instant, a flash of realization hit Laren, and she lifted her head.

‘Wait, Herr Helian?’

“The missing Herr Helian?!”

She recalled the portrait she’d seen in the imperial newspaper not long ago.

‘Orange hair with delicate eyes.’

It was customary not to publish portraits of noble ladies in the papers, so the article had stuck with her. It said she’d gone missing after her carriage overturned on the way back from teatime.

‘To think she’d be in a place like this.’

Without meaning to, Laren let out a yelp, drawing all eyes in the warehouse toward her. At the sudden mention of her name, Herr Helian’s gaze also turned to Laren.

“Do you know me?”

“Yes? Oh, from the newspaper article…”

“I see? It even made the papers. Father must be… terribly worried.”

Herr Helian leaned her head back against the wall with a weary expression. Since it had happened before Laren was cursed, quite some time had passed. Feeling an unwelcome pity, Laren shook her head.

Herr Helian, the young elf, seven boys and girls in their early teens, six young women, Laren, and the black-haired boy—there were seventeen people in total inside the warehouse.

‘What am I going to do? They definitely said the auction is tonight.’

With a flop, Laren leaned against the wall and sank into thought. She knew roughly how slave caravans operated from what Kana had told her. Once a certain number of people were gathered, the auction would begin, and after the bidding ended, they’d brand the slaves and deliver them to the buyers. She had to escape before the slave brand was stamped on.

“…Is it even possible?”

At Laren’s murmur, whose meaning was unclear, the boy sitting beside her turned his gaze toward her. What a strange one. Caught in a slave caravan, yet with eyes shining like that.

Feeling the blatant stare, Laren also gazed back at the boy.

‘Really, how can something be this cute?’

Staring openly, Laren poked at his soft-looking cheek with a prod. Thanks to that, the boy’s face crumpled dramatically.

“What’s your name, cutie?”

The cutie shot her a look of outright disdain and ignored the question completely. Receiving such a gaze from an adorable child left a small scratch on Laren’s heart.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have no choice but to keep calling you cutie.”

“…Kar.”

The boy’s reply came, as if horrified at the prospect of actually being called cutie. His once vacant navy-blue eyes now blazed toward Laren.

‘What did I do wrong?’

She pondered deeply over the hostility radiating from the boy, but nothing came to mind.

“Kar, how did you end up here?”

Kar turned his head away, offering no response. What a quiet kid, she thought, carrying on the conversation all by herself. Silence must be his preference. Judging by his neat appearance, Kar seemed like a child from a wealthy family or, like Herr Helian, the offspring of nobility.

‘Was he kidnapped or something?’

As Laren continued to observe Kar, a glint sparked in her eyes. In contrast to his pale back of the hand, his palm was rough with calluses—the hand of someone who wielded a sword. In strict households, some made children grip a sword from as young as five, so Laren brushed it off as nothing unusual.

“Wait right here; I’ll be back in a bit.”

When she reached out to pat his head, Kar quickly jerked away to avoid it. As her bound hands hovered awkwardly in the air, Laren swallowed back tears inside.

‘My Kar is shy with strangers and a bit prickly, huh.’

After a brief moment of dejection, Laren sprang to her feet and approached Herr Helian. Herr Helian, lost in a daze staring into space, didn’t notice the movement until Laren was right beside her.

Only after Laren bent her knees and sat down did she realize someone had approached, flinching in surprise. Laren lowered her voice to avoid stirring the others.

“Lady Helian.”

“…Yes?”

“I plan to escape this place.”

“What? How?”

Escape. At the sudden declaration, a faint glimmer of hope flickered across Herr Helian’s pallid face.

“To escape, I’ll need your help, Lady Helian.”

“My help?”

“Most of the people here are young children and commoner women. When the time comes to make our break, I’d like you to take on the role of leading them.”

At Laren’s request, Herr Helian shook her head.

“I, I can’t… I mean…”

With so many children, they needed someone besides Laren to direct the escape. Even a delicate woman, if she held noble status, could inspire a unique sense of expectation from commoners. A mere symbolic figure would do, regardless.

“Please.”

She might come across as a timid young lady, but Laren saw it differently. She’d noticed the fierce glare Herr Helian had shot at the caravan leader when he entered.

‘At least she seems to have enough will to do her part.’

To encourage her, Laren placed her hand over Herr Helian’s.

“Just manage to keep everyone together so no one strays. I promise nothing will put you in danger, Lady Helian.”

Herr Helian stared blankly at the hand covering hers, her ears turning a vivid red. In that instant, with a sharp smack, her hand was swatted away, reminding Laren of her current masculine appearance.

‘Oops, casually touching a noble young lady is a breach of etiquette.’

Herr Helian looked down at her own hand in flustered embarrassment after reflexively knocking it away. In response, Laren shrugged her shoulders to show she wasn’t bothered.

“How do you plan to create an escape route?”

“There is a way. You just need to focus on escaping when the opportunity arises, my lady.”

In truth, Laren didn’t have a clear method yet, so she evaded vaguely. At the short word “escape,” Herr Helian’s body twitched.

‘Escape… huh.’

As she met those blue eyes, resolve gradually built on Herr Helian’s face. Better to struggle than be sold off to those dreadful people like this.

“…I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

‘Yes, I figured you’d have at least this much fighting spirit.’

Satisfied, Laren flashed a bright smile, causing Herr Helian’s face to flush red once more.

‘Why has she been like this since earlier?’

Turning her gaze away from the young lady fanning herself with her hand again, Laren approached the young elf.

“Hello?”

She bent her knees and put on the kindest smile she could muster. Even so, the young elf pressed tightly against the blocking wall, full of wariness. Up close, the girl’s face still held baby fat that hadn’t fully faded, making her look even younger than her small frame suggested.

‘Seven? Eight?’

Elves lived more than twice as long as humans, but their growth rate was similar. It was only after reaching full adulthood that aging slowed dramatically compared to humans.

Let alone adulthood—this elf should still be in her parents’ arms. Once again, rage surged in Laren toward the slave caravan that would capture such a young one.

How to win over this child’s trust?

The elf’s withdrawn attitude raised the risk she might not join properly during the escape. After staring blankly for a moment, Laren plopped down across from her with a thud.

“Hmm, I have an elf at home too. Not as young as you, though.”

At the human’s bold behavior, the young elf’s pupils shook violently. Noting the trembling eyes, Laren smiled and propped her chin on her hand.

“We grew up together from around your age. She was rescued by my father from a slave market and brought to our house. She’s a half-elf, mixed with human. Rare, so she went through some really awful things at the slave market.”

Murmuring as if recounting an old tale, Laren drew a twitch from the elf’s pointed ears. Glancing to check the reaction, she continued the story.

“Since I was little, I thought half-elves were fascinating, so the first time we met, I hugged her tight. She kicked me right away with her foot. I went tumbling across the grass. But I didn’t give up—I hugged her every day, and every day I got kicked. Such a tiny thing, but so strong.”