<Chapter 7>

“Since I’m going to be sold anyway, I want to be sold for a high price.”

“Hoo?”

“The higher the winning bid, the better the household I’ll be sold to… isn’t that right?”

Laren smiled slyly, his eyes sparkling. The merchant stroked his beard as if trying to grasp his intention, but he already seemed quite tempted. After all, the higher the final price, the greater the profit for the slave traders.

“I have a peculiar talent that can raise my value.”

“A peculiar talent?”

“Yes, if you send me out last, I’ll demonstrate it there.”

“What is that talent?”

“It’s hard to explain here; you’ll probably have to see it for yourself to understand.”

Humans are creatures of curiosity by nature. At the vague explanation, curiosity surged across the merchant’s greedy face.

“…Don’t try any funny business.”

“Of course not—if I do, you can behead me right there on the spot.”

“Good. Hey, bring this white-haired guy out last!”

“Yes, sir.”

With a satisfied expression, the merchant led his guards out of the waiting room. As soon as the door closed, Naias and Her Helian hurried over.

“Ren, are you okay?”

“Are you alright?!”

Naias was one thing, but why was Her Helian making such a fuss? As Laren stared in bewilderment, she murmured, “I’m glad you seem fine,” and returned to where the girls were gathered. Naias, who had been anxiously scanning him, pressed firmly on his abdomen.

“You got hit here, right?”

“Ow!”

A stinging ache throbbed through his lightly pressed abdomen, making Laren frown. A deep bruise was sure to form. He now regretted neglecting physical training in the past because of his obsession with magic.

‘I remember the face of that guard I kicked earlier.’

As he ground his teeth in resentment, the mercenaries who entered took two people each and left through the door. When the previous pair returned, they would take the next two. More than half the people had already gone through, so Kar’s turn would come soon. Laren shifted his gaze to Kar and stroked his chin.

‘…He’s peculiar, that’s for sure.’

Kar exuded an emptiness in a different sense from Naias. Rather than having given up on life, he seemed to find the whole situation merely tedious.

His dull navy-blue eyes formed a strange contrast with his childish appearance. Sitting there without any particular interest, it might still be a bizarre and horrific scene for a child to endure—the sight of oneself standing on stage while being appraised and bid on from below in this abnormal auction.

Laren grabbed the hand of Kar, who was blankly staring at the door.

“Kar, don’t be nervous—just go and come back.”

At the sudden gesture, a flicker of concern passed over his navy eyes. Kar glanced down at his hand and nodded faintly.

“Next!”

The mercenary who opened the door brought in two people, then, as expected, took one woman and Kar out. Next up were Her Helian and Naias. Naias, seeming tense, clutched tightly at the hem of Laren’s clothes.

“Close your eyes tight when you’re out there. And Lady Helian, please try to forget today’s scene as soon as it’s over.”

“…Yes.”

Apparently very tense, Her Helian couldn’t properly lift her bowed head. Before long, the mercenary who had pushed Kar and the woman back in took the young lady and Naias out. Recalling that his own turn was approaching, Laren examined Kar’s body.

“Kar, are you okay? No injuries anywhere?”

Kar, slowly sinking down to sit, nodded. It was serious—even his nodding was adorable. He was truly an embodiment of all his preferences. As Laren’s blue eyes grew dreamy once more, Kar let out a resigned sigh.

“Can I ask how it was?”

“…Masks.”

Ah, they were wearing masks. Even with that brief explanation, Laren nodded enthusiastically.

‘Masks, huh…’

In a place where even noble young ladies were kidnapped and sold, it was predictable that the bidders would conceal their identities. Laren felt nausea rising at this filthy playground of the wealthy.

Part of him wanted to capture them all and turn them over to the imperial hearings, but his goal was the safe escape of everyone here. As he ground his teeth, his eyes met Kar’s, and he immediately adopted a kindly expression.

“Your status?”

At the abrupt question, Laren stared blankly at Kar before pointing to himself with his finger. As expected from a child of nobility, asking something like that.

‘As I thought, I don’t look like a noble at all.’

Indeed, Laren’s manner of speech, personality, and attire made it hard to peg him as nobility. Though he was the son of a ducal family, holing himself up to immerse in magic experiments had naturally shaped him into someone with a unique disposition.

If not for the maids or his clandestine outings, he might have ended up as a person with rock-bottom social skills.

“Of course I’m a commoner. You have some status, don’t you, Kar?”

Having gotten the answer he wanted, Kar didn’t respond to the question in return and sharply turned his head away. He was quite prickly. Laren had suffered several wounds to the heart today alone. Gazing down at the round little head, Laren extended his hand toward Kar.

“Kar, let me see your hand.”

He conjured a small flame on his index finger and carefully began to burn through the rope binding Kar’s wrists. Whoosh—the faint smell of the rope burning spread, eliciting a reaction from Laren’s empty stomach.

‘I’m hungry.’

He hadn’t eaten a thing since arriving here. The perfect way to cap off the day was with one of Dorben’s butter cakes in the evening. The mere thought of that golden-brown butter cake made his stomach rumble loudly. At the sound, Kar’s gaze drifted to Laren’s belly.

“Pig.”

“Hey now, that’s not nice!”

A wave of irritation surged through him. It was far too crude a word to come from the lips of such an angelic child. As Laren pursed his lips in pout, the rope binding Kar’s wrists finally burned through and snapped. Once Laren—the last in line—stepped out, it would be Kar’s job to swiftly untie everyone’s ropes.

“Listen, could you look after Naias for me? I’m a bit worried about her.”

“…”

“If you don’t answer, I’ll kiss you.”

As Laren playfully puckered his lips, Kar nodded with a look of utter contempt. When would he ever get used to that disdainful expression?

After glaring for a while, Kar seemed to find the emotional drain tiresome and simply closed his eyes. For a child, his movements were unusually languid, drawing the eye.

Gurgle—another rumble echoed from Laren’s stomach, and Kar’s closed eyes fluttered open. Feeling a touch embarrassed, Laren patted his belly.

“…As soon as we escape, the first thing I’m doing is eating.”

“Pig.”

“Kar, why is it that word comes out so perfectly every time?”

In a fit of pique, Laren pinched Kar’s cheek. Caught off guard by the unexpected assault, Kar furrowed his brow deeply—just as the door opened and Her Helian and Naias entered.

“Next!”

The mercenary trailing behind gestured at Laren, who was still holding Kar’s cheek. Wondering if he’d pulled too hard, Laren smoothed Kar’s hair before rising from his seat.

“I’ll be back.”

He flashed a bright smile at Kar, who looked up at him, then turned and walked toward the mercenary. A faint emotion flickered across Kar’s face as he watched Laren’s retreating back.

“Move it!”

“Ow!”

The mercenary, irritated by Laren’s plodding steps, slapped the back of his head with a sharp smack. Since arriving here, Laren had experienced the novel sensations of having his hand stepped on, his abdomen pummeled, and now even the back of his head struck—all accompanied by real pain.

Suppressing the bubbling surges of anger, Laren quickened his pace. The mercenary holding the rope clucked his tongue at the sudden brisk stride.

“Tsk tsk, looks like he’s finally lost it.”

“Staying sane in a place like this would be the real miracle. Let’s go.”

The mercenary who’d struck his head urged him onward. The building’s layout, glimpsed as they walked the corridor, was straightforward. If this direction led to the auction hall, then the opposite end of the corridor from the waiting room must be the exit to the outside.

Places hosting illegal trades like this tended to have simple structures by necessity. The more complex it was, the more points of control and oversight it required.

As a sizable slave trading operation, mercenaries stood guard at intervals along the corridor. Emerging from the winding hallway, the clamor of excited shouts began to reach them.

“Come one, come all—the star to crown this auction is none other than the white-haired boy!”

The voice of a gaunt man, who had been fawning over the merchant earlier, sliced through the air. He seemed to handle the emceeing with his ingratiating eloquence as well.

“And what’s more, this item will showcase a talent sure to tug at the heartstrings of our esteemed guests!”

Laren hadn’t said anything about tugging at heartstrings. He wrinkled his nose. The emcee’s intriguing description only amplified the uproar in the auction hall.

In a place where most of the captives had been kidnapped, willingly performing a talent to fetch a higher price was something only the insane would do. Being valued like merchandise, enduring humiliation that made death seem preferable—it was all mere entertainment to these people.

A few more steps brought them to a spot visible from behind the stage. One of the mercenaries yanked the blankly standing Laren behind a massive curtain.

“Uh… sir. Could you possibly untie this rope for me?”

“What’s your game?”

“It’s a talent that involves my body, so it’d be better if my hands were free…”

‘And it’s a hassle to burn it off with magic.’

As the mercenary eyed him suspiciously from above, Laren crinkled his eyes in a ingratiating smile. After a few attempts at flattery, he was starting to get the hang of it.

“With you guarding my back like this, how could I possibly run away?”

Indeed, escaping from here was next to impossible. The front was blocked by the stage and audience seats, and fleeing backward would mean breaking through the corridor’s guards.

If someone could escape just by having their wrist ropes untied, they wouldn’t have made it this far in the first place. After a moment’s hesitation, the mercenary began to loosen the rope. The one watching nearby, apparently sharing the same thought, made no move to stop him.

“And now, we unveil him at last! The mysterious white-haired beauty with an enigmatic talent!”

Amid the roaring cheers, the heavy curtain blocking the front parted, and Laren was momentarily speechless at the scene unfolding before him. Far more than fifty people filled his vision to the brim.

Outwardly, they strutted about with haughty poise, but behind closed doors, they indulged in filthy hobbies—and here they were, gathered in numbers too great to count on one’s fingers. Every soul in this room likely wielded status and power in the outside world.

Confronted with the twisted structure of society laid bare before his eyes, Laren felt bile rising in his throat. He’d come here with a plan to rely on, but that didn’t make it any easier to remain unaffected.

Sweat beaded on his tightly clenched fists; he wiped it off on his trouser leg. To suppress the churning disgust, fear, and anxiety welling up inside, he took a deep breath.

“Hello, everyone.”

And then he grinned widely. The sight of a slave ascending the stage with such a radiant smile sent the audience into even greater frenzy.

“Oh my, a slave smiling on stage? That’s a first.”

“White hair and blue eyes—quite rare.”

“How about letting me have this one? You already won Lady Helian.”

They exchanged light chatter, but behind their masks, every eye scrutinized the slave with meticulous greed. Even enduring those oily, dripping gazes sent chills down his spine. The temperature in his blue eyes, hidden behind the smile, gradually cooled.

“I’m grateful for the opportunity to showcase my talent here today.”

“Hoo.”

“Quite the bold slave, isn’t he?”

“A talent, you say? How intriguing.”

As the commotion in the auction hall intensified further, Laren’s chilly gaze swept over the interior. The emcee, clearly curious about the talent’s nature himself, quickly prompted applause from the audience.

“We hope you enjoy the show.”

Dozens of clapping hands filled the auction hall. In response, Laren offered another deep smile and raised his hand, plunging the interior into sudden silence.

“Fire Arrow.”

At Laren’s single utterance, several arrows wreathed in roaring flames materialized above the stage.

* * *

Once the mercenary had led Laren away, Kar untied the ropes from Naias and Her Helian. Her Helian’s expression grew peculiar as she watched the small boy’s hands move with surprising speed.

‘This boy…’

With her wrists now free, Her Helian snapped back to her senses and began untying the others’ ropes. As Kar scanned the swiftly moving group, he stretched his stiff body and recalled the blue-eyed, white-haired youth.