Chapter 10

Flam and Milkitt, as they had discussed the previous day, had come to the central district to go shopping.

Flam, who had already graduated from her tattered rags, was dressed in a simple shirt on top and hot pants on the bottom, making for a comfortable outfit.

As for Milkitt—

"…Are you really sure this is okay?"

"Well, rather, I should be the one asking. Is it really alright to buy such expensive clothes?"

"Thanks to Anzu, we have some financial leeway, but… why is that?"

—She was trying on a maid's uniform, primarily in black, with frilly lace on the skirt and chest, making it look somewhat like a dress.

In fact, it seemed difficult to work as a maid in this outfit, so it might be for people with specific tastes.

The mismatch with her bandaged face, however, gave it a certain Gothic charm, which Flam found somewhat appealing.

"This is the most common outfit I've seen, so I've always wanted to try it on."

Milkitt, pinching the skirt with her hand, glanced at her reflection in the mirror in the fitting room. It wasn't a clear desire but more of a vague, thin admiration.

When Flam asked if there was anything she wanted to wear, this was the answer she managed to come up with.

"Well, it does look cute… Maybe we should get it."

"I agree, it's a beautiful design."

"No, no, it's not just the dress; you look cute in it too. Miss, over here!"

Milkitt, taken aback by Flam's casual and embarrassing comment, stared at her. However, Flam, seemingly unaware of her own words, waved to a polite female shop assistant standing a bit away.

The assistant, who had run over, momentarily showed a displeased expression when she saw the slave's mark on Flam's cheek but quickly recovered.

This wasn't because the assistant was particularly well-mannered; it was because the interaction had already been handled when they entered the store.

At that time, Milkitt was still in tattered clothes and had received a more obvious reaction.

Still, the treatment at the guild was even worse, and Flam had gotten used to it.

Slaves were of that status, and with a mark that would never fade, they had no choice but to live with it.

Flam paid at the counter they were directed to, and the two left the store.

A slave girl in a ragged outfit with a blood-stained gauntlet tied to her waist, and a maid in a bandaged face—what a strange and mysterious pair they made.

Originally, they had a tendency to stand out, but with their new outfits, it was even more pronounced.

However, the main street of the central district was so crowded with shoppers and tourists that it could be described as "filled with people."

It wasn't a special holiday or festival; it was always like this.

In such a crowd, even the most unusual pair would quickly disappear from view, so they didn't attract much attention.

It was a relief not to stand out, but they had to be careful not to be swept away by the flow of people, so Flam held Milkitt's hand as they walked.

There were many things they needed to buy.

Starting a new life with nothing, they couldn't possibly buy all the essentials in one trip, even with their arms full of bags.

For now, they needed to gather the things they would need today.

They had already taken care of the most urgent need—clothes—and now moved on to shoes, toothbrushes, and bath supplies.

They also needed a backpack for adventures and food for dinner.

Even at a minimum, that was quite a bit.

They had the financial means, but not much time.

They entered stores, hurriedly browsed the items, picked them up, and bought them—Flam and Milkitt repeated this process several times.

It was a busy day, but for Milkitt, who had never shopped for herself, it was a valuable experience.

"Thank you very much!"

They were seen off by a shop assistant who was unusually friendly to slaves, and they walked down the main street, sharing the increased load of their purchases while still holding hands.

"Shopping is starting to get fun."

"I understand. There are so many new things to see, and I can't help but be distracted."

"Hehe, when you brought that fancy dishware that would blow all our money, I was really worried."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize those numbers were prices…"

Milkitt, looking embarrassed, lowered her head.

Seeing her like this, Flam stopped walking and looked up at a sign of a store that happened to be on the street.

"Master?"

"Can we make a detour?"

"Of course, the destination is up to you, Master."

The store Flam found was the largest bookstore in the capital.

Inside, the first thing they saw was a display of the Origin religion's holy book.

In the kingdom's history, when "books" were not as accessible to the common people as they are now, the church held the most books.

The church also actively educated children, leading to the development of printing technology to produce reference books for education and mass-produce holy books for distribution to believers.

This influence is still seen today, with many printing companies and bookstores in the kingdom being under the church's influence.

Indeed, the store's sign featured a logo inspired by the symbol of the creation god Origin.

However, it's also true that the holy book is a bestseller, so it's placed in the most visible spot.

Flam and Milkitt didn't belong to any religion.

They passed by the display indifferently and, using a map posted on a nearby pillar, headed to the bookshelves on the back wall.

"Master, you read books?"

"Hmm? Not for me."

Flam said and turned back to the bookshelf, pulling out a book with an interesting spine and checking the cover.

Her expression was unusually serious.

Milkitt tilted her head, wondering why she was so serious if it wasn't for herself.

"Then, who will read it?"

"I said I'd teach you to read and write when we settle down. We got a good amount of money earlier than expected, so I thought I'd prepare now."

"Oh, you were serious about that."

"Did you think I was just trying to cheer you up?"

"I never thought you'd do so much for an incompetent slave like me."

Milkitt's self-deprecation was something Flam had gotten used to.

Flam's mission wasn't to nitpick at her words but to build her confidence and make her stop using such words naturally.

"Do you want me to be independent?"

"I haven't thought that far, it's a bit premature."

"But if I gain the ability to live on my own thanks to the knowledge and experience you give me—"

Her voice was tinged with uncertainty.

Understanding her feelings, Flam smiled wryly.

"Don't worry, I don't have the confidence to live on my own either."

"…You said that before."

"Can't you trust me?"

"I don't know what trust is. But I want to stay with you as long as possible."

Milkitt's words made Flam smile.

"Hehe, isn't that what trust is? You want to be with someone because you trust them."

"Is this trust…"

Milkitt placed her hand on her chest, as if trying to locate and confirm the feeling.

Talking to Flam sometimes made her chest feel tight.

The name for this comfortable, constricting sensation was "trust," but knowing this didn't erase the fear of betrayal or loss.

However, her heart felt a little lighter.

Flam continued to choose books, picking out children's reference books suitable for teaching Milkitt, and bought them.

Books weren't cheap.

The atmosphere in the store was solemn, and the customers were all well-dressed.

When the price was announced at the counter, Milkitt was taken aback, but Flam quickly paid to prevent her from protesting.

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After that, they bought stationery for studying and dinner, ending up with their hands full of bags.

They couldn't hold hands anymore.

Fortunately, as they approached the West District, the crowd thinned, and they didn't have to worry about getting separated.

"You've spent so much money on me… for someone like me."

On their way back, Milkitt seemed somewhat downcast, feeling guilty about spending so much on herself.

"Then, let's think of it this way. Your happiness is my happiness."

"I don't understand."

"Knowing that someone is happy because of me makes me happy too. That's what it means."

"…I still don't understand."

She had never experienced "kindness from others" in her life.

Her previous master was sometimes kind to her.

But often, it was a "prelude."

Making her happy and excited, then crushing her.

This was more painful than simple violence or insults, the most feared torture by slaves bought to be tormented.

As a result, many slaves took their own lives.

Stabbing their necks with knives, strangling themselves with towels, or banging their heads against walls in a frenzy—masters would laugh at such scenes, saying slaves shone brightest in their ugliest moments.

Milkitt, having experienced this many times, had learned to suppress her emotions to avoid being happy.

It was a self-defense mechanism.

But—Flam probably wouldn't betray her.

Milkitt was confused because she understood this.

She didn't know how to respond to the emotions and gifts given to her out of a genuine desire to make her happy, not to crush her.

"Just get used to it gradually. You'll understand eventually."

"Will you wait for me to get used to it?"

"Of course."

Milkitt's full smile made her chest tighten again.

But she didn't realize that the reason she was anxious to not make him wait was the answer.

She would realize this much later.

"Wait, wait, that's important stuff!"

A middle-aged man's desperate voice rang out.

Then, two men ran past Flam and Milkitt on either side.

"Whoa, what's going on?"

The men looked familiar.

Weren't they the adventurers from the guild's introduction desk who were always drunk?

"Master, the bag they're carrying—doesn't it look very expensive?"

"Indeed, it's not something the thugs in the West District would have. I'll go check it out. Milkitt, watch the bags."

"Understood."

Flam put down the bags she was carrying, crouched, and kicked off, starting to chase the men.

While running, she attached the gauntlet to her arms.

It didn't increase agility, but it was better to have the strength boost just in case.

The two men, judging by their speed, were probably D-rank adventurers.

They couldn't escape from Flam, who had been enhanced by the Soul Eater.

"Damn, it's that slave girl!"

One of the men looked back.

Immediately after, they seemed to give up on escaping together and split up.

—One of them was a lost cause.

Flam chased the man with the bag.

A few seconds after they split, she caught up to him, circled around, and raised her fist.

The man drew a dagger to fight back—

"Fireball!"

He cast a spell, launching a fireball.

It was a low-level spell, not very powerful or fast.

Flam easily dodged by leaning to the side.

The man must have used it as a feint, rushing towards her.

But Flam still had plenty of room to maneuver.

The dagger's thrust seemed unusually slow.

Impressed by the enchantment's effect, she grabbed the man's wrist and squeezed hard.

A dull crack echoed through the gauntlet.

"Aaaaah!"

The man screamed, dropped the dagger, and collapsed.

His wrist was bent in an unnatural direction, clearly broken.

The strength boost was more effective than Flam had thought.

"Ah, ah, it hurts… please help me…!"

"No sympathy for you."

Glancing at the man writhing in pain, Flam retrieved the bag.

She was about to return it to its owner when a sound like a crushed animal came from the direction the other man had fled.

"…Did someone else catch him?"

She had been chasing him alone just a moment ago.

Stopping, she looked in the direction of the sound, and someone dragging a man by the collar approached.

A small girl, about ten years old, with messy blonde hair, a white robe, and a large mace on her back.

Her small stature and slightly round body made her look like a toy.

However, the sound from earlier was from being hit by that mace.

It was undoubtedly real.

"An Origin religion nun…"

No one else in the capital dressed like that.

Maria, who had traveled with Flam, also wore a similar costume and was surprisingly good at close combat.

Origin religion nuns were known for healing people with restoration magic, but they might also teach combat techniques to destroy monsters.

"Hmm? You took care of that one, thank you!"

The girl, with droopy eyes and a somewhat vacant, rural look, thanked her in a strange accent, bowed vigorously, and smiled innocently.

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