Chapter 2

When the hero, Jean Intage, approached the merchant with the proposition to "sell a woman," the merchant couldn't help but thank the gods. Not only would he be able to establish connections with someone involved with the hero, but the woman herself was also associated with the hero, which meant she would undoubtedly fetch an astronomical price. The merchant proceeded with the transaction cautiously, careful not to offend him in the slightest, avoiding any probing that might upset him, and taking a thoroughly submissive stance. Jean seemed to exude an air of "don't probe too much," which also played a role.

—Looking back, the merchant should have been suspicious at that point.

It would be a lie to say he had no doubts about Jean, who seemed to hide information. However, those doubts were overshadowed by his expectations. The first time his anxiety surpassed his expectations was when Jean handed over Flamm and mercilessly berated her. He called her useless, berating the woman he was trying to sell for an exorbitant price in front of the man who was about to buy her. It was astounding that he could do such a thing so brazenly. Given how blatant it was, the merchant could only convince himself that it was "just a dark joke." He still believed it.

At least, until he bought her, brought her back to his base, and checked Flamm's status.

"Damn it, what a load of garbage! Thanks to this, I've taken a huge loss! This, this—!"

"Ugh, ugh... f, fu... hig...!"

The slave trader grabbed Flamm's hair and lifted her, repeatedly kicking her abdomen. Each time, she let out a sound, and saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth. As the droplets stuck to his shoes, he became even more agitated and continued to assault her.

It was only a few hours after Jean left that the slave trader's face turned pale upon realizing Flamm's status was all zeros. Checking someone's status is very simple; anyone can use the neutral magic "Scan" to see it.

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Flamm Apricot

Attribute: Inverted

Strength: 0

Magic: 0

Endurance: 0

Agility: 0

Senses: 0

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This magic, created by a great person from long ago, roughly quantifies the target's physical abilities and reveals their attributes, making it an excellent tool. Ideally, he should have confirmed this before handing over the money. However, if the merchant had shown any signs of using Scan, Jean would have refused the transaction. Besides, a renowned figure from the kingdom wouldn't stoop to deceiving a mere merchant—such was the overconfidence that led to this outcome.

It had already been a week since he purchased her. There was no way to find a buyer... or rather, a woman with all-zero status was so utterly useless that the idea of finding a buyer was laughable. She was nothing more than a punching bag, and even that was coming to an end. Every time he saw Flamm's face, he would be reminded of his failure. He hadn't gone bankrupt yet, but if he wanted to continue as a slave trader, he needed to start afresh and conduct his business more prudently. It would be best to dispose of such a useless, irritating "item" that served no purpose. The loss was inevitable, and as someone involved in such a gray business, he couldn't demand money from Jean. That was the conclusion he reached.

Flamm, wearing a tattered and dirty white shirt, was grabbed by the collar and dragged along the stone corridor. She no longer had the energy to imagine where she was being taken. It wouldn't be a proper place, anyway. Would she be sold to someone else, or killed? Either way, her future was bleak. With the slave mark on her, there was no way she could return to her hometown. Having given up on everything, she no longer regretted her past actions.

When the merchant reached his destination, he opened the lock on the cell in front of him and threw Flamm inside. This was the basement of his base, where a cage for discarding slaves was set up. Four other slaves were already inside, each of them resigned to the end of their lives, with dead eyes. They hadn't been given any food, so their limbs were emaciated to the limit. The woman sitting in the back was defecating and urinating, with a faint smile on her face. She was already broken, her heart still beating but effectively dead. Needless to say, the hygiene conditions were terrible, and the smell was so bad that even the apathetic Flamm winced.

"Enough have accumulated, it's about time."

The merchant, who had locked the cell from the outside, muttered to himself. Something was about to begin, but the living dead inside showed no interest. The merchant left the cell to prepare, and all sound in the basement except for breathing disappeared. Flamm, who had collapsed on the ground, dragged herself to the corner of the room and sat with her back against the wall. Next to her was a slave with her face wrapped in bandages.

"Have you been here... for a long time?"

She asked out of mere whimsy. The woman, slightly widening her eyes in surprise, responded after a pause.

"I've been here for three days."

Flamm realized the woman was female from her voice. With her emaciated body and face covered in bandages, it was hard to determine her gender. Her pale gray hair reached her shoulders, and while it could be considered feminine, it was also possible that she, as a slave, had let it grow unchecked. However, when she looked directly into her eyes, Flamm felt they were beautiful, with a feminine gentleness and a clear heart. Perhaps, with a different encounter, she could have led a completely different, happier life.

"Since we've been brought here... are we going to be killed, then?"

"I don't know. But the master said he would dispose of us."

"The master?"

"The man from earlier. No one will buy us now, so he is our master."

"Ah... I see."

From her words, Flamm instinctively felt that she was a different kind of being. She had probably been a slave since childhood, and it was ingrained in her. Therefore, she had no resistance to calling even such a man "master." The skin visible through the gaps in the bandages was red and raw. Perhaps her face was the result of mistreatment by a previous owner—thinking this, Flamm shuddered.

The bandaged girl had no intention of continuing the conversation. When Flamm awkwardly fell silent, she stared at her for a while and then slowly looked down at the floor. The two of them sat side by side, hugging their knees, looking down, and staring at the gray nothingness. Soon, footsteps approached the cell. The figure that appeared on the other side of the iron bars was, of course, the slave trader. He placed a small chair he had brought and sat down, crossing his legs and declaring:

"Well, I think you already know, but you have no value as merchandise anymore. That means you have no value as life. I can't afford to keep such worthless flesh around, so I'm going to dispose of you."

If that were the case, he could just kill them outright without any preparation.

"But, you see—"

The merchant's lips curled into a sinister smile.

"You cost me money to buy, and I've spent some on your food to keep you alive. I think it would be a waste not to enjoy you a bit before you die, don't you?"

The merchant asked the slaves, but no one responded. Annoyed by the lack of reaction, he spat and moved away from the iron bars. He approached a wall where a handle seemed to be installed. He gripped the metal handle with both hands and turned it clockwise. The sound of stones grinding against each other echoed from the ceiling of the cell, and small stones and dust fell. The moment Flamm lazily directed her gaze to the source of the sound—thud, three human-sized objects fell from the hole in the ceiling. No, they were literally humans, but they didn't seem to be alive. Dead bodies fell from the ceiling, overlapping. Blood and a clear liquid splattered on the floor, filling the cell with a putrid smell. The merchant, who had finished turning the handle, reappeared in front of the slaves with a smug expression.

"Hmm... do you know what that is? They're ghouls. Dead bodies that move on their own due to residual magic, essentially the lowest-ranked monsters."

As if to match the merchant's explanation, the ghouls stood up, making unclean sounds. They trembled convulsively, turned their heads, and searched for prey.

Flamm, who had been traveling with the hero, knew this. Indeed, ghouls are F-ranked, the lowest-ranked monsters. They move slowly, and their bodies, made of rotten flesh, are very fragile.

"If you can defeat them, I'll let you out and sell you again. You can survive for a while. But be careful, they are..."

However, there are also stories of new adventurers who, overconfident in their F-rank status, had their necks torn off and died. At the very least, they are not monsters that ordinary people without combat experience can handle with their bare hands.

"Ah, as expected, they're already swarming."

The ghouls rushed towards the woman in the corner who had been defecating and urinating. The instinct that drives them is "hunger." Seeking fresh meat that has been lost from their own decaying bodies, they attack living humans. Goo, squish, slurp—without even a scream, the broken woman was devoured and killed by the three ghouls. Flamm and the two others, who had thought they had already given up on their lives, realized something. They didn't want to die yet. The only one who seemed to have completely given up was the bandaged girl. Sensing the growing terror in the cage, the merchant's smile grew even wider.

"Trouble, trouble. If you don't do something, you'll all end up like that woman. But you can't defeat ghouls with your bare hands; you need weapons, right?"

Excitement seemed to be getting the better of him, and his tone became more theatrical.

"Oh, look, there's a huge sword on the wall. It's too heavy to lift, but if it were the best equipment and enchanted, even weak people like you might be able to handle it, right?"

Everyone understood that it was a trap without even thinking. However, if they wanted to live, they had no choice but to cling to it. One of the men rushed to the large sword on the wall and gri