Chapter 7

I have turned fifteen today. I am now an adult.

Becoming an adult doesn’t really change much, but apparently, I will start receiving a salary from today. I haven’t really used money before, so I’m not sure if I need it or not.

Slaves who have finished their debts or sentences are freed, and it seems that slaves without other restrictions can become commoners by paying a certain amount of money. If I were to use money, it would probably be for something like that. I am a status slave, as I don’t have a slave mark.

“Huh, I don’t know.”

“Is something wrong? Does the alcohol not suit you?”

Tatark, a former adventurer, sits down next to me. He’s holding an ale, and I’m also holding the same thing.

Since it’s both the New Year’s festival and my coming-of-age celebration, the head slave has provided extra alcohol, making the dining hall much noisier than usual.

Tatark is a bearded giant, and perhaps because of his appearance, we often end up working together. Mostly, we do jobs that require physical strength, like fetching large barrels of water or transporting logs to be used as firewood. As a combat slave, he also has jobs outside of that.

“Yeah, it doesn’t really taste good.”

What’s good about it? It doesn’t taste good, right?

“Hahaha! Even though you’ve become an adult, you’re still a kid! You can’t call yourself an adult until you understand the good things about this!”

Tatark slaps me on the back without any restraint, and I wince. Raki, a red-faced female slave, nods in agreement, taking a seat across from us.

“That’s right! That’s right! You’re still a kid! Not being able to appreciate the storm’s power means you’re still a kid!”

“...Raki, you should stop after that much.”

“Alcohol makes you like this if you drink too much. I might never like it.”

I put down the glass I was holding, and Raki, swaying unsteadily, reaches for it. Tatark, with a serious face, snatches it away and drinks it in one gulp. Kukure drags away Raki, who lets out a high-pitched scream.

Raki and Tatark seem more relaxed than usual. Perhaps being freed is a happy thing?

I’ve been working for ten years.

I’ve seen many slaves being freed, and they all leave with happy faces, showing me the parts where their slave marks have disappeared.

They leave with smiles, along with the head slave’s usual line, “Don’t come back.”

This year, Tatark and Raki will be freed. Tatark plans to become an adventurer again, and Raki will return to her village.

Is it really that bad to stay a slave?

“Is being freed such a happy thing?”

I don’t understand.

I didn’t really expect an answer, but Tatark, who overheard me, looked exasperated.

“Of course it’s happy! After all, it means you’ve survived! You’re free! ...Well, you don’t know what it’s like outside here, so I can’t blame you.”

“Is that what it means to be treated kindly by Master?”

I’ve heard about the conditions of slaves outside, so I know that Master treats his slaves well. Master is a doting father. By the way, he hasn’t had anyone executed yet.

“That’s not what I meant. Anyway, you’re an adult now. Haven’t you thought about your future?”

Here we go again.

Slaves who are about to be freed often talk like this. According to Jurel, those who see hope in their future gain a sense of ease. Does that mean they start to worry about my future?

“I want to learn how to hunt and add meat to our daily meals.”

“Kaaaaa! That’s all you ever talk about! Don’t you have bigger dreams? Like becoming a knight or a legendary adventurer? Whether they come true or not is another story.”

I’m an adult now, right?

“Well, you can’t avoid being whipped. Face reality.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

This year, Master took Miss to the capital’s festival.

To be precise, it was Lady who took Miss, but for the sake of appearances, it was Master. In reality, Master strongly resisted.

However, nobles form factions based on their connections, and sometimes they don’t mind marrying into each other’s families, depending on the situation.

In other words, arranging marriages for their daughters.

This wasn’t a formal meeting, but it’s a custom for young girls to enter society. Master strongly opposed this, more strongly than usual. Even the lowly slaves knew about his resistance. In the end, he said, “I won’t give my daughter away! She won’t leave me! I’ll kill any suitor, so my daughter won’t become anyone’s wife! I’ve won the argument! I don’t need the social scene!” This led to a private conversation between Master and Lady, and I heard that Master was rolled up and carried to the carriage.

In short, Master took Miss to the capital’s festival.

Since she went, she will return. This means Tatark and Raki’s slave marks will disappear.

Jurel, Mido, and Kukure will leave next year. A few years after that, Sansita will leave. The only ones who will stay are the head slave, me, and Sadame. Sadame is sentenced to be a slave for life, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Feeling a bit melancholic, I go to a corner of the garden, where I find Miss standing against the wall.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to be here.

I thought she would be too busy after her debut in society to sneak away from the maids and come to this cold, remote corner of the garden just to chat with a slave.

Miss, standing in a white coat, looks like an angel who stepped out of a painting.

“Ah, servant.”

If it weren’t for the leaf on her head.

“Yes, Miss.”

I repeat the customary response and remove the leaf, as is customary. The bushes have holes and are no longer the right size, so why does she keep coming through this hole? This kid.

“I made my debut in society.”

“Congratulations.”

“Is it really? Is it really a cause for celebration?”

The appropriate response would be, “Of course it is,” but Miss’s expression was not happy. So I remain silent. I’ve learned that unnecessary words can lead to more whippings.

“It was boring. It was suffocating, and I even felt dizzy. Having to do this all the time is exhausting. The conversations with people who try to get close to me are... painful?”

“Painful?”

“Yes. Do you know? I’m ten this year, and in two years, I’ll have to go to a school in the capital. I’ll die. Having those conversations every day... Are they all crazy?”

She seems quite stressed today and is more talkative than usual. Normally, she asks for my made-up stories, so I do most of the talking.

She’s not in the mood for that today.

“What kind of conversations?”

“Be clear and direct, she says. For example, greetings like ‘Good day’ or ‘It’s an honor to meet you.’ And then, ‘Oh! We’ve never greeted each other before, have we? I’ve noticed you, but you’ve never come to greet me, so I wondered if you didn’t want to be friends...’ And they don’t even respond to my greetings! I’ve practiced so much! Friends? I don’t want to be friends with them!”

Miss is in a bit of a rage.

She’s usually like this.

“I see.”

“Yes, exactly!”

So, the usual response is fine.

I take a dramatic pose, placing my right hand on my chest and my left hand on my hip, kneeling on my left knee and standing on my right. I extend my right hand invitingly. When I look up, Miss is surprised.

“It’s an honor to meet you, my lady. Your beauty could attract even the gods, and your grace could make even the devils step aside. Meeting you is a stroke of luck. I would use all my life’s fortune for this moment. Please, if you would allow me, may I serve as your escort for the party?”

Miss smirks.

“What’s this? You forgot to introduce yourself. And the escort is for dancing.”

Because I’m a slave.

Miss smiles and curtsies, lifting her skirt slightly.

“Thank you for your kind words, young servant. Yes, of course. Could you clear the way for me to the dining table?”

“Unfortunately, that’s too much to ask. I can escort you to the front door, though.”

“Hey! If you’re going to act, act all the way! Are you a knight or not?”

“No, I’m a servant.”

“I know that. Well, I’m not leaving yet. No one has come to pick me up, and I haven’t heard a single story today.”

“I see... Then—”

I told her a story about a thief who infiltrates a party and is taken down by a hidden knight.

“The thief, with the guest list in hand, told the boss, ‘This is everyone.’ The boss nodded and gave a signal, ordering the thief to kill someone as an example.”

“Tell me who died in detail. Preferably a woman with an exaggerated hairstyle.”

“The thief, with the guest list in hand, told the boss, ‘This is everyone.’ The boss responded, ‘As an example, kill that woman with the exaggerated hairstyle.’”

Perhaps influenced by Miss’s mood, snow began to fall from the sky.

Feeling like I wanted to sigh, I brushed the snow away from Miss and continued the story until someone came to fetch her.