The carriage is filthy and reeks of rot. It doesn't look like it's ever been cleaned. It's used to transport slaves or animals from one place to another—though apparently it has other uses as well. It's entirely made of wood, scarred along the sides with old marks: dried bloodstains, and things even more unpleasant.
It moves steadily, pulled forward by the horse while the coachman guides it from the front. We're heading toward the next destination—though no one seems to know exactly where that is.
You could say we're being taken somewhere completely unknown. It doesn't seem like any of us have ever set foot in the capital. According to Lylia, that capital has a rather curious name: "Solsacrum." In ancient Imperium, it means The Sacred Sun.
To me, it sounds like heavily distorted Latin. But since the Roman Empire never existed here—or anything like it—then Latin is most likely what they call Imperium in this world.
Though… I've seen Chiyo write letters in Imperium under my former master's orders, and I can confidently say: that is not Latin. The written characters resemble Japanese Hiragana and Katakana far more than anything Roman. I imagine it that way because I studied a bit of Japanese once, and even that was painful to write.
And yet… it's all pronounced like—
Ah.
Wait.
How do I even speak this language?
The way I learned it was literal—Akuma placed his hand over my face. That's it. Just that, and magic. He said he used something called a "blessing." I don't know what that really is, and I never questioned it until now.
He basically shoved his way into my head.
Now that I think about it, that's disgusting.
But what can I do? I understand this language. And if I speak Spanish, no one understands me—except members of the cat race.
Pecus is Spanish in this world. Imperium is Latin with strange Japanese undertones. It makes no sense… but since I know both languages, it feels natural to me.
It's strange. It's as if I've spoken Imperium my entire life. But at the same time, I feel like I've spoken Spanish—Pecus—my whole life too.
It's weird.
Still… I guess I can say I'm bilingual now.
I wonder what the other languages are like. Maybe they're even stranger and more extravagant. I'm curious about Sylva, the language of the elves. Or Gehenna, the tongue of demons.
But even so…
Hey…
Now that I think about it…
[Lior: Lylia.]
[Lylia: Ahh…?]
[Lior: Do you know how to speak Sylva, nya?]
[Lylia: Huh? Where did that come from?]
[Lior: I was just… wondering…]
[Lylia: Mhm… Well… yeah. That's kind of obvious, isn't it?]
[Lior: Ah… so you do, nya… Could you tell me a word in Sylva? Please, please?]
[Lylia: …]
[Lior: Pleeease…]
Lior shot her a coaxing look. The cat-boy knew exactly when it was the right time to use his physical charms.
[Lylia: Mhmm… fine… um…]
[Lior: …]
[Lylia: Let me think… uh…]
[Lior: …]
"… "
[Lylia: Neko.]
[Lior: …]
"… "
[Lylia: …]
[Lior: …]
"… "
…
"… "
…
"… "
…
"… "
…
"… "
…
"… "
…
"… "
[Lior: Neko…]
"… "
…
"… "
[Lylia: Yes. Neko. It means "cat" in Sylva. I said it because you are one.]
"… "
…
"… "
[Lior: Lylia… question… does mizu mean water?]
[Lylia: Ah— E-eh… Y-yes… Mizu means water. How did you know?]
[Lior: Eh… it's nothing… it's nothing, nya…]
[Lylia: Mhm…]
[Lior: …]
Wait, so…
Sylva is basically Japanese. Imperium is some kind of distorted Latin. And Pecus is just Spanish…
[Lior: …]
Yeah…
This is weird…
I'll have to reflect on these matters more deeply, although I don't even know how I'm supposed to do that. It's something I never questioned during this whole year. Maybe I was so absorbed in my routine that I simply forgot. Though… I was also afraid to ask, because they might suspect things that would leave me in a bad position. Akuma didn't need someone like me to learn how to read or write. I was just a maid who acted on orders. Nothing more than that.
Even so, I have no way to find out anything else. Tina, who was a demon, isn't here anymore. Right now I don't have a defined home, so all I can do is wait for things to flow. Think while staring at a landscape that is slowly growing darker. That's all I have. And nothing more. It's honestly very boring and tedious to be here.
It's something that—
Prock!
[Ay!] [Uhg!] [Nyah!] [Nyuhm!] [Wa!] [Nyo!] [Kya!]
Plop!
A string of exclamations rose from the slaves' section. The carriage stopped abruptly and all the slave girls were thrown forward by inertia. Those who were leaning against the wall near the driver's seat hit the back of their heads hard. And the girls who were seated, like Lior, only ended up bumping into each other. Even so, it was a very sudden stop.
[Lior: Uhg… What happened?]
[Lylia: Ay…]
All the slaves were left sore, but no one knew what was going on. Why was it so out of nowhere? If it were bandits, everyone would've screamed already, so that could be ruled out easily.
Lior looked toward the door area, to see if he could catch a glimpse of something. There was nothing. Just the evening landscape.
"…"
Out of nowhere, the carriage started moving again, the same way as before. All the slaves were puzzled by the strange interruption, but they eventually calmed down. Something had happened, but the journey continued, so it couldn't have been that important.
Except that…
[Lior: Oh…]
[Lylia: Ah…]
An enormous wall—no, rather, a massive entrance gate. Completely made of stone. That was what they were passing through and seeing at this very moment.
[Lior: This… is…]
An entrance gate. That means right now, they're entering a city.
[Lior: Ohh…]
Lior glanced to the side, at the guards. There were quite a few of them gathered near the gate. From here, it was obvious they weren't doing their job. In fact, they were playing poker.
[Lior: So poker exists here too…]
"Well, that's for later."
Lior was impressed. Little by little, the wall fell behind them and several houses began to appear around the corners. A city. A city in this parallel world. It was all very much like he had imagined. The houses began to line both sides of the road, along with taverns and stalls selling goods. And among them, Lior also caught sight of people walking down the street. This was the first time he had seen ordinary people just going about their lives. His entire time in this world, he had only seen maids, slaves, or nobles. No one else. This was his first real glimpse of humanity here.
Lior began looking from side to side. Everything felt incredibly different. You could say the world was moving forward normally. There were boys and girls running from one place to another, people selling things at the stalls, others walking with their groceries, and drunk men stumbling out of a bar. Everything felt so alive, even though it was just an ordinary day.
Lior's chest filled with air, his eyes gleamed against the light, and a wide smile spread across his face. He was fascinated by this world. Everything was so curious, so different. It was something new—something he had never experienced before. His tail began swaying with excitement and his ears stood fully upright. The feline was thrilled. He watched all those people, that world—a new world with new possibilities.
He looked to one side and was left speechless. There were people dressed in distinct, mismatched outfits. A man in shining armor accompanied by three women. They stood out because of their gear and clothing. One girl was thin and short, holding a wooden staff. She wore purple and had a hood resting behind her back. Another girl wore larger, more formal attire. She also carried a staff, but this one was made of a strange material. She dressed in blue and yellow robes, and around her neck hung a considerably large cross-shaped necklace. The last woman was taller than the other two. Her body was noticeably well-endowed in the front, and at a glance she looked well-trained and muscular. She wore red, and her armor left her navel exposed.
Lior remained there, seated, watching the whole scene.
[Lior: Ohh… They're… They're adventurers!]
They were adventurers, most likely from the Adventurers' Guild. That was exactly what he had hoped to see one day in this world. Real adventurers! They were right in front of him, just a few meters away. Too bad they were slowly drifting farther as the carriage kept moving. But he could still see them. They were there.
[Lior: Incredible…]
The smells began to overwhelm him. Humidity, iron, food—everything around him flooded his senses. The sounds of conversations, shouts, clashing metal, footsteps on dirt and stone, the creaking of wood—everything felt alive. Flashes of light reflecting off swords and armor. Things he never thought he would see in reality.
The cat-boy's tail began swishing even faster. He pressed himself against a wooden plank, peering through a narrow gap between the boards. His diamond-colored eyes shone intensely, his hands gripping the edges of the wood. He watched the outside while sitting on his own legs, revealing a side of himself he had never shown before.
[Lylia: …]
She looked at the excited cat-boy, observing both the view and the emotions displayed right in front of her. Her eyes widened at his reaction. It was incredible to see Lior so fired up and energetic. Just this glimpse made her reconsider the young man's mental state. And yet, all of this was very strange. Judging by his behavior, it seemed as though he had never seen a city in his life.
All the maids turned to Lior with puzzled looks. They all knew how depressive and joyless he usually was. But for everything to change so suddenly like this…
[Lior: …]
Wow! Is that a sword? Ohhh! Look at that! Thoughts like these ran wildly through the boy's head. All this information, everything he had imagined during this year. Dreaming of seeing things like this—like a typical isekai protagonist—had been his fantasy since the day he arrived in this world.
It was incredible. Incredible to live through this experience. It was like feeling alive again.
"…"
Having no contact with this world's society for an entire year had caused Lior to idealize what it was like. All those anime he had watched were coming to life right before his eyes. It was a fascinating experience. To look, to believe, to step upon magical ground. Now that he thought about it, this was truly real. Everything he dreamed of, endured, and waited for—it had been real.
This… is incredible.
It was incredible. Truly incredible.
To look through these planks. To see through these planks. To witness new things, feel new sensations, smell new scents. To see this new world from inside this carriage. To feel the world moving around him, to see the fantastic civilization he now belonged to. To discover new things in the middle of his transport, to feel something new inside this splintered cubicle. To feel this, feel this, feel this. To live in this world—now as a slave…
To look outside, knowing he was being carried toward an unknown destination. To look at this world that had always been foreign to him. To look at this world that had treated him as a being without rights…
[Lior: Ah…]
To feel all this from inside a carriage. To see all this through the gap between two planks. To smell all this while trapped in a filthy, disgusting space. To hear all this through a thick sheet of fabric. To look through his own eyes, which were now slowly widening.
To feel, to live…
[Lior: …]
To look at this world…
To see…
This…
[Lior: …]
"…"
What stood before him—what he wanted to feel and touch. To be inside a carriage, heading somewhere you were sold and bought.
[Lior: …]
To touch something hard, damp, and filthy with his hands at this very moment. Not being able to get closer to something like that. Not being able to feel what he so desperately wanted to feel.
[Lior: …]
To be so close to fulfilling your dream. To be so far from actually reaching it. To be so close and yet so far at the same time. To be separated from one place to another, to be something no one wants. To be nothing more than a slave in a fantasy world.
[Lior: …]
To keep looking, over there, at that place—knowing you were bought and have no freedom. To lose everything, even your hope, which for a brief moment had returned. To feel that drop again, that void, that abyss that consumes you every day, after being burned by the excitement of the moment.
[Lior: …]
To turn back and see all those people with wide eyes, judging you for your actions…
[Lior: Ah…]
Lior felt the pressure.
"…"
All the maids were staring at him—at his delicate, thin, feminine figure—stripped bare under the weight of their silent criticism. Seeing all those faces filled with shame, fear, or disbelief…
[Lior: …]
Nothing… What was I even imagining?
"…"
Lior slowly lowered his gaze. His eyes reduced to tiny dots as he stared into nothingness. Gradually, he looked down at the carriage floor. His tail was still, lying limply across his legs. His ears slowly drooped until they hung completely down. He stared at the wooden floor—wood that was surely worth more than he was.
[Lior: …]
The cat-boy…
Little by little, slowly, he sat back down beside Lylia, in the same position as before. His fragile arms moved from side to side, his palms brushing against the wood. Soon his limbs began to apply slight force. His legs shifted, separating from his thighs. He dragged himself a little, making a soft turn in place, moving gradually. He brought his hands behind him and turned fully around, now facing the opposite cloth-covered wall. Placing both hands behind his back, he used them as leverage, pushing himself toward the bars. He sat and scooted along until he reached the small space where Lylia was beside him. His rear became stained with accumulated dust, and as he moved, a poorly placed nail scraped against his left thigh.
His gaze dropped to the floor. His hands kept dragging along the wood until he finally reached his spot. He looked. He waited. He remained staring at the ground. His hands still, now that he was seated beside Lylia.
He stayed there. He was already there. His gaze… wouldn't rise.
He lifted his hands, drew up his legs. He bent them against his thin, covered chest. He looked, looked, looked. He looked at that wooden floor. That damp, foul-smelling wooden floor. He felt—he could feel—what was happening outside.
He wrapped his arms around his legs and let his head fall against a nearby plank. He was sitting in a corner—the same corner he had occupied the entire journey.
"…"
That was it. Just that. Staring at nothing in a world that wasn't his. Looking at a wooden floor that did not belong to his world. Feeling a body that no longer felt like his. Feeling everything around him, remembering everything that had happened.
He isn't free…
He isn't free…
He's a slave…
Just a slave…
"…"
…
"…"
[Lylia: …]
Lylia didn't know what to say. She was sitting beside the boy, who sat next to her. She looked at him and couldn't read him—she saw him, but she didn't understand him. She didn't know what to say, so she simply watched him. That was all. Then she looked down at her own hands, turning them slowly from side to side. She stretched out her legs and stared ahead, letting her head fall back against the wooden bars behind her, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Nothing mattered anymore. She couldn't do anything.
Whatever. No more.
Where are we going? No one knows. It's not worth thinking about.
"…"
Ah…
"…"
What…
a life…
"…"
…
"…"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Cloudy, with strong winds. It looks like it's going to rain.
The weather shifted in a short span of time, and the carriage is now stopped in front of a building. The whole atmosphere feels dim; the sunset is already deep and heavy—soon it will be completely dark. The maids wait for what comes next. They've already crossed the entire town—city, maybe.
They've been waiting here for a while. Apparently, the building beside them is an inn.
"…"
Footsteps began to echo. They ran straight toward the front of the carriage. Probably a coachman.
Smack!
The crack of the reins rang out, and the carriage started moving again.
"…"
As the reins snapped through the air, droplets began to fall. The sky started to drizzle while the carriage rolled forward. They advanced and advanced until, at a street corner, they turned. The carriage rounded that corner and moved ahead; with the shift in perspective, the inn could now be seen clearly. Lior managed to glimpse a wooden sign with something written on it. He didn't know what it said—he can't read—but he suspected the obvious. It probably said inn.
The rain suddenly poured down hard, and at that exact moment the carriage stopped. It halted along the side of the large inn, which was quite sizable. Perhaps it was the biggest inn in the town. That would make sense—Helmet is the one paying for it.
Chick!
A sharp, metallic sound reached them from inside the carriage. Along with the rain, something like metal bars scraping against each other echoed from the side. It sounded like a gate opening.
That noise was followed by the distant snap of another set of reins—Helmet's carriage. It had followed behind them, and with another crack of the whip, both carriages began moving again. Slowly, they entered the inn's inner courtyard. There was a stable there, where both carriages were led. Gradually, they came to a stop inside. Rain began pattering against the stable's wooden structure as they positioned themselves beneath its cover.
"…"
From an overhead view, everything could be seen clearly. A man stepped down from the front of the carriage and headed toward the back. In front of the slaves' carriage stood Helmet's carriage. Its coachman stepped down, walked to the side door, and opened it. Don stepped out, prepared and waiting for that very action. He looked down while adjusting the handkerchief on his chest. One foot, then the other—he descended until his boots touched the dirt floor.
Bales of hay were stacked in one corner. Several horses rested in their stalls. This stable would be where the carriages stayed.
Don turned to his coachman.
[Don: Hey. Make sure you take good care of them.]
[Coachman: Mhmm… Y-yes, Mr. Helmet.]
A piercing glare cut through the man in front of him. Then Don simply looked away and walked off with an air of self-importance.
He went to check on his slaves. He approached the carriage behind his. No one was to be injured. No one could be injured. His merchandise is of unmatched quality. Everyone knows how meticulous Eidoriku is—his refined selection must be put to good use.
[Don: …]
Helmet glanced along the side of the carriage. The other coachman was helping the slaves down, carefully lining them up for inspection. He proceeded to check their bodies from head to toe. One by one, he touched them slowly, mindful of their skin. He kept his hands moving methodically, avoiding intimate areas since it wasn't necessary. When he finished, he looked back at Helmet and gave a silent sign that everything was in order.
Helmet understood at once and dismissed the matter. He turned away and walked straight out into the rain, leaving the stable behind.
"…"
[Lior: …]
Lior watched everything with tired eyes. His dull gaze settled on Helmet's figure, who, after stepping out of the stable, joined a maid holding an umbrella over him. Lior remained there, staring, then lowered his eyes to his hands—to his thin, fragile body.
[Coachman: Hey! Listen up.]
[All the slaves: …]
All the slaves turned to look at the man in front of them. They stood gathered side by side, facing him.
[Coachman: Your clothes have hoods, right? Put them on. Lord Helmet doesn't want you getting sick.]
[All the slaves: …]
They looked at one another, then reached behind themselves. Several were surprised—they hadn't even noticed that detail, including the cat-boy, Lior. One by one, they pulled up their hoods.
[Coachman: Good. Now move! Move, damn it!]
[Lior: Ahg…]
The coachman quickly stepped toward them and began pushing them forward. Each of them stumbled into motion and started running straight into the rain.
[Coachman: Run, damn it! To the back door! Run, run!]
He pointed directly at a door at the rear of the wooden building. All the maids ran toward it, crossing the soaked and muddy courtyard. Luckily, none of them slipped. They kept running until, finally, they reached a small wooden overhang in front of that same door.
[Coachman: …]
The man stepped ahead first and grabbed the doorknob firmly, glancing back at them.
[Coachman: When you go in, you do it quietly. Understood? I don't want anyone splitting off.]
[Slaves: …]
[Coachman: After this door, there's a kitchen. You'll follow me, nothing else. We'll pass straight through the main hall—the tavern area. Stick with me and go up the stairs you see there.]
[Slaves: …]
[Coachman: No one separates.]
[Slaves: …]
They stared at the man in front of them, still lined up shoulder to shoulder.
Then the coachman turned the knob fully.
[Coachman: …]
[Slaves: …]
The door opened, and they moved. They crossed through while the coachman stepped aside, then shut it behind them. Inside, everything was in motion.
There was a large room with wooden tables, plates, and plenty of staff. Girls dressed as waitresses moved in and out of doors, carrying dishes and large jugs of beer. They passed frequently, though not constantly. Lior stood there for a brief moment, taking it all in—until he noticed the coachman walking past him.
The coachman positioned himself in front of them again and signaled with his left hand. The rabbit-girl at the front began moving forward, setting the pace. Behind her came the blue-haired cat, the brown-haired cat, the red-haired dog, the gray-haired cat, then Lylia second to last, and finally Lior at the very back. Each advanced with their hoods up—some holding them in place, others walking slightly hunched, hands folded in front.
They circled around the central table. Everyone in the room stared at them. One waitress fixed her gaze on each of the slaves, then leaned over to whisper something to the girl beside her. The place was mostly quiet, aside from pots bubbling with broth. The smell of food filled the air, and heat rose from the steam.
Lior gripped his hood and pulled it lower, making sure it covered the sides of his face completely.
That was how all the slaves passed through the kitchen, until they reached a set of swinging wooden doors. Beyond them lay the outside of the kitchen—the main hall, the bar.
The coachman cast a quick glance at the slaves and kept walking, pushing through the swinging doors. Each maid followed closely behind the other. They crossed through and walked across the entire hall.
There, in the main room, stood the innkeeper. He was drying glasses after washing them when he noticed the small line of slaves. Besides him, everyone else in the place—eating, drinking, drunk or sober—turned to look. Every man, woman, every living being in that tavern fixed their eyes on the group of slaves. Their gazes widened, and the entire place fell completely silent.
Each slave was even more nervous than the coachman himself. They walked quickly across the room and began climbing the stairs. The pressure was horrible—it felt like being a stain on someone's shoe. Everyone was staring. Everyone, without exception.
They climbed the stairs to the second floor one by one, but tightly grouped together.
And then—
[Drunk man: Hey, pretty! Bring that ass over here!]
A drunken man with his feet up on a table shouted something vulgar toward one of them. Of all things, that filthy remark ended up landing on their dear cat-boy. Lior turned his head just a little, his skin prickling. Just a little. He looked back.
But—
A serious mistake.
[That ass is divine!] [Look at those girls!] [Come here!] [Look at that!] [Damn, they're fine!] [Buy them a beer!] [Don't leave!]
All the men in the place started throwing crude remarks at every slave who passed in front of them. Disgusting, horrible, vulgar things. Laughter echoed throughout the room.
Each maid quickened her pace. It was unbearable. The coachman started climbing faster too, until he finally reached the top. The maids kept going, step after step, the idiots' shouts piling up behind them. They climbed and climbed, the yelling continuing without end.
Lior's tail stiffened, his ears tensing along with his fur and skin. He climbed quickly, without looking back. He would never repeat that earlier mistake again. The comments were aimed at him and at the others. Tension and fear spread through him. He tried to move even faster. He remembered Akuma's "compliments," the ones that used to irritate him so much. He didn't want to look back. He didn't want to look back.
"…"
Lior was the last to reach the top. Finally, they were all upstairs, on the second floor where the rooms were.
[Coachman: God…]
The coachman wasted no time and moved down the hallway lined with doors. The slaves followed closely behind. No one could stop. No one had time to think.
Then, once they reached a certain spot, the man stopped abruptly. He checked the door and pulled a key from his pocket. He compared the number on the key to the number on the door. It seemed this was the room they had rented.
[Coachman: …]
It was a brown door, like all the others. Instead of a round knob, it had a long handle with a keyhole beneath it. The metal was a dull yellow, slightly rusted, its color faded into a brownish tint.
The man standing before it simply exhaled through his nose and moved to open it. He inserted the silver key into the lock and turned it with a bit of force. The door made a sound as the internal mechanisms aligned, and with a small push, it opened. The coachman pressed it inward by the handle and revealed a dark room with a small window set into the wall.
[Coachman: Mhm…]
I can't see anything…
The coachman couldn't make out a thing in the darkness, but with a simple flick of his hand, he conjured a very small flame at the tip of his finger. He used it to guide himself through the room, since in the pitch black he could easily bump into something. He made his way to what looked like a small bedside table with an oil lamp on it. That was when he found the solution to his problem. He lit it, and with strong brightness, it illuminated the entire room.
The room was spacious. It had a window set into the wall just as he had seen before, positioned high up near the top. There were no beds—only blankets neatly piled in one corner. It looked poorly maintained, though there were no leaks. The sound of rain could still be heard outside.
[Coachman: Hey! Get in!]
The man gave the order, and the slave girls obeyed. From outside, the rabbit girl stepped inside after hearing the coachman's command. The others followed her, until finally Lior entered last. They were all there now, inside that room. But with all of them crowded together, the spaciousness from before shrank considerably.
[Coachman: You'll sleep here. The master rented this room for you. He doesn't want you dying of hypothermia out there.]
[Slaves: …]
[Coachman: Mhm… well, that's all. Sleep. We leave early tomorrow, even if the rain hasn't stopped. I'll be watching you.]
After that threat, the man simply grabbed the lamp and headed for the exit. He stepped out of the room, giving them one last glance before closing the door. The slaves were standing there like fools. He didn't care in the slightest about their reactions. He also noticed one of them grabbing a blanket from the corner—that was when he shut the door. He stayed there, sitting on a very uncomfortable little chair beside it. He would have to watch over all the slaves throughout the night.
What a drag.
"…"
Lior dropped onto the cold floor. They had given him a blanket from the corner; he wrapped himself in it and lay down in one of the room's corners. Lylia was near him, though not too close. He was beneath the window, watching as the moonlight reached that spot. He thought about what had happened that day. He thought about everything that had occurred.
He turned to look at the window. Honestly, escaping wasn't even worth it. He didn't feel any temptation at all.
He was cold, though.
The rain echoed inside his head. The drops struck the glass, soaking the window. The sound of rainfall could also be heard from the roof above. In the darkness, all the slaves lay scattered across the floor, trying to sleep. This room really did seem made to house people like them.
He kept staring at the ceiling, then shifted his gaze to the wall. Beneath the blanket, he lifted his legs and wrapped his arms around them. It was his way of trying to preserve what little warmth he had. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Tomorrow would be a new day. Once again, they would have to travel. He'd better fall asleep soon—he had to wake up early.
He shut his eyes and hugged himself. In that position, drowsiness came quickly. With no proper food, both his mind and body were in a constant state of exhaustion.
Right now, he just wanted to sleep.
To lose himself. To drift away from his own awareness.
To feel sleepy—so sleepy.
To separate his thoughts from himself.
To fall straight down, wanting nothing but sleep.
Fall, fall, and drift away.
Sleep and sleep…
I'm sleepy…
so…
sle…
epy…
"…"