Chapter 6: A Misunderstanding

“…Hmm? What did you say?”

As if she hadn’t been paying attention at all, the master turned to look at him.

Only then did Lema take a good look at his prospective owner.

It was hard to tell whether those languid-looking black eyes had any focus at all—a color as black as eternal darkness. He could barely tell if she was really looking at him.

It seemed like she had been lost in thought until just a moment ago, because her eyes suddenly sharpened when they met his.

Lema asked again.

“Why did you buy me?”

It was far too impudent for a newly purchased s*ave to say to their master.

But Lema hadn’t been a s*ave long enough to realize that.

He was only acting like a s*ave because the restraint patterns forced him to. Even if both his body and mind were half-shattered, what still lingered was useless pride.

The pride of a knight from a once-prestigious family.

Even after his entire family had been dismissed and he had gone into hiding, he hadn’t forgotten the chivalry he had once learned.

So the reason he opened his mouth was half because of pride—and half because of that stubborn sense of chivalry.

To him, Bel seemed like someone who needed physical protection.

Had his body still been intact, perhaps he could have protected someone again, fought for them, regained some honor. Maybe… he could have met her not as a s*ave, but as a knight. Or at least, as a guard.

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t understand why anyone would pay 300 gold coins for him.

Even if his looks had added some value, who the hell would spend that much on a male prostitute?

So he had quietly hoped—hoped that maybe there was another reason. Something that made sense.

And he asked to confirm it.

But what came out of his new master’s mouth was something he hadn’t expected at all.

“Didn’t you hear me before? I bought you to eat.”

“…”

Resting her chin in her hand while she waited for the contract to be prepared, Lema’s new master frowned slightly.

Something was bothering her.

“Someone called me… and then abandoned me. To find them, I need to eat something. You looked the most suitable, so I bought you.”

“…?”

Naturally, Lema didn’t understand a single word of that.

What Bel was referring to was the summoner who had dragged her into this era.

The summoner who had brought her here, only to abandon her without a trace.

To find that person, Bel needed more knowledge of the world she had ended up in—but she couldn’t get that just by feeding on slavers. Their meat had barely taught her the language.

She still lacked basic cultural, geographical, and historical knowledge.

In the past, she usually solved such things at once—by consuming a proper sacrifice.

Preferably one with a strong spirit or clear thoughts. Someone with a will.

But sometimes, especially in the old days, she was summoned through low-quality sacrifices—children, the elderly, slaves, women—those with fragmented or malformed thoughts.

That was what came to mind when she arrived at the s*ave auction.

The sights, the sounds, the scent of human trafficking—it all reminded her of those unpleasant, ancient memories.

Humans were the same, no matter how many centuries passed.

And that thought… disgusted her.

Bel frowned again.

At least she’d managed to get a knight.

A knight from a once-famous family, no less. Eating him should give her the base knowledge she needed to track down the summoner.

“You looked the most delicious. Relatively speaking.”

“…”

With that, Bel finished her explanation, then returned to resting her chin on her hand, bored again.

What on earth is she talking about?

Of course, Lema Valkite couldn’t make any sense of it.

Does she have a companion? But she’s alone… so she’s going to find someone? Is that why she bought me?

Lema pieced together her words in the most rational way he could manage.

He understood this much: she needed to find someone.

That seemed to be her goal.

“…So you mean… you bought me to find someone your master has lost?”

“Yes.”

Lema Valkite’s expression brightened slightly.

Even if he could never be a knight again, he still wanted to do something—anything—like an ordinary person.

At the very least, he wanted to live as a human being.

He believed that was the only way to honor his family’s last wish.

No—maybe things had even gotten better for him.

When he still had the Valkite name, he spent most of his life as a fugitive.

But if he was now someone’s property… and if that someone had purchased him for a purpose…

Maybe this was the break he needed.

Maybe it was a hope he was grasping at too desperately.

Forgetting that a s*ave had no right to ask questions, he opened his mouth again.

“So… you mean you need an escort? Or a guide for your journey? And you want me to fill that role?”

“No. I’m going to eat you.”

The master replied flatly, then stared directly at him.

And suddenly—

She smiled brightly.

Lema Valkite’s face turned beet red in an instant, overcome by an inexplicable sense of shame.

From the start, she had said it plainly—that she would eat him.

And yet, he still hadn’t understood it.

“And you’re looking more and more delicious. I think I made a good purchase.”

Lema gave up trying to understand.

Is she… a little slow?

No, that wasn’t it.
It was a different feeling entirely.

Ah… is she from a faraway country?

That explanation made a certain amount of sense.

For someone who carried herself with such dignity and confidence in a place like this, her way of speaking was oddly… childish. Her expressions were clear enough, but her vocabulary was limited and oddly chosen.

If she weren’t so composed, she might’ve come across as one of the riffraff gathered here. But just by looking at her—no, that was impossible.

She must’ve bought him after understanding only that he was a former Holy Knight… without knowing why such a body would be put on a stage like that.

Three hundred gold coins…
That would explain it.

In the days when the name Valkite still held power, it might have cost that much to hire a single knight. That much made sense.

And that strange word—“eat”—maybe it had some other meaning in her native tongue. Some idiom or cultural metaphor he didn’t understand. He couldn’t make sense of it, but it had to be something like that.

In any case, this person clearly wanted a “knight”—a skilled one—and had purchased this broken shell under that assumption.

Lema, still misinterpreting the entire situation, let out a bitter smile.

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” he said quietly. “I… I’m not a body that can do such things. Look.”

He raised both arms before Bel’s eyes.

The chains connecting his shackles clanked softly.

But more than the restraints, what stood out were his disfigured hands.

As a s*ave, Lema Valkite had had some of his fingers and the tendons in his legs deliberately damaged. He could brawl in a pit, maybe, but he wasn’t a man anyone should be buying for the name “Valkite” alone.

“I can’t even hold a pen for long, let alone a sword.”

“Is that so?”

Bel brushed the comment off as though it were unimportant.

Lema thought she hadn’t understood and felt the need to explain further.

“You don’t believe me. I may have been an apostle candidate once, but in this state, I’m barely any better than the other slaves.”

“Hmm.”

“My legs are the same. Even if you wanted me to guide you, I couldn’t walk long enough to take you anywhere.”

Lema’s condition wasn’t far off from having his limbs severed. They’d just made sure not to damage his appearance too much.

Even with tendons cut, if he used all his strength, he was still dangerous—so they had layered him with restraint patterns. That’s how broken, how feared, he was.

In any case, Lema Valkite was not a human worth 300 gold coins.

A human-shaped plaything.

That was all he amounted to now.

Lema thought he had explained everything clearly enough. But Bel frowned.

“How frustrating. How many more times do I have to say it? I bought you to eat.”

“…I—I’m sorry, what?”

“…You are such a complicated human.”

She reached out with slender fingers and touched the handcuffs. Then the chain connecting them.

Her fingertips traced over the cold iron slowly, as if just feeling its texture.

“Is this the problem?”

Bel’s index finger hooked around the chain.

Snap.

…Snap?

Lema’s eyes widened.

If he hadn’t misheard, a snap—like wood cracking—just came from the chain.

And with that sound, the thick iron chain broke.

Cleanly.

Smoothly.

As if a tree branch had been sawn through.

It didn’t stop there.

Snap. Snap.

“Will this do?”

Wherever Bel’s fingers touched, snap, snap—the metal broke apart like dry twigs.

Lema could only stare. Mouth open. Frozen.

And by the time all the handcuffs and chains were broken—and he stood completely free—he finally found his voice.

“Wh-what in the world is this…?”

“Is that not the only problem?”

Tilting her head, Bel reached out and touched his arm.

Her fingers were cold—colder than he had expected.

They trailed gently over the faintly glowing restraint patterns carved into his skin—runes that held him tighter than any shackle.

Then—

“You’ve waited a long time, sir.”

The door to the reception room burst open.

Startled, Lema jerked back as if he’d been caught stealing something.

Without thinking, he pulled his hands behind his back.

It was an unconscious motion—but the body of a knight remembered the proper at-ease stance.