Chapter 2: Return Negotiation


TL: Scaramochi


***


The girl was skinny and badly dressed, covered in grime from face to fingertips.


Under her unkempt, greasy, dusty hair, her cheeks were clearly marked with scars from a blade. 


To make matters worse, several fingernails were peeled off, exposing red flesh.


Her skinny arms and legs also bore the marks of worm sores, and around her neck was a burly collar.


I reached into my pocket and touched the leather bag. The weight of the massive gold coins had lessened. I could feel that there was only one coin. I was furious and yelled at the girl.


"You took the money, didn't you?"


The girl was so scared that she shrank back.


"No, I didn't."


"Don't lie."


"I'm telling the truth."


She shrugged when I reached for her and made a gesture like she was shielding her head with her arm.


"You bought me."


"I bought you?"


"Yes. For three gold coins."


"What?"


If you ask me, it brings back memories of chilling at the slave market on my way to another store, with a body aching from missing out on buying a hooker.


Damn. Oh my God. I bought this scrawny little bastard for three gold coins?


I look up to the heavens. I could see the spires of the city walls surrounding the town, and at the same time, I felt a ravenous thirst.


Is this a park on the outskirts of town? If so, there must have been a fountain.


I took out a copper mug from my backpack. I was about to go get some water when I remembered the kid in front of me.


"There's a fountain over there. Go get some water."


The girl took the mug I offered and ran off, dragging her feet.


After a while, the girl with the mug comes back out of the morning mist.


She gently offers me a mug full of water. I accept the mug and gulp down the water with a gulp. I wipe the water dripping from my mouth with my sleeve.


My head finally starts to work again, and I start to think.


She's a burden, no matter how I look at it. I'll find a slave merchant and ask him to buy her back.


Just as I was thinking this, I heard a squealing sound coming from nearby.


I immediately realized that it was the stomach rumbling of the girl in front of me. The girl's face fell down in embarrassment.


If you're going to have a girl taken in, you might as well make sure she's in as good a condition as possible.


I take out a paper package that I found when I rifled through my backpack earlier.


The slightly oily wrapper was, as I had imagined, a roasted bird's foot. I must have put it away after buying it at the stall yesterday.


I wasn't hungry because I had eaten and drank a lot yesterday, so I hold the package of bird's feet out to the girl.


"Come on, eat. You must be hungry."


At first she didn't take it, but finally her hunger got the better of her and she grabbed the bird's foot with both hands and began munching on it.


I leaned against the wall and watched as the girl ate it, sucking it down to the bone, her lips smeared with grease.


Finally, I get up and stretch out my entire body. I'm agile, but I'm still a little pathetic.


I take the girl who has been following me around and go to the fountain to get another glass of water to drink.


I offer her a mug, which she drinks with relish.


The chicken meat was a little spicy, so she was thirsty. But she was so dirty that I ordered her to at least wash her face. The girl then reluctantly sipped the water and washed her face.


After washing her face several times, it became the color of her skin, so I tossed her a cloth and told her to wipe her face.


When she removed the cloth, her eyes were surprisingly not bad. Her cheeks were chapped and pale, but she looked better than the girls at the bar who had been reject me last night when I tried to mess with her. However, the scars on her cheeks stood out even more because of the wash.


I follow the road where remnants of last night's festivities can be seen everywhere and look for last night's slave market.


They were in the middle of cleaning up and packing up, but I catch one of them at work and ask him to call the owner.


"I don't need it, but you want me to take it back?"


"Yes. I was drunk, apparently. Of course, I'll pay you the commission."


The merchant, who was examining the ledger, said quietly,


"I'll take it back for ten silver coins."


I protested indignantly.


"What?　That's less than one-fifth of the original price! That's a rip-off!"


"Even if you put it that way..."


The merchant points to a girl sitting a short distance away from me, holding her knees and lying on her face.


"The value of a child like that is that it's a first time item. Second-hand ones aren't worth much, you know? It costs a lot of money to keep a slave, to feed her, and she might die. That expense is included. I don't really have any obligation to buy her. So, what do you want me to do?"


I pondered.


In the meantime, the merchant is making small talk with me, as if he is free because he doesn't have to clean up the mess.


"Well. You're an odd one, aren't you, sir? You're buying a child who'll be nothing more than bait for an ogre in a freak show at best."


"Bait?"


"That's right. The ogre only eats live food. I told her to clean up a little, but she wouldn't listen to me, and I've been buying her in and wasting money on her for a year. There was talk that if you don't buy it, she's about to go to the freak show."


I frown, and the merchant laughs and says he's joking.


I'm a humble adventurer, but I knew there were rich people with that kind of bad taste. The story goes that they would release an ogre with a severed tendon and a child into an enclosure and watch the ogre devour the tired child in the end after chasing after it.


I was disgusted.


"At least, add a gold coin on top of that. That's still half the price."


The merchant laughed, as if I was joking.



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