Chapter 4: Even in Town, the Shunning Continues

Chapter 4:
Even in Town, the Shunning Continues

AS I WOKE—gradually, achingly—I found myself inside a jail cell. Which was becoming a little too common, if you ask me. I was in a stone room, iron bars blocking my view of the hallway. At least I wasn’t in shackles like back in the stone tower in the village. The only problem was, I was completely naked. They’d taken all of my stuff. Once again, I was back to being treated like livestock in a cage. At least I picked up a nice present for my wife before being beaten senseless. Little blessings.

I sat myself cross-legged on the ground, gingerly touching my swollen chin.

First off, where was I? Nothing I could see gave me the barest hint. The most I could make out were a few rows of cells across from me, all exactly like mine. I could also hear the whimpering and groans of what sounded like…elderly people?

This was bad. Really, really bad.

I pulled myself toward the bars to take another look around and saw a goblin in the cell directly across from me. He wore dirty rags and was sprawled out on the ground, asleep. He barely lifted his head when he noticed me staring, going right back down. Were these guys slaves or something?

I released my grip on the bars. Light streamed through the small window behind me, so at least I knew the sun was still up. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I got beat up by the street thug, unless a whole day had passed already.

No use thinking about it now. I took a page out of my goblin cellmate’s book and laid down to conserve energy. I didn’t want to waste my strength and end up paying for it the next day. I didn’t even know if they were going to give me food or water!

All of this because I’d been too hungover to watch where I was going. What a valuable lesson in moderation.

A rusty metal door creaked open somewhere out in the stone hallway. Someone was here.

I stayed still, listening. From what I could tell, there were about four someones total. The way a few of them walked…I knew that sound. Toe to heel, toe to heel. A telltale sign of experience with martial arts. There were probably adventurers among them, too.

“Get up. …Boss, this one’s still sleepin’.”

“Throw some water and wake him up.”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t have time to speak up before a bucketful of water splashed over me. I wanted to scream, curse somebody out, do something, but I managed to restrain myself. God, though, I was starting to get pissed off about this godawful morning.

If I continued to lay still, someone was bound to unlock the door and try to force me to get up.

“What should I do with him? He ain’t movin’.”

“Pull him out!”

There was a rattling sound as someone fumbled with the lock on the door before it finally creaked open. Someone came toward me. Judging by their footsteps, it was an adventurer. They grabbed me by the arm. “Wake the hell up!” the guy shouted.

They delivered a hefty kick to my ass, but I latched onto his arm and dug in with my hand. A hit to the ass is rough, but I’d manage. I used my assailant’s arm as leverage, pulled myself up, and slammed my head straight into his chin.

“Gah! Bastard!”

“Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

My head was pounding from the headbutt, but revenge pulled me through. I sent the guy flying out of my cell with one good sideswipe kick. Three other men waited outside the cell, probably comrades of Chinsmash McJerkass. One of them wore an expensive-looking red vest, while the other two were adventurers wearing chainmail armor.

One of the adventurers caught up with the guy I sent flying out, a guy who looked pretty familiar.

“Hey, I remember you,” I said. “You’re the one who knocked me out.”

“Y-you asshole! I’m gonna cut your ass up!” he shrieked, drawing his blade.

“Aww, you giving up on fists now?”

Then I realized this adventurer was completely bald, with the lanky build of a Chinese movie star and the fighting style of a lightweight boxer. Ah, shit.

“Nupchakan, sir, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to kill him.”

“Wait. I wish to speak with him, first. Don’t forget, this man’s valuable property.”

“Heh fine. I’ll only beat him half to death. You ready for this, asshole?”

I ignored his caustic words and thought over how I’d deal with him. I was a self-defense instructor at one point, so I still remembered the basics when it came to disarming a guy with a knife, at least.

“All right, bring it on. I’m buck naked, so why don’t you get on my level? Get out of those clothes and let’s go.” No idea why I said that, but. He…did?

“Fine, you’re on!” The guy actually took the time to remove his armor before trying to come punch me. If he wasn’t pissed before, he sure was now. But he was slow. There was no point trying to drag this out, so I aimed straight for the guy’s heart. He came at me with another hook, just like the first time. I prepared myself to take the hit as I launched a punch of my own right into his sternum. That’d definitely be enough to throw his pulse out of whack and slow him down.

I drove my fist home, and his punch barely grazed my head. I was just a step closer than him, so I got my hit in without having to take one in kind. Baldy went down. His two friends jumped into the cell and…

It was over for me in an instant. Karate practitioners fight one-on-one, but adventurers just gang up on people. They beat me up for a bit before making me prostrate myself before the guy in the expensive red vest.

“Kneel before Mister Nupchakan, asshole.” Another kick, with a spit to go with it.

“Seems like we have ourselves quite the lively one,” said the guy in red. “Good work.”

“Thank you, sir. I never expected him to start swinging while still in the cell, though.”

“Is he some kind of adventurer?”

“From what we could see from his belongings, he’s a hunter from a remote village who came here to make a living. There’s supposed to be a girl with him as well, so, hey. Fresh meat, ya know?” He grinned wolfishly.

“I see, I see. If he stays this lively, he’s going to make us a quite a bit. That pretty girl will make us even more. We have to ensure we do it in accordance with the law, however.”

Oh, the law. How nice. These scumbags were hunting for people to make into slaves according to the law. Bunch of assholes throwing people into cells.

“What’s your name?” the man in the red vest asked me.

“It’s Shooter.” I was used to giving a quick bow whenever someone asked me that question, so I ended up blurting out my name on accident. The man stooped down to my level, lifting my chin.

“My name,” he said, “is Lutbayasky Nupchsay Nupchakan. Do you understand that? Hm?”

Oh no. No, that was…there was no way I had to remember that, right? “Lutbayasky…?”

The bald man picked himself up off the floor, sputtering and coughing, and dealt a vicious a kick to my stomach.

“That’s Mister Lutbayasky Nupchsay Nupchakan!” Oh, that one was nasty. I started tallying people to pay back for all this, with baldy racing to the top of the list.

“It seems,” said Lutbavasky, “you were the one who broke my precious vase, were you not?”

“Who knows?” I answered.

I remembered the bald guy dropping a small vase when I accidentally bumped into him, but it hadn’t looked fancy. Then again, I had no experience with how much things cost in this world, so really, who knew? What I did know was that these guys were pulling the same scam you’d find in my old world, where people purposefully bumped into you, dropped something that was supposed to be “priceless,” and made you pay for it.

“I was quite fond of that vase, I’ll have you know. I practically had to beg the merchant to part with it; it was as dear to him as it was to me. That particular vase was worth a whole ten gold coins, but to me…why, it was worth even more.”

“Oh, certainly.” Like hell. That thing was probably only a few bronze coins at best. You could find crap like it at the dollar store! That was just the way this scam worked, though. I had no idea how much things were worth in this world, so couldn’t even figure out the actual value.

“I shall ask you once more: You were the one who broke my vase, were you not?”

I was at a loss for words. It was kind of true that I was the one who broke it, but it wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t tried to break it on purpose. These guys, though…they almost seemed happy to have lost the “priceless” piece of trash.

If I said yes here, Lutbayasky would hold it over my head and make me pay through the nose to compensate him.

“Say it. If you don’t, it could spell trouble for that lovely young girl you came with. Oh, what was her name? Perhaps we should ask her. So talkative. So…loud.”

There we were, then. I was trapped on all sides, and there was no wriggling out. On top of that, they were threatening to drag Nishka into this.

“I suppose it’s true.”

“Then I’d like to ask you to compensate me for my loss. Ten coins would fill the hole in my heart.”

“W-well, unfortunately, I don’t happen to have that kind of money. Not that I can’t get it! I was just about to become an adventurer, so if you can wait a bit I’ll just pay you back.”

“Ah, I would love to believe you, but there are so many dreadful people out there who have used that exact same excuse to run away from their debts,” Lutbayasky said with a thin smile. “You possess no form of identification, and only a few silver coins to your name. Judging by your entry papers, I would say you aren’t even a citizen of Bulka.”

“That’s true, I’m not.”

“Your other belongings were a sword and a letter of recommendation to the guild, which stated you were a hunter. Am I incorrect?”

“No, that’s right. I’m only a fledgling hunter, but before that I was a, uh…a warrior.”

That was what everyone else called me, at least.

“You are not an adventurer, then?”

“I’m not, no. This all happened before I could register as one.” I offered a feeble laugh. If I’d actually registered, the guild might have been able to help me out of this jam.

Lutbayasky took out my money pouch and played with it, listening to the jingle of silver.

“Th-those are public funds from the village. You can’t take them. The village chief will kill you.”

“Are they really, now? It’s so easy to come up with excuses. I hear them all day. Sometimes I write them in a little book. I’m afraid you have no way to prove your claims, so I’ll just have to assume that these are fantasies of yours and take these coins as a down payment. With that said and done, how exactly do you plan on compensating me for my vase now, hmm? This silver will, unfortunately, be insufficient.”

I glowered at him. That “vase” was probably as precious as a pickle jar back in my world. Probably cheap as a damn chamber pot. I needed to think up an excuse. Something, anything that could get me out of this situation. They were talking about slaves earlier, so I knew where it would go if I didn’t—

“Well, lucky for you, I just so happen to have a proposition.”

Of course he did. Hmm, I wonder what that might be.

“Yes?”

“What do you say to paying off your debt with your own body? Buyers adore a lively, punchy lad like you.”

“Th-that can’t be legal.”

“It can. It is. If you lack the funds to pay, you sell your body to acquire funds. Did your little village not have slave labor?”

“No, we had actual human decency. I don’t think you’d get it.”

“What a cute, happy little village.”

Yeah, so happy when wyverns slaughtered our people. There wasn’t enough help to go around, either, so if we really got into this Class-A awful messed-up institution, I guess we’d be more in the business of buying slaves than selling them.

Lutbayasky sneered at me. “If you gallantly refuse to become a slave, then I suppose the debt must fall on the girl that came with you, yes?”

Like hell. “Unfortunately for you, we ended up separated once we arrived in town. I was looking for her when I happened to run into your pack of oafs—I mean, adventurers.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. A-and she isn’t even a big fan of me, even though we’re from the same village. She’s a cold one, so! Sorry! Wouldn’t do a thing to help me, ha ha.”

Lutbayasky scrutinized me, and I yammered on. I didn’t want to drag Nishka into any of this, but I was more afraid of news getting back to the village and causing trouble for Cassandra.

This was probably all part of Lutbayasky’s plan to make me give in—just keep me freaked out, talking and justifying and lying till I wore down.

And it worked.

“All right, fine. Make me into a slave. I’ll pay back what I owe with my body.”

I had no choice. These guys had to be pros at hunting down people from the countryside to turn into slaves. Nishka didn’t even know any other places outside of Apegut, so I could easily see her getting forced into slavery as well, or even ending up captured by the authorities if she made a scene.

“Then the deal is struck. I shall provide a slave contract as proof you agreed to compensate me for my vase. Sign right here, if you would.”

“Sorry, never learned how to goddamn read.”

“No need for that. All I require is your thumb.”

One of the other adventurers dug his hands into my wrist, dragged my right hand up and cut my thumb open before pressing it against the parchment. A deal sealed in blood. I forced a smile at Lutbayasky as he waved the contract in my face. And then he was done with me.

“He’s all yours.”

“You damn country hick!” The adventurer smashed his foot into my face with a kick, and once again, I was out like a light.

“Lucky you, we already found a customer willing to buy you.”

They woke me with another bucketful of water. Groggily I remembered Cassandra’s mirror—I could only imagine just how handsome I looked after my latest beating.

I was in chains, thanks to the ruckus I caused. They dragged me out of my cell now, forcing me down the hall and outside. I could feel the stares from my fellow slaves as my captors led me. Weird that I was selling so quickly, what with me showing up so recently. All the others, who’d been imprisoned so much longer than me, stared back with looks of heartbreaking pity.

When I made it outside to an open yard, the guards dumped yet another huge bucket of water over me. They kicked me to the ground and cleaned me off with mops. Then they tied me to a pillar and had someone forcibly shave off my beard. My body wasn’t even dry before they dragged me to a room to meet my lucky buyer.

Back when I was registered at a temp agency, I used to work a job where I lugged packages around all day at different distribution centers. They held onto packages briefly before sending them to their final destination, and I ended up working a lot of yearly holiday rushes.

No one got paid well, but you couldn’t complain about it. Try, and the company would file their own complaint with the temp agency and get you fired.

One time on the way back from that center, I stopped at a nearby bar to grab a drink. There I saw someone from the temp agency and a manager from the distribution company drinking together. I’ll never forget what that guy from the temp agency said then:

“That’s where the real cash is—selling people. Human trafficking. Not those idiots who break the law, there’s a perfectly legal form. Just start a damn temp agency.”

The sentiment sent chills down my spine. It was true. And here in this world Lutbayasky must’ve been making a killing with his own legalized slavery. He’d take people like me—without papers, easily lost, unable to compensate him for his trash-vase, and turn us into money.

The amount I owed him wasn’t actually that high, if you looked at the big picture. It was like taxes or rent or anything with interest in my old world—never that bad when you step back. But since I couldn’t pay him even the relatively small sum of ten gold, here I was. A slave, auctioned and sold.

“So this is the slave warrior you told me about?” a high-pitched voice said from behind me. “He seems pretty strong, I’ll give you that. I’m a bit concerned about those injuries, though I suppose Ganjamary should be able to fix him up.”

A girl? Or maybe a kid? I couldn’t see them, but maybe they were a different species altogether. Whatever they were, I was pretty sure that voice belonged to my potential buyer.

Since one of Lutbayasky’s lackeys was forcing my head down, the customer was the one to come to me. They leaned over and peeked down at my face.

“What’s your name, Mr. Slave?” A girl and a kid.

***

Yeah, the buyer was a tiny little kid gazing curiously at me. Her eyes were blue sapphires, and wavy blonde hair fell down her back. Her ears were pointed ever so slightly, just like Alexandricia’s. She wore a dress that was held up by a knot tied right at her chest.

If she was here to buy a slave worth at least ten gold coins, she must belong to the higher echelons of society.

“M-my name is Shooter.” I was bowing and scraping again before I knew it. “Pleased to meet you, master.”

“I like this one! I’m Yoi’hady Jumei.”

I’m sure you love those unpronounceable goblin names just as much as I do. She was about the size of a human child, but that was probably the goblin blood in her. In that regard, she looked like the polar opposite of the village chief.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, um…Miss Yoi? Please purchase me, if it pleases you.”

“That’s Miss Yoi’hady Jumei, dirtbag!” the bald adventurer screamed at me. “Can’t you get that into your thick skull?”

Look, any name with a random apostrophe is going to make your life just a little harder. God, these fantasy names were going to be the death of me. I blamed Frank Herbert.

“It’s fine,” said Yoi, “I don’t really mind. Where are you from, Mr. Slave?”

“From, um…the countryside…”

I couldn’t just blurt out that I came from another world, she would think I was nuts. You’ve got to make a good impression with an interview, and I’d much rather be owned by a well-off goblin over Lutbayasky. Not only that, but I was dealing with a little girl. I might even find a way to escape if the opportunity presented itself. I had a wife waiting for me back home, after all.

“I’m looking for the kind of slave who can delve into a dungeon and hold their own. Can you fight?”

“Y-yes, I can. I can use spears and swords, though I’m still training to use a bow.”

Smiling, Yoi turned to Lutbayasky.

“It’s true he’s a warrior then, right? How much for him?”

“What exquisite taste you have, Miss Yoi’hady Jumei,” Lutbayasky purred. Unctuous little shit. “He can be yours for the exceedingly low price of twenty gold coins and eighteen silver pieces.”

Twice the price of my vase. Temp agencies, am I right?

“Not bad, I suppose. But it’s a bit expensive.”

Yoi wasn’t exactly jumping at the price he gave her. You’ve got to sell yourself in any good interview. All the more when you really, really need to sell yourself to get out of a hellish alternate universe slave market. Yeah, all right, she mentioned dungeons! Fine! I could panic about that part later.

“Miss Yoi, please buy me so I may be a faithful, humble servant to you. I will do anything you ask of me.”

“Hmm! Anything, you say?”

“Anything!”

“As stated, I’m planning on going into dungeons. You would have your work cut out for you, and lots of it.”

“That won’t be a problem at all. I’ve done plenty of jobs that required physical labor,” I said, stretching my smile wide as I could manage without bleeding (much). My face screamed in pain from all my injuries, but I had no choice but to put up with it.

She batted her eyelashes. “Aww. Are you sure you can’t cut me a better deal on him, Mr. Slave Trader?”

“Well, let’s see. He’s damaged, I’ll admit. I suppose I could let him go for nineteen gold and eighteen silver pieces.”

“Aww. I want a good warrior, but do you have anyone else?”

“I have plenty of young goblin males in stock. You could buy two of them instead, and at half the price I’m asking for this one.”

“No,” she snapped suddenly, “goblins won’t cut it. They’re cheap, and they’re goblins. Come now.” She cleared her throat. Smiled girlishly. Not fond of goblins then. And not just because they oh so disappointingly didn’t even fetch a high price at the goddamn slave market.

“If goblins aren’t to your liking,” said Lutbayasky, “I have a thirty-year-old man who used to work as an adventurer. There’s that three-decade discount, you know. Twelve gold coins and five silver pieces?”

“Guys that age are so sickly. I’ll pass.”

The retired adventurer wasn’t her type either. Poor guy, already…thirty? Wait, come on, thirty wasn’t that bad. Right?

I pretended not to hear any of this, obviously. I think Wak’wakgoro brought it up before, but apparently I looked much younger than I really was in this world. Being clean-shaven must’ve helped.

Yoi frowned. “Hmm.”

“Very well—eighteen gold coins and two silver pieces. How does that sound?”

“Ah, how reasonable! I’ll take it. Give me his slave contract, please.”

“A pleasure doing business with you.”

With a wide grin, Lutbayasky snapped his fingers and sent one of his lackeys to fetch my contract. I had been sold for a grand total of eighteen gold and two silver pieces.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, Mr. Slave!”

“Thank you so much, Miss Yoi.”

Still fully in the nude, I prostrated myself before the young girl. (Listen, context is extremely important here.)

There I was, Shuta-age-thirty-two-you-know-the-drill, walking around the town of Bulka buck naked. Or I guess, wearing only a collar around my neck, with a young girl who legally owned me holding the end of the chain attached to it.

I was a dog. I was an honest-to-god dog being taken for a walk around town.

I had a knapsack slung over my back with my shortsword and cloak in it, but Lutbayasky’s goons shredded my vest to pieces. As for my wife’s lovingly knitted underwear? Missing. Damn it.

I thought that the slave contract stuff would’ve been more complicated but Lutbayasky handed the contract to Yoi, I was once again forced to use my blood to press my thumbprint on the paper, and that was that. There was no magic to it. There didn’t need to be magic.

If a slave killed their owner, they’d be charged with murder. If they tried to run away, people would come after them and kill them on sight. Even so, I was sure there had to be ways to make an escape where they wouldn’t be able to catch me.

There was this piercing on my belly button too, unfortunately, irremovable proof that I was a slave. Here I was at the ripe old age of thirty-two, and now I had my first belly-button piercing. Extremely punk.

“Guess what?” said Yoi. “I’m actually an adventurer!”

“Oh? An adventurer, Miss Yoi?”

“That’s right! I’m gonna be trying to tackle a dungeon, so I need an adventurer-slave who can protect me, carry my stuff, and even be my shield if the situation calls for it.”

“I’d be more than happy to carry your belongings, and I’ve had experience acting as an armed escort before. As for being a shield…I haven’t experienced anything like that yet, but I’ll do my best to fulfill the role.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what Yoi meant by “dungeon,” but the first things I imagined were old ruins or labyrinthine natural cave systems or something. You know, fantasy stuff. I was probably close enough.

“Before all that, we’re going to the adventurer’s guild to get you registered as an adventurer.”

“Oh! My adventurer registration!”

“We’ll go buy your weapons and gear after we get that done. Then I can go introduce you to my partner-in-crime.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Yoi.”

Weird. Here I was, ending up exactly where I intended to go anyway with Nishka. But where was she?

I paid our room ten days in advance, but she didn’t have a coin to her name. Once she ran out of her food, she’d be in trouble. Selling off eye patches and thongs wouldn’t be enough. The thought of a penniless Nishka wandering around the back alleys of the shopping district gnawed at me.

But I couldn’t do anything about that just yet, and there was something else I noticed while wandering around town. Every once in a while, I’d see goblins just as naked as I was. The slaves Gimul was telling me about, I guessed.

While most of them were goblins, I spotted some naked men and women as well, all either carrying sacks packed to the brim with goods and produce or following after fancy nobility types. I may have been naked too, but I was also armed to the teeth. It was a little surreal.

Though I hadn’t really noticed it when I first arrived in Bulka, it was hard to overlook the fact that there were so many fabulously well-to-do people around here—and in this one particular neighborhood. Compared to the chaos and squalor in the parts of Bulka I’d already seen, this place seemed fairly orderly and clean, though it was just as busy. Rows of stone buildings there might be, but they all rose much higher than three stories.

“I’m terribly sorry if this comes off as rude, Miss Yoi, but I was hoping to ask you a question.”

“What is it, Mr. Slave?”

“Would you happen to be part of the nobility? You paid quite a lot for me, after all. Do you really make that much from being an adventurer?”

“Oh dear, no, I’m actually a spellcaster.”

“A spellcaster?”

“Yup. Spellcasters are pretty rare, so they never have trouble finding work. If they can make it as adventurers, then they can make tons of money from it, too.”

Would that make Nishka a spellcaster as well? She could use that wind magic, after all. But then, that was all she could cast. Maybe you needed to be able to use a ton of different spells if you wanted to be called a “spellcaster” or whatever.

“Does that mean you can use all sorts of magic, Miss Yoi?”

“Mmhm! My specialty is earth magic, but I can use fire and water magic as well.”

“What about wind magic, if I may ask?” If Nishka could use it, maybe it was commonplace in this world…and maybe I could learn it.

“I’m not as good with it as earth magic, but I can use it.”

“Oh, I see! That’s wonderful!”

“Sure is! And so I’m always the main firepower of any adventurer party. He he!” She stopped walking and put her hands on her hips, puffing out her (practically nonexistent) chest.

“Err. I’d expect nothing less from someone as great as you, Miss Yoi. I would be grateful to have you teach me wind magic too, if you would so…deign at me with all that stuff.”

“Hm. We’ll see,” she said curtly.

I was her slave, so what was I expecting? What time would there be for me to learn anything at all?

Oh. I really was a slave, wasn’t I? Huh.

I wondered how horrible life was for slaves in this world. From what I read, slavery took many forms throughout history. Slaves in ancient Rome were supposed to have had a decent amount of freedom despite their status, sort of like temp-workers. On the other hand, there had also been chattel slavery, when they worked all those people to death back in the Age of Discovery and Industrial Revolution.

There was a simple reason for the difference: In the Roman Empire, prisoners of war or people who went broke were relatively common and could easily be forced into servitude. But during the Age of Discovery, slaves were brought to North and South America from faraway places like Africa and Asia, and had been treated more like things than unfortunate people. They had been made to perform backbreaking labor, like being put to work in mines or making their owner’s property profitable, with no chance of ever winning back their freedom.

I wasn’t going to be put to work in the coal mines or anything, so perhaps I had a chance at a decent life as a slave in this world…or as decent a life as one could get as a slave. All I had to do was carry stuff, after all. Or maybe get used as a sacrifice so Yoi and her friend could escape. How nice.

“Usually it’s just me and my partner who go into dungeons, but that limits what kinds of dungeons we can go to, and how far we can go into them. But with you here, we’re sure to get better results!”

“Of course! Whether it’s carrying luggage or taking up my sword, I’ll put my all into it!”

This girl bought me for eighteen gold coins. It had been twenty gold coins for the wyvern bones and skin, which Nishka said would be enough to eat like a king for a whole year. If that was really true, then they probably wouldn’t just toss me to the nearest monster if things broke bad.

I felt oddly sad for Yoi, sure, but I had to think of a way to make my escape from here. And as those thoughts swirled around my head, we finally arrived at the adventurer’s guild.

***

Or rather, an adventurer’s guild. “Huh? This isn’t the right place. I mean, it looks the same, but the location’s wrong.”

“Oh yeah? There are a few different guild locations all around town, so maybe you went to one of those?” Yoi offered, pulling me along with her chain.

Despite the fact it looked like a grown man was being taken for a naked walk by a little girl, no one so much as batted an eye at us. Was this just a thing? Did accomplished adventurers just take slaves for naked walks around the city?

When we approached the counter, a salesperson-like young man offered me an actual piece of parchment to sign rather than the crappy recycled paper Gimul used.

“I’m sorry, Miss Yoi, but I can’t read.”

“Then I’ll fill it out for you, and you just stamp your thumbprint on it!”

I lifted my small master so she could reach the counter and fill out the paperwork for me. I pressed my thumb into a red inkpad before affixing it against the form to seal the deal.

“Then that wraps up your adventurer registration,” said the young man working the counter. “I’ll go and make your adventurer tag for you, so hold on while I get that done for you.”

“Adventurer tag?”

“That’s right. It’s a tiny metal plate you wear around your neck that has your registration information written on it. And it comes in a set of two. Here, like this.”

The receptionist pulled out a sample to show me. Looked a lot like those dog tag-looking things you’d find at those America-centric military shops in Osaka and Tokyo. All the Gen-Z types seemed into that stuff.

One of the tags was supposed to stay with the guild you first registered with, while the other was for the adventurer to keep. If they ever decided to travel and make a different guild their main base of operations, then they’d take the guild’s tag and bring it to their new primary location.

Right now, I was in the West Gate Bulka guild. The guild I visited before was near the East Gate. No magic here, either—just a little tag. A fairly primitive system, all said and done.

“Then I’ll get started on those tags for you,” the receptionist told us before disappearing into a back room with my form.

We went and sat ourselves down on one of the benches to wait.

“You can’t read or write, Mr. Slave?”

“I can’t, unfortunately. I come from the countryside, so I never really learned.”

“I think you should practice until you can write your own name, at least.”

“I’ll do just that, then.”

It really was a good idea, if I was going to keep living in this world. According to Gimul, Cassandra didn’t know how to read or write either. If this world was somewhere around the Middle Ages in terms of culture, then the literacy rate probably wasn’t all that high.

It might take more time for a thirty-something-year-old like me to learn new things, but I at least wanted to get to the point where I could write my own name, and maybe read some simple sentences. If I was going to be an adventurer, I needed to at least read bulletin boards—otherwise somebody might try to pull a fast one on me. Every world’s got its own horde of Lutbayaskies.

That said, there was one thing I could read now: “adventurer’s guild.” This was the third time I’d come to one of the guilds, so I’d come to recognize the sign. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks, I thought, taking a seat on the bench. Right when I did, though—

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, huh?”

A girl’s voice shouted that before sending me sprawling with a swift, nasty kick. Didn’t lay me out completely—I rolled a little and reached into my knapsack for my sword. More adventurers trying to pick a fight with me. Cool. I kept my guard up as I looked to see who that kick had come from, and I saw…a girl.

“Hell’s your problem, lady?”

“That should be my line. What’s a slave like you trying to sit down without permission from his master, hm?”

The girl placed a hand on her hip as she glared at me. She had long, straight black hair, eyes that reminded me of acorns, and glasses too—the first I’d seen in this world. She wore leather armor over her sleeveless dress, a cloak, and a longsword hung at her waist.

“Th-that was my mistake, then. I’m sorry, Miss Yoi.”

Yoi smiled. “It’s okay, I don’t mind!”

But what was up with the glasses chick? She kicked me before I even said my name. Girls in this world were really all over the place.

She folded her arms. “If Yoi says it’s fine, then I guess it’s fine. Be more careful next time.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your kind consideration.”

“Ganjamary, when did you get here?” Yoi asked the girl.

“We promised to meet at the guild in the afternoon, remember? It looks like you managed to get your slave just fine.”

“Uh-huh! He’s a hunter from the countryside who used to be a warrior. It sounds like he can use all sorts of close-range weapons, and even bows!”

“I’m still learning with the bow, actually,” I cut in.

This other girl looked surprisingly Japanese to me. She had a button-nose, and round eyes, too.

“Mr. Slave,” said Yoi, “this is my partner-in-crime. She’s part of the Templars here, and an adventurer, too!”

“Yes. I’m Ganjamary, slave. I suppose I should say it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance as well. I’m Shooter,” I said, bowing.

Ganja…mary? Top-tier stoner name. Might as well give her the last name Jane, or perhaps Jawanna?

“Shooter, huh.” Her lips twitched. “Give me a break. Just looking at your dumb face makes me think you’re Japanese. I bet your real name is something lame like ‘Shuta.’ You’re not close to my type, either. And what’s that down there? Is that phimosis? Nasty, dude.”

I wasn’t sure if she meant to say all that under her breath or not, but it was definitely loud enough for me to pick up on.

“Wait, did you just say ‘Japanese’?!”

I definitely heard it, clear as day.

Ganjamary took her hand off her hip.

Then she put the full weight of her body behind her fist and smashed it into my face with an audible crunch.

I couldn’t fight back, and it made me furious. My experience with karate helped me minimize the damage I took, but I pretended that I was reeling after her punch. Which, great, cool, but hold on, Japanese, what?

“You don’t seem to know how to talk to your superiors despite the fact you’re a slave,” she spat.

“Wait, just hear me out! You said I looked ‘Japanese,’ right? Then I bet your name isn’t Ganjamary—maybe something more like… ‘Gangi Mari,’ right?”

“So what, slave? Yours is probably something stupid like ‘Shuta.’ What’s your last name then, huh?”

“Ow! Stop with the punching! And the kicking, just the whole scene oww. It’s Yoshida, my family name is Yoshida! I’m Yoshida Shuta!”

“See? You’re Japanese too, aren’t you!” She snorted haughtily, adjusting her glasses as all of her blows—the punches and kicks—sunk into me.

I glared back, wiping the blood from my cheek with my arm. This violent glasses-wearing wench…

Yoi cleared her throat lightly. “Mr. Slave, do you and Ganjamary know each other?”

“Well, erm.” I started. “How should I explain this?”

“No,” Ganjamary interrupted, “we don’t know each other. It just looks like we’re both from the same place.”

“Oh, you mean that other world you were born in?” Yoi responded, completely unfazed.

Oh, that other what? I was at a loss. And just like that, for the first time I met another Japanese person in this new world.

“How did you end up here, anyway?” Mari asked me.

“I was on my way back from work and was going to grab a drink at a nearby bar. Everything after that gets a bit hazy. Before I knew it, I was wandering around a forest in this world before being caught by a woodcutter from the village I’ve been staying in.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

“What about you?”

“I was going home from school, and then poof! I was in some church here. Everyone had been praying super hard when I suddenly showed up. They all freaked out, called me some kind of ‘holy maiden,’ all kinds of stuff.”

“Were you naked?”

“Buck naked. I did still have my glasses, at least. No idea why.”

While Yoi went to pick up my finished adventurer tags, Mari and I traded stories of how we arrived. We sat on the bench, the chain to my collar firmly in her grasp.

“Aha, so your glasses are just another part of your body, then?”

Mari’s eye twitched. “How dare you?”

She didn’t like that one at all, balling up her fist to punch me in the face. No thanks—I cleanly dodged the hit.

“I grew up in Saitama,” she said, moving on. “I was fifteen years old and in my first year of high school when I got sent here. I’m nineteen now.”

“You’ve already been here four years? Dang, I guess that makes you the expert on this place. I’m thirty-two, and I was hopping between part-time jobs back in Kyoto before this all happened. I grew up way out in the sticks.”

“Hopping between jobs? Funny. Trash back home, and trash in this world, too,” she remarked, eyes full of scorn.

“Oh, give it a rest,” I snapped.

“Am I wrong? How did you end up as a slave? Did that village sell you off after they caught you?”

“Nah, I was actually here in town on business for the village. I ended up caught in a scam involving a stupidly ‘expensive’ vase and some adventurers who were working for a slave trader. One thing led to another, and, well, here I am.”

“Hmph. Bad luck, I suppose.”

“There’s someone else that came with me here, a girl. I was the one with the money, so she’s probably wandering the streets alone right about now. I also have a wife waiting for me back at the village. I don’t know if you could…” I didn’t know what I was going to even ask, and it didn’t matter. She couldn’t. She was barely listening, after all.

Mari yawned. “I don’t really care, to be honest. You’re Yoi’s slave right now, so don’t even think about running away. They’ll catch you, you’ll die, and we’ll move on.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that! We’re both kindred souls from the same homeland, right?”

“Aw no, what a tragedy! What a terrible injustice. You gonna take it up with the police? What police? Gonna talk to the guards? They’ll probably claim it’s none of their business.”

My heart sank like a rock as Mari said exactly everything I didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, Mr. Slave! I got your adventurer tags!”

Yoi came trotting back from the counter and looped my tags around my neck for me. The future seemed…gone. “Let’s go buy your weapons and go home!”

It was early in the afternoon when we left the guild and made our way to the weapon shop. I felt everyone’s eyes on me and my chains as we walked. This was normal for slaves, right? Right?

Well, I wasn’t about to let myself die a horrible death in some dungeon. No, I’d give Yoi my best puppy dog eyes and get myself some decent equipment, and then I’d hope it’d be enough for whatever lay ahead.