The women I set free are obsessed with me

Mirabelle spilled out her entire past.

From being a witch, to the clergy visiting her village, what happened to her mother, and how she ended up being sold into slavery—everything.

She wasn't trying to evoke sympathy.

Her audience was a heartless, evil slave trader. No, even worse—Karami, known as the Slave Reaper. Mirabelle wasn't optimistic enough to think that appealing to his emotions would cause things to work out well.

Children who faced harsh realities too early tended to grow up fast.

That was why she had planned to keep it hidden for life. The moment she was exposed, she would be subject to a witch hunt.

The reason Mirabelle suddenly revealed her secret to Karami was…

Why did I?

Even when she asked herself, the answer remained a question.

She couldn't pinpoint the reason herself.

But if she had to find a reason… Yes. It was probably because she felt a strange warmth from his touch, from his embrace.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt such warmth.

It was a ridiculous notion. Feeling kindness from a slave trader? Others would say she had gone mad from being a slave. But what could she do? That was just how she felt.

Mirabelle watched Karami's reaction carefully.

How would he react to learning his slave was a witch? He would surely be shocked. Protecting a witch meant execution. He might even fly into a rage.

Whatever his reaction, it would be satisfying. Karami always maintained an unreadable poker face. She was secretly looking forward to seeing that facade crumble.

But contrary to Mirabelle's expectations, Karami maintained his smile from start to finish. He seemed unfazed by the fact that Mirabelle was a witch.

As if…

"Haha, so what if you are?"

Someone who didn't know the meaning of the word surprise.

If anyone was surprised, it was Mirabelle.

"What do you mean so what? I am a witch! Anyone who harbors a witch faces punishment. You could die because of me!"

"Whether Miss Mirabelle is a witch or an evil god, it doesn't matter to me. I am a slave trader. The only thing I care about is value."

"Value…?"

Karami nodded.

"Miss Mirabelle possesses an incomparable value. Even I find it hard to measure its full extent. Would I not be a fool to discard you just because you are a witch? I might as well give up being a slave trader."

Mirabelle's indigo eyes widened to the point of nearly popping out.

Just?

Did he say just?

She was abandoned by her own father solely for being a witch, yet Karami, a complete stranger, considered her as being 'just' a witch.

Mirabelle couldn't understand.

She didn't want to understand.

If she accepted it with an 'I see,' it would mean she had been abandoned for something insignificant. And if that were true, what did it say about the person who abandoned her, her own father?

And Karami didn't even care that she was a witch?

When Mirabelle's eyes flashed with hatred for a certain someone, Karami seized the moment and whispered sweet words.

"There is no need to be so upset. The purpose of this journey is to meet him. Let's go and ask him, why did he abandon you?"

Right, that's right.

"Until that moment comes, Miss Mirabelle simply needs to focus on practicing magic as you have been. Don't be concerned with anything else."

She needed to master magic.

To repay the pain she suffered because of that man a thousandfold.

"When everything is over, I will send Miss Mirabelle to her mother's side."

To her mother's side, who had gone to a place she could never reach?

Those words were tantamount to a death sentence.

Mirabelle was shocked, but only for a moment.

Click.

The gears of reason in Mirabelle's mind began to turn in the opposite direction.

Ah, I see.

The young girl realized.

The light she had lost long ago could never be regained.

Even if she could turn back time, unless she was reborn as someone else.

From the moment she was born as Mirabelle.

No matter how many times she relived her life, the ending would remain unchanged.

Was there any point in yearning for something she knew was forever out of reach? No. There was no need to cling to this life.

Furthermore, the one by her side was Karami, the Slave Reaper—her one and only savior who could free her from this suffocating reality.

"I will set you free from this hell. Can you work hard until that time comes?"

Complete liberation.

Free from the shackles of life.

Mirabelle responded with a smile. A radiant smile she had never shown before.

"Yes, Master."

***

"By the way, Master. Why did you buy me back then?"

Mirabelle suddenly asked a fundamental question.

Her voice no longer held any hesitation. The girl who had been uncomfortable calling Karami, Master, now fully accepted him as such.

Through their recent conversation, Mirabelle learned that Karami judged people based on their value.

But thinking about it carefully, something was odd. He had only just learned she was a witch, and her talent for magic was discovered not too long ago.

Before that, she had been nothing special, just an ordinary and worthless girl. That was who Mirabelle was.

So what exactly did Karami see in her at the Slave Carnival that made him buy her? What did his eyes perceive? Paying no small sum, but a thousand gold coins.

"Firstly, I have an eye for people. I can roughly see how high this person will rise, or how far they will fall."

"And second?"

"Secondly, Miss Mirabelle's eyes were lifeless."

Mirabelle tilted her head at the puzzling words.

Karami continued his explanation with a sly, wicked smile.

"I truly delight in molding those wallowing in the depths of despair as I please. I guide them to their highest point, then set them free. The thrill I experience at that moment is indescribably satisfying."

It was a perverted statement.

Mirabelle had never heard anything like it before.

His declaration was akin to granting a blind person sight, only to pluck out their eyes moments later.

Depravity at its worst.

Anyone else would have condemned him.

However, Mirabelle was different. Thanks to that, she had gained a chance for salvation.

Now I understand.

All the dozens of slaves who had passed through Karami's hands must have felt the same way. They must have all left with happy expressions. It was a story only his slaves could empathize with.

Other slaves would never know this feeling.

Ahh, how pitiful they were. This was an ecstatic sensation only those chosen by him could experience.

"Master, what should I do now? I should focus on honing my magic, right?"

Mirabelle's will surged violently.

The person who took her in when even her sole family abandoned her.

The person who would grant her salvation.

She had to repay him until the day of liberation came.

What a lowly slave like herself could do for Karami was increase her own value. Then he would be able to feel an even greater thrill.

That was the role of a slave.

However, despite Mirabelle's passionate enthusiasm, Karami's reaction was indifferent.

"What are you talking about? You should just wash up and go to bed."

"…Pardon?"

Mirabelle looked out the window. The outside world was already dark, with twilight having settled in.

"If you use magic at this hour, we'll get complaints."

And those complaints would come to him, as her master, Karami added.

A deep sigh escaped him, his tired eyes revealing great hardship. It was as if he carried a past too painful to even recall.

At that, Mirabelle's burning will flickered out. She sensed it wasn't her place to push the issue here.

I should just go to bed obediently.

***

"Hehehe."

What could be so amusing?

Mirabelle was snuggled up in my arms, giggling.

How the hell did this happen?

It wasn't until all the bedtime preparations were finished that I realized something was wrong.

Because Mirabelle had been in such poor condition, we had to hurriedly find a place to stay, and the room we got only had one bed.

I asked the innkeeper if there were any other rooms, but they were all full. It was because adventurers had flocked to the area due to rumors of a dungeon appearing.

In the end, we had no choice but to sleep together in this room.

"I will sleep on the floor, Master."

"Absolutely not."

What on earth had changed in her mindset?

Ever since our honest conversation, Mirabelle had started acting like a devoted slave. As if she had suddenly become a maid from a noble household, she was excessively polite.

Her intentions were admirable, but I absolutely couldn't allow it. As a slave lover (limited to women), it wasn't gentlemanly to make her sleep on the floor.

Besides, she might later say, 'This is revenge for making me sleep on the floor that day,' and bury me in the ground, sending me to eternal rest. I might sleep on the floor, but Mirabelle couldn't.

After reaching an agreement, we finally concluded that we would sleep in the same bed. Thanks to Mirabelle's small frame, it wasn't cramped even with two people lying down.

The problem was the position.

Normally, when men and women who weren't close slept in the same bed, didn't they lay back to back? But not us. Instead, Mirabelle had squirmed her way into my arms.

And now she was giggling, saying it felt nice.

Why did her personality suddenly change so drastically?

Was it because of meeting the clergy?

Did she mentally break, causing her to despair?

Ugh, this isn't good.

I couldn't remember ever seeing Mirabelle smile so brightly. If she genuinely felt better, that would be fine, but if not, I needed to take action.

Tomorrow I would have to try and normalize the situation.