Chapter 1
I saw a novel with an absurd premise.
It was a novel where the master set the slave free, yet the slave was the one who became obsessed.
Like running back to the master of their own accord, bawling and begging to be made a slave again.
Or cherishing a rough slave collar like a wedding ring.
Or believing that becoming a slave, living as a slave, and dying as a slave is the truth of life.
It's all nonsense.
If anyone really thought that way, they'd definitely be a masochist. Otherwise it makes no sense.
How can I be so sure?
'Why? Because I'm a slave, you fucking idiot.'
***
At first, I thought it was a dream.
I had gone to sleep normally, only to wake up greeted not by my familiar ceiling but by an iron cage.
But no.
Inside the cage were raggedly dressed people, and I was among them.
Chains were fastened to my wrists. I looked like a slave from the old Western era.
My skin isn't black.
Not only that, my body had shrunk to about middle-school size, and it wasn't even my own body to begin with. It was possession.
'Why do other people get to transmigrate into fallen nobles while I'm the only one who becomes a slave?'
I didn't understand a damn thing about what was going on, but one thing I could be sure of.
What awaited me wasn't a pink isekai life, but a pitch-black future.
It didn't take long for that future to become reality. Soon, along with the slave girls, I was sold to some nobleman.
Then, for someone like me who had nothing but my body, the only hope appeared.
======
Name: Irion
Status: Sex Slave
Master: Odo
•Owned Skill
[Vacuum Suction]
It clamps down incredibly tight.
───────────────
Prove your worth as a slave and seize your freedom.
───────────────
======
Wow! A status window!
Right, if I got possessed and something like this wasn't here, I'd have been seriously disappointed.
But it's thin. It's more like a slave certificate than a status window.
A few phrases on that empty status window caught my eye.
The name was the same as my original name.
And the status...
[Status: Sex Slave]
'What's a sex slave, anyway?'
And what's Vacuum Suction supposed to be?
What exactly am I supposed to be tightening?
“Heh heh heh heh heh. What a cute little thing. From now on, I'm your master.”
The middle-aged man who bought me called me into the bedroom. He raked his creepy gaze over my body from head to toe.
This bastard is my master?
Don't tell me he's gay?
Was his name Odo because he was some kind of big shot?
Though then again, everyone else here is female except me?
“This master will turn you into a proper lady.”
“I'm a guy.”
“Heh heh. What a cute excuse. There's no way a lovely child like you could be a boy...”
“No, seriously.”
I immediately dropped my pants and showed him the helicopter.
“What? You're really a boy? No way! The slave trader definitely said she was a girl! To any eye, you're clearly a cool-looking beauty!”
My face reflected in the mirror.
My shoulder-length black hair had a faint bluish sheen, and my eyes were sparkling gold.
Along with my refined looks, I apparently hadn't even hit puberty yet, so I really did look like a girl.
Can't blame him for mistaking me.
“Um, what happens to me then...?”
“Do you think I'm into men? I need a refund, right now!”
“Mew!”
Thankfully, my first stint as a slave ended without any trouble.
The next place I was sold to after becoming a secondhand slave was a guild expedition party.
======
Name: Irion
Status: Bait
Master: Jack
•Owned Skill
[Survival Instinct]
Primitive desire repels death's grasp. Evasion ability is greatly enhanced.
======
“Shout and lure the monsters over.”
That was the order Jack, my second master, gave to the slaves, including me.
They'd stay in the safe zone, so we were supposed to go draw the monsters' aggro. In other words, bait.
“Huaaaaaah!”
We screamed at the top of our lungs and ran like hell.
Then steel-armored boars the size of houses came charging after us like mad things.
The slaves who stumbled were trampled by the boars. I barely survived and managed to rejoin the expedition.
“They're here! Attack!”
“Today's a pork party!”
And so the boars were exterminated, and as a result.
“Aaaagh!”
“Retreat! Retreat!”
Ta-da, we were wiped out.
It turns out it wasn't a pork party, but a human-meat feast.
Most of the expedition died, and my master Jack was sent flying into the sky by a boar's body slam.
“Leon is free! No one can stop Leon!”
If the master dies, the slave is naturally free. Or do I have any proof that I'm a slave? No? Then there you go.
'If you've got a problem with that, bring me the contract.'
I ran to a nearby city.
There'd been a bit of a commotion, but I wasn't too late. From now on, I just had to live a normal isekai life.
Fantasy world?
Okay, I'll be a great mage.
“Halt. Present proof of identity.”
But my grand dream was blocked at the city gate before I could even become a great mage.
“Huh? I don't have one.”
“Then you can't enter. Wait, what's that around your neck? Don't tell me you're a runaway slave?”
Around my neck was the choker I'd been wearing since I first became a slave.
I wanted to break it, but it was metal, so no matter how hard I beat on it, it wouldn't break.
“Hey, check the necklace. There might still be a binding contract.”
“Huh?”
The guard fiddled with the necklace around my neck. Then a blue light, like a game effect, flashed.
Pretty.
But what's that.
“No doubt about it. Runaway slave. Though it looks like the master side is dead. The owner field is blurred.”
Wow, so this necklace had that kind of function too. I thought it was just a normal accessory.
It's called a magic tool.
This is fantasy, all right.
“The master is dead? Then don't tell me...”
“Nine times out of ten. You killed your master and ran.”
“Killed your master and ran? Who? Me?”
“Don't play dumb, you vile bastard. Trash like you who stab their master in the back should be tossed into the mines. I'll make sure you never see the light of day again.”
The shitty thing about this world was that escaping wasn't enough.
In Joseon, you could just burn the slave papers and that'd be the end of it, but here it's a fantasy world where magic exists.
Because they use magic to forge contracts between master and slave, there's nothing you can do even if you run.
'No wonder the status window was still there.'
In the end, before even a day had passed after setting out to seek freedom, I was a slave again.
This time I was tossed into a mine and spent all day swinging a pickaxe.
A slave miner with no dreams and no future.
From here on out, I'd spend my life mining without ever seeing the sun and die that way.
A lifetime? Like hell. How was I supposed to do hard labor in a body that looked to be only fourteen?
Dying from overwork was the obvious outcome.
'But I didn't die.'
For a full three months.
What saved me was none other than the status window.
======
Name: Irion
Status: Miner
Master: Steve
•Owned Skill
[Efficiency V]
It mines ore ridiculously well.
•Owned Proficiency
[Mining Lv.4]
[Stamina Lv.3]
[One-Point Strike Lv.2]
======
The status window got yet another refresh when I was reassigned as a slave miner.
During the process of going from a virgin slave to a thoroughly used one, I learned a few things about this status-window system.
First, the skill you get is determined by what kind of slave you are.
When I was bait before, I had the [Survival Instinct] skill.
Back when I was a sex slave, I got that shitty [Vacuum Suction] thing.
And now, as a miner, I got the [Mining] skill.
In other words, you get skills optimized for the role assigned to you, so you can carry out your master's orders perfectly.
And second, the proficiency system.
Unlike skills, proficiency was something I first saw when I became a slave miner.
'Because before that, my slave life ended before I even had time to build up proficiency.'
That proficiency system is pretty complicated.
Normally, proficiency is something you get better at the more you experience it, but this isn't just about 'getting used to it because you've done it a lot.'
The instant [Mining] appeared, even how I gripped the pickaxe changed.
How to swing the pickaxe.
Where to strike to split the rock.
I picked up tricks beyond the time I'd invested. It was like a game modifier of sorts.
It was the reason I could keep my sanity while mining with this feeble body.
That said, this proficiency system had a fatal flaw.
'Actions that don't suit your role won't be counted as proficiency.'
Sneak around all you want, and [Stealth] won't appear; punch at the air all you want, and [Martial Arts] won't appear.
As if to say those things weren't needed for a miner slave.
And the third and final thing.
“Here's your quota.”
I stuffed the sack with ore and handed it to the supervisor.
“Already done?”
“Of course.”
The supervisor looked at me with suspicion. Despite my confident attitude, he couldn't easily dismiss his doubts and checked the sack.
“Hmm...”
“No problem, right?”
“Looks like you did finish it.”
======
You have successfully completed the master's order 『Fill the quota』.
A reward has been granted.
[Mining Lv.4] (34% → 54%)
======
Just like that.
If you carry out the master's orders, you get rewards. Like a game quest.
If I swung a pickaxe by myself all day, I'd be lucky if my proficiency went up 5%, but carrying out an order gave me a whopping 20%.
And every day.
What a sweet-ass EXP boost event.
I don't have to be chased by monsters, I don't have to get my ass fucked by some gross gay bastard, and I even get regular meals, meager as they are.
What kind of hellish life did I live in the past that even this kind of backbreaking labor looks bearable? Past me, just how much did you suffer?
Thanks to that, I'm the absolute ace of this mine.
“What are you spacing out for? You think this is over just because the sack's full? Slaves don't get any time to rest. Go refill it.”
Of course, being too diligent can backfire too.
The supervisor emptied the sack and handed me back the empty one.
I took the sack without a word and went back to my original spot. I started mining again.
-Clang! Clang!
The slave miner next to me looked at me with a pitying gaze.
“Geez, you stupid bastard. All you have to do is pretend to work half-heartedly, but you never listen. You think working that hard will make them let us out?”
Wow, you really hit the nail on the head. You're basically talking like a slave-escape strategist.
That's exactly right. Slaves are the only ones who lose by working hard.
Whether you're a corporate slave, a state slave, or a real slave, you need to know how to read the room to survive.
'But I don't plan to stay a slave forever.'
If an opportunity came, I'd escape.
The whole process of building stamina and proficiency was groundwork for that moment.
You have to build your foundation while you can. If you're short on stamina when it's time to run, that's a problem, right?
'Blessings come to those who strive!'
After that, I spent days mining.
“What? Bardik is coming to buy slaves again? He bought a ton last time too.”
“I don't know. They weren't proper gladiators anyway, so they probably died in their matches. Anyway, we need to take a few.”
From what the guards were saying, it seemed they were looking for gladiator slaves.
You know, the ones who fight in the Colosseum.
It might be my best chance to get out of this mining hell, but I really didn't want it.
'How am I supposed to fight monsters?'
I'd volunteer for almost anything else, but not that. I nearly died to monsters before I even got here.
If I went into the Colosseum, I wouldn't be able to run away either. Better to just mine ore here and build up proficiency.
If I endure and hold out, a much better opportunity than this will come.
A ridiculously pretty, big-breasted, rich noble lady will see my true worth and take me away.
Yeah, that's right.
“Hey, you there, blackie. Put down the pickaxe and come with me.”
But the guard pointed at me.
My skin isn't black, but my hair is, so in the mine they call me blackie.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. From now on, you'll be working as a gladiator, so know that.”
“Hey, there are bigger guys right there. I'm so tiny I can't even hold a sword. Pick someone else.”
Yeah, you bastard.
If I can't even hold a sword, is it really right for me to be mining with a pickaxe?
If you know that, then let me out.
You don't know anything. I've seen it while working as a guard—he's small, sure, but he mines ore several times more than the others.
“That guy?”
“Yeah. His strength isn't normal. I can guarantee he'd be more than good enough to be a gladiator.”
“Hmm, if you say so...”
Huh. Something seems off.
This isn't what I wanted.
“Wait, that kid is small and weak, so if he tries to be a gladiator he'll just die without accomplishing anything. Please pick someone else...”
A slave bastard says come, and you come. Quit yapping. Even if you die, who cares? The whole point of gladiator fights is watching weak trash struggle to survive and then die.
These uncivilized psychopaths.
They're exactly the kind of people who'd treat watching executions as entertainment.
What are the transmigrators even doing?
Hurry up and come write comics!
Come make board games!
Write novels!
This world doesn't even have copyright!
Spread true entertainment to those uncivilized brutes!
But unfortunately, it looks like you never made it to this world.