Malice's True Intent Lies in Friendship: A Girl's Dawn and Her Father's Cold Blood (1)

——I knew from the start that I was being looked down on.

"I was asked to show you the best underlings we have today, so I brought them out. Has something displeased you?"

If you're asking whether it offended me, it had been grating from the very beginning.

This fat bastard, whose skin was yellow with jaundice as though his internal organs were diseased, had brazenly called the "lowest-ranked" merchandise "the finest goods" without even trying to hide his contempt.

He wore many rings on his caterpillar-like fingers, and the scarf around his neck was embroidered with gold thread. His taste was atrocious to the extreme.

People like this exist everywhere, in every world. They say that "looks are ninety percent of a person," but even so, the clothes I was wearing were made of the finest silk, and the hair ornament in my blue-gray hair, slicked back with vegetable oil, was also top of the line. In my crisp dark suit, I—though I was still amazed this world even had suits—gave no one any reason to look down on me.

…Except for my age.

Well, I had shot up during these past four years and was now 160 centimeters tall. It was as though I were trying to make up for being so short before. My cat beastman companion, Zelly, had laughed and said, "You kind of look like bamboo, huh? Nahaha!" I still couldn't call myself average height, but I certainly wasn't obviously short anymore.

But if there was one problem, it was still my face.

My face was appropriate for my age—a fourteen-year-old's face. People like this judge you by your "appearance," which includes your apparent age, of course.

——What, just a kid? He looks like he has money, so maybe I'll take him for a ride.

That was the idea.

"I see only sick people and injured people here."

The young lady sat in a plush chair before me as I stood—though if either of us was being looked down on, I thought it was more likely her than me, since she was only twelve—tapping her fan lightly against her palm as she spoke.

The young lady's dress was the same crimson as her eyes, and the magnificent pleats in its skirt had been made by a top-class artisan. The glitter sprinkled through her flowing, bright blond hair looked like jewels sunk in a golden river. And that glitter was disposable. That alone told me she had an unbelievable amount of money, while the fact that she had come to meet a fat bastard like this told me she was looking for a little spice in her boring daily life.

Anyone could see that.

And that's exactly why she was being looked down on—because deceiving a sheltered young lady ignorant of the world was so easy.

Beneath her bangs, swept from right to left, the young lady's enormous crimson eyes, so large they looked ready to spill over, were now tinged with a hint of anger. I was doing my best not to look into them. Her eyes were bewitching, beautiful enough to captivate anyone who saw them.

"Is that so? Then shall we discuss the underlings over a meal together afterward?"

There it was. The fat bastard was leering. First he'd mocked her, then tried to deceive her, and now he was thinking about how to get his hands on this girl—a young lady smack in the middle of his lolita tastes. He was beyond saving.

But that didn't necessarily mean this fat bastard was a hopeless idiot. This was a normal reaction. If anything, perhaps he had shown admirable restraint.

The young lady and I were in one of the "employment agencies" in Curvany, the holy capital of the Curvaane Holy Kingdom.

It was, in fact, an employment agency. Normally, you would expect it to be a place that "dispatches workers to shops that don't have enough hands."

But as you can see, the director here was a fat bastard—and a very wealthy one at that. The room was decorated with wine-red carpets and a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Regardless of whether one liked it or considered it tasteful, a lot of money had gone into it.

Could an employment agency really make that much money?

The answer was the space along the wall of this room—a raised area like a small dais—and the men and women lined up there.

They wore handcuffs, with chains wrapped around their ankles as well. They wore no clothes on top or bottom—completely naked. Just as the young lady had said, some had no arms, some were clearly sick, and some had bodies covered in sores—they were not healthy people with all their limbs intact. They ought to have been put in a hospital rather than made to stand naked in a place like this. Of course, life in this world was too cheap and expendable for anyone to do that for them.

"You call these people 'underlings...'?"

The young lady drew her brows together ever so slightly. In that state, she looked like a breathtakingly beautiful girl touched with sorrow.

"Underling"—in the ordinary sense, it meant a subordinate or a retainer.

But once they had been lined up naked, there was no way they could be "subordinates" or "retainers."

In short, it was a euphemism for "slaves."

Here in the Curvaane Holy Kingdom, trading in or owning "slaves" was illegal, so they were bought and sold under the name "underlings," then bound by contract magic. How was that any different from "slaves"?

"Well, it seems it was a bit too stimulating for the daughter of a major trading house. To put it plainly, these are slaves."

The fat bastard snapped his fingers.

When the door opened, a procession of burly men filed in. Thank goodness—this time they were wearing armor, not merely clothes. If this had been a full-on naked parade, I would have gotten an earful from her father for subjecting the young lady to such a disgrace.

"Hmm. These people too—"

Humans, beastmen, fishmen, dwarves... Their races varied, but every one of them looked confident in their abilities.

And on each left hand, the scar of a bracelet-like tattoo—

Without thinking, I rubbed my own left hand.

"Naturally, they're slaves."

"Do you own them?"

"Of course. Now, you can't change your mind and walk away."

The fat bastard ran his tongue over his lips and looked the young lady up and down, from her toes to the top of her head.

He had prepared all these men and was half-threatening the young lady... He intended to force himself on her.

Well, admittedly, the young lady had claimed to belong to a nonexistent trading company called "Fair Harmony Trading Company," and if he found the name unfamiliar, he probably figured it was a trading company with no presence in this holy capital—that even if she happened to disappear for a while, he could somehow cover it up. Besides, she had no attendants other than me.

And then there was that beauty. Setting aside the fact that she was a lolita, I could understand the fat bastard's feelings just a little. Just a tiny bit.

Still, I thought he should wait at least another five years.

"Yes... There is no chance I'll change my mind."

The young lady spoke in a voice that sent a chill to the bone, like a winter night.

"This man is rotten to the core. He is in violation of Article 17 of the Curvaane Holy Code, 'The Rights of Holy Kingdom Citizens.'"

"...Huh?"

The fat bastard stared blankly, then his face suddenly reddened.

"You... I thought you were just some sheltered little girl, but are you the 'Slaver Crusher' who's been the talk of the town lately!?"

Oh.

I had no idea she'd acquired such an absurdly direct nickname as "Slaver Crusher."

"Hah! What a letdown! The rumored 'Slaver Crusher' is just a brat, and her attendant is another brat!"

Stop calling me a brat. There are fourteen-year-olds who get hurt by that.

Incidentally, the twelve-year-old in front of me had to be absolutely furious inside. She was at that difficult age when she hated being treated as a child more than anything.

"You two must have some incredible Talents, but unfortunately, I've had this room enchanted so Talents can't be used. If you want to play rough, I won't hold back either. Hey! You lot, seize this young lady!"

At the fat bastard's command, the slaves all answered in unison, "Yes, sir."

"...Reiji."

"Yes."

"Protect me."

At that moment, the men surrounding us were blasted outward in all directions from the center. Their massive bodies slammed into the walls, smashed shelves and the bottles of distilled liquor lined up on them, and finally burst through the heavy door at the entrance and went flying outside.

"...Huh?"

The fat bastard's mind seemed unable to process what had just happened before his very eyes.

My control of the magic was a little sloppy, leaving my bangs in disarray, so I spoke as I fixed them.

"I've crushed five slave traders so far, large and small."

I spread my fingers and thrust my hand toward the fat bastard.

"Every one of them had enchanted their reception rooms to prohibit Talents. Why would you think yours was somehow special?"

"No, that's... What...?"

"You can still use magic without Talents. Everyone relies on Talents too much... Good night."

I approached the fat bastard and held out my hand. I didn't want to touch his greasy face, but I couldn't activate it without making contact, so I had no choice.

The 【Dark Magic】 I released sent the fat bastard into a deep sleep.

"Is it over?"

"It's over."

"Then call the guards!"

"Yes, yes."

I stuck my hand out through the open window and turned my palm toward the sky. A bird of flame appeared there and flew over the holy capital under the evening gloom. In a few minutes, it would reach the guards' barracks, and, as always, the captain of the guard would storm this trading house.

What excuse would the fat bastard make when he woke up? He might even play the victim—as the other slave traders had done—and claim that a girl and a boy had attacked him.

But there, for the first time, he would learn who that girl really was.

"Let's go, Lady Eva. Your father—His Excellency the Count—is waiting for you."

I left the trading house together with the young lady, Count Suilies's daughter.

When I gave a small nod to Zelly, the hooded beastman who had been watching us from the shadows of the building, she waved her hand lightly and melted into the darkness.

(Come to think of it,)

How had I ended up doing something like this?

Oh, right.

Exactly one year ago, I saved the count's life, and that was what started it all.