After I finished my business at the Dungeon Raiders Guild, I navigated the winding streets of Targashar to return to the establishment of the slave merchant, Zaydanov. There was nothing particularly noteworthy on my trek back; I simply focused on taking the shortest possible route through the bustling urban center, my mind preoccupied with the logistical requirements of my first delve. When I arrived at the familiar, imposing doors of the merchant's estate, I offered a light, rhythmic knock.

  “Knock knock!”

  After a brief moment, I heard the sound of quick, light footsteps behind the heavy wood. The door swung open to reveal the same beastman servant I had encountered during my first visit with Malikstein and Copez. He offered a deep, polite bow the moment he recognized me.

  “Welcome back, sir. Please, allow me to escort you,” he said with professional grace.

  It seemed as though Zaydanov had expected my return and had given his staff specific orders regarding my arrival. I followed the servant through the polished hallways, my boots clicking against the stone floor. He led me back to the luxurious room I had sat in previously—the one with the expensive carpets and the classy fireplace.

  “Please wait inside while I inform my master of your presence, sir,” the servant said before bowing once more and departing.

  I sat down on the plush couch and began to wait. A strange mixture of excitement and a nagging sense of foreignness settled over me. In the world I vaguely remembered through the lens of stories and tropes, the idea of "owning" another person was a common fantasy element, but standing on the precipice of it in reality felt entirely different. Fortunately, I wasn't under any immediate pressure to make a purchase; I was here to gather information and see what my gold could actually buy.

  After a few minutes, the door opened, and Zaydanov entered, followed by the servant carrying a fresh tray of tea. The merchant sat across from me with a practiced, welcoming smile as the servant placed the cups on the trestle and quietly withdrew.

  “Welcome again, Mr. Han. Can I assume that you are here to take a closer look at our products?” Zaydanov asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

  “Yes. Although I am not entirely sure if I can afford anyone right now, I wanted to at least take a look and understand the options,” I replied truthfully.

  “But, of course! Making our customers content is our most important motto, after all,” he said with immense enthusiasm. He spoke like a man who was already certain he would be making a sale, possessing the unshakable confidence of a veteran merchant.

  I took a tentative sip of the tea—which was once again of excellent quality—and decided to address the legalities of the situation first. “I’m glad to hear that. However, before I look at your slaves, I want to understand how slavery actually works in this kingdom. How does one become a slave? What are the specific responsibilities of a master, and to what extent can I command them?”

  Zaydanov leaned back, clearing his throat as if preparing for a lengthy lecture. “You mentioned you hadn't owned a slave before, but it seems you lack even the most basic knowledge of the institution. Very well! I shall try my best to clarify.”

  He began with the economic side of the trade. “For starters, there are multiple paths that lead to slavery. The most common is debt. If a person cannot pay their debts or their royal taxes, they may sell themselves or their children into slavery to settle the account. In such cases, it is more a matter of necessity than choice.”

  He paused to let that sink in before continuing. “Another reason is a criminal record. If an individual is arrested for a criminal job, they are often stripped of their freedom and sold by the state to recoup the costs of their crimes. Finally, there are those who enter slavery voluntarily—individuals who sell themselves to provide for their families during financial crises. While it is technically a choice, the pressure is often quite similar to the first option.”

  “Are they usually forced by their families, or do they sacrifice themselves?” I asked, thinking of the "voluntary" label.

  “It can be both,” Zaydanov explained. “If they are forced and refuse to comply, they are often abandoned or punished. As a slave, they are at least guaranteed food and shelter. Some truly love their families and would rather serve a master than watch their siblings starve, so they take the payment and offer it to their kin.”

  I nodded, processing the harsh reality of the world. “I understand. So, if I were to buy a slave, how can I be certain they will obey or not try to run away the moment my back is turned?”

  “You don’t have to worry about that at all,” Zaydanov assured me, his expression remaining perfectly neutral. “The moment we record you as the master, the slave is legally and magically obligated to follow your requests, provided they are not extreme—such as ordering them to take their own life or perform deeds that are entirely repugnant to their core nature. If they attempt to flee, they are automatically flagged with a criminal job, and their slave engraving will subject them to constant, agonizing pain. Eventually, they are left with no choice but to return to their master or commit suicide.”

  He spoke of the pain with a chilling indifference. I supposed one couldn't be a successful slave merchant without a certain degree of emotional detachment.

  “Running away is quite rare,” he continued. “As long as you are not excessively cruel, most slaves prefer the stability of a home to the agony of the engraving. Furthermore, if an owner is exposed for torturing a slave beyond what the law allows, they risk losing ownership entirely.”

  “Is that really possible? How is it even detected?” I asked.

  “To be honest, it is difficult to detect if a master acts in secret,” Zaydanov admitted. “However, if they are reported and the abuse is exposed, the owner could lose the slave, and in extreme cases, all their slaves might be confiscated. It serves as a deterrent, even if it is rarely enforced.”

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  This world is even harsher than I imagined, I thought. The people I met in Hajzenfels were truly the exception, not the rule. In the stories I vaguely remembered, slaves often ended up in better conditions than the average peasant, but here, the system was built on a foundation of absolute control and the threat of magical pain. It was a sobering realization.

  “Most owners are not lunatics,” Zaydanov added, sensing my discomfort. “They spend a great deal of money on their slaves, and few would wish to damage their own property. A well-cared-for slave is a far more productive worker, regardless of the task.”

  He then moved on to the practical uses of slaves. “As for what you can make them do, you have near-total freedom. Generally, male slaves are used as combat assistants in the dungeons or as manual laborers. Female slaves can also be used for combat, but they are frequently purchased as domestic servants or, if they are particularly beautiful, as sex slaves. For that reason, a female slave's price increases exponentially based on her appearance, especially if she is a virgin.”

  The logic was as cold as it was practical. If I could afford a female slave who excelled in combat, she could serve as both a bodyguard and a means to satisfy my physical needs. It was a tempting proposition, but my current focus remained on the dungeon.

  “Good. That is enough of the theory,” I said. “I also want to know about your pricing. What determines the value of a slave?”

  “Expertise and potential,” Zaydanov answered. “For a sex slave, it is almost entirely their looks. For a laborer, it is their physical performance and dexterity. For a combat slave, it is a combination of experience, bravery, and inherent talent. We also factor in the education we provide here. We estimate a slave’s potential and teach them basic common language, service ethics, and job-specific knowledge so they can serve their new master immediately.”

  “So you find their potential and refine it to increase your profit margin,” I noted.

  “Precisely. I am a merchant, after all.”

  I kept his words in mind. I needed to find a slave whose skills perfectly matched my requirements. Paying a premium for a slave with expertise I didn't need would be a waste of my limited gold.

  “Thanks for the explanation. I’ve learned a lot,” I said, setting my tea cup down. “I think I’m ready to see who you have in stock.”

  “Of course! What are your specific preferences?” Zaydanov asked.

  “I’m looking for a female slave who can fight alongside me in a dungeon,” I stated clearly. “However, because I’m on a budget, that isn't my absolute priority. I’m willing to look at male combat slaves if they are more affordable.”

  “I understand. Allow me to arrange a selection for you.” Zaydanov stood up and clapped his hands twice.

  “Clap, clap!”

  The door opened immediately as the servant entered. “Prepare the combat slaves who fall on the more affordable side of our inventory,” Zaydanov commanded.

  “Yes, master.”

  After finishing our tea, we left the luxurious room and walked toward a much larger set of double doors. Zaydanov gestured for me to enter. “Please, come in, Mr. Han. They should be ready for your inspection.”

  The doors creaked open to reveal a line of ten slaves standing in a well-lit hall. Eight were male, and two were female. Remembering Zaydanov's earlier words about pricing, I was surprised to see any women in the "cheap" category.

  “You have two female slaves here,” I noted. “I thought you were bringing the affordable ones?”

  Zaydanov stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with a marketing light. “You noticed them right away! They are indeed pricier than the males in this line, but they are quite cheap compared to the rest of our female stock. I thought that since you expressed a preference, you might be willing to compromise on quality to have a female companion.”

  He clearly thought I was looking for a way to satisfy my desires while saving a few gold coins. I looked at the two women. One was plain—not ugly, but certainly not someone who would inspire the "allure" I expected from a companion. The other... I didn't want to be cruel, but she could only be described as ugly.

  I discarded the idea of the female slaves immediately. If I were going to buy a slave for both combat and companionship, I wouldn't settle for someone I didn't find attractive. If beauty wasn't a factor, I might as well buy a more capable male slave for less money.

  “I think it’s better if I focus on the male slaves for now,” I said. “What are their prices?”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  Zaydanov went down the line, stating their costs. Most were beyond what I was willing to spend, but three fell within my current budget. One was priced at a mere 9 gold coins—the cheapest in the building. However, Zaydanov admitted he was only suited for basic labor. I didn't need a farmhand; I needed a fighter.

  The other two caught my eye. One was a Catkin priced at 15 gold coins, and the other was a Wolfkin priced at 15 gold coins and 50 silver. Zaydanov mentioned that the Catkin actually had more combat experience than the Wolfkin, which made his lower price puzzling.

  “Why is the Catkin cheaper if he has more experience?” I asked.

  “A sharp observation,” Zaydanov replied. “As I mentioned, education is a major factor. While this Catkin is superior in a fight, he still lacks proper slave training. Specifically, his command of the common language is quite poor. We have taught him as much as possible, and he can communicate basic needs, but he struggles with complex sentences. He really needs to be out in the world to improve. That is why he is priced lower.”

  I looked at the Catkin. If he could understand basic commands in a dungeon, his language barrier might not be a deal-breaker. However, I currently possessed exactly 15 gold and 10 silver coins. Buying him would leave me with less than a single gold coin to my name. Recalling Copez’s advice about never spending every last coin, I hesitated. I didn't yet know how much money I could reliably make in a day at the dungeon.

  “How limited is his speech?” I asked. “I can only speak Common, so it would be a disaster if he couldn't understand my orders in a life-or-death situation.”

  “You needn't worry too much,” Zaydanov assured me. “He can certainly perform simple commands. He may not be able to engage in philosophical debate, but he knows 'attack' and 'guard' well enough. His skills will only improve the more he serves you.”

  I asked the Catkin a few basic questions about his name and age. He answered with a thick, unfamiliar accent, but he was understandable. Still, the financial risk was too high for my first day in the city.

  “I think I’ve seen enough for today,” I said, turning back to Zaydanov. “I am definitely interested, but I want to test my luck in the dungeon for a few days first. I need to gauge my income before I commit to a purchase of this size.”

  I tried to sound as interested as possible so as not to offend him after he had spent so much time on me. Zaydanov managed to keep his smile in place, though I could sense a flicker of professional dissatisfaction behind his eyes.

  “I understand, Mr. Han. You are a cautious man. Please, return whenever you have made your decision. We will be here.”

  The slave merchant accompanied me to the front door and saw me off with a polite wave, leaving me alone once again on the streets of Targashar.

  [Edited]