Whoosh-shush! Tick-tick! Whoosh-shush!

  Jasper pushed through the branches and leaves guarding his secret refuge. Deep in the forest near his former mansion y this hidden sanctuary, concealed by dense foliage and towering trees—a pce of soce whenever despair found him. At its heart stood an ancient tree, its massive roots seeming almost in motion, as if the tree itself was slowly walking across the forest floor. Beneath one particurly twisted root, he had hidden his treasure: a money bag prepared for the day his father might cast him out. Though his pnning had seemed excessive then, he couldn't bme himself. After all, only God knows what tomorrow brings.

  For years, he had squirreled away whatever coins he could conceal in his clothing, building his emergency fund coin by coin. Now, counting his wealth—936 gold and 50 silver coins—Jasper felt both pride and uncertainty. For most fourteen-year-olds, this would be unimaginable wealth, but for the son of Zolind's greatest merchant, it was merely a trifling sum.

  Lost in contemption, his body suddenly reminded him of its injuries. The fresh bruises throbbed painfully, driving him toward a nearby pond. As he gazed at his reflection, he confronted the reality of his appearance. His face was ghostly white, drained of all vitality. Thick, twisted veins in shades of crimson, emerald, and sapphire spread across his skin like the roots of a dying tree, pulsing faintly as if carrying some unnatural poison. His brow was bare—no eyebrows, no shes—giving his face an unsettling, unfinished quality. His eyes told their own horror story: whites webbed with angry red veins, pupils unnaturally dited into pools of darkness. His lips, cracked and colorless, occasionally twitched as if attempting speech that wouldn't come. Without hair, his features appeared even more alien, his skull-like visage enhanced by the sickly glow of his veined, translucent skin. Every part of his face seemed to writhe with quiet malevolence, as if poison within him was alive, transforming his humanity into something otherworldly and terrifying. Though his hands had protected his face from the beating, no new bruises could worsen what was already there.

  "Famous for my ugliness," he murmured to himself, "I still can't appear in public like this. I need to hide my face and find someone to help with my business. I think I need to buy some sves." He stripped off his clothes, hoping the cold water might ease his aching body.

  Feeling refreshed, Jasper reclined on a rock, submerging his body with only his head above water. He closed his eyes, contempting a future where he could rely on no one but himself. After a few minutes, he sank completely beneath the surface, allowing the cool water to caress his face before emerging. Fortunately, the afternoon sun still hung high, perfect for drying quickly. Soon dressed, he hefted the heavy money bag—about five kilograms of coin—and headed directly back to the city he'd just fled.

  "This bag grows heavier with every step," he sighed. "If I weren't leaving for good, I wouldn't have taken everything."

  At the city entrance, a rookie guard spotted someone with a hooded face carrying a rge bag and attempting to skip the line. He blocked Jasper's path with his spear.

  "Where do you think you're going? Remove your hood, identify yourself, and pay the entrance fee," the guard demanded proudly.

  "Huh?" Jasper responded.

  A veteran guard noticed the confrontation, recognized Jasper's distinctive silhouette, and hurried over. His eyes widened in recognition before he smacked the rookie on the head.

  "What are you doing, you fool?" he hissed, then turned to the hooded figure. "You may enter, sir."

  As Jasper passed through, the rookie compined, "Ouch! Why did you hit me, Captain?"

  "Because you deserved it. Do you have any idea who you just stopped?"

  "Who was it?"

  "That was Jasper."

  "Jasper?" The rookie repeated, confused until sudden recognition dawned. "D-d-don't tell me... Jasper the... the Pgue?"

  "Yes, that's him, you idiot."

  "But Captain, I heard someone say he was beaten and thrown out of Baron Buck's mansion, and nothing happened," the guard stammered, trembling.

  "Keep listening with those same ears to learn what happens to anyone who mistreats him. I don't need to remind you how many people who touched or beat him met terrible ends. He may be weak, but he's cursed."

  "Captain," the rookie sniffled, "I've only been working here long enough to sew commoners' sleeves. I don't want to die!"

  "Don't exaggerate. You didn't touch him—you only blocked him with your spear. Just be more careful next time."

  A slight smirk crossed Jasper's lips as he walked away. Though he'd never actively harmed anyone who bullied him, somehow they always ended up in miserable circumstances—dead, paralyzed, or deathly ill. While he didn't appreciate being called "cursed" or "pgue," these bels coupled with the mishaps gave him a satisfying taste of revenge.

  Crossing the city toward the sve market, the heavy bag exhausted him, but Jasper pressed on until he reached his destination. Before him stretched iron cages filled with people, while others stood chained together by their necks. Men, women, and children of all ages—a painful sight, yet so common that people had grown numb to it, even considering these captives lesser beings. Jasper saw parallels to his own situation: he was free but weak and hideous; they were ensved but beautiful and strong. Yet one thing united them all—misery.

  As he surveyed the market, something unexpected caught his eye.

  'A barbarian? As a sve? How is that possible? Barbarians would rather die than be ensved. The st person who tried to capture one was skinned alive.'

  Jasper approached the merchant quietly and asked, "Excuse me, how can a barbarian be a sve?"

  "Hmm? Oh, you mean this big bear," the merchant replied, turning to face Jasper after noticing his quiet voice. He smacked the barbarian's back confidently. "Don't worry, he won't bite. As you can see, he's calm and follows orders. It took quite a while to tame him."

  Though the barbarian appeared furious, he concealed it well.

  "So, how much for him?" Jasper inquired.

  The merchant assessed Jasper from head to toe. His clothing suggested middle css—perhaps a merchant's son or a knight's offspring.

  "May I first ask why you're hiding your face, dear customer?"

  "Don't concern yourself with that. My face is burned, so I keep it covered."

  The merchant shrugged. "Well then, he's 150 gold coins."

  "What?! The highest price ever paid for a male sve was 80 gold. How can you ask so much?"

  "Oh ho, quite knowledgeable, aren't you? But there's never been a barbarian sve before. This one will never betray or harm you. Look—" He struck the barbarian repeatedly. "See? He's stronger and more capable than any ordinary male sve."

  The merchant smirked, thinking he had Jasper trapped. But Jasper quickly countered, "Impressive! I almost fell for that. You're working with this barbarian, aren't you? He'll either kill me and run, or take my money and give it back to you. No, wait. That doesn't make sense. Barbarians are honorable. Tsk, I can't figure out what you did to make him a sve. Something's definitely off, but I can't put my finger on it."

  As he spoke, he turned to the barbarian, who instantly avoided eye contact.

  "What?! What is that all about?" The merchant looked bewildered.

  "What if I announced that you're trying to sell a bloodthirsty barbarian? A wolf in sheep's clothing. Would anyone believe he's as tame as you cim? Buying a barbarian is life-threatening—there's never been a case of a barbarian sve before. You trampled on his honor. I'm afraid he will kill me along with you. Do you take people here for fools?!" Jasper raised his voice with the st statement, making the merchant nervous as onlookers turned to stare.

  Being new to this market, the merchant didn't know how to respond with so many eyes upon him. He rubbed his hands anxiously and lowered his voice. "Now, now, dear customer, no need to shout. I'm running an honest business. You don't know how much effort it took to tame this barbarian and bring him here. As a sign of goodwill, I'll reduce the price to 140 gold."

  "Reducing by mere 10 gold coins shows no goodwill. Look, I'm taking an enormous risk. At any moment, he could kill me if he regained his senses. One hundred gold is my offer."

  "You jest! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he excimed, putting his hand to his chest. "And yet, I assure you, he won't dare disobey, even if you spit on him. Therefore, one hundred thirty is my final price."

  "I don't buy empty promises. One hundred gold, or no deal. I guarantee no one will buy any barbarian—even for 50 gold. The risk is too high."

  The merchant's expression darkened, but he couldn't argue further. He knew selling a barbarian wouldn't be easy. After all his effort to tame the warrior, his dreams of massive profit were crumbling into a mere 15-gold gain.

  "Fine. It's a deal."

  As Jasper opened his bag to count out the coins, he glimpsed someone in a cage behind the barbarian. The massive warrior had blocked his view before, but as Jasper crouched to reach into his bag, he caught sight of a radiant face. He quickly closed the bag and hurried toward the cage.

  "How much for this woman?" he asked the sve trader.

  "Let me see... which one do you mean?"

  "That one, with blue eyes and bck hair."

  "Oh, I'm afraid she's not for sale here. I'm saving her for next week's auction."

  "Then why keep her here?"

  "I have nowhere else to put her."

  "I offer 210 gold coins, which is the highest market-recorded price for a female sve."

  The merchant began sweating nervously, his hands trembling. "Well, at auction, her price could be much higher..."

  Without hesitation, Jasper increased his offer: "Three hundred sixty gold—equal to the highest auction price."

  "If I were to sell her at auction, I could earn even more," the merchant said, no longer able to control his expression.

  Jasper fell silent momentarily, then replied, "Your greed will be your undoing one day."

  "She's virgin, you know. Someone so beautiful and untouched is rare."

  Jasper closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "Let me ask you—when did you acquire her?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not a fool. She hasn't been a sve for even a month—not even ten days."

  "Sharp eye! To be honest, I got her just a week ago. She was fleeing bandits, and I bought her from them for a considerable sum. They couldn't touch me when they saw my barbarian, which made negotiations quite smooth."

  "Four hundred gold. No one in all of Zolind would offer such a price."

  "I can recover what I lost on the barbarian deal!" the merchant thought aloud, giggling.

  "At least keep your thoughts to yourself and control your expressions when dealing with merchants. Just advice from a fellow merchant," Jasper sighed.

  'Not that I'd expect better from a sver,' he thought privately.

  "Huh? Hehehe, sorry, dear customer. She's yours—no questions asked."

  Jasper opened his bag and counted out 500 gold coins—a substantial loss, but worth it. He hadn't chosen the girl solely for her beauty; at his young age, he already possessed remarkable foresight. He saw what others missed.

  "Now, give me the bill of sale." He then asked the people to witness the trade.

  Despite the mockery for his costly acquisition of two sves, he paid no heed. Whether driven by their true value or youthful recklessness, he was resolute.

  When she stood and approached him, Jasper felt his heart constrict, nearly bursting. He took a deep breath, handed the bag to the barbarian, and continued strolling around the market.

  As they walked away, he moved closer to the woman and whispered, "I'll be in your care, Miss Witch."

  Jasper.

  Profession: None(Self-procimed merchant).

  Coins: Gold 436 Silver 50 Bronze 0 Copper 0.

  nakr