“Mmph!”

Lebel instantly covered the other person’s mouth. Simultaneously, Lebel brought the blade that emerged from under his hand close to the guy’s neck, threatening him.

“Broker.”

He didn’t bother to add, “Isn’t that right?” Even that time was too precious.

The one caught in Lebel’s hands now was certainly a broker from the slave market. The knife pressed against the broker’s neck was a silent threat that he would kill him immediately if he lied.

The man, sensing the threat to his life, nodded vigorously. Lebel pushed him against the wall and pressed the knife closer to his face. The broker, trembling violently, barely managed to ask.

“Wh-what, what business do you have with me…?”

It was not a question, but a plea. Even at a glance, the broker could tell that the man threatening him was not someone approaching to buy slaves.

“Have any children been handed over to the slave market recently?”

“Ch-children, you say…?”

“Even if you didn’t handle it yourself, it’s fine if you’ve seen it. Ten to thirteen years old. They could be even younger.”

“Th-there’s always a steady demand, so they’re always around…”

It was a horrifying statement. Because there were people who wanted to buy children, the supply never stopped. The hand gripping the broker’s neck tightened. He tried to break free by hitting Lebel’s wrist, but it was futile.

“Gack, but, but, I know…”

As the broker tried to add something, Lebel threw him to the ground. The broker rolled on the dirty street, barely managing to cough.

“Speak.”

Having keenly felt the difference in strength, the broker promptly got up at Lebel’s command. He bowed repeatedly while clutching his sore throat and mouth.

“As far as I know, there haven’t been any recently, I swear!”

Could he really not know? But the broker’s eyes didn’t seem to be lying, at least. Perhaps there exists an even deeper darkness that even this guy doesn’t know about. Lebel didn’t lower his knife and gestured towards the broker.

“I’ll need to check myself. Lead the way.”

**

Over a decade ago, Lebel was here.

The place where he opened his eyes was always different. Sometimes it was on an old stage full of people, sometimes on a street full of filth. Occasionally, he was locked up in a damp warehouse for days.

His mouth was always gagged, and conversation between slaves was forbidden. Perhaps they feared they might plot an escape.

The only means of communication was blinking. But what could one do with just that? Young Lebel, sprawled on the floor, closed his eyes.

He had no memories from before entering the slave market. Moments of memory were brief. The sensation dominating Lebel’s body was always simple. It was the desperate instinct to recognize the opponent’s vital points and survive in battle.

The survival instinct continued as if controlling Lebel. It felt like being manipulated with ropes tied to his limbs. In moments when he felt he was about to be attacked, when he came to his senses, the opponent was already dead, having been struck in their vital point and coughing up blood.

Only those moments were remembered. The white eyes of other slaves that passed by in the slave market were blurry even when he tried to recall them. Even when sent to the battlefield, he had no memory of exchanging words with anyone. It was just a repetition of combat and survival.

If only he could fully recover those faint and vague memories. Perhaps they could become a small clue to connect with the already distant past.

Only by finding his birth, homeland, and starting point of existence could the person called ‘Lebel’ become whole. Lebel followed the slave broker into deeper darkness.

It was visibly an old building. But the man standing in front of the door looked extraordinary. Though the broker seemed to know him already and was allowed to pass with just a nod, Lebel was an exception.

“Have you been invited?”

“He’s, he’s someone I vouch for.”

At the broker’s words, the man relaxed his expression and stepped aside for Lebel. As the door opened, the unpleasant smell of alcohol and tobacco stung his nose. Lebel frowned as he followed the broker inside.

The space on the first floor was an ordinary pub. But it was of much lower quality than those located near the square.

Half-naked women and men clinging tightly to their sides. Everyone was staggering, drunk on alcohol. Rather than enjoyment, they looked like they were barely enduring in an atmosphere forcibly injected.

To think auctions are held in a place like this. When Lebel shot a suspicious glance, the broker made an aggrieved expression and gestured.

“This, this way.”

It was a somewhat deserted space away from where people gathered. The broker tapped one of the small frames hanging on the wall in a certain rhythm.

Soon, the frame slid open sideways, and a person’s face popped out. He rolled his eyes, checking the broker and Lebel.

“Two.”

As the person inside stated the number, the wall beside them slid open. They’ve hidden it so well. Lebel walked inside, pulling his hood down deeper.

A long corridor without any particular decorations or devices continued. It seemed to lead to a space completely different from the pub. After walking for a while, Lebel’s ears caught the sound of people murmuring and someone shouting.

“Now, the next slave!”

The sound of a bell ringing. It was the familiar sound signaling the start of an auction. He thought he had deliberately erased it from his memory, but his body still reacted to that terrible sound.

As the large door opened and the curtain in front was pulled back, slaves kneeling on the stage came into view. The slave trader holding a whip and the audience sitting, drooling.

No one showed their bare face proudly. It was truly a strange space.

When names were erased anonymously and appearances hidden, anyone could become a beast. People pointed fingers at the chained slaves without hesitation, clapping and laughing loudly.

Lebel glared at the stage extending below. The slave brought out this time was not a child, but appeared to be a young man just entering adulthood.

He was covered in wounds, likely a battle slave. A dirty cloth covered his head, and thick shackles were on his legs and hands.

The slave trader roughly dragged him out and forced him to kneel. Rather than seated, it was more accurate to say he was kicked down. The slave collapsed without even being able to scream.

“A properly brainwashed slave suitable for battle! Be careful, he might bite your neck the moment the handcuffs are removed!”

Laughter erupted among the people standing in front of the stage. The hearts of those guffawing at this sight seemed about to emit a rotten stench.

“Apart from combat use, you can also use him for satisfying desires after proper training. Now, since he’s a bit seasoned, we’ll start at 10,000 gold.”

Everyone raised their hands to buy the slave. Unspeakable insults poured out as well. All directed at the slave kneeling in front.

To them, the act of buying and selling people was merely a transaction for money and profit, and entertainment. The broker standing beside Lebel had already approached another broker, lowering his voice to prepare yet another deal.

Lebel closed his eyes and took a slow breath. Reason must move first. He could deal with everyone here right now if he wanted. He was well-versed in ensuring there were no witnesses, having done it for years.

Ilarid. He had to hold onto everything for that name alone. At the very least, he shouldn’t become an obstacle in the young lady’s path. Lebel repeatedly took out and put back his hidden weapons.

Instead of being here, he needed to check behind the stage. Lebel hid himself in the darkness, out of the broker’s sight, and headed towards the back of where the auction was taking place.

There were ‘people’ there.

The existence of people was proof of dignity. No one had the right to be oppressed, nor any reason to suffer in agony under violence.

However, the people behind the stage were groaning under the status of ‘slaves’. A man who seemed to be the manager was wielding a whip.

The sound that remained as a painful scar in Lebel’s memory cut through the air. The woman collapsed on the floor didn’t even have the strength to scream, only letting out low moans.

“How dare you try to escape!”

The manager shouted at the top of his lungs, pointing and spitting at the woman. Red blood had already seeped through her worn-out rags. Other slaves huddled in the corner, trying not to provoke the manager’s temper.

Among them, a faint crying sound was heard. A child that the slaves had been carefully holding broke free. And crawled towards the fallen woman, sobbing.

“Mama…”

The child soon reached the woman. She wrapped the child in her arms with trembling hands. The manager, seemingly irritated even by this, didn’t hesitate to kick the woman.

“She’s old and useless anyway, it’d be easier for us to dispose of her here.”

The manager rummaged through his inner pocket and pulled out a gun. A brief gasp erupted from the group of slaves but quickly subsided.

There was nothing they could do. They were bound by chains and oppressed, unable to move even a finger freely.

Then, what about me?

The sound of a bullet being loaded eerily broke the silence.

The woman, covered in blood and shaking violently, still fiercely hugged her child to her bosom. Please, at least the child. That phrase, likely repeated countless times. The one thing that couldn’t be given up even in the face of death.

Just as the manager’s finger was about to pull the trigger, a man entered his field of vision. Eyes like a sharp blade rapidly approached the manager.

“Who are you…”

The next words didn’t follow. The dagger that emerged from Lebel’s wrist immediately pierced the manager’s neck.

The sound of breath being cut off was loud. Along with a phlegmy groan, blood spurted in all directions. Those who looked like the manager’s underlings frantically tried to find weapons to attack Lebel, but it was already too late.

Before defensive tools could even be held in their hands, Lebel covered their mouths and skillfully stabbed their vital points.

A death without even leaving proper last words. It was quite a fitting end for those worse than beasts.

The slaves showed no reaction, as if accustomed to blood. Their eyes began to move from fear towards liberation.

Outside, the bell announcing a successful bid rang frivolously. Applause and laughter continued. Now it’s time to pay the price for their enjoyment.

Lebel pulled out the dagger stuck in the manager’s neck. Blood gushed out again, but no trace of life could be found in the manager.

The woman lying on the floor barely managed to raise herself. Perhaps due to constant beatings, she couldn’t properly control her body. She tried to check on the child’s condition, but the young child in her arms kept sobbing and wouldn’t let go of her clothes.

Lebel took out a thin wire from among the weapons he brought. It was a technique that Limless had taught him at the mansion once.

Something useless to know but might come in handy someday, he’d said. Who knew it would shine in a situation like this. He mentally thanked Limless.

Soon, all the handcuffs restraining their hands and feet were removed. Now it was a race against time. Lebel checked his weapons, including the dagger, before going outside.

Once the auction ends, the slave becomes the owner’s property as soon as the signature is completed. The person who seemed to be the owner had already wrapped a leash around the male slave who was on the stage and was dragging him away.

“No, letting someone who’s not involved here…”

A bland last will and testament, it was. A dagger used for assassination purposes silently flowed out from his wrist and into his hand. Lebel smirked freely under the cloth covering his mouth.

The man pointed his finger at Lebel, shouting to drive this person out immediately.

Those were his last words.