The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed

It felt as if her mind were sinking into the depths of the ocean.

She couldn't hear anything.

She couldn't see anything.

All she could feel was a vague, suffocating emptiness.

She tried to grasp her situation, but it was impossible—she had no information, not even the bare minimum.

All she could do was wait.

"Everyone, this year's Slave Carnival is already reaching its climax! But the excitement is even hotter than when it started!"

A crucial piece of information slipped in.

The man's voice boomed, amplified by magic, and in response, a chorus of murmurs rippled through the crowd like a wave.

Slave Carnival.

She recognized that term.

The largest slave auction held in the kingdom once a year. It was where she had met her master.

Had she come here with her master to acquire new slaves?

She had no memory of that.

"Before we present today's main dish, let me introduce the appetizer."

Clank!

Bright lights flared on.

From the pitch-black darkness, the sudden brilliance was blinding, too intense to face directly.

Instinctively, she tried to shield her eyes, but her body refused to move as she willed it to.

Clatter.

She saw them—metal shackles fastened around her thin wrists, frail from lack of nourishment.

A magic-suppressing artifact designed to inhibit supernatural abilities.

Why was it on her?

Why were all those people looking at her?

They were watching her the way one examines merchandise at an auction.

This was not the view of a buyer looking for slaves. It was the gaze of someone being sold.

She glanced around. She was standing on a stage. A spotlight shone only on her.

It was a situation that had nothing to do with her—a scenario that should have been impossible for someone who belonged to Karami, her absolute master.

And yet, this sight...

She had seen it before.

"This delicate, porcelain skin contrasts beautifully with her soft, midnight-colored hair. Who will be the savior of this poor girl, abandoned by her father? Ah, and of course, she is a virgin."

That line—she had heard it before.

And her appearance—it was identical.

...

Ah.

She remembered.

Two years ago, the place where she first met Karami.

The turning point that changed her life.

It was then that Mirabel finally understood the situation she was ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) in.

But even though she understood, there were gaps in the logic.

She knew where she was and what was happening, but at the same time, she didn't understand why she was here.

She had been abandoned by her father and sold into slavery, but Karami had saved her.

As the Reaper’s Proxy, she had faithfully served at Karami's side—so why was she now nothing more than an ordinary slave?

Was this a dream?

It felt too vivid for that.

Was it an illusion spell? No—she couldn't sense any magic flow.

‘Wait...?’

Her body felt powerless.

The magic she had mastered as the Tower Lord,

The Omniscient Codex,

The Reaper who had always stood by her side like her father—

It was all gone.

The soul-binding shackles had vanished, and the collar around her neck was missing as well.

It was as if she had returned to her past self before she had ever learned magic.

And yet, her memories remained crystal clear.

If she had to put it into words, it felt like she had traveled back in time with only her memories intact.

Regression?

Or was this just a dream, reenacting her fateful first meeting with her master?

"Then, we’ll start the bidding at 50 gold."

The auctioneer announced the opening bid.

A fat man, his eyes gleaming with vulgar intent, and a woman who looked at her with pity both raised their bids.

She couldn't clearly recall this part.

Back then, her mother had died, her father had abandoned her, and she had been in complete despair.

She had dead eyes, devoid of life, indifferent to who would purchase her.

"I’ll bid 200 gold."

A nobleman, spending an absurd amount on a mere girl.

His gaze slithered over her body, disgusting her, but she didn't let it bother her too much.

After all, she knew what would happen next.

The happiest moment of her life—

The moment Karami reached out his hand to save her.

Mirabel eagerly scanned the crowd, searching for her master.

It didn’t matter how many people were present—finding him was never difficult.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen.

‘I must not have trained enough.’

She would train harder once she woke up from this dream.

A thousand copies of Karami, hidden among them, and she would have to find the real one.

"400."

With the man's offer, the woman finally gave up.

This was it.

This was exactly when Karami was supposed to appear.

‘Hurry up and make your grand entrance, Master.’

Mirabel smiled, waiting expectantly.

The countdown ticked lower.

And then—

"400 gold. Sold!"

Karami never appeared.

****

The Contract Between Slave and Master

The man standing before Mirabel was not Karami.

Instead, it was a nobleman devoid of any dignity or grace.

Francis Belmont.

A man whose hobby was enslaving and abusing young girls.

From rumors alone, he might seem no different from Karami—but Mirabel adamantly denied such a notion.

This man was not even worthy of comparison to her master.

"Thank you for the excellent transaction, Baron Belmont."

"Heh heh, the pleasure is mine."

Mirabel had no interest in what they were saying.

Why didn’t Master appear?

She had already dismissed the possibility that her connection with Karami was an illusion.

The overwhelming sensation of salvation when she was freed could never be fabricated.

Then, was this an alternate turning point?

"My Lord, here is the collar."

Francis reached out to fasten the red collar around Mirabel’s neck.

But before it could touch her, she sharply smacked his hand away.

Her glaring eyes filled with undisguised disgust.

"Don’t put that filthy thing on me. I belong only to my Master."

The baron and his attendant were momentarily stunned by her defiant response.

Belmont blinked several times before coming to his senses.

SMACK!

"Ah!"

The noble struck Mirabel across the face.

The force of a grown man’s slap sent her small body crashing to the floor.

The pain was overwhelming, almost numbing in its intensity.

Her cheek burned, swelling instantly, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

Mirabel clutched her face, unable to rise.

"M-My Lord, forgive me! She was barely alive before the auction...."

"It’s fine. This makes it more fun—breaking them is the best part of buying slaves."

Belmont grinned, amused by her resistance.

He reached for her again, intending to lock the collar around her neck.

"Ugh! Stop it! I said I’m my Master’s slave!"

"No. From now on, you are my slave, and I am your master. She’s quite the fighter. Hold her down."

Men grabbed Mirabel’s wrists, pinning them above her head.

Her exposed throat—completely vulnerable—became the perfect place to fasten the red collar.

"No! No! Master! Master!"

"Yes, yes. That voice is lovely. From now on, cry only for me."

She struggled with all her might, but she couldn’t escape their grip.

Click.

In the end, the red collar was locked around Mirabel’s neck.

****

A sickly sweet scent filled the air.

It dulled the mind and heightened the body’s sensitivity.

A powerful aphrodisiac.

Commonly used in brothels or for breaking sex slaves.

The moment the scent registered as dangerous, Narsha forced her heavy consciousness to awaken.

"Where...?"

She scanned her surroundings.

There was no need to guess where she was.

She had been captured during her travels and sold to a brothel.

Why am I here?

Like the others, her first thought was that this must be a dream.

But the overpowering scent—one designed to turn people into mindless playthings—was too vivid for a dream.

Then there was her outfit.

A flimsy piece of cloth, designed for entertaining clients at any moment.

This meant she was at the exact moment before she met Karami.

Am I dreaming of this moment because I miss that day?

She couldn’t tell.

At that moment, the door opened.

According to her memories, the one who should be stepping through that door was Karami.

But—

"Oh-ho! So the rumors were true. You really are Brianne’s daughter!"

The man who entered wore traveling clothes, a sword strapped to his waist—a knight.

"Do you know me?"

"Of course. Who wouldn’t know the famous heir of the Dawn Merchant Guild? I was skeptical when I heard a noble lady had ended up here, but seeing you in person, I believe it now."

The presence of nobility was distinct from commoners.

Even dressed in rags, the noble refinement Narsha had cultivated all her life was impossible to hide.

"I heard you’re still untouched. I spent an entire year’s salary to buy your purity. Everyone called me mad, but I knew I was right."

The knight stepped closer, his eyes roaming over her body.

"Don’t be afraid. I may be a soldier, but I’m also the captain of Ashton’s Hundred Knights, personally trusted by the Lord—"

Before he could finish his sentence—

Thud!

Narsha shot off the bed, striking the knight’s throat with a precise punch.

"Kuhuk!"

He had no time to react.

A direct hit to the vital point—instant incapacitation.

Clatter.

In a heartbeat, Narsha unbuckled his sword and strapped it around her own waist.

The knight lay on the floor, dazed, barely able to process what had happened.

"W-What...?"

"Tch. Yapping on and on. So annoying."

"What?"

That was not the refined speech of a noble lady.

It was a voice that only Karami knew—

The real Narsha.

She glared down at the knight with undisguised contempt.

"Should I just gouge your eyes out?"

She had no personal grudge against him.

He had paid for her.

But so what?

She belonged to her Master.

The moment he dared to lay lustful eyes on her, he committed blasphemy.

And this couldn’t be real.

Someone was messing with her.

It was definitely fake.

Which meant—

She didn’t have to hold back.

Whether she beat him to a pulp or killed him, it didn’t matter.

Because this was just an illusion.

"First, I need to get out of here."

One thing was clear from her recent attack—her magic had weakened, and her trained body had regressed to that of an ordinary woman.

But her instincts as a swordswoman were still intact.

Self-defense would be no problem.

The suffocating scent in the air made her dizzy. She needed fresh air.

Wrapping herself in the knight’s cloak, Narsha opened the door and stepped outside.

"Ugh?"

Her consciousness flickered.

She had just left the room, but when she came to, she was back on the bed.

The sword at her waist was gone.

The knight she had beaten down stood before her completely unharmed.

Once again, he leered at her, making the same predatory advance.

She knocked him out again.

She left the room again.

But without fail—she always woke up back on the bed.

Time was looping.

Then... was there some mechanism to escape?

Narsha searched the room, killed the knight, and even ended her own life—

Nothing worked.

But there was one change.

If she didn't leave the room, the loop reset immediately once she killed the knight.

From that, she realized—

This was a trap.

The only way to "escape" was to accept her fate as a whore.

It was forcing her to live a miserable life as a brothel slave.

"This sucks." ​

It was a shitty situation.