[The Abandoned Witch Mirabel]
Mirabel was exactly the person described in the status window.
Born in a nameless small village, she lived a simple life in a small inn run by her parents.
With her cute appearance and bright personality, it was no surprise that she captured the hearts of the village boys.
One leisurely day, an outsider came to the village.
It was a paladin and a cleric who had become separated from their group while hunting monsters. As they were on the brink of death from exhaustion, perhaps the gods extended their mercy, and fortunately, they arrived at Mirabel’s village.
The clerics ended up staying at Mirabel’s inn.
However, the pious clerics could see and feel what others could not. For example, magic or an evil curse, or perhaps…
The unique aura of a witch.
As expected, the clerics felt the witch’s energy emanating from the inn. One thing was different, though; it was not Mirabel’s. Since she had yet to awaken as a witch, she was an ordinary girl.
What they sensed was the aura of Mirabel’s mother. Since witches are of an unchanging maternal bloodline, if Mirabel is a witch, her mother must naturally be a witch as well.
The day their identities were discovered.
A midnight escape began. Mirabel, not knowing what was happening, fled holding her parents’ hands.
However, because the clerics contacted the nearby city, the encirclement was tightening, and Mirabel’s mother, realizing that it was impossible for everyone to escape, ultimately chose to sacrifice herself.
To buy time for at least the two of them to escape.
The operation was successful.
However, Mirabel’s mother was executed by fire in front of a large crowd.
“Looking at this, it’s somewhat tear-jerking.”
The problem came after that.
The man who had not realized that his wife and daughter were witches took revenge for his own life being duped and sold Mirabel into slavery.
No matter what, how could a father sell his daughter? There was a lot of criticism directed toward him, both from his side and from the game company that created this tragic porn.
Let’s skip that.
A witch who lost her mother overnight and was abandoned by her father, now a slave.
The abandoned witch Mirabel.
This was a rough outline of Mirabel’s story.
“Such youthful and fair skin. The soft hair of midnight blue in contrast. I’m looking for someone who will save this pitiful girl abandoned by her father. Oh, and of course, she’s a virgin.”
The announcer recited Mirabel’s appearance, adding extra details. The story of the sorrowful slave resonated with the hearts of certain sensitive noblewomen.
In other words, they were doing everything they could to sell her for a little higher price.
“Then the starting bid is 50 gold.”
50 gold.
If they knew Mirabel had magical talent, it would be a cheap price, but no one here knew that. The amount was solely based on her appearance.
To put a pretty slave on the market for only 50 gold? That’s a scam like no other. They were clearly aiming for a big score.
“60 gold.”
“65 gold.”
“I’ll bid 75 gold.”
But contrary to my thoughts, the bids kept rising as per the announcer’s plan. So, this is how money is made. I should try to use it later. I learned something.
“I’ll bid 200 gold.”
At that moment, someone offered a much higher amount than the others.
It was a middle-aged nobleman, overweight and vulgar. The gaze he directed at the frail Mirabel was like that of a man choosing a harlot in a brothel.
It gleamed with sinister and lowly desire.
“I’ll bid 230 gold.”
Another person interjected.
A noblewoman dressed in a lavish gown, concealing her face with a fan. She was a person filled with maternal love, having fallen for the announcer’s emotional appeal.
The pig and the madam exchanged sharp glances.
“How dare you see that pitiful girl as a sexual object? Aren’t you ashamed? Surrender graciously; I will let her live a happy life in my mansion.”
“What are you saying? A woman’s happiness peaks beneath a man’s legs. I’ll bid 300 gold.”
“330.”
“400.”
The pig called out a staggering amount, eight times the minimum bid. That amount could sustain a family of four for several years, and to throw such money at a mere slave was absurd.
A pitiful human, pouring out money without care, unable to resist desire. Ugh, how pathetic.
…
“Isn’t that totally me?”
I recalled my past, having spent hundreds of thousands on gacha just to get one female character. At least in this case, this is reality; I can touch it, while I was just a piece of data back then…
“Ugh, stop it! No more self-deprecation!”
Let’s cut the self-harm short.
Before long, the auction came to a close. The noblewoman chewed on her fan, defeated. Ultimately, it was not an amount that someone would invest based solely on maternal love.
The man cemented his victory, and the corners of his mouth twisted into an ugly grin, imagining his imminent future.
“Then I bid one thousand gold.”
But here’s the thing.
I also had a reason I couldn’t give up.
A new bidder, and not just any amount, but one that far exceeded the previous bid. All eyes turned toward me.
“No, the Reaper Merchant Carami?”
“I thought you were pitied for being sold to Dervali, but it turns out you got a good deal, huh?”
“Yeah, dying is certainly worse.”
Well, I haven’t killed anyone, you know.
Please just call me a gentleman, not a Reaper Merchant.
The man who was so certain of his victory now trembled in shock at the unexpected turn of events.
Can you really bid a thousand gold for just one slave?
A thousand gold is worth the price of a decent noble mansion, but to me, it isn’t.
Buying a package for ten thousand won gives me a bonus of a thousand gold as well. So, a thousand gold to me is less than ten thousand won!
While I was activating my miraculous rationalization process, the announcer continued.
“A thousand gold has been bid. Will anyone bid higher?”
“……”
The man eventually turned his gaze away.
The amount had reached 20 times the starting bid, and the announcer showed no intent to hide his smile.
“Then the auction ends here! The Reaper Merchant Carami wins the bid at a thousand gold!”
People sent pitying looks toward the girl, and sensitive souls even cried. They glared at me, ready to hurl insults.
I’m not a Reaper, I swear.
*
I received Mirabel from the organizers.
Typically, a magical tool in the form of a subjugation collar is equipped to a slave, or a magical rune is stamped, but I needed neither.
I invoked a contract using the system with the slave’s soul. I didn’t know it at first, but apparently, it’s a form of magic. Thanks to this, I occasionally get comments like, “Were you a mage?”
People looking at me with envious gazes felt somewhat rewarding. It was something I never felt during my time as a slave trader.
I took Mirabel back to the inn that I had reserved in advance. The innkeeper, whom I encountered on the way, gave me a look as if to say, “That human trash has brought in another slave,” but I gracefully ignored it.
I entered the room and plopped down onto the soft bed. Although this inn was pricier due to having a comfortable bed, it was an element I could never compromise after living in modern times.
I’ll just pay a little more.
“Today has been quite fruitful.”
Thanks to freeing Narsha in perfect condition, I received a sweet reward and even obtained a scarlet jewel from Briant Baron’s estate.
I did spend a little more money than expected, but I also brought Mirabel. There couldn’t be a better unfolding of the story.
…
However, despite my intention to lighten the mood, a chilly air still lingered in the room.
Mirabel remained still like an expressionless doll. Her gaze, lost in the air, was empty, reminiscent of someone who had no attachment to life.
“Tsk.”
Well, it couldn’t be helped.
Her mother had sacrificed herself for the family, while her father had sold her into slavery. She must feel abandoned by the world.
To save this pitiful girl, my first task is to open up a connection and show that I am not a dangerous person.
I forced a warm smile.
“Are your legs sore from standing so long? Please, sit comfortably.”
I patted the seat beside me, but Mirabel didn’t move. I withdrew my awkward hand.
“If you dislike it, you don’t have to sit.”
“……”
Was this a conversation or just talking to myself? Her tightly closed mouth showed no intention of opening.
But I couldn’t give in here. This was the first step.
“Then let’s at least introduce ourselves. My name is Carami. Although everyone calls me the Reaper Merchant, I take pride in having lived quite benevolently. So you don’t have to be afraid. What’s your name?”
“……I don’t have… one.”
That was her first answer. I asked for her name, and she says she doesn’t have one. She had lived a lifetime under the name Mirabel.
She must be intentionally hiding it. After all, that name was given to her by her father. She doesn’t want to use the name given to her by the man who sold her off.
“Hmm, no name? That’s troublesome.”
“……”
“Then as a gentleman, I can’t call you Slave No. 1 or No. 2. If you don’t have a real name, can I name you as I like?”
“……”
With Mirabel showing no response to whatever I said, I had to draw out her reaction forcefully.
“Hmm, what would suit you well… Ah, how about Mirabel? What do you think?”
Hmm~ if you don’t want to say it, then don’t.
Even so, your name is Mirabel.
