~Chapter 42~
Floria felt her stomach churn in disgust. She wanted to punch the air in front of Count Ridante, but unfortunately, the shackles on her hands stopped her from doing anything.
“Why does this bastard have to be the owner of the slave market?” she thought. But then she realized, “No, it’s probably because he’s exactly this kind of perverted man that he’s running such a twisted market.”
As Count Ridante drew closer, Floria grew even more uneasy. The space around her was tight, and she instinctively pulled back, feeling trapped.
“He’s not going to recognize my face, is he?” she wondered. Although she had been hiding her face behind a veil last time, Count Ridante had still managed to glance at her face through a hole in the confessional. She hadn’t been seen perfectly, but he had mentioned her “emerald eyes.”
“I dyed my hair, so he won’t recognize me. Usually, they call me the red-haired saintess,” Floria tried to reassure herself.
Her eyes, which had been flickering around in nervousness, suddenly stopped. “Right. That’s true.” She realized that Count Ridante couldn’t have seen her face clearly, and even if he had, it was for just a brief moment.
Finally, Count Ridante arrived in front of them, exactly at the place where the group that had entered earlier was now gathered. He sat down on the one chair in the middle of the empty space. He arrogantly spread his legs out, making it look even more repulsive.
He gestured to the lead slave trader, who quickly bent forward and approached him.
The slave trader stood beside Count Ridante, bending down to listen to his whispers. Afterward, Count Ridante whispered something so quietly that only the trader could hear.
The trader then yelled loudly, “The first two rows! Inside!”
It was as if Count Ridante had his own magical amplification tool, his voice booming across the space.
The slaves around them, who had been standing stiffly, were forced to move. Floria and Caspar were pulled to the very front of the line, where they were dragged toward the empty cages without resistance. The slaves were almost lifeless, not resisting, as they were thrown into the cages.
“Two rows, inside,” the trader repeated, and this process was repeated several times.
Sometimes, Count Ridante would stare at a slave in silence and gesture to the right with his chin, and those slaves weren’t thrown into the cages. Instead, they were gently guided to stand behind Count Ridante.
The slave traders, who had just been roughly throwing people into cages, were now gently guiding some to stand behind Count Ridante.
Floria started to feel like something was wrong as her turn approached. She realized that the slaves being thrown into the cages were likely being sold off, while those standing behind Count Ridante… seemed to have been chosen according to his personal taste. It was as if he planned to use them as his own slaves.
The thought of this disgusted her even more, but what made her feel even worse was remembering what Caspar had said earlier:
“We won’t go into the cage. The owner of this place will be coming soon.”
So, they were going to stand behind Count Ridante, weren’t they?
“Next.”
Floria’s mind screamed. Someone inside her, whether it was her own mind or her body’s instincts, cried out. But no matter how much she struggled, the moment was coming, and she couldn’t stop it.
Count Ridante seemed to be getting bored as he pressed his eyelids down slowly. Then, he stared at Caspar with dull eyes before suddenly jumping up. His reaction was so familiar, similar to the slave traders’ expressions earlier.
Floria barely managed to hold down her nausea as she watched Count Ridante’s eyes shift, his gaze swirling with something malicious. Even though Caspar was handsome, he was still a man… and Floria knew she could never stand such a lecherous look.
Floria was amazed at how unaffected Caspar seemed. He didn’t flinch at all as Count Ridante slowly scanned his body, but if it were her, she would have vomited.
Floria realized again that Caspar was a person who would do anything for his goals. This realization made her even more afraid of the person standing next to her.
After a moment, Count Ridante gave a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with what he saw. He gestured with excitement.
As expected, Caspar was positioned behind Count Ridante. And as Floria had feared, this meant that Caspar was now one of Count Ridante’s personal slaves.
But then, Count Ridante muttered quietly, “Emerald-colored eyes.”
Floria froze, realizing that Count Ridante had just identified Caspar’s eye color. That meant… her turn was next.
Floria instinctively looked away. “No way. He’s not going to recognize me, is he?” she thought. But Count Ridante had just mentioned her emerald-colored eyes, and Floria’s heart sank.
She didn’t dare look at Count Ridante’s face, but his expression made her shudder. He was frowning, clearly irritated.
“I had a very unpleasant experience recently with someone who had emerald-colored eyes,” Count Ridante said, pointing at Caspar angrily.
“Oh no…”
Floria realized that Count Ridante wasn’t mad because he recognized her; it was simply because she had emerald-colored eyes.
As he continued to rant, Floria was dragged by the slave traders behind Count Ridante. Her mind was racing, trying to stay focused, but she was struggling.
“This is awful. I can’t stand this.”
If she lost control even a little, she would end up screaming and calling him a perverted bastard. But right now, she was too afraid to speak up.
“Stand here!”
The slave trader harshly commanded as he grabbed Floria’s shackles and positioned her behind Count Ridante.
At least she was standing next to Caspar. Count Ridante continued whispering and gesturing to the slave traders, while Floria quietly whispered to Caspar.
“Did you know this would happen? That we’d both end up here, standing behind him?”
“Of course.”
Floria couldn’t help but feel frustrated. “Don’t act so proud. Stop flaunting your looks.”
“Are you really sure nothing bad is going to happen?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Of course.”
Floria wasn’t entirely convinced, but she decided to trust him. “Really…?” she wondered, but the thought was interrupted by Caspar’s confident whisper.
As the moment dragged on, Floria felt a growing sense of unease. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. Would they really get out of this alive?
Eventually, after some time in the dark, windowless room, Caspar whispered again, explaining the plan to escape.
“Soon, Count Ridante will choose one of us. He’s a coward, so when he moves, all his guards and slave traders will follow him. That’ll give us about an hour to escape.”
“Really?” Floria asked, skeptical.
“Yes. I’ll steal the key from him and hand it to you.”
Floria stared into the dark, trying to ignore her growing anxiety. The plan sounded like something out of a spy movie, but for now, it was the only hope they had.
The room was dark, and all she could see were the silhouettes of the other slaves, trembling in fear. Yet despite everything, Caspar’s calm voice kept speaking, making Floria wonder what was truly going on.
Would this really work?
