Hello everyone.

My name is ‘Kaito,’ and I’m a 17-year-old junior in high school.

I like working out, video games, and wasting time. I hate responsibilities and public speaking.

And right now, I’m sitting in a shaky wooden wagon being dragged through the dark wilderness by some kind of lizard-horse hybrid.

Why?

“Ah, that’s because I’m a slave.”

“Who are you talking to?”

The cart sways gently as it travels, but I remain still. Well, mostly because I can’t move. Two armed people flank me on either side, their weapons resting lazily across their laps. The interior of the wagon is surprisingly decent, furnished with a bench and a thin carpet stretched across the wooden floor.

There are rectangular openings on each wall, likely meant as makeshift windows, though they're just wide enough to throw someone out of. If I weren’t so close to one of those windows, I would have leaped out myself a long time ago.

A collar rests tight around my neck. It's a black metal device, cold against my skin.

Shortly after the woman known as Navi-I-forgot-her-last-name declared me as her slave, she quickly outfitted me with the collar around my neck, the thing closing quite quickly.

Judging by the sick smile on her face, I can come to the conclusion that she enjoyed every second, something that scares me.

I’m still processing the fact that I’m a slave.

Couldn’t I at least be a servant?

Don’t slaves do more laborious work, while servants get to do more household work?

I always figured if I got isekai’d, I’d at least get magic powers or a sword. Instead, I got a legally binding iron choker.

Dammit.

I guess I’ve come to accept my circumstances. It’s much better than being ripped to shreds by god-knows-what in that forest.
I sigh and glance to my left.

I turn to my left, where a young woman, who seems to be around my age, sits, writing down on what I assume to be a scroll. She’s wearing white fitted armor, with a navy black coat draped over her shoulders. She has long, flowing, black hair complemented by purple eyes, something that sends a warning signal up my brain.

Is that natural?

She has a calm, dignified air to her, like someone you’d see in a library.

Maybe she’s nice?

“You a slave too?” I say, attempting to start some kind of conversation.

She remains fixed on the scroll. “No. I am a member of this party.”

What a concise answer. Too concise.

“I see, I see,” I say, nodding my head. “Uh, do you think you can do me a favor and try to convince Snowball over there to let me go? You seem rational. Also morally grounded.. probably.”

Maybe she can do something about my impending doom. Please, do something.

Use the goodness in your pure heart.

The woman stops writing, then looks at me, her eyes full of what I hope to be confusion. Her head doesn’t shift with the wagon’s sway, and for a brief second, I swear she’s a mannequin with skin.

“You have not even introduced yourself, yet you ask a favor from me? Do you lack basic manners? I see now why Lieutenant Highergald has brought you in as a slave.”

I agree with the first part of what she said, yet the second part feels like a stab in the gut. The tone of her voice cuts through my gut as well, adding insult to injury.

I’m about to utter something that’d be better off not said when a pair of arms wrap themselves around my neck, choking me.

“Hmph—Ghh?!”

I get pulled back.

“Aw! Is he already trying to escape? That’s not fair, Mr. Slave, you haven’t even been with us for long!”

The voice is high-pitched and cheerful, belonging to a ponytailed girl, her eyes large and wide. She’s wearing a closed jacket, but I can still see the armor underneath. She’s clearly smaller than me, with a face most guys would label as a ‘knockout’.

Yeah, more like I’m going to knock her out as soon as I get out.

Perhaps the most unique thing about her is the strange insignia under her left eye.

By the way, is this jacket over armor some kind of fashion?

Never mind that, this crazy bitch is gonna choke me out!!

“Khkhh!”

“Arivia, you’re strangling him.”

“Huh? How can you tell?”

Maybe my flailing hands and my purple face, idiot!

Said ‘Arivia’ releases my head from her clutches, leaving me a choking and coughing mess. I’ve come too close to death too many times for comfort, seriously.

She seems quite unbothered, her face looking as if she just finished playing with her favorite toy.

I grab at my neck, hoping I can at least feel the skin, but alas, I’m met with cold, hard metal.

She turns her head to the person leading the weird horse lizard things. Navi.

“Say, Navi, how’d you come across this guy anyway?” Arivia calls out, looking toward the front of the wagon.

The voice calls back.

“First off, it’s Lieutenant Navi. Second, I found him with a mimic, the guy was about to be fed to a whole nest of them. I guess you could say I saved him, but I really was just there to take it out.”

“What even is a mimi-”

“A mimic, more commonly known as a Mimos, a creature that often takes the form of others, luring victims into a nest, then consuming them. Mimic populations often are located in the province of Nyassarenth, specifically within west and east Norovia.”


I turn to the long-haired woman.

Her eyes are closed as if she’s memorized the words by heart.

“Man, Asakawa’s so cool!” Arivia exclaims, her hands clasped together. “Memorizing passages like that... it’s amazing!”

How can someone be so optimistic when someone in front of them is getting sent off to slavery? No, seriously, it’s quite concerning. She’s talking like an excited schoolgirl despite the grim occurrence in front of her.

I get being optimistic, but it’s quite scary at this point.

The night wind whistles softly through the wagon, the clatter of wheels a constant drumbeat beneath us. Every now and then, I hear a distant animal cry or something rustle in the trees

“Speaking of, Arivia, do we have a place for the slave to stay?” The girl, Navi asks from the front.

“Didn't I tell you my name earlier for a reason…”

“Huh, what was that, Kaito the Slave?”

Arivia snickers.

Even Asakawa covers her mouth, her shoulders lightly trembling.

Aren’t you the cold, composed type!? You’re breaking character!!

I groan, leaning back.

I feel the floorboards creak in front of me, presumably someone approaching me.

“Don’t worry, Mr slave, you’ll be living nice and cozy!”

I perk my head up.

“Yup! You get your very own barn! Fresh hay! And you don’t even need a toilet!”

“...You mean there isn’t one, don’t you.”

“Same thing, right?”

I bury my face in my hands.

“…Do you enjoy mocking me?”

She's not nodding, but judging by the look on her face, she's enjoying every second of it.

In a final plea, I turn to her with tired eyes.

“Please… just let me go.”

Hopefully, she gets my predicament and will understand and empathize with the poor boy in front of her. After all, there has to be someone here with a good heart! There’s absolutely no way somebody would be alright with accepting a slave, right? Basic empathy articulates so.

There must be some good inside these people!

Arivia raises a lantern to my face. I wince a little at the sudden brightness.

“Hey, Asa…”

Yes, say something like: ‘I don’t know, I feel kinda bad…’!




“He looks like a cat, right?”




“Nope, you’re all heartless monsters!!”

“Yes, I can see it. His pupils are quite small, like a cat’s.”

Is this the rest of my life? Working for a bunch of girls who should be in school, enduring countless insults, and being forced to work like a bull?

Is this where my life is headed?

Ever since I’ve been sent to this world, everything has gone wrong. I have no responsibilities, yet I'm tortured with other methods. Is this a cruel joke?

My shoulders shake like I’m going to start laughing or crying. Or both.

And that causes something I was hoping to avoid. Something I feared from the very bottom of my heart.

“Hey, Asa, there's something in his pocket!”

No, not my smartphone. Please.