Chapter 11

The next day, after narrowly avoiding a disaster, I told Mirabel:

“Let’s take the day off.”

People, machines, animals—everyone needs proper rest. While it would be great if Mirabel could continue performing at her best, pushing her too hard would only lead to burnout. In Taosle, there’s a fatigue system for slaves; the more you work them, the more their fatigue increases.

Once their fatigue is maxed out, their ability to function drops, and the chances of accidents skyrocket.

In the tycoon genre, everything runs like clockwork, so if one gear gets stuck, the whole operation suffers. Work and rest must be balanced to ensure smooth operations.

Since it looked like the dungeon wouldn’t be appearing right away, I decided today would be a good day to give Mirabel a break. Besides, I was still a little concerned about what happened yesterday.

“Is there anywhere you’d like to go?” I asked.

“Somewhere I’d like to go?” she echoed.

“You’ve been working hard lately. Think of it as a reward.”

Mirabel tilted her head, clearly confused.

She looked at me as if to say, Isn’t it a slave’s duty to work hard? I used to think the same, but it turns out that’s not always the case.

I learned that when I was training beastmen slaves. Some of them worked hard, while others slacked off, feeding off the efforts of the diligent ones.

Ever since this game became reality, I’ve encountered plenty of lazy freeloaders. And some of them ended up as my slaves.

But who am I?

I’m Korean.

If I’m not pursuing maximum efficiency in any situation, it bothers me to no end. Especially in a tycoon game?

‘Oh hell no. I can’t tolerate inefficiency.’

I’d probably foam at the mouth if efficiency dropped even a little.

So, instead of punishing underperformers, I came up with a solution: rewards for good work.

‘Only bad managers rely on punishment.’

I started giving rewards to the hardworking slaves—special meals, extra allowance, that sort of thing. Naturally, it made the others work harder in hopes of getting the same treatment.

That’s why I felt it was time to reward Mirabel for her hard work.

“Anywhere is fine. Whether it’s a place you want to visit or something you want to buy, just say the word.”

“Then… a new outfit…” she began hesitantly.

“Wait a minute. Let me ask the real person in question. Miss Mirabel, you’d like maid outfits, right?”

“No…”

“Oh, she says she loves them. In fact, the Mirabel in my mind would be thrilled if I bought her a few more.”

“……”

Mirabel shot me a cold, piercing glare.

You’re the one who crossed the line, Mirabel. On this, I refuse to back down. Unfazed, I stared her down, determined not to yield.

The staring contest lasted for a few seconds before Mirabel finally gave in. It seemed like she didn’t hate the maid outfits as much as she pretended.

She began to consider her next request seriously.

“Then…”

Finally, she spoke again.

As we walked through the city, Mirabel occasionally pulled out a snack to munch on.

‘She settled on slime fries in the end.’

After buying a portion of slime fries at the market, we wandered through the city. Mirabel stuffed her cheeks with them like a squirrel, her mouth bulging. When she noticed me looking, she quickly grabbed a fry from the bag and offered it to me.

“Hmphf!” she mumbled, trying to smile through her full mouth.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Mirabel’s face fell in disappointment.

Her sad expression wasn’t going to work on me this time. Last time, I let it slide, but not today—I saw that fry move just now.

After we finished touring the city, we ended up at a magical artifact shop. Ever since she began learning magic, Mirabel had taken a keen interest in magical devices.

Back in Libria, she had bought a couple of them, only to dismantle and analyze every one of them. Typical witch behavior, as if she were some kind of magical engineer from another world.

Mirabel wandered around the shop, her eyes sparkling with curiosity like a child seeing something new for the first time. I, on the other hand, stood there holding a staff, feeling like a boyfriend waiting for his girlfriend to finish shopping.

“Little miss, you seem quite interested in magical devices,” the shopkeeper, an elderly woman, remarked.

“Huh? Oh, um, yes,” Mirabel stammered, startled.

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare you. My apologies.”

Mirabel flinched at the old woman’s words, despite having become somewhat more comfortable around me. It seemed she still hadn’t shaken her timidness around others.

The old woman smiled kindly at her, as if looking at her own granddaughter.

“That man with you, is he your brother?”

“No, he’s my master.”

“Master?”

“I’m a slave.”

At the mention of the word 'slave,' the shopkeeper’s eyes shot daggers at me, as if questioning how a scumbag like me could make such a sweet girl his slave.

What’s your problem, lady? Want to fight? I might not be able to beat Mirabel, but I’m pretty sure I could take you.

Sensing her impending defeat, the old woman shifted her gaze back to Mirabel. That’s 2-0 for me today.

The pity in her eyes, once directed at a cute girl, now softened into sympathy for a poor slave. The woman clucked her tongue, and Mirabel hesitated for a moment before turning away. Only from my angle could I see her expression.

‘Wait… what was that?’

It looked like her eyes had just twisted with something… but when she met my gaze, she smiled sweetly, and the strange expression vanished. Maybe I imagined it.

“Let’s go, Master,” she said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to buy anything?”

“There’s nothing worth buying in a place like this.”

“Ah… alright.”

In the end, we left without purchasing anything.

“Do you have any other places you want to visit? If not—”

“No, I do,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

With a confident step, she strode toward a jewelry store, her movements quick and determined, as if she were angry.

‘Has she suddenly taken an interest in jewelry?’

As far as I knew, Mirabel had never cared about things like accessories. As a witch, she was more interested in dusty old tomes and magical artifacts, like the ones she had been examining earlier.

But, hey, she’s a girl. It wouldn’t be strange for her to develop an interest in these things at any time. Maybe I should encourage her, just in case she’s hesitant.

“Haha, Miss Mirabel, are you starting to take an interest in—”

The words died in my throat when I saw what she was looking at.

She wasn’t eyeing any jewelry.

She was looking at shackles—the kind you put on slaves.

…?

Why was she fiddling with those?

Worried, I asked, “You’re not actually interested in the shackles, are you?”

“A little bit,” she admitted.

What?

Of all the accessories in this store, why the shackles?

“I’m a slave, but I don’t really have any kind of identifying mark, right? That’s why people get confused, like earlier.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“But people keep giving you a hard time because of it, Master.”

Well, yeah, in my case, it’s particularly bad.

In a world where slavery is common, even wealthy families typically have one or two slaves, and some even have dozens.

But me? I only have one—Mirabel. Even considering that I’m a slave trader, people are unusually harsh on me.

The reason? It’s probably because Mirabel is so pretty.

When people want to baby her, they naturally resent the fact that she’s a slave.

I had no idea why she cared about that, but regardless, I was opposed to the shackles. As a slave enthusiast, I couldn’t have her walking around in shackles.

“There’s no need for that. I’ve long since gotten used to the negative looks.”

But Mirabel shook her head vehemently.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that, Master. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. Go ahead and pick one out.”

“No…”

My head started spinning. This was turning into a scene straight out of some feminist manga where everything turns out all rosy in the end, even when limbs get cut off.

“Hurry up.”@@novelbin@@

With Mirabel being so insistent, I had no choice but to comply. As I’ve said many times, Mirabel holds all the power here. I couldn’t afford to upset her.

What should I choose?

Red was too flashy and looked like a collar. Gray was too dull.

I finally settled on a black shackle. It was simple and blended well with Mirabel’s calm, dark atmosphere, making it look more like a piece of jewelry than an actual restraint.

“This one seems decent enough…”

“Then I’ll take that one,” she agreed without hesitation.

Click.

Mirabel, pleased, pushed her hair behind her shoulders and tilted her tiny face up toward me, her eyes closed, waiting. She looked like someone waiting to be proposed to.

The only difference was, instead of a ring on her finger, it was a collar around her neck.

‘I give up.’

Resigned, I carefully fastened the black shackle around her slender neck. With a soft click, the clasp locked into place.

“All done,” I said.

Mirabel stroked the shackle around her neck with gentle fingers, a faint smile of satisfaction curving her lips.

After visiting all the places we had planned, we ran out of destinations. So, we ended up aimlessly wandering down the road.

Mirabel walked beside me, her posture straighter than usual.

Whenever we passed other slaves, she would throw them a smug look, as if she were a rich lady flaunting an expensive handbag.

I had no idea why she was looking at them that way, but she was.

Watching her, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

‘Have I been raising her wrong?’

In the game, once you built up enough affinity, slaves would sometimes make advances, and once you passed the adult certification, they often became very forward with their affections.

What worried me was that it wasn’t the right time for this yet. I hadn’t spent enough time with her, nor had I given her anything significant besides The Celestial Oath.

And in this real-world situation, I couldn’t realistically expect her to be as affectionate as she might have been in the game. She had even shown discomfort at receiving a dead person’s belongings.

‘Damn it, what’s really going on?’

A day spent trying to normalize Mirabel had somehow made things worse.

Several anxious days passed, and finally, the dungeon appeared.