by J. J. Pavlov
"Snap out of it." I pull on her collar and point inside the corridor. "We don't have much time. His disappearance will be noticed soon."
"Ah, yes, Chloe." Replying with red cheeks and hot breaths, the fallen angel follows me as I produce the red cloak from within my body and put it on. It includes a hood, which I pull deeply into my face to hide it from view. Closing the door behind us, we enter the den.
Around the first corner is another door. When I try to push it open, it swings inward and reveals a small reception room, where several bodyguard-looking men sit around a table that seems tiny in comparison to their sizes, playing cards.
Behind a counter stands a skinny man who reminds me of the brainiac thug leader that I ate in Daica's store. He sports a thin mustache and goatee, which make him look more like a small-time crook than his kingdom counterpart though.
I guess no matter the culture or ethnicity, the appearances of those who do shady business all follow specific templates.
"Men anth?" He asks me, then spots Hestia behind me and stares at her with big round eyes just like the doorkeeper did. "Medha ladeyna huna?"
"Do you speak my language?" I employ a neutral tone and look down on the man, who's slightly shorter than me. In the Kingdom of Lares, every single man was taller, but I've already noticed several men who were even shorter than Hestia out on the streets.
His brows shoot up when he hears me speak and then glances at the bodyguards at the table, who have stopped their game to watch us. Their expressions are filled with curiosity rather than suspicion; the beautiful girl on my leash is overriding all other thoughts at the moment.
"Foreigner... here?" The man's pronunciation is awkward, and it's clear that he isn't very proficient at it. But at least he does speak my language, and I can understand him.
"That is not important. I am here for business." I gesture at Hestia with a nod and keep an emotionless face.
"Ah, deal. Yes, yes. Me, Jalil Hakim. Good buyer." Even though my presence here should ring all alarm bells in his head, he shrugs and rubs his hands together while introducing himself. His eyes wander across the fallen angel's body and stop in all the obvious places for a split second longer. But when they reach her eyes, his lustful expression changes. "Eyes strong. You no break her?"
"I make no habit of breaking my merchandise. That pleasure I leave to the buyers." I play his game and get him to believe that I'm a legitimate slave trader with experience. Well, as legitimate as someone in rags can be. Then I give him a suggestive smile, and excitement fills his eyes. "I have learned that some buyers prefer to do the breaking themselves."
"How much?" Jalil asks eagerly, even though he only looks like a receptionist. Maybe he thinks he can fool me into selling what is most likely the rarest living being in this world for a price he can afford.
And he must be oblivious of the principles of haggling too. While I don't have any experience in it either, common sense dictates that you should be making an offer with a specific but low number first. Because now I can arbitrarily set a high price, which he will have to haggle down.
The problem is that I have no idea what the currency of this nation is worth, much less the price for a slave, and even less the price for one such as Hestia in particular.
"Shall we go inside to sit down?" I deflect the issue and point at the door, beyond which I can hear voices and music. That's definitely a hideout in which people do shady business. "I have been on the road all day long, and I would love to have a drink."
"Sit? Drink? Yes, yes. After sell to me." He glances at the bodyguards nervously, some of which are frowning. It seems he really is only a small fry, and I try to walk past him, but he stops me with an arm. "No inside. Sell me now."
"I will not." Brushing him aside, I push open the door. And when I look inside the room, I can tell that Jalil was just the receptionist rather than a slave owner.
The interior is dimly lit with oil lamps, and a band is playing music on exotic instruments. It sounds a lot like Middle-Eastern tunes anyone may have heard on the Internet, and I catch myself wondering whether or not I accidentally slipped back into my old world. Then again, there's no slavery in any Middle-Eastern country - as far as I know.
Nearly two dozen people wearing silken robes and excessive amounts of golden accessories are seated in semi-circular alcoves or at tables built around the catwalk in the middle of the room. The most common thing I see among the men is that they wear rings set with variously colored gems on several of their fingers - and all of them have bodyguards standing near them.
There are almost fifty people in here.
Those gems would ring all my alarm bells if it weren't for the fact that they employ bodyguards. If they were mages, they wouldn't need thugs to protect them.
That's when I notice that at the end of the catwalk is a pole, so this may be just a strip club rather than a slavers' meeting place. But then I see the small elevated platforms on which cages have been fixed. They hold women dressed in bikinis made of tiny beads; some of them are dancing, others are curled up and shivering in fear under the gazes of the men around them. One almost black-skinned woman is playing with the pole as if it was a living thing, her movements sluggish and her eyes looking empty, suggesting that she may be drugged.
I guess these are precisely the kind of people I was looking for.
"Wait, we talk." Jalil comes in after me, but it's already too late, as others have noticed my presence. A sleazy-looking man wearing the same outfit as the receptionist comes over, and they exchange a few words. The tone the other man employs makes it clear to me that Jalil is of pretty low standing too, as he's immediately sent back outside to look after the entrance area.
"Wait, I need you to translate for me." I quickly realize my dilemma and try to stop him, but a voice calls out to me from behind.
"You foreigner?" It's a man with a voice I imagine lard would have if it could talk. When I turn around, I see that it's the one I was initially following, with two of his bodyguards flanking him. He speaks my language as well, and his pronunciation is slightly better than Jalil's.
"My name is Chaos." I introduce myself and look at him with a neutral expression, but have to make a conscious effort to suppress the urge to make a face.
"Me, Ayman Al-Sabah. Selling slave?" He points at Hestia, much more adept at hiding the sparkle in his eyes than Jalil was - but not good enough for me to not notice. He's just as interested, if not more. Then, as if remembering his manners, he laughs and gestures for me to follow him. "Drink first."
Already, the difference in class between him and Jalil becomes apparent.
He waves his hand at his men and points at one of the alcoves, signaling them to solve the small problem that it's already occupied. The two stand in front of the people inside and cross their arms demonstratively. The latter immediately get the message that they either leave or will be made to leave. Of course, the former option is the only one any sane person would take when faced with two people who have arms that seem as wide as their torsos.
Interestingly enough, those leaving the alcove don't look especially rich, but the fact that they're here means they're slave owners - or condone slavery. In other words, none of the men here are innocent.
Ayman gestures toward the freed up semicircular couch, and I sit down with a glance at Hestia to wordlessly tell her that she has to remain standing. The fat man plops down almost right next to me, and his bodyguards take up their positions in front of the alcove as if to shield us from view.
"What you drink?" He asks, and one of the two meat screens automatically waves over a waiter to take the order. It seems they do this quite frequently.
"What do you recommend?" I have no idea about the types of alcohol in this nation. I know that whiskey is Scottish and vodka is Russian, but I have no idea what the Middle-Eastern equivalent is. By having him recommend me something, I can act like I'm testing him while also masking my ignorance.
Who knew I could be so sly?
He gazes past his bodyguards to get a good look at the dancer on the pole, then turns to Hestia with a lustful glance. But he quickly gets his expression under control again and looks at me all business-like when the waiter brings our drinks. Mine is an earthen cup of a milky white liquid that has a very sweet but also strong alcoholic smell. His looks more like traditional red wine, though slightly more on the purple side.
"To deal." He raises his cup for a toast.
"Business." I respond by doing the same with mine while correcting him involuntarily, but he takes it with a smile.
"Yes, yes, business!" Laughing, Ayman gulps down the wine and repeats after me. He's eager to seal the deal and get Hestia into his hands. "How much?"
It seems that bartering techniques are foreign to this world. I would have expected that he's better at it than some random receptionist, but that's not the case.
"How about you make the offer?" I still don't know anything about this nation's currency and its worth, so I have to repeat what I did with Jalil. At least this way I'll get an idea about how much a wealthy slave owner thinks he can get away with.
"Hundred dhahaba." His expression grows serious as he holds up two fingers, meaning that he's offering two hundred of whatever dhahaba is. Then he looks into my unimpressed façade and smiles.
"So, the starting bid is two hundred dhahaba." I mutter as if to myself. But I deliberately let him overhear it, causing his smile to freeze over in surprise. "Thank you for your kind offer."
I stand up and pull on Hestia's chain, then push one of the bodyguards standing in front of the alcove aside effortlessly even though he's twice my width. The muscles in my current body have been strengthened with Crawling Chaos tendrils, in preparation for when a battle breaks out.
"Get up there." I pull the angel girl by her chain and point at the pole on the catwalk. "You will be auctioned off."
The woman already there looks at the newcomer with a scowl, but I glare at her, and she instantly complies. To her, all slave owners stand above her, so she would never dare to be disrespectful to them. A dark part of me enjoys this feeling of power, but I find it sad that this has been ingrained into a human being to the point at which they regularly discard their dignity for the sake of survival.
"Do a little dance for the audience." I whisper to Hestia when all eyes are on the fair-skinned newcomer on the dance floor.
"I cannot dance like the woman before me." She replies and shoots an anxious look at the one we just chased off the stage.
"Just wing it." I say with a wink. And right after the words leave my mouth, I realize that it was an especially atrocious pun in this world's language. I feel like burying myself in the desert head-first for that. But the concept of puns isn't so prevalent in this world, so the butt end of it doesn't seem to realize that I made one.
Hestia spreads her legs to shoulder-width and puffs up her chest in an awkward attempt to mimic the pole-dancer's lascivious movements. That's when I pull off her collar as well as the flaps on her back. Seemingly out of nowhere, her jet black wings spring into existence, and she spreads them wide in surprise.
The way she looks right now would be perfect for a heavy metal album cover.
A murmur runs through the crowd, people jump up from their seats left and right in surprise, and some start talking to each other loudly while pointing at the fallen angel. We made a huge splash with this unveiling of her original appearance, and I should be able to get what I want now.
"Mina Elihaty!" Ayman exclaims and looks at Hestia in all her glory. She glances at me, and I nod in encouragement. Seeing that I have everything under control, she gathers her resolve and grabs the pole, lowering herself against it suggestively. Her wings flap once and a gust of wind blows through the bar, showing that they're not just an illusion but very real.
"This is an open auction. The starting bid is two hundred dhahaba." I announce while pulling back my hood. My blonde hair draws some of the attention, but not everybody heard me due to their speculations about our identities. Raising my voice, I repeat myself. "This is an auction! Bid on her, starting at two hundred dhahaba!"
Most look at me and wonder, while I spot a few whose expressions tell me they somewhat understood what I said. Focusing my gaze on them one after the other, I silently imply that they should start bidding.
"Sulasumyat dhahaba!" The first does so, but replies in their language. I don't really care about the numbers they offer anyway since that's not my aim. And it serves me well because upon hearing his declaration, the entire underground room explodes into voices of men outbidding each other. I don't understand a word, but I look over the people who are standing up from their seats and gesturing while trying to make themselves heard.
Ayman is staring at me with his mouth open, realizing that this has left his hands. Understanding that there's no other way, he quickly shouts out a number as well.
I obviously don't have the intention to sell Hestia, and she knows it. That's why her act at the pole becomes more daring, while she keeps her gaze fixed on me. I give her an affectionate smile, and her face flushes red in excitement. Ever since her corruption, she hasn't shown me as much cute shyness as she has before. Instead, she has an air of sensuality about her that I enjoy just as much.
"Can any of you speak my language?" I gesture for everyone to calm down and then ask into the room.
"Yes! Six hundred dhahaba!" One answers confidently in a thick accent.
"I offer eight hundred!" Another one immediately follows up with much better articulation.
"Thousand!" A third shouts.
Those that don't understand anything start to panic and ask the others to translate for them. It's going to get out of hand again, but at this point, I'm only searching for the one who will understand my language the best. After all, this entire charade was to gather information and eat those I have no qualms about killing.
"Chaos, you promise give me, no?" Ayman implores me with an almost desperate expression, but I sneer at him. He stares at me for a second; then his face grows red in anger upon the realization that I was playing him. Took him long enough.
And just as expected, he shouts something at his guards while pointing at me. Others hear him and get the same idea - they can take her by force, considering I'm just a lone weak woman. That's my cue to wrap things up.
"Thank you all. I'm happy that you value my little Hestia so much." I lift my arms in a gesture to stop the voices. Whereas I put on a dignified air before, I've discarded it for my usual casual speech now. "But to me, she's worth more than anything you could ever offer."
The men who understood me spit out what are most likely insults in my direction. The others quickly pick up on the fact that I'm mocking them and join in. My tone didn't leave much room for any doubts about that anyway.
"Here I go." I direct this at Hestia and begin to suck the clothes I'm wearing into me. She immediately understands and nods, most likely mentally bracing herself for what's about to happen - or readying her heart to take it all in and revel in it as she did when I killed the bouncer earlier.
Before anybody can even figure out how I'm doing the trick of making my clothes disappear, my body bursts out into its real form, and countless tentacles spread out from me. People freeze in place with their mouths wide open, but I'm not giving them any time to realize what just happened. Spreading my numerous limbs, I grab several people at once, rip them to shreds in midair and pull their pieces into my depths.
Even if I doubt that there are any mages among them, I won't risk pulling in anything living. Aldebrand may have given me a trauma there, but it's better to be on the safe side than to have a repeat of that experience.
&n
bsp; As I go for round two, the first person screams at the top of his lungs and turns around to get away. But aside from those few I marked as potentially useful, nobody will survive this. Rampaging through the underground bar like a giant squid, I snatch up people and drag them into the abyss. Within the blink of an eye, only five people who aren't slaves are left in the room. Aside from Hestia and me, there are Ayman, the one who shouted an offer of eight hundred earlier, and another man who remained quiet throughout the auction.
I let the blood covering my body seep in before I change back into my human form. Acting as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, I pull out the red cloak and cover up my nakedness while turning to those left.
"Now, let's start again and talk business." I direct this at Ayman, who has soiled himself while standing upright. He's a disgusting creature, but the only reason I'm talking to him is that he is still of a little use to me right now.
The other man who bid on Hestia thinks this an excellent opportunity to run away and jumps up from his chair. A tentacle whips out from my back, grabs him by his ankle, and picks him up. Dangling him in front of me, I tilt my head and lift an eyebrow exaggeratedly.
"You want to leave us already? What happened to buying my girl here?" I point at Hestia, who looks incredibly happy at being called mine. She hugs me from behind and rubs her face against my cheek. "What's your name?"
"What?" The man hanging upside down asks with a shaky voice. He most likely didn't expect that I would make small-talk after killing almost fifty people without even blinking.
"That's a strange name. But I'm not one to judge." Shrugging, I nudge his cheek with a tentacle, then continue the questioning with a warm smile. "What country is this?"
"W-what?" He stutters, utterly terrified by the fact that the monster holding his life in its grasp seems to be unhinged.
