by Charles Dean
“Well, I’m in,” Charcoal said. “If you really are going to let us take over this dump and use your name so we don’t get in trouble with the authorities, I have no issues with it.”
“Me too,” another one said.
“I just . . . I want to see my family,” the woman stroking the dead woman’s hair added. “I need to see my family. I haven’t seen them in so long. I have to know if they’re okay.”
“My family left me for dead. Screw them. I’m staying here.”
Lars, at this point, had no idea who was speaking as he just stared at the numerous bouncing titties in front of him. The rush of the kill, the feelings of euphoria after, the seriousness of the negotiations—everything before had been so overwhelming that he hadn’t allowed himself to really take in the scenery. Now, however, he was face to face with multiple sets of beautiful breasts bouncing up and down in front of him, heaving in and out as each gisaeng spoke, and it was more bouncing breasts than he could remember seeing in his entire life. He couldn’t help himself as his eyes grew wide and began focusing on the wealth of chests.
“Hey, if I can notice, they can notice. Watch where you’re staring,” Birkett whispered as he nudged Lars out of his momentary reverie.
“Yeah, thanks.” Lars nodded slightly.
“It’s fine,” Charcoal said. “If all you do is look, you’re a thousand times better than some of the guests that Bok Kyu invited over.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “My name is Ching Shih, and I cannot offer enough of my gratitude for what you have done.”
“Well . . . if it’s not too much to ask . . . could you also take care of these two?” Lars said as he nodded toward Ben and Birkett. “They were instrumental in my freeing you. They risked their lives to help.”
Ching Shih looked at the two of them, an unreadable expression across her flat face as she pondered for a moment.
“They’re good bookkeepers and know most of the accounts. They’re just weak,” Lars added.
“So you think they can handle everything but the muscle?” Ching Shih asked.
“Yeah,” Lars replied.
“Fine,” she said. “But now that I’m free, I’d rather die than take orders from anyone again, ever again, so they aren’t in charge. I am.” She paused and then looked at the other women. “We are.”
“Fine by me.” Lars shrugged, and then his eyes went to the two slaves of his. “What about you two? Do you plan on staying here to run the shop with them?”
“I . . . I need to see my family as well,” Yoon-ah said. “I haven’t seen my mother in over a year. She has to be worried sick.”
“That’s fine.” Lars nodded. “Stay safe in your travels. You’ll always have a place when you finish.”
“I’m with you,” Su said after a moment. “If you die, I die. I won’t leave your side until I reach the Qi Condensation Stage.”
Oh no. Poor girl, she thinks reaching that level will help her achieve freedom, but that was only true in the past. She’s no longer bound under a cheap slave contract. Her contract was done through the Slave Lord skill. Any contract done through a skill on your sheet doesn’t break, ever. The only way she gets her freedom is if you die and someone else has a skill to free her, you buy a skill to free her, or you earn one from a quest reward.
So, there are skills that could break the contract, ones you could give in quest rewards, but you just aren’t going to? Lars asked.
I’ll never free anyone that keeps you safe. You’re more important to me than every person in this town put together. They can all die if it helps you live even a slightly safer life. Why would I ever give you a skill that would let you willingly reduce your safety nets?
. . . I don’t know if that’s touching or manipulative . . . and controlling.
“Don’t mind him,” Birkett said as he clapped Lars’s shoulder. “He does this thing where he goes quiet, and his face changes like he’s processing something. You get used to it. Good guy, though, so it’s worth putting up with.”
“Interesting,” Ching Shih said as she studied Lars’s face.
“I was just thinking, sorry. Having another person under my care . . . it’s a large responsibility. I’m not good with responsibility,” Lars admitted.
“That you consider those in your care a responsibility and not an asset means you’re already better than most at it,” Ching Shih replied.
“Thanks, but . . .” Lars looked over at Gisaeng One, “We don’t even know each other. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with them? Visit your family?”
“We don’t know each other? My name is Su Ryeon. There. We’ve been introduced, and now I will stay with you until I have earned my freedom or death do us part,” she said, her tone more assertive and dominating than anyone else’s who had spoken before. She was more sure of herself and her course of action than everyone there.
“I’ll catch up to you after I check on Mom. I agree with Su. I also want to keep you safe . . . but I need to go. I’m so worried about her,” Yoon-Ah said before beginning to move toward the door only to be stopped by Ching Shih.
“Clothes,” Ching Shih said as she stopped Yoon-Ah from continuing on. “You need to get a proper outfit. You can’t go out looking like that. I’m sure Bok Kyu had clothes for his other women, the ones he took out on the town. Let’s get you dressed properly and put some money in your pocket so that you can take care of yourself.”
“Oh, I know where the gold stash is. Want me to show you?” Birkett offered.
Lars didn’t know if Birkett was trying to be helpful since he’d be stuck working with or for these people in some way or shape from now on or if he just wasn’t as greedy as Lars first imagined.
“I uhh . . . have to go to a gambling den. I’ll need some cash too,” Lars said as he looked over at Birkett. “I’ll also need some tomorrow for the auction, but I don’t know how much.”
“We’ll get you covered tomorrow then before the auction. Bok Kyu would have kept the pass to get into the event with his chair,” Birkett said before rushing past the ladies and pulling out a coin that he tossed to Lars. “Here, this will get you in the auction. Now, let’s go to the treasury room.”
“Thanks,” Lars said as he caught the coin and followed Birkett along with the women, save the one that didn’t seem able to get over Jennifer’s death, through the compound to a small hidden trap door that was underneath a rug. After pulling away the rug and going into the basement through the trap door, Lars was greeted by a mostly empty room with only four rather modest bags of gold. There couldn’t have been more than five or ten thousand gold coins, and it wasn’t at all the level of wealth that Lars had expected given the size of Bok Kyu’s compound or how he flaunted his assets.
“He never kept much, the bastard,” Birkett said as he grabbed a bag and tossed it to Lars, gave two to Ching Shih, and picked up one for himself. “He acted like he was very wealthy, but that was a front. He said he used the image of success to draw in success. All I know is he spent more than he made usually, and the only reason he saved this much was probably for that damn auction he wanted to go to tomorrow.”
“What do you plan on doing with all that?” Ching Shih immediately asked Birkett.
“If you must know, I plan on buying supplies to repair our damn place. In case you didn’t notice, your rescuer had a habit of blowing up buildings as he went from area to area killing everyone. We’re also going to need to get farmers willing to bleed for the crop growth, purchase sentinels for the late-night, you know . . . There are a lot of purchases to make when half your facility is wrecked, and all of the staff was killed,” Birkett quickly explained.
“Also, don’t forget clothes. We need to buy clothes for you all unless you guys want to be walking out looking like that,” Ben remarked, laughing. “I mean, I don’t mind looking at you like—”
Before Ben could finish that sentence, Birkett had already elbowed him in the gut. “We need to get modest attire. The only outfits Bok Kyu
kept for his women were even cruder than the ones you’re wearing right now. Since leaving the compound looking like that to purchase the attire so you can leave the compound sort of defeats the purpose, we’ll be happy to take care of it for you.”
“And who is to say you won’t just run with the money?” Ching Shih asked.
“If we did, given that we saved you, I don’t think you’d have a right to complain,” Birkett replied through gritted teeth, his cordial tone slowly fading.
“Fair,” Ching Shih sighed. “Sorry, sorry, my last comrades' betrayal has . . .”
“It’s fine.” Birkett’s smile and polite tone returned as quickly as it had left. “But there is a lot to do, and we’re losing sunlight. So, Lars, shall we go buy the ladies some clothes?”
“No.” Lars shook his head. “I’ll leave that to you two. I need to go see a lady about a yeou-nim.”
“You mean a foxy lady?” Birkett looked a little puzzled.
“No, I mean I need to see a lady about a two-tailed yeou-nim. What do you mean, ‘foxy lady’?” Lars asked.
“A yeou-nim is just an ancient fox breed,” Ben replied. “They taught us that at the institute. You’re just looking for a two-tailed fox breed or maybe a two-tailed fox cultivator?”
“Huh?” Lars blinked. “Well, either way, I was told there may be one of them or a dokkaebi beneath a special gambling den.”
“I know the one,” Su Ryeon said. “We can go now.”
“You don’t want to wait for them to get you clothes?” Lars asked.
“Are you waiting?” she shot back.
“No,” Lars replied.
“Then I’m not. Let’s move.” Su Ryeon jutted out her chest as she walked over to the ladder and began climbing it, leaving Lars to follow her instead of the other way around. As he was ascending the ladder toward the trap door they had entered through, a bag of gold in one hand making him go a little slower than he might normally have, he couldn’t help but look up, his eyes drawn to her long, beautiful legs and perky butt that was only barely covered by a thin white set of underwear.
Where is her tail? Lars thought as he stared at her rear, seeing nothing but the panties underneath the skirt. He hadn’t noticed their tails earlier, but he had assumed that was because they may have been small. They may have been hidden.
She’s a cultivator, so she’s not human. Her tail was probably removed either as part of her cultivation method or as a means of hiding her affinity and nature. Every cultivator has strengths and weaknesses. The avians are usually easily destroyed by fire and earth, the bovine by water, the reptiles by ice. Their bodies come with natural affinities, and if you know what type of cultivator they are, you know what weakness they have.
So, why don’t all cultivators remove their tails then? If it’s such a glaringly visible sign of what their weakness is, wouldn’t it be best to just pull it out at the start?
Tails are a symbol of pride, of majesty, of heritage, of commonality. Removing your tail is like ripping out your identity and all semblance of pride you could ever hold. To do so is worse than death for many people. If she wasn’t a slave, there is no way she would have allowed it to be yanked.
I haven’t ever had a tail, and there is no issue with me, so I don’t see what the big deal is . . . Lars harrumphed.
Those without tails can’t cultivate. You can’t cultivate. How do you not see what the issue is?
Lars’s sour expression remained on his face as he finished climbing the ladder and slowly walked out of the compound with Su Ryeon by his side. As he stepped outside, he couldn’t help but notice Timothy and his companion still standing guard.
“What?! YOU!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Timothy shouted as he saw Lars.
“You’re covered in blood and dirt,” Su Ryeon pointed out. “That’s why he is reacting the way he is.”
“Ah.” Lars nodded and then, looking at Timothy, smiled. “I killed Bok Kyu. Problem?”
Timothy blinked a few times and then dropped his weapon. “Forget it. I’m out. I’m OUT. I’m done with this crap. Every day . . . Drama, drama, drama, and now people are lying about killing the boss even though I can clearly see his slave? I’m done. I do not get paid enough for this.”
Lars and Su Ryeon just watched as Timothy carried on complaining about how he should have joined the military like his mother suggested.
“Did you want to stop him?” Su Ryeon asked. “He could tell someone . . .”
No, I told myself if someone didn’t have an issue with me killing that psychopath, I was going to let them live. Lars frowned. He wanted to kill the guy, but he didn’t want to break the “requirement” he put on his murder spree. Killing him would be the same as killing Birkett, and he had already spared Birkett.
“I’m . . . just going to leave too,” the other guard said.
“Go inside first,” Lars instead suggested. “There is new management. They’re hiring.”
“No, no, that’s okay. My father owns a tavern. I’m just going to go work there. The pay isn’t great, but the food is,” he said as he dropped his weapon and walked off slowly, showing much more caution toward Lars and Su Ryeon than Timothy had displayed.
“Do you need me to lead the way to the gambling den, or do you know it?” Su Ryeon asked.
“After you,” he said.
“Did you want to stop somewhere to wash off, clean up, and get new clothes?” she offered.
Lars looked down at his outfit, thought for a moment, and then chuckled. “Nah, let’s go like this,” he decided. There was just something about this entire town that told him he’d be safer looking like he had murdered people. Then the two of them wouldn’t be looking like tailless bastards walking down the street. Just for safe measure, though, he decided to assign all of his stat points. “Though . . . Hold on a minute.” He looked through his stats for a second, not wanting Su Ryeon to start walking until he had sorted them out.
He had, at the moment, 10,130 points unspent. Considering his 2,029 Power; 1,623 Speed; 447 Fortitude; and 320 Resistance altogether only equaled 4,419, he knew he was about to increase his stats by a massive amount, and he needed to think carefully about the decision.
Why not just stick with what works? Speed and Power. If you get hit, you die. It’s more fun that way, right?
You’re saying that, but it’s my life that’s ending . . . Lars felt the need to point this out. And what happened to reducing my risk and keeping me safe? I thought you were concerned about that.
I am, but you’re weak right now. If you can’t kill quickly, you’re going to be dead anyway. Don’t be so careful. Know your limits. Play to your strengths.
Balanced stats would at least let me take a hit though . . . Lars glanced over for a moment at the powerhouse next to him, who had probably a solid three to five times more points than he had total. If I can take a hit, it’ll give time for her to be able to save me . . . he reasoned.
Not bad logic. She has a vested interest in keeping you alive, and her Speed is greater than yours by leaps and bounds. It may be a good decision to turtle up since you have a bodyguard that can do the fighting for you now.
Lars nodded. Okay, let’s do it like that. He began to distribute his points. He didn’t know why, but the uneven numbers, like 2,029 instead of 2,030 or—even better—2,050 or 2,500 bothered him. He liked his numbers to feel nice and whole, so he began by raising his Power and Speed both to 2,500. It took 1,348 of his 10,130 points, but he didn’t see an issue with that.
Then, with the remaining 8,782 points, he raised his Resistance and Fortitude to 4,500 each. That left him with 549 points, at which point he dumped those remaining points into Speed, raising it to 3,049, giving him 2,500 Power; 3,049 Speed; 4,500 Fortitude; and 4,500 Resistance. He didn’t know whether it was the best distribution, and there was a chance that Ophelia’s original recommendation to put most everything into Power and Speed and remain a glass cannon was correct, but with Su Ryeon by his side, he felt a lot safer having m
ore Fortitude and Resistance. With his rise in stat points, though, also came an increase in level as he quickly progressed from Stage 5 to Stage 7, giving him 240 more Unassigned Qi. If he had raised his power even 60 points more, he’d have already progressed to Stage 8 too.
“How did you do that?” Su Ryeon asked as she studied him. “You just . . . from Stage 5 . . . to Stage 7. No, you’re almost Stage 8, aren’t you?”
“You can tell exactly how strong I am, not just my Qi-Gathering Stage?” Lars asked.
“I can see through most. I can see their elements and their strengths easily,” she said. “It is part of the reason I was the first taken by Bok Kyu.”
“That’s handy,” he replied.
“You, though . . . You’re a chaotic swirl of darkness like a thousand colors pooled together in a pond with no bottom. I can only tell your strength by how dark and far the hand reaches out from you.”
“Well . . . that’s creepy.” Lars forced a small chuckle.
I love it when people compliment me with such flowery words. This girl is good. She’s a smart one, she is.
So, you’re a darkness swirling around me . . . Lars tried to imagine it. He wanted desperately to put an image to Ophelia’s voice, but it was hard to picture exactly what a thousand colors pooled together in a pond with no bottom looked like.
Well, part of that image is you, my little warlock.
Warlock? Lars latched onto the word for a moment.
I’m a super-powerful, awesome ancient being, and you draw your power from a contract made with me, albeit not by you exactly. So, you know, “warlock” seems like the only way to describe you. My favorite warlock of all time.
Do you have any others? Lars quickly asked, feeling a little betrayed. He thought he was the only one.
Nope. Just you. You’re the only one I’ve ever had too, so stop worrying.
Then . . . how can I be your favorite warlock? Lars chuckled.
You win by default. Fun, right? It also means you’re my least favorite warlock of all time too. If you’re not happy with the title of My Favorite Warlock, we could give you other fun titles like Ophelia’s Worst Warlock. That’d be a fun little title, no?
