43. Non-Mainstream Slave

“What do you mean, no slaves?”

“Sorry ’bout that. The Church pretty much bought ’em all up.”

At the slave trader’s words, my body stiffened instantly.

“Shion! Hey, snap out of it!”

“Ugh! T-this can’t be… Aah.”

This was already the third shop telling me they had no slaves, and my mind was going numb.

How could the great Labyrinth City have no slaves?

The reason, unsurprisingly, was the Great Cataclysm.

“This can’t be…”

According to the slave trader, an unimaginable number of slaves had been swept away and killed in this Great Cataclysm.

Most porters were slaves, after all.

It was a profession overwhelmingly dominated by slaves-so much so that non-slave porters like me were rare.

The weak slave porters had been caught in the Great Cataclysm and died for various reasons.

Some might have been used as decoys for escape.

Others might have fallen below and died from Maso poisoning.

Either way, the entire porter class had practically vanished.

And right after the Great Cataclysm began, the slave market had been raided once, they said.

I was just a step too late.

Moreover, it seemed a significant number of slaves the Church had been managing on its own had also been swept away.

To replenish their workforce, they even scooped up all the slaves they’d been releasing into the market.

The slave factories had shut down.

What made this even worse was that corpse recovery wasn’t going well in the underground city, so the supply itself had dwindled.

A complete disaster.

“Even the corpse recovery teams got wiped out in the Cataclysm. No way around it, I suppose. Either wait at least four more months or head to the black market and find a dealer specializing in heteromorphic slaves. One of the two.”

That was the slave trader’s advice.

It would take at least four more months before the slave supply showed any signs of recovery.

Demand had skyrocketed, but supply was absurdly low.

And with the Church hoarding slaves for its own use instead of releasing them, the few remaining slaves had already been sold at triple the average price.

This situation would likely continue until the Labyrinth City stabilized.

“The Church and the Guild are handling it, but…”

“It’ll deal a heavy blow to the city’s economy. The streets are gonna get real tense.”

I saw a new possibility here.

Was this unrest caused by external forces?

You’re telling me some cowardly underworld scum pulled this off on their own?

Street cleaners suddenly jumping into slave hunting? No way.

Something was definitely behind this.

Moreover, it hadn’t even been a month since the Cataclysm, yet incidents like this were already happening-it felt like someone was deliberately trying to destabilize the Labyrinth City.

I sensed malice.

Like some vile schemers were extending their claws.

“Something’s off. Right?”

“Yeah.”

Walking through the market district, Yuria and I exchanged thoughts.

Yuria, like me, felt something sinister at play.

“Hmm. Shion, you think the Kingdom or the Empire might be behind this?”

“Could be. They’re always eyeing the Labyrinth City greedily.”

“Hmm. Hard to say. Well, Mom’ll handle the complicated stuff.”

“True. The Guild Leader will take care of it.”

“Let’s just hurry to the next shop.”

Yuria tugged at my hand.

She seemed eager to finish buying a slave quickly so we could go have fun.

“By the way, Yuria, do you even know where this black-market slave dealer is? You’re leading the way pretty confidently.”

“Uh. No. I don’t! Never been to the black market. You guide me.”

Yuria, who’d never cared about slaves, wouldn’t know the location of a specialty slave shop.

If I hadn’t mentioned buying one, she probably would’ve gone her whole life without ever owning a slave.

And she’d never even been to the black market?

Classic Yuria. Lived such a proper life.

“Hey, Shion. This street looks kinda dangerous, doesn’t it?”

“Probably ’cause we’re near the black market.”

“Huh. You seem pretty familiar with this area. You’ve been to the black market before?”

“Not often. Just a few times. I haven’t been in much.”

The Labyrinth City’s western district had a black market.

A place for trading things you couldn’t sell openly.

Like tentacle dildos or masturbatory pet slimes.

Or low-risk mimics for pressure fetishes.

They dealt in drugs too, but from what I knew, it was about as mild as Earth’s marijuana.

Nothing like fentanyl-level brain melters-those were fringe even here.

“Wow, you’re weak but sure wander dangerous places, huh? Just casually strolling through brothels and black markets?”

“Hey, Yuria. ‘Weak’ is harsh. I’m still stronger than those bums over there.”

“Hey! Of course you’re stronger than bums! You pathetic Easterner! Ugh!”

“Ow! Hey! Yuria! That hurts! Stop! Gah!”

Yuria locked her fingers tightly around mine.

“My fingers are breaking!!”

No joke, my fingers felt like they’d snap.

Her strength was insane-my fingers were bending backward.

“I surrender! I surrender!”

As soon as I surrendered, Yuria grinned and let go.

My hand was throbbing.

“Hehe. Weakling Shion. Don’t get cocky. Tell me before you go to dangerous places from now on.”

“Ugh. Damn it.”

“Huh? ‘Damn it’? Wanna taste something spicy? Wanna wrestle? Need a spinning toss? It’s been a while!”

Yuria immediately tried lifting me.

No resisting. If I stayed still, she’d definitely give me the spinning toss.

She’d done it a few times before.

Might puke.

“Hey! Why are you getting feisty?”

“Hehe. What can you even do if I bully you? Just take it.”

“Gah! You bitch! Just wait till we’re in bed!”

“Huh? Bed?!”

Yuria froze at the word “bed.”

She carefully set me back down and brushed off my shoulders.

“Ahem, ahem… Bed… Yeah. Bed’s good. Yeah, yeah.”

“What? Why’re you suddenly flustered?”

“N-no reason! It’s just embarrassing! Talking about beds out of nowhere! Ugh…! Come here! This is your fault!”

“Gah! Y-Yuria! Can’t breathe!”

Maybe feeling guilty for bullying me, Yuria hugged me tight.

Or was she hugging me because she was embarrassed?

Sure, being in Yuria’s arms was nice, but this time, I was suffocating.

How to put it…

Yuria was like a big dog.

Adorable and lovable, but…

A bit overwhelming since she’s stronger than me.

And this level of PDA near the black market?

Some lunatic might pick a fight, but…

“Eek…”

“Ahem…”

“Red hair… scary…”

Everyone avoided us.

In the Labyrinth City, it was best not to mess with redheads.

Especially black market folks-they tended to freak out at the sight of red hair.

Just what did the Guild Leader do in her youth?

Probably slaughtered countless people to maintain the city’s order.

“This is the last proper slave dealer.”

“The vibe’s different from the earlier shops.”

“Probably ’cause they specialize in non-mainstream slaves.”

Slaves had mainstream and non-mainstream categories.

Pretty female slaves sold well, while armless male slaves didn’t.

The fact that this shop was near the black market meant it dealt in the latter.

What kind of slaves did they have?

Creak.

“Cough… cough… Customers…?”

Thick smoke greeted us as we entered.

At the counter was the shopkeeper, draped in a pitch-black blanket.

The blanket hid their face.

Through a small hole, they’d been smoking a pipe all day.

“Ugh. Ventilate this place.”

Yuria grumbled as she followed me inside.

“Sorry ’bout that. Not many customers lately.”

At Yuria’s complaint, the stubby-armed shopkeeper opened a window.

Even sitting, they seemed tiny.

A dwarf?

The giant blanket and small frame made the slave trader look like a child.

Of course, the gravelly voice prevented any age confusion, but visually, it was uncanny.

“So, what brings you here? Buying slaves? Young couples sure have unique tastes these days.”

They seemed to be under a huge misconception.

We weren’t here for kinks-just because slaves were sold out.

“Not for unique tastes. We’re here ’cause there are no slaves left.”

“Yeah, stock’s been low lately.”

The shopkeeper grabbed a keyring from the counter.

“Follow me. I’ll show you what’s left.”

Yuria and I followed them to the shop’s basement.

We were heading into a gloomy place, but I wasn’t worried.

Yuria was practically a Gold Rank adventurer, and I wasn’t weak enough to be bullied by a slave trader.

“It’s dark.”

“Yeah. They keep slaves here? Feels inhumane.”

Yuria threw the comment pointedly at the shopkeeper.

It did feel illegal.

Being right next to the black market made it even shadier.

“Hey, miss. Most of our stock ain’t even human. They hate sunlight, so we keep ’em down here. Expanded this basement ’cause the slaves asked for it. Cost a fortune, y’know? Don’t slander us. You got any idea how much it costs to build a basement like this? Now I’m pissed.”

The shopkeeper’s voice dripped with resentment.

They’d invested heavily in this basement, so being accused of inhumane treatment stung.

What kind of slaves hated sunlight?

I’d only come here because the last slave trader recommended it-I didn’t know the details.

I’d seen the sign while passing the black market but never planned to enter.

“Here we are. Don’t get too close to the cages. Might get fluids on your clothes.”

“Whoa.”

The slave shop was a small one-story building, but…

The basement was far more spacious than expected.

A vast underground space.

Filled with iron cages.

And dwarves, draped in black blankets like the shopkeeper, were tending to the slaves.

Feeding them, washing them, cleaning cages.

They were surprisingly well-managed.

“This is what’s left. Take a look. All legally acquired, so don’t worry.”

The people in the cages…

Some weren’t even people.

It felt like stepping into a circus exhibit.

“Heteromorphic slaves.”

“Are those even sentient?”

“They’re cursed by the Labyrinth.”

“Whoa.”

A slime with a human form waved at us.

“Male or female?”

“Depends on the owner’s taste, I guess.”

“…”

“Ooh.”

The difference between a masturbatory slime from a black-market adult shop and this slime slave was that the latter was originally human-cursed into slime form by the Labyrinth.

The Labyrinth’s curses came in many forms, but the most common was the Curse of Transformation.

It was like a penalty for unlucky deep-divers.

You could trigger a trap and get cursed.

Or get captured and altered by deep-layer monsters.

“Once cursed like this, you usually get two choices.”

Live bearing the curse.

Or become a monster, assimilating into the Labyrinth.

If you had money, exorcism was an option.

But without it, you lived on, cursed.

Living as a non-human was horrifying.

You could be mistaken for a monster and killed anytime, and you’d face constant rejection.

“So some willingly become slaves. Slave collars deter attacks. Exorcising the Curse of Transformation costs a fortune. Way pricier than resurrection magic.”

Since slaves were property, Labyrinth City folks generally didn’t touch others’ slaves.

Messing with a slave meant challenging their owner.

Still, these people have tragic fates.

They became slaves to survive, but a cruel owner could torture them to death.

Their lives were tragic in many ways.

They’d seen the depths of the underground city, only to end up as slaves-how heartbreaking must that be?

“I don’t know much about the Curse of Transformation. Do you lose all your strength if you mutate?”

“Varies. Some get stronger. Some lose their minds. All sorts. The ones here are the unlucky in-between. Made it back to the surface but can’t survive on their own. And can’t afford exorcism.”

“Ah.”

“But their deep-layer experience keeps demand steady.”

No matter how weak they were, their knowledge of the depths was invaluable.

That kind of insight couldn’t just be bought.

“Seems like business should be good.”

“It is. Wealthy fetishists buy ’em for kicks. Gold Rank and above adventurers hire ’em as guides. But since the Cataclysm, adventurer customers vanished. Still, we’ve got some uncursed slaves too. Take a look.”

This place had its own share of struggles.

“Shion. Over there.”

“Hm?”

While searching for a suitable housemaid slave, Yuria spotted something.