The Freed S*aves Became Obsessed

Victor, the former master of the assassin guild.

Another name he went by was the "Shadow Duke."

He created daggers from shadows and slaughtered his enemies. The image of his daggers fluttering like feathers as he killed earned him the title, as if the duke himself were performing a graceful dance with his wings spread wide.

Feather-like daggers began to dance in the light of the torches.

“Aaahhh!”

“Ambush! Grab your weapons and fight back!”

The mercenaries tried to fight back, but they were already too drunk. Unable to react to the daggers flying all around the camp, they fell one after another, overwhelmed by the onslaught.

Thud. Thud.

The mercenaries’ bodies jerked and twisted as they were pierced by the shadow daggers, and blood scattered like petals.

The scene was so beautiful it could have been mistaken for a performance on a stage, rather than a battlefield.

In the middle of this chaotic scene, Karamir walked calmly, as if he were in another dimension. He approached the unconscious elf who had collapsed from pain.

[Arpia, the Forever Suffering Elf]

She would be his second main slave.

“Well, I’ll be damned. An actual elf,” Karamir muttered.

Victor, who had quickly finished his work, stood beside Karamir. Staying true to his creed of "no witnesses," Victor’s daggers vanished, leaving the mercenaries’ bodies fused with their own shadows.

“Could you break the prison bars and the shackles as well?” Karamir asked.

“Are you sure about this? If she wakes up and uses her power, I might not be able to handle her on my own,” Victor cautioned.

“It’s fine. That won’t happen,” Karamir said confidently.

Victor wasn’t sure how Karamir could be so certain, but he had learned to trust his words. Without hesitation, he swung his dagger.

Slash.

With a soft slicing sound, the iron bars and the shackles were cut like soft vegetables.

“Heave-ho,” Karamir said, lifting the unconscious Arpia onto his back.

“What will you do with the elf?” Victor asked.

“You’re asking a slave trader what he’ll do with a defenseless elf? What a pointless question.”

“Hm.”

“You’re not having second thoughts now, are you?”

“Of course not. I’m not in a position to have such thoughts.”

With that, Karamir and Victor casually walked away from the massacre, exchanging idle conversation.

As they made their way back to the city, Victor glanced sideways at Karamir.

Elves supposedly lived on nothing but dew. Arpia, as slender as she appeared, was still making Karamir sweat as he carried her.

“You seem to be struggling. Want me to carry her instead?” Victor offered.

“Huff, huff… No, it’s fine. My slave, my responsibility,” Karamir replied.

Victor wasn’t sure if Karamir was being responsible or just stubborn. Either way, it left him with mixed feelings.

“Is this really an elf?” one of the children asked.

“What do you mean, this? You should say, this person!”

What is this...?

Arpia lay in the darkness, deep in thought.

The high-pitched voice that knew no restraint was the kind typical of children, the kind you could hear anywhere. Her head was already spinning, and the noisy sounds battering her eardrums made it worse.

But why was she hearing the voices of children?

Arpia searched her memory.

She’d woken up after drinking and had been kidnapped by humans and locked in a cage. When the pain overwhelmed her, she’d asked for some alcohol but was coldly refused.

After that, her consciousness had slowly faded, and just before losing it entirely, something had happened…

But she couldn’t remember.

In the end, there was nothing useful in her memory. Deciding it was better to play unconscious for now and gather more information, Arpia stayed still.

“I-I just saw her ears twitch,” one child whispered.

“Her ears are so long. Are they real? Can I touch them?” another asked.

No, you may not.

Elves are very sensitive about their ears. Touching them without permission is a grave offense, children of the human race.

“No, Karamir oppa said we shouldn’t touch her,” a third child reminded them.

Karamir oppa. Whoever that is, thank you.

Arpia wanted to continue pretending to be asleep, but she knew there were limits to what she could learn just by listening. She couldn’t stay like this forever.

She cracked her eyes open slightly, only to find four children staring right at her.

“She opened her eyes!”@@novelbin@@

“She’s awake!”

Arpia cursed herself for being too close to the children, her small movement having given her away. She forced a gentle smile.

“Haha… hello?” she greeted.

“Hello!” the children chorused.

“So polite. But you’re standing a little too close. Could you back up a bit?” she asked.

The children obediently moved back.

Children who listen well are adorable, no matter the race, Arpia thought. She slowly sat up and looked around.

The bed she was lying on was white, and there was another identical bed next to it. There was also a cabinet that seemed to be for storage.

To humans, this would be a very ordinary interior, but to Arpia, an elf, it felt completely foreign.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“This is our house!” one of the children replied.

“Your house? Not a prison?”

“A prison? Are you a criminal?” one of the children asked, eyes wide.

“Well, no…”

What exactly had happened to her?

Come to think of it, the shackles that had been on her body were gone. But Arpia didn’t feel relieved at all.

“What?” she gasped.

The shackles were no longer on her body… but they were still on her soul.

Arpia’s face paled with shock.

‘Why… why me?’

A soul contract.

For elves, this carried a much deeper meaning.

Elves, who love only one person for their entire lives, inscribe a thousand-year vow under the World Tree with their partner to seal their love.

If the vow is broken, it becomes a curse that takes root in their soul, condemning them to a life of torment.

But Arpia’s soul was now bound by a shackle. It was already stained. This meant she could never share love with anyone ever again.

“……”

Arpia felt an indescribable emotion well up inside her. Being captured as a slave was one thing, but knowing that her soul was tainted was an enormous shock.

“Are you okay, unnie? You don’t look good,” one of the children asked, peering into her face.

Forcing a smile, Arpia reassured them, “I-I’m fine. But are you all slaves too?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I’m not.”

“Me neither.”

Not only had these humans kidnapped her, they had enslaved these young children as well. Arpia clenched her teeth in anger.

“Where is your master?” she asked.

“Karamir oppa? He’s waiting upstairs.”

Karamir oppa. So that’s the man’s name.

Arpia swung her legs off the bed, determined to see the face of the man who had stained her soul.

“Ugh.”

The moment she stood up, dizziness hit her, and she staggered. As she regained her composure, the pain quickly followed, cold sweat pouring down her face.

“Unnie, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine.”

After calming the concerned children, Arpia walked out of the room and made her way upstairs.

There, in the tavern, two men were sitting and chatting.

One was an old man with white hair and a beard. The other was a handsome man with jet-black hair, the exact opposite.

Thanks to the soul shackles, Arpia instinctively knew that the black-haired man was the one who had bound her, the Karamir oppa the children spoke of.

And, whether she wanted to admit it or not, by elven standards, this man was now her life partner.

‘…I guess he is good-looking.’

Even among elves, he wouldn’t pale in comparison to the men. Not that this made her feel any more fondness toward him.

As soon as Arpia appeared, Karamir greeted her with a smile.

“You’re finally awake. I was starting to worry you might never wake up.”

Arpia didn’t respond immediately, instead staring intently at Karamir.

What kind of person is he? What is his personality like?

‘On the surface, he doesn’t seem like a bad person...’

But if he were truly good, he wouldn’t have enslaved those adorable children. He wouldn’t have had mercenaries kidnap her.

As Arpia calmly analyzed the situation, she quickly reached her conclusion.

“Let me go.”

“Pardon?”

“Let me go.”

Straightforward, direct confrontation. That was Arpia’s choice.

“Not only did you kidnap me and make me your slave, but you also scarred my soul… And on top of that, you’ve enslaved those poor children. Don’t you feel any guilt?”

“Haha, guilt? I always take pride in my actions,” Karamir replied with a laugh.

“This… is something you’re proud of?”

“Absolutely.”

The sight of Karamir grinning as if nothing was wrong made Arpia’s blood boil.

“Ugh.”

She let out a small groan.

The malicious forces feeding off her emotions were having a field day. Arpia clutched her chest in frustration, pounding it lightly with her hand.

“Are you alright? Is something wrong?” Karamir asked.

“I-It’s nothing…”

“Well, if you say so.”

Karamir took a sip of his drink.

“Instead of just standing there awkwardly, why don’t you join me for a drink?”

“What?”

The word pierced Arpia’s long ears like a bolt of lightning.

‘A drink?’

Her eyes gleamed.

‘Does a master usually share drinks with their slave?’ she wondered, but that wasn’t the issue.

If she could just get some alcohol, she could suppress the thorns of pain clawing at her insides. It wasn’t because she wanted to drink human alcohol, of course.

“Ahem, there’s nothing quite like a drink to ease the tension when talking to someone unfamiliar,” Arpia said, clearing her throat and rationalizing her decision as she sat down next to Karamir. Karamir poured a clear, pale blue liquid into a glass and slid it toward her.

It was a type of alcohol Arpia had never seen before.

“What’s this?”

“It’s Lunabloom. A drink made from the petals of the moonflower. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Arpia hesitated at first, but seeing Karamir drink it himself, her wariness eased. She sniffed the liquid before taking a small sip.

The first taste was soft and delicate. The floral aroma lingered on her tongue, and as the drink went down her throat, it was as if she could feel the coolness of a moonlit night.

The calm of a quiet moonlit night washed over her.

“Wow…”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s… really good. I didn’t know alcohol could taste like this.”

With just one sip, the tension in Arpia’s body melted away.

The strong alcohol spread through her body, soothing the chaotic forces within her. As they became intoxicated, the malicious spirits quieted down, and the pain lessened.

“Good drinks transcend race,” Karamir said with a smile.

“Exactly! You really get it, don’t you?” Arpia exclaimed, jumping to her feet in excitement.

In that moment, silence fell over the room.

Realizing that everyone was staring at her with wide eyes—Victor, the children peeking their heads upstairs—Arpia awkwardly sat back down.

Karamir, however, merely smiled like a fisherman who had just reeled in his catch.

“As they say, each drink strips away another layer of the veil,” he said, grinning.

Blushing, Arpia quickly took another drink.

“So, you asked me to let you go?” Karamir asked.

“Yes. Are you going to do it?” she replied, her voice steadier now.

“Hmm, I’d like to, but if I let you go, I’d be taking quite a loss… Oh, wait,” Karamir said, as if something had just occurred to him.

“How about this? Let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Whoever can hold their liquor better. If you win, I’ll set you free. What do you think? Sounds like a fair deal, doesn’t it?”