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That’s when—

“Ahem. I know it may be presumptuous of me to say, but wouldn’t it be rude to keep carrying on this comedy routine?”

Among our group who had been silently observing the situation, the only man (well, aside from Sechs, who is male too) Emil, originally the attendant of Sir Simon, gently whispered a word of caution.

I hurriedly straightened my posture.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Clara, the appointed Shrine Maiden, visiting on behalf of the St. Ravier Church. Thank you for taking the time to receive us on such short notice today.”

“No, no, if possible, I would’ve preferred to welcome you not in such a crude place, but rather in my modest main residence within the inner walls, the central district. However, you see, we have an auction for ‘goods’ scheduled here in just a few days, and given my position, I cannot afford to be away from this location.”

Mr. Cervantes hunched his shoulders apologetically—his triple chin becoming a quadruple one—and narrowed his already small eyes further beneath the layers of flesh. With such a genuinely regretful demeanor, he could have passed for a harmless and even likable man, if only one didn’t know he was a slave trader.

At that moment, the young man Dan, who had guided us this far, stepped behind Mr. Cervantes, keeping a respectful distance, and assumed a posture of attention behind his back with practiced ease.

It seems he also serves as a bodyguard.

“Not at all. We are the ones imposing upon your busy schedule with such a sudden request, so it’s only natural that we come to you. Please don’t trouble yourself over it.”

“I’m very grateful to hear that. As a devout believer living in the Holy Capital myself, I’ve made a modest offering each year, no less than fifty thousand gold coins, if I may add.”

When Mr. Cervantes proudly puffed out his chest and spoke of “fifty thousand gold coins,” the members of Twinfang of the Snowy Peaks standing behind me all simultaneously gasped, widened their eyes, and let out low whistles of astonishment.

Fifty thousand gold coins in this country is equivalent to around 1.2 to 1.3 billion yen. In this city, where there’s a toxic belief that the more you donate, the more virtuous and noble you are, it made sense—though certainly not justifiable—that someone like him, a blatant slave trader, could openly run a storefront even in the lower city and receive full approval from the church.

“Rather than such superficial merits, being of service to the Shrine Maiden like this is a joy beyond measure for any faithful follower of the Saintess Church. …Of course, in gratitude for this splendid encounter, I do intend to make future donations, however modest, to the St. Ravier Church as well.”

He called it “modest,” but this was a man who casually donates fifty thousand gold coins a year. If we received just a thousand of those, I might finally be freed from my daily fare of salty vegetable soup and rye bread… No! I mustn’t! That money comes from a man who buys and sells human lives!

Even if the money itself bears no sin, my conscience and sense of ethics simply won’t allow me to accept such funds. I must absolutely refuse!

…Still, for someone like me who’s supposed to be used to frugal meals, what does it say about the food situation at the St. Ravier Church that I’m already starting to crack? The High Priestess, Lady Teressa, practices strict vegetarianism and holds to austere living, and because I technically rank just beneath her, I’ve been following suit, but surely there must be some room for compromise?

Thinking such thoughts, I put on my most polished professional smile and immediately declined Mr. Cervantes’ offer.

“I appreciate the kind gesture, but we follow a doctrine of sacred poverty. We believe that material indulgence is a shackle that binds the freedom of the soul. So truly, your sentiment alone is more than enough.”

“Hmm… I see. Indeed, an overt exchange of money might stir envy from other churches and lead to unwanted scrutiny over nothing.”

Mr. Cervantes responded with an air of understanding, while completely misunderstanding the point.

“In that case, it simply needs to not be in the form of money. —Dan!”
“Sir!”

The moment Mr. Cervantes called out to him, the young man Dan responded immediately, spinning on his heel.

“Ah yes, I hadn’t introduced him yet. This fellow is my right-hand man, Dan. He’s got strength to match his brains; cool-headed and highly competent. Among our circle, he’s affectionately known as Steel Ba… ahem, Steel Guts.”

((((Steel… balls.))))

Reacting to the crude joke, all six of us—myself and the five members of Twinfang of the Snowy Peaks—involuntarily cast lukewarm glances at the man in question, the young Dan. Our attention was, rather pointedly, drawn to his lower half…

“……”

And yet, true to his nickname of Steel Something, he showed not even the slightest twitch of embarrassment, despite being under the curious scrutiny of six young women. It seems his title of “Steel Ball” was no empty boast.

“Bring out the star item. And don’t forget the special Stigma collar.”

With a bow, Dan acknowledged the command and passed by us, leaving the room once more.

“Now then, no need for us to keep standing around. Please, this way.”

Urged on, we took our seats on the sofas arranged in the center of the room.

That seemed to be the cue for the line of slave boys to begin moving, each carrying trays of tea, sweets, and fruit to place before us.

For the moment, it was probably up to me as the representative to taste something first—otherwise, the others wouldn’t feel comfortable eating or drinking.

Just as I reached toward a cup, Dan returned surprisingly quickly.

Following behind him was a boy, about half a head shorter than Dan. He looked to be around fourteen or fifteen, with deep violet hair so dark it could be mistaken for black, and amber-colored eyes. His delicate features stood out, even among the other slave boys in the room, he was remarkably beautiful.

He was clearly a slave as well. Though the design was different and more ornate, the collar around his neck marked him as such. Other than that, he wore nothing but a simple waist cloth…barely clothed, just like the others.

—No, there was one more thing that stood out: embedded right in the center of his chest was a jet-black gemstone, about the size of an adult’s thumb. It glinted with a dark sheen, and I felt like I’d seen it somewhere before…

Before I could quite place where, Kaisa frowned and muttered in a growling tone, her voice heavy with surprise.

“A magic stone embedded since birth… so he’s a demonkin?!”

“Well spotted. You’re quite knowledgeable. —Indeed, this is the real thing: a legendary demonkin said to live on the far opposite side of the continent. Even I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen one alive. He’ll be the highlight of the upcoming auction, starting at a thousand gold coins.”

Cervantes, now seated on the opposite sofa across the table, wore the smug expression of a merchant proudly showing off his prized goods, his jowls quivering with satisfaction.

“What do you think, Shrine Maiden Princess? If you’d like, I’ll present him to you. Come now, a token of goodwill between us—cheap at the price, and since it’s not money, there’s no problem, yes?”

Too many problems!! I can’t even keep up with how many things I need to object to!!

Despite being the center of conversation, the demonkin boy simply stood there, motionless like a doll.

And standing beside him, the young Dan once again fixed his eyes on me with that same dark, unreadable gaze—something shadowed, something held back—but in that moment, I was far too overwhelmed to notice.

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