How much time had passed.
The girl couldn't really tell. When the man left and she surrendered her body to the mercenaries who filed in to take his place, all she saw was the bland canvas ceiling of the carriage. Her mother's words — always repeated in her consciousness — echoed once more.
Have pride.
In the corridors of the Farnese estate hung portraits of every head of the family. Her mother had pointed to each one, partly to familiarize her daughter with the estate. The first head, Pietro. The second, Prudenzio. The third — Laura could read nothing from their gazes, painted in murky pigments. In her mind, all the portraits blurred together into swirling gray sludge.
A thought surfaced that she had never once had before.
Come to think of it... what did my own gaze look like?
Laura was a noble lady. To put it dramatically, she faced a mirror as often as she drew breath. And yet she had never once thought about her own gaze. She desperately rummaged through her memories. What did she look like in the mirror? With her sharp memory, she recalled it quickly. In her memories, her eyes were dead.
"Commoner."
"Huh? That's a rare one — the young miss deigning to speak to me."
The mercenary said flatly. He was reshaping Laura's body in various ways to satisfy the diverse tastes of aristocratic clients. Noble ladies typically collapsed completely during this process, unable to bear the experience of their bodies slipping beyond their own control. The mercenaries absolutely loved watching them degrade — witnessing this new, utterly unwanted side of their own physicality. In other words, Laura was the worst possible subject. There wasn't a shred of that in her.
"What do you see in my eyes?"
"Huh? Eyes? What, do your eyes hurt somewhere?"
"No. I'm asking in the literal sense. What do you feel from my eyes?"
The mercenary picked at Laura's hindquarters and let out a snort.
"Feel? There's nothing to feel. Like staring at a dead man's corpse — completely empty. Just catching your gaze ruins my whole day, so whatever you do, don't look my way."
"...Is that so."
"Yeah. Seriously, it's been forever since I've lost the will to work. And on a subject who looks pretty on the outside, no less. Never thought I'd see the day. Tch, tch. I'd pray the fellow who ends up as your master is real kind-hearted. If it were me, I'd beat you with a whip every day until you died within two."
The mercenary kept grumbling. No more words reached the girl. She was quietly enveloped in shock. She — more sensitive to gazes than anyone, more attuned to their meaning — had been unable to look at her own eyes. What was the difference between the pupils in those portraits hanging in the estate corridors and her own? What separated her from those portraits, which occupied space without any meaning whatsoever?
Was the life she had longed for no different from those portraits?
"Thank you for your cooperation! Ladies and gentlemen, I wholeheartedly welcome you all to the Opera de Pavia Auction House!"
Even as the bidding commenced, she remained lost in thought. It wasn't as though she was mulling over any clear topic or logical argument. Vague fragments of words drifted through her consciousness like a cork bobbing on the surface of the sea after plunging into the depths. Laura was exhausted by the thoughts that yielded no answers.
She glanced around. Behind the stage, other slaves waited. Some, consumed by anxiety, furtively peeked past the partition at the audience. Others sat slumped on the floor, hugging their knees. The slave overseer yawned extravagantly at this tedious spectacle that played out every week. Each of them was relinquishing hope for life in their own particular way. Laura came to realize that her own philosophy was merely one among those many expressions.
"This time, the slave we present to you is none other than the second heir to the illustrious Parnese Ducal House, which wielded unchecked power in the Kingdom of Sardinia!"
The overseer gave her back an unspoken shove. Laura stepped out onto the stage. There, she was engulfed by a torrent of gazes. Nearly a thousand eyes fixed upon her alone. The talent with which Laura had been naturally endowed allowed her, in an instant, to decipher meaning from dozens upon hundreds of stares. Amusement, contempt, anger, anxiety, competitiveness, lust—suddenly her head spun. It felt as though something almost primal had become a warm, fetid breath clinging to her entire body.
"Last time, during the Chrysanthemum War..."
"So the Temple's excommunication decree really is terrifying. The Parnese, of all families..."
"A lovelier young lady than the rumors suggest."
Sweat trickled down Laura's spine. But she gritted her teeth. She lifted her chin high. She crossed the stage with the aristocratic gait she had drilled into herself since the age of four. What kept her upright now was over a decade of learned refinement. Yet she could not stop her head from drooping lower and lower beneath the weight of those eyes.
The announcer, apparently satisfied with her bearing, bellowed to the crowd.
"Lady Laura de Farnese, Duchess of the Parnese lineage!"
Applause erupted. Among the crowd were those hostile to the Parnese name. Humiliation flooded through Laura. Unconsciously, her fists clenched at her sides. Is this it? Is this my life? Am I to accept all of them as they are, within my own existence?
"Apologies, but this item comes at a steep starting price. We expect it will undoubtedly set the highest record in this auction house's history. A staggering 500 gold! The bidding begins at 500 gold!"
Was she supposed to stand here and watch herself reduced to a mere object?
"Incredible! No sooner was the opening price named than six bidders raised their hands. My apologies, but we must count from the first to raise theirs—bidder number 213. Bidder number 231, 550 gold!"
Laura's heart constricted. Bitter poison colored her thoughts. What on earth was happening? Her father, who had concealed the fact that she was illegitimate. The household retainers, who somehow knew and insulted her at every turn. The position to which she had been consigned. Where, in all of this, had her own will ever been permitted? How long was she supposed to merely accept and resign herself to what happened in her life?
Laura murmured softly.
"...Dantalion."
But there was no response. Only the announcer's voice rang out, louder and fiercer.
"Yes, bidder number 567, 600 gold! Bidder number 13, 650 gold!"
Laura moved her lips once more. Dantalion. Still, nothing happened.
'Bidder number 64, 1,650 gold! Good heavens! My God! That is already the highest price in history!'
The girl raised her head. She wanted to place her hope in the one person whose gaze she could not decipher. She didn't care if it meant making a contract with a devil. If she could only escape a life that resembled the portraits decorating the corridors of the estate — if she could only leave this dreadful place. She screamed with everything she had.
'——Dantalion!'
And light spread outward.
The surprise attack was effective. The slightly dim lighting inside the theater made the monster's silhouette all the more terrifying. As the golem, two or three times the size of a human, went on a rampage, noble ladies who had never seen a monster before shrieked loud enough to shake the building.
Hundreds of people trampled one another as they fled — colliding, falling, being crushed. More humans likely died from being crushed to death than from the golem itself. If they acted in an orderly fashion, ten golems would be easy enough to deal with. But I had no time to spare. I needed to move while the shock of the surprise attack still held, before people regained their wits or the city guards came pouring in.
"Jack! Where are you, Jack!"
"Lolita!"
I spotted Jack in the very front row of the audience. His face looked like his soul had left his body. He greeted me the way a drowning man might gaze upon a lifeline dropped from heaven.
I spoke urgently.
"We need to get out of here, fast. I don't know what's going on, but—"
"Y-Your Excellency… I can't just leave Lady de Farnese behind… The future of the consortium…"
Jack stared at the stage with desperate eyes.
"It's not just my consortium that'll take a huge hit — your father's consortium will be devastated too!"
Selling Laura must have been an enormously important deal for his slave-trading business. The amount of connections and capital it must have taken to rescue the daughter of a duchy was dizzying just to think about. I slapped his cheek lightly.
"Snap out of it! There's no reason to panic. Listen carefully. We take Lady de Farnese and get out of here calmly. Understood? Calmly."
"Y-Yes. Let's do that."
I grabbed his hand. I practically dragged Jack onto the stage. The announcer was doing his best to calm the audience from the stage, repeatedly bellowing, "Please evacuate in an orderly fashion!" He was a consummate professional in that he didn't flee before the audience — though whether the adjective "consummate" truly applied to the host of a slave auction was debatable.
He spotted us and his eyes went wide.
"Everyone! You must not come up to the stage!"
"We are the guild representing the owner of Laura de Farnese!"
I shouted.
"We are the Medolanum Guild under the Lombard Guild! We shall escape with the slaves in tow!"
"Show us the Slave Brand!"
He was quick on the uptake, sure enough. He wanted to see proof first, above all else. He must have fully grasped how serious the situation was. I briefly wondered what the announcer's stats might be, but unfortunately there was no time to check.
"Here it is!"
Jack stepped forward and rolled up his sleeve. A tattoo with a strange, intricate pattern was engraved on his forearm. The announcer pulled a sheet of paper from inside his coat. He alternated glances between Jack's forearm and the paper, then nodded.
"Take him! We apologize in advance for this unfortunate incident!"
Then the announcer tapped his vocal cords twice. As if the sound-amplification magic had been released, his voice shrank back to a normal, quiet level.
"There's a secret door behind the stage. May Hermes' blessing be with you."
"Thank you! May Hermes' blessing be with you!"
I clicked my tongue in admiration. Even amidst the chaos, he was still looking after his customers. Moreover, he'd lowered his voice to tell us about the secret door. The opera house's front entrance was completely blocked—no one could get out that way. If the audience learned there was a secret escape route, they would swarm here in an instant. The situation would go from bad to worse. The announcer had preempted that very scenario. They say a person's true worth shines in times of crisis—this man was too talented to waste as a mere auctioneer.
'What a shame we're short on time.'
As people filed out of the audience, a few spectators who knew some martial arts remained behind. They formed what lines they could and began fighting back against the golems. The effects of the chaos were still too strong for them to mount a proper defense, but they were far stronger than any F-rank adventurers. If we delayed even a little longer, the golem squad might actually be wiped out. We grabbed Laura and sprinted toward the back of the theater.
"Just who exactly are you—"
"Please be quiet for now."
Laura tried to say something, but I cut her off. Escaping was what mattered right now. We ran along behind the stage, and sure enough, there was a small door. The moment I opened it and stepped through, I spoke.
"Lapis, you can do it now."
Lapis whispered softly. It was a recall spell.
Jack panted as he asked from beside me.
"That person, huff… who is she?"
"A companion of mine, and a mage. She just cast a simple defensive spell on us."
"Oh!"
Jack seemed impressed that the mage was a companion. He bowed his head toward Lapis and thanked her.
"Come on. We don't know when things might go south. Let's keep running."
"You're right. Haa, I have no idea what's going on."
The four of us — Lapis, Jack, Laura, and I — made it completely out of the theater. Outside was just as chaotic as inside. Nobles had abandoned all decorum, scrambling to find their carriages. The coachmen, looking dazed, were being shouted at by their masters to hurry up and get the carriages moving. Some crashed into other carriages in their rush to assemble too quickly. But that was nothing compared to what came next.
"Oh my God!"
Jack's jaw dropped at the sight of the city. Smoke was rising from the far opposite end of the city, away from the slave auction house. It was a massive column of smoke, turning the sky above the city pitch-black. Someone had deliberately set the city on fire — there was no mistaking it.
I laughed inwardly. The job I had entrusted to Lapis had gone exactly as planned. The fire was burning on dry straw bales, which exaggerated the amount of smoke, but Jack had no way of knowing that.
The city guard would be just as fooled. The sudden smoke — they would dispatch immediately to investigate. Meanwhile, I would summon the monsters at the slave auction house. By the time the guards heard the news and crossed the city to reach this spot, it would take quite a while. Even if they entered the theater shortly after, they would find nothing there.
I put on a grave expression and spoke.
"…A coordinated attack. I don't know which organization did this, but it's dangerous here. Jack, I have a carriage nearby. Let's take it and head for the outskirts of the city."
Jack was too dazed to do anything but agree. We ran a short distance from the auction house and climbed into the carriage. Lapis, who could handle a horse and carriage as well as ride, took the driver's seat. With a light flick of the reins, the two horses surged forward powerfully. The carriage shot through the city's north gate at speed. Only then could I finally allow myself to smile.
============================ Author's Note ============================
Napkin Kim // The language ability Dantalion wields is actually a skill. Thanks to it, he can use the languages of this other world without any trouble. When the Acting skill activates, it stacks on top of the language skill. And the Acting skill's target range isn't "me" but the other person. In other words, Dantalion doesn't notice that his speech is coming out differently from his actual intentions.(...) That's because Dantalion doesn't perceive other people's words through his ears — he reads them through his skill. Also, thank you so much for the coupons! I'll keep going until the end!