“Nnnghh... fuhh… Now, this is also done. Let's get going.”

  As soon as we stepped out of the cold, stone-heavy building of the slave merchant, the man who was now our master stopped and stretched his arms toward the sky. He looked remarkably relaxed, a sharp contrast to the rigid, professional demeanour of the merchant we had just left. He turned a casual glance toward us and gave a simple command before setting off down the street.

  “Y-yes,” I stammered. “Y-yes,” Wyn echoed.

  We were both deeply perplexed. We had expected a stern lecture on our duties or perhaps to be led directly to a cellar or a workspace. Instead, we were simply following him into the heart of the city. We walked for several minutes in a silence that felt heavy to us but seemingly light to him. It was the middle of the day, and Yargan was a cacophony of life. The streets were bustling with people—merchants shouting their wares, children darting between legs, and the constant rhythmic clatter of carriage wheels on cobblestones. We passed through vibrant districts and quiet alleys, our eyes darting around as we tried to stay close to his heels. After walking a bit further, we reached a district that was clearly dedicated to commerce, and he came to a halt in front of a clothing store. The nameplate above the door, elegantly carved, read Pinkdolls.

  “Follow me,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for a reply.

  Wyn and I exchanged a look of pure surprise. Even with our limited knowledge of the city, it was clear that this was a boutique for women's clothing. We didn't understand the reason a master would take his new slaves to such a place, but regardless of our confusion, we followed him. The interior was a sea of fabrics—silks, linens, and fine wools in every shade imaginable. He was already waiting for us at the reception desk.

  “...Okay, what were the names of you two again?” he asked, leaning casually against the wood.

  “It is Woya, master,” I answered quickly, bowing slightly. “Mine is Wyn, master,” my sister added, her voice a bit more guarded.

  “Okay, Woya and Wyn. What did you bring alongside you as clothing, including underwear, from the slave merchant’s shop?”

  The question was so intimate and casual that I felt the heat rise to my cheeks instantly. Wyn’s face also flushed a deep crimson. We weren't used to a man—especially our owner—discussing such things so openly.

  “W-we have a spare set of underwear aside from what we are currently wearing, master,” I said, looking at my feet. “And as for other clothes, we have these maid outfits and a simple cloth garment we wear when we sleep. That is all.”

  “Hmm… You practically don't have anything, then,” he mused, tapping his chin.

  I didn't know how to respond to that. To us, having a spare change of clothes and a dedicated sleeping garment felt like plenty compared to the rags some of the other slaves possessed.

  “Then, go select three pairs of underwear each, one cloth for the bed, and one spare outfit to use when you aren’t wearing those maid clothes. Sarya, please help them select.”

  He spoke as if he had planned this stop long before he ever walked into the slave market. A female employee, Sarya, stepped forward with a knowing smile.

  “Yes, sir Han,” she replied. Her familiarity with him was another surprise.

  “M-master! What do you mean by that?” I asked, my confusion finally overriding my shyness.

  “Master, it seems like you are buying us quite a lot of clothes,” Wyn added, her expression stern as she stepped forward. “Isn't this a bit much? We were using only these clothes when we were under the slave merchant.”

  He looked at us, his voice calm but possessing a weight that brooked no further argument. “That was there, and this is here. Just do as I said.”

  “Yes, master,” we replied in unison, bowing low.

  It took us a considerable amount of time to select what he had requested. Every time I looked at a piece of fabric, I worried about the price. We tried to steer toward the simplest, most inexpensive items, but Madam Sarya was persistent, guiding us toward better materials and comfortable fits. Eventually, we finished the process and brought the pile to the desk.

  “All of them come to one gold and three silver coins, Sir Han,” Sarya said, her eyes twinkling. “But for you, one gold coin is plenty.”

  “Here it is. Good work,” he said, casually tossing a gold coin onto the desk.

  He had just paid an entire gold coin for our clothing without a second thought. I felt a strange sensation in my chest. From everything I had heard from the senior slaves at the compound, masters were supposed to be stingy, cruel, or demanding. He seemed like a completely different breed of person. Without even realizing it, I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as we followed him out of the store.

  “Hmm? What is it? You strangely look quite happy for someone who was bought by an unknown man just a few hours ago,” he said, having noticed my change in mood.

  I panicked for a split second, worried I had overstepped a boundary, but when I looked at him, I felt an unusual sense of calm.

  “A-actually, I was terrified to be bought,” I admitted, my voice small but genuine. “I didn't know who would be taking us away. But master... I feel like you are actually a very kind person.”

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  I told him exactly what I thought. It felt as though something about his presence was radiating a warmth that was melting the ice around my heart.

  “...”

  He stopped and just looked at me. The silence stretched out, and my panic returned. I worried I had offended him with my forwardness. While I was bracing for a reprimand, he raised his hand. I flinched, closing my eyes and waiting for the blow. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wyn tense up, her body coiling as if she were about to interfere, despite the consequences.

  I waited for the pain, but it never came. Instead, I felt a gentle, firm pressure on the top of my head. It was warm. He was... patting me. I opened my eyes in shock.

  “...Hehe. You, cute little thing. Aren't you adorable?”

  He was smiling, genuinely enjoying the act of stroking my hair. I stood there, frozen, as the Great sense of joy washed over me. I looked into his eyes and, for the first time, I felt a sense of true affection—not the predatory look of the merchant, but something human.

  My face felt like it was on fire, and I felt the prickle of tears in my eyes. The fear we had carried for months—the fear of being sold to a monster—seemed to vanish in that single gesture. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay that it was him.

  “I know you are afraid,” he said, still smiling. “I know I am still a complete stranger to you. But just do what I ask, nothing more and nothing less. I will take good care of both of you if you do that, okay?”

  I nodded shyly, my heart full. He turned his gaze toward Wyn, seeking her confirmation as well. She nodded, her expression a mix of surprise and a newfound relaxation. We were incredibly fortunate. We had been bought by a truly good master.

  After that, we visited a series of other shops. He bought plates, spoons, and fresh sheets for the beds, spending more than two gold coins on household necessities.

  “Good. We are nearly done,” he said, glancing back at us as we carried the smaller parcels. “There is just one more place to visit, and then we can go home. Tell me, how are the two of you at cooking?”

  “We received extensive training, master,” Wyn answered. She seemed to have recovered her confidence, speaking with the elegant tone we had been taught. “Both of us can cook whatever you order. But Woya was already skilled before we were taken. You can leave the kitchen to us without any worry.”

  “Very well. Let’s do some grocery shopping before heading home, then. Since I’m leaving the cooking to you, I’ll let you choose the ingredients,” he said, looking pleased.

  “Yes, master. Please leave it to us,” I said, my voice full of a newfound energy.

  We walked for another minute or two before stopping in front of an equipment shop. I didn't understand why we were there at first, but then I remembered he had specifically asked for a slave with combat experience. A cold realisation hit me—he was buying weapons. He intended for us to fight.

  “Let’s go inside,” he commanded.

  We followed him in silence. After we entered, he turned to us with a serious expression.

  “Now, Wyn, you are a beast warrior, right? What kind of equipment did you use before, and what is your fighting style?”

  “I fought with a hunting group, master,” Wyn replied, her voice steady. “We usually had a dedicated tanker to draw the monsters, so I focused on the sword. I generally used both hands for more power.”

  “Okay. And I am assuming you haven't participated in any fighting before, right, Woya?”

  I felt a sudden, sharp pang of inferiority. If he wanted us for combat, wasn't I a useless burden? I could clean, I could cook, and I was willing to serve him in any other way, but I couldn't swing a sword.

  “I am ashamed, master. Yes, I have no familiarity with weapons. Please forgive me,” I said, bowing my head low.

  “Come on, there’s no need to be ashamed,” he said cheerfully. “I do want to use both of you in combat from time to time, but it isn't because I need your strength right now. I am plenty strong on my own. I just want you to be capable enough to protect yourselves. Don't feel like you’re useless. Don't you know why you were more expensive than Wyn, even with her combat experience? Hahaha.”

  His comment was a bit lewd, but his laughter was infectious. He wasn't mocking me; he was reassuring me in his own strange way.

  “Well then, I assume you’ve decided what you’re buying?”

  The voice came from behind the counter. A bulky man in a simple singlet was watching us.

  “Oh! Hi, Yorik. Long time no see,” he said, greeting the man like an old friend.

  “It has been a while,” Yorik replied. “You haven't brought in any loot lately, and you haven't been buying, so I figured you’d vanished.”

  “Don't be petty, Yorik. You’ve already made a fortune off me. I’m here today for some new gear.”

  “Is it for the beauties beside you?” Yorik asked, eyeing us.

  “Yes. Give us two full sets of leather armour, a medium-sized wooden shield, and three one-handed iron swords.”

  I was stunned by the order. That was a lot of equipment, and I knew iron and leather weren't cheap. He spent time selecting each piece personally, examining them as if he could see the hidden quality of the metal and the hide. The gear was perfectly suited for wolfkin; the armour was designed so our ears and tails wouldn't be constricted.

  “That comes to five gold and seventy silver coins,” Yorik said, sounding bored. “I’ve already factored in a discount, so don't start.”

  “Do you think I’m as petty as you? Here is the money,” he said, handing over the coins and turning to leave.

  “Do you think I don’t know you’re only acting like a big spender because of the girls?!” Yorik shouted after us. He didn't even look back, simply leading us toward our final stop.

  Before we reached the residence, we stopped at a grocery stall. I was determined to make a meal that would impress him, but as I began to select the ingredients, he looked confused.

  “Hey, Woya. Isn't that a bit... small for dinner?” he asked.

  I bit my lip, unsure of his habits. “I’m sorry, master. I don't know your usual portion sizes.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s enough for me if I eat alone, but it won't be enough for the three of us.”

  I froze. In the compound, we were told that slaves and masters always ate separately. The master would eat high-quality meat and fine bread, while the slaves were given scraps or a simple gruel. I looked at Wyn, who was just as shocked.

  “Are you saying... that we will be eating the same meal as you, master?” she asked.

  “Yes. It’s far too much trouble to prepare separate dishes. And besides,” he said, stepping closer to Wyn. He reached out and gently tilted her chin up with two fingers. “Why do you think I asked for beautiful slaves? A man would much rather have beautiful women for company at his table than eat alone or with some stinky soldiers. Wink.”

  He actually winked at her. Wyn’s face went completely red, and she looked like she might melt into the cobblestones.

  “Okay. If you understand, finish picking the ingredients and let’s go home. I’m hungry, and I’m tired of being questioned. Just follow my lead.”

  “Yes, master,” we replied together.

  He paid the forty copper coins for the groceries, and we finally headed toward the place that was to be our new home.

  [Edited]