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Chapter 28
Slave Market (3)
Cedric obeyed the instructions, hardly believing his own eyes.
But when he reached the fourth ventilation shaft and saw that a guard really was posted right in front of it, he could no longer deny it. He suppressed his shock and struck the guard unconscious.
“Ugh!”
Shoving the unconscious guard into the ventilation shaft, Cedric disguised himself using the guard’s hat and equipment.
The stolen glass vial was carefully tucked away in his inner pocket.
“Hey, rookie!”
Cedric flinched and turned his head.
“Don’t just stand there like an idiot—come on! Some freshly caught slave apparently escaped and is completely out of his mind.”
“A slave?”
“Yeah. Bent the iron bars like a monster and broke out. If you see anyone suspicious on patrol, report it immediately.”
“Understood.”
He nodded and followed the veteran guard.
And then—
= Lord Cedric. Don’t be alarmed. Listen carefully.
Justinus’s voice suddenly echoed in his ear, causing Cedric to pause unnaturally.
“Rookie? Something wrong?”
“…No, sir.”
He tried to stay calm.
= In a bit, they’ll be looking for someone to escort the slaves to the auction. Volunteer. That’ll get you back to the fourth basement level, where you can guide the slaves.
“Ah, right. We’ll need someone to bring the slaves up for the auction soon. Rookie, want to give it a try?”
“…Yes.”
“Good. Then let’s head down to B4. I’ll teach you how to handle them.”
The senior guard spoke cheerfully as he stepped toward the stairs leading to the fourth basement floor.
The torch-lit basement was dim and foreboding. Cedric swallowed hard.
Justinus’s instructions continued.
= When you reach the fourth floor, subdue the guards and release the slaves. And then…
“Here we are, B4. Next, you’ll need the key to—ugh!”
Clang!
Cedric struck the veteran’s head with his fist, knocking him out with a metallic clang.
= Now activate the magic scroll I gave you.
Cedric quickly pulled out the scroll.
Crafted by Justinus himself, it was covered with intricate magical symbols. As someone untrained in magic, Cedric could barely manage to activate it—it was advanced magic far beyond his level.
‘What kind of magic is this?’
He wondered only for a moment.
Having come to trust Justinus through this series of events, Cedric infused the scroll with mana without hesitation.
And then—
BOOOOOM!
A thunderous explosion filled the underground space.
“Your ticket has been confirmed. I’ll escort you to the VIP section.”
Having received a ticket from Duke Viar, Izumi easily infiltrated the auction as a guest.
Brown hair and green eyes—an exceedingly ordinary combination. No one imagined he was the famed hero stirring up public attention.
‘She said once the auction starts, I should sneak out and unlock the door, right?’
Slipping the ticket back into his pocket, Izumi looked around.
Everyone dressed in silk robes wore masks that covered more than half their faces. The dimly lit venue and the champagne at every table evoked the kind of decadent establishment one only saw in TV dramas.
“…Ugh.”
This kind of thing was uncomfortable.
Though he’d spent 21 years living like a slacker, Izumi had always been a model student by nature. Even after reincarnation, that upright disposition hadn’t changed.
‘Do people really enjoy this?’
The buying and selling of humans.
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t understand.
“Would you like a particular type of finger food?”
“No thanks. I’m not interested.”
Waving off the waiter who approached, Izumi propped up his chin and idly stared at the empty stage. His mind was full of thoughts of Justinus.
“No matter what anyone says, you were chosen by the Lord, Izumi. I believe in you completely.”
His face flushed.
Justinus was truly mysterious.
Always gentle and kind.
Even when provoked, she never got angry—instead, she embraced others with compassion.
It was impossible not to feel weak in front of someone like that. And once you learned about her deeds, you couldn’t help but revere her as someone born noble.
She was so pure and beautiful that part of him wondered if she might be hiding something darker inside.
After all, how could someone made entirely of goodness truly exist? Choosing the right path over the easy one was never easy.
‘Besides, characters who keep their eyes closed are always hiding something…’
The trope where the benevolent pope or saint turns out to be the villain had become cliché. Izumi let his imagination run wild.
‘What if she can actually see?’
Maybe the seemingly fragile saint was secretly manipulating everything behind the scenes.
“Yeah, right.”
They said Justinus had been a saint for ten years now.
No way someone could pretend to be blind for that long. Not unless they were a PhD student or something.
He slumped back in his chair, ruffling his soft brown hair, which now stood up with static.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience! The first auction of the evening will begin shortly, so please turn your attention to the stage!”
A spotlight flicked on above the stage, and the host appeared. Izumi half-closed his eyes and focused on the sounds.
‘Explosion, explosion, explosion…’
He concentrated all his senses on listening.
The clinking of glasses. The rustling of movement. The host chatting into the mic. Low, sleazy conversations being whispered.
Amid the deafening noise, he heard a muffled explosion echoing from deep underground.
Izumi’s eyes flew open.
“What was that?”
“Just a minor tremor, I think.”
“Nothing serious, right?”
Tera was a country prone to earthquakes.
Despite the tremor, neither the host nor the guests rose from their seats—only briefly pausing.
Once the shaking stopped, Izumi pressed a button. A waiter standing by the door approached.
“Did you call, sir?”
“Can I get some canapés, please?”
“Right away.”
Once the waiter stepped away, Izumi rose from his seat. The VIP box was separate from the rest of the audience, hidden from view.
Slipping out quietly, he pretended to head to the bathroom and unlocked the latch of a heavily sealed side door.
‘Mission complete.’
It was the perfect crime.
Dusting off his hands, Izumi returned to his seat. The waiter soon brought the canapés and resumed his post by the door.
It was too dark for him to notice the lock had been undone.
A smirk tugged at Izumi’s lips.
“Your Grace, today’s procurement was a great success. Attendance from the upper ranks is at its highest in recent memory.”
At the very top of the auction hall—
Duke Ricardo sat alone in a secluded VVIP box, smiling in satisfaction at his subordinate’s report.
“Of course. Even the hero took an interest in this auction.”
He was in an excellent mood.
Not only had he shackled the saint through the crown prince’s tyranny, but even the newly appointed hero had ended up like this.
Looking down, he could faintly see a mop of brown hair slouched in a careless posture.
‘This is the end of the Order of the Lord.’
Choosing such an incompetent person as an apostle would have consequences.
He chuckled and crossed his legs.
‘Still… the Demon of Blue Skies has been quiet lately. Operating in secret, perhaps?’
The Four Demon Lords of the Demon King’s Army.
The most recent to act had been Hochen, the Plague Lord.
…Though that damned saint had ruined things before they could really begin.
“Tsk.”
Annoyed by the memory, Ricardo clicked his tongue. As he shook his head, his sleek black hair fell into disarray.
“Is His Highness the Crown Prince not attending the auction today?”
“Well…”
His aide hesitated, seemingly reluctant to say.
“It seems he’s still staying in the same room as the saint.”
“Is that so? Leave them be.”
“Pardon? But…”
The man looked flustered.
“If His Majesty finds out the Crown Prince has laid hands on the saint, he won’t stand for it. Shouldn’t we stop him?”
“Would His Highness even listen to reason? Don’t bother.”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
Ricardo turned away, silently pleased.
So the prince hadn’t calmed down—he’d doubled down and was now toying with the saint. Even better.
‘If things keep going this way—’
The kingdom would fall into the hands of the demons.
Just as he was spinning this happy fantasy—
BOOOOM!
A thunderous explosion startled Ricardo to his feet. Looking down, he saw a door swing open and armed soldiers flooding into the hall.
‘That’s the Royal Army!’
He recognized their uniforms and gasped.
Then came a resounding shout.
“Seize every guest in their seats!”
The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar.
Looking down, he saw a blond man in a crisp uniform.
“Do not let a single one escape! Prove your valor!”
His red eyes shone with a sharp clarity that belied ten years of brainwashing.
Ricardo’s eyes widened.
Something had gone very, very wrong.
