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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Man Who Almost Became a Slave
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I'm an idiot.
The countryside was already infamous for its shitty hospitality, and yet here I was, trusting this godforsaken isekai backwater.
There was no bigger idiot than me.
'I should've bolted right away.'
I'd even mapped out the worst-case isekai scenarios in my head.
Like getting ambushed in the middle of the night while sleeping.
Or finding out the food I was eating was poisoned.
Stuff like that.
But the plot veered off script.
There was a variable I hadn't accounted for.
Who could've guessed a slave trading caravan would be camped out near the mountain path where I first set foot in this isekai world, right by that village...
I never saw it coming.
And this is the result.
I should've suspected something when the village headman's daughter started acting all sweet and charming. But no, I fell for it like a moron.
Goddamn dopamine.
In a backward world where the naive don't survive, they knew exactly when to stab you in the back.
Watching the village headman sell me off was like witnessing a work of art.
My mistake for underestimating this fantasy backwater.
Clunk-.
The wagon jolted hard.
Probably because it was packed with slaves—the ride was absolute garbage.
And stability? Not a chance in hell.
Thank god for the shackles around my ankles.
The heavy iron chains did a fine job doubling as a seatbelt.
Of course, my ankles hurt like a bitch.
It was a penalty I had to endure.
"...Fuck my mom."
Ever since getting locked in this wagon, I'd been scanning my surroundings nonstop.
No fancy lights—just narrow iron bars caging me in.
To escape, I'd need three keys total: one for the handcuffs, one for the shackles, and one for the cage.
But finding them seemed impossible.
Of course it was.
All the keys were probably in the slave trader's pocket.
Three days in this isekai.
And just like that, my fate as a slave was sealed.
'If this keeps up, I'm truly fucked.'
Halfway screwed already.
I couldn't run in this state.
Unless someone came along and smashed the entire slave caravan, escape was off the table.
The last chance to fight back was when they slapped the handcuffs on me.
Or right before the shackles—there might've still been a shot then.
Only after blowing every opportunity did it hit me.
My isekai life was over before it began.
Regret sank in deep.
'Even knowing this is a novel world, how the hell do I fight back...?'
Three days since dropping into this world.
I hadn't wasted them.
Even in this rural village, I'd scraped together as much info as I could.
Language barrier: none.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Korean came out of the villagers' mouths, and the books were written in Hangul.
I can't even describe the relief in that moment.
Then I pieced together the worldbuilding.
This fantasy realm was straight out of the novel I'd read to completion: Demon Slayer.
A world with Heroes and a Demon King.
The Heroes aim to slay the Demon King and bring peace to the world.
The Demon King, naturally, wants the world under his thumb.
They clash endlessly.
The protagonist Luke's victory is guaranteed.
There'd be trials and tribulations, sure, but he'd pull through.
Team up with him, and I could live like a king in this world.
But look at me now.
Not even a Hero's companion—just on track to end up a slave.
"Heh heh. Stop struggling, lad. It'll just drain your stamina for nothing..."
The wagon wasn't that cramped, but besides me, there were others locked inside.
A boy and girl who'd claimed spots first, plus one old man.
The old man stared at me from the shadows.
I could feel his eyes on me.
"If we go like this, we're all done for. We have to escape somehow."
"Can't be done."
The old man spat out his grim verdict.
His deflating response drew a sigh from me.
"...Why give up?"
"You'll get it after a few beatings."
"..."
"If your body's in one piece, maybe. But in this state? Rebellion's a pipe dream."
The old man's voice cracked like dry wood.
Behind his words came the boy and girl's muffled sobs.
"They don't see us as people. Just merchandise."
His voice trembled on the edge of death.
Terror of the slave traders etched into his very bones.
I knew the feeling—I'd taken a hit myself.
These mercenaries reeked of danger.
A scent you'd never catch in modern society.
Killing intent on a whole other level.
Their punches weren't just rage-fueled outbursts.
They were violence laced with bone-deep fear and dread.
Pure intimidation.
...Fuck.
Gurgle-.
"Heh, no dinner again today, huh? Bastards."
A weary rumble echoed from the old man's gut.
The awkward sound filled the wagon, prompting me to ask—however awkwardly.
"...You haven't eaten anything?"
"Guess an old fart like me ain't worth feeding. Live or die, they don't care. I'm just filler till they snag something better."
"..."
Compared to him, I was living large.
Even after hours on this wagon, I'd gotten potatoes and soup.
'Food I'd spit out back home if they offered it.'
Isekai day three.
In a world where a potbelly signaled wealth, you stuffed yourself whenever you could.
Whinny-!
How long had we been rolling?
The horses finally ground to a halt.
I still hadn't figured out an escape plan, and impatience clawed at me.
— We'll camp here tonight. Pitch your tents and stand by.
— Yes, sir!
The slave trader's voice barked orders outside.
He directed his men to set up camp.
Silence blanketed the wagon.
The more commotion outside, the more we shrank back.
The boy and girl, the old man, me—all of us.
Rustle, rustle.
The wagon's tarp flap whipped open.
Someone peeked inside.
"You three in there! Get over here and unload this crap!"
The slave trader yelled at his underlings.
They approached the wagon and climbed in.
"Keys here."
The slave trader rummaged in his coat and tossed a keyring to his men.
Jingle jangle-.
The underlings fiddled with the locks, popping the cage open.
Click-.
Starting with the boy and girl in the back, then the old man, and finally me.
"Out!"
They roughly dragged us prisoners outside.
We temporary slaves were hauled out like trash.
Their brutish grips twisted my face in disgust.
Sunset painted the sky outside.
Mountain paths darkened fast, so they'd stopped early to make camp.
A decent clearing.
Wagons circled up on the perimeter.
Tents clustered in the center.
The biggest, plushest one belonged to the slave trader.
The smaller ones were for his crew.
No such luck for us slaves.
Fuck.
We weren't the only captives.
About three wagons were dedicated to hauling slaves.
Four or five per wagon—thirteen in total.
All of us shackled hand and foot.
The handcuffs glowed faintly blue.
Magic to suppress mana.
'Just as I thought. All beastkin.'
Every slave bore beastkin traits.
Different species, but far from human.
In this fantasy world, beastkin weren't treated as people.
It was a brutal place.
The slaves got rations.
To sell us in the city, the traders had to keep us alive.
Barely.
Two potatoes.
Curses bubbled up, but I swallowed them and hunkered in a corner.
Eat up, and it'd be back to the cage.
At least as an adult male, I got two. Kids got one and that was it.
'How the hell do I escape this?'
The more I pondered, the tighter my chest grew.
No matter how I turned it over, impossible.
Without those handcuff and shackle keys, no turnaround in sight.
I crammed the potatoes into my mouth in an awkward hunch.
Better than starving.
Wish I had some water...
"Grandpa, here—take this."
"..."
I handed over one potato clutched in my fist.
The dry chew turned my stomach; I couldn't force it down.
Just... no appetite.
"...You sure?"
"Yeah. Tastes like shit."
The old man got no rations.
Like he said in the wagon, he was disposable—replaceable anytime.
"...Thanks, son."
He snatched the potato and devoured it like a man possessed.
Licking his filthy palms clean. Pitiful sight.
"Ten minutes, then load the slaves back up—"
"Yes, sir."
The slave trader chatted with his underling.
His eyes flicked to me, pointing.
"Send that slave to my tent."
"...The East Continent human?"
"Yeah."
East Continent human.
Fancy talk for an unremarkable Easterner like me.
Rare as hell in the West Continent—that's why this mess.
Ten minutes of fresh air.
Then back into the wagons.
Any resistance, and clubs loomed threateningly.
Violence made the best argument.
"You, with me."
I trailed the underling alone.
No clue what awaited in the slave trader's tent.
How to escape from there?
'...Prove my worth?'
Not even Show Me the Money, and here I was, needing to audition for a slave trader. Bullshit.
Kidnapped out of nowhere, and I had zero say. More bullshit.
"Brought the guy."
— Send him in.
"Yes, sir."
The underling shot me a glance.
"Get in."
No real wariness.
Handcuffs and shackles made it pointless.
I poked my head through the tent flap and stepped inside.
Dragging my iron chains, I faced the slave trader.
The bastard who'd bought me from the village.
Greed swirled in his eyes.
"Rare East Continent human. Heh, fetch a pretty penny."
The slave trader rose and approached.
His gaze slithered over me, sticky and invasive.
Gave me legit chills.
"All thanks to those village idiots reeling in a prize catch like you."
The slave trader grabbed my chin, inspecting my face.
Well-fed, well-rested, regular shits—prime condition.
I could claim the best bones in this world, no exaggeration.
His hand slid downward slow.
Poking my shoulder, rubbing my back—like appraising livestock.
Timing my value pitch...
As I mulled that over.
His hand went lower.
Way lower than expected.
"Gotta check if the goods are sturdy—"
Thwack-!
My hand clamped his wrist; my knee shot up on reflex.
A man's pride overrode any fear of violence.
My body counterattacked faster than thought.
"...Have you lost your mind?"
"I won't let a man touch me there!"
"You little shit—!"
The battered slave trader exploded in rage.
He bellowed.
"Hey! You outside! Get in here!"
His furious command summoned the waiting underlings, rushing in.
Three armed adult men.
Bad odds even unbound—me, chained up? Fucked.
"Boss!"
The underlings startled at their boss's state.
"This fucker—this goddamn fucker—how'd you train him?!"
"...We were told not to damage the merchandise, so we held back."
"...This little shit hit me. A slave hitting a person? Beat this East Continent prick half to death right now!"
His men hesitated at the order.
Touching me was tricky, apparently.
"...F-for real, boss? If we rough him up now, we can't auction him tomorrow."
"...Fuck!"
The slave trader glared daggers, eyes bulging.
Still pissed about getting clocked.
A smirk here could escalate things.
I stayed tense, on guard.
"Hoo..."
The slave trader reined in his breathing.
Forced his anger down.
"Fine. This one's worth a fortune—gotta deliver him pristine."
"...Yes, exactly. You gotta hold it together, boss."
The underlings soothed him.
East Continent human—rarity meant noble buyers.
Undamaged fetched top dollar.
Greed trumped fury.
The slave trader plastered on a smile.
"Still gotta inspect the essentials. You three, grab his limbs. Time to check the cock."
"...You fucking bastard!"
They lunged again; I thrashed with everything I had.
But against three grown men? No contest.
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