I will forever keep that image of that dog-girl burned into the back of my mind.

                I locked myself up in my room for a couple of hours to calm down and forced myself to get back to thinking about what I should do. However, my inner manhood simply could not allow the image of that woman’s pussy to leave my mind.

                She probably finished washing by now, but thinking back on how little I knew about her, it was easy to imagine her still out there, snickering to herself at my expense ever since the moment I shut the door between us. She no doubt must have taken my easy embarrassment as proof that I had no experience with women, experience she clearly found with her master, and may well be laughing at me for it.

                No. No. Calm down, me. You said we were going to do better, right? Making stupid assumptions like this and using that to wallow in self-pity is not progress.

                “Shit… Thank you Luck stat, but why was she so hot?!”

                I ran not just because of the embarrassment, but because of the subtle threat she laid out about her master. Continuing to sit there and watch her would have made keeping myself under control all the harder as the time passed. Not to mention that, despite her good will, she definitely would have said something once I’d overstayed my welcome. Then her master would have showed up to collect her. And he might have brought his axe with him out of habit, or maybe out of worry for her.

                Thinking about it, the most likely reason why she was bathing, even though I didn’t see a speck of dirt anywhere on her body, was likely because her master wanted her clean before bedding her. And with the magic within the walls of this inn canceling out all noise from the other rooms, I wouldn’t even know it if their room was right next to mine. By now, they might have already gone at it, finished and were relaxing like I was trying and failing to.

                That, at least, would be fine. It’s not like I would have wanted to listen in on someone else enjoying life, but feeling trapped inside this room because I wanted to avoid hearing them would be counter productive to my goals. Goals which were starting to stagnate the longer I kept myself shut off from society.

                Frustrated beyond reason at how something so visually pleasant could have led to me collapsing back in on myself, I sat up and thought back on what the Merchant Albert said about the slave house in the eastern-quarter of the city and bit my lip.

                Just the sight of that dog-girl was making me want to commit the irreversible sin of going over there. Her body was just so tempting that it was maddening. And if that was where her master bought her then, surely, I could….

                “But isn’t that wrong?”

                I tried to tell myself that it was, but that dog girl and even the bunny girl from earlier didn’t seem at all upset with their lot in life. If anything, they almost seemed proud to be wanted by their masters. As if they were in an honest relationship, rather than one where they were forced into subservience.

                “But isn’t that just wishful thinking?”

                The dog-girl didn’t show any sort of malice towards her master and even warned me to keep away from her, not because she seemed disgusted with me, but because he could end up hurting me if I tried anything. Although, maybe the warning was less out of respect for her master and more because she was actually worried about me? I doubt it.

I fell back down onto my pillow and draped my arm over my eyes.

                “…. Then again, if I had someone like her with me, I wouldn’t have to be alone like I was on Earth.”

                The loneliness bread from inaction had silently taken its toll on me over the years. To anyone else that asked, I would have claimed I was doing fine, but in those secluded moments locked up in my apartment, after I shut off the computer for the day and had nothing else to distract me from my thoughts as I laid in bed much like this, I knew how much I hated it.

                But buying a person to fill that void? It almost feels like the sort of backwards, half-assed approach to the problem of loneliness that a cliched, but sympathetic movie villain would make.

                Then again… If I had someone like her, I could practice talking as much as I wanted and work to rid myself of this shyness. And if I’m lucky, after sitting down with this hypothetical person for a while, we could even grow to like each other and things could result in a real relationship.

                The thought of buying a slave in hopes they’d become my girlfriend was almost laughable, cringeably so, but the argument for that and using them as a source of therapy for my shyness was all too convincing.

                I continued to argue with myself for a while before deciding to just head over to the eastern-quarter and see what was going on. Surely, I didn’t even have enough money to buy a person in the first place. I knew the value of gold compared to silvers and coppers now, but I had no idea how their value compared to a person. Maybe once I was shut down, laughed off for my wallet not being fat enough, I could put the thought to rest.

                Back on Earth, I’d been on a diet for a while and was making pretty good progress thanks to all the disappointing reflections the mirror showed me each time I stepped into the bathroom. Seeing the disgust and hatred in my own face eventually prompted me to at least start improving my physical appearance, if not the social abilities I ruined alongside it. And as things go, I inevitably slipped up and ate some junk food from time to time, if say, a co-worker brought donuts to the office and I didn’t want to rudely reject their kindness. After these slip ups, I would allow myself to binge and just eat whatever I felt like, all to get the want out of my system so I could continue the diet proper the next day. It slowed any and all progress I made to a halt, but it helped. Quitting cold turkey wasn’t something I could see myself doing.

                Maybe that’s what I needed now. I was shown something deliciously tempting, now I needed to work it out of my system to set myself back on the right track. I just had to keep imagining how it felt to have finally mustered up the courage to confess to that jogging girl and move forward.

                Hinging on my lacking knowledge regarding the monetary system destroying my desire to go down that unforgivable road, I got out of bed.

                After checking the direction on my compass out in front of the inn, I headed East once more. I had no idea if this is what the goddess meant by “head East,” but for the sake of moral righteousness, I had to hope it wasn’t. Especially after the un-asked for upgrade she gave to my nether regions. I didn’t want to think this thing was controlling my mind.

                Doing what I could to look like a troublemaker, I attempted to stealth my way over to the eastern quarter, simply so nobody would ask me what I was doing or where I was going. I got several strange looks along the way, but I think because of that, nobody bothered me as I pushed through the crowd. So, in a way, I suppose my attempt at sneaking both failed and succeeded at the same time. After maybe ten minutes of this, I stopped trying all together.

                Once I entered the East-quarter of the city, which I could only assume was truly the eastern quarter because of how close I suddenly was to the massive wall bordering the city and because my compass was pointing in my desired direction, I wasn’t all that as impressed as I was upon first entering the city proper. The surroundings didn’t seem to change all that much. The only real difference from the center, the Merchant’s District, was that there were far less people wondering about. Where the main street was packed tight with people working and playing, this section seemed comparably devoid of life. Although, that could just be because it was getting late in the afternoon.

                Various thug-types lined the streets, leaning on walls, sitting in gutters or were huddled together, either talking about something nefarious. More were gambling by tossing a pair of dice against the alley walls of buildings, clapping each other on the back when they won or complaining in obviously threatening tones when they didn’t. Many of these sorts watched me as I tried to keep up a brisk, barely noticeable pace. Being the newest face in town amongst a bunch who likely lived here their whole life made me stand out way more than I would have liked, given where I was going.

                I almost had the urge to re-equip my sword, but thought better of it since they might think I was the one trying to start something and I didn’t want to give them an excuse to confront me. So, instead, I ignored them. I was not unused to people staring at me anyways.

                “Am I really doing this?” I whispered to myself when I found what I was looking for.

                I found the building I was searching for not too long after entering the eastern quarter. The name “De Grave Imports” was carved neatly into a sign hanging from a pole jutting out from the building itself. It was located in the furthest district of the eastern quarter, backed almost into a corner where it likely belonged. Right where Albert said it would be after I stopped by his shop again to get directions. Having to stop and ask for directions to a slave house nearly ripped the soul from my body, it was so difficult, but he brushed off my stuttering like it was nothing and told me in exact detail where to go and in a moment of focus so intense that I wasn’t used to back on Earth, I unfortunately remembered the directions exceedingly clearly.

                I was expecting the city slums to be where the slave house was hidden, but that wasn’t the case at all. While there were more than a few thuggish people about, there was an equal number of regular, everyday people amongst the dwindling crowds in the streets, children included, if not more. None looked like the sort of destitute gutter rat that would sooner beg for scraps than work an honest job and there were no dilapidated shacks or torn up trash tents acting as shelters. It was just another part of the city.

                For some reason, the De Grave building itself looked even more respectable than the Lazy Cat Inn. Its carved stone walls were neat and straight and looked almost like something I would have expected to see back on one of Earth’s metropolitan many cities. It was, to my shock, a very respectable-looking place. The only exception being the men loitering about the entrance, each with swords attached to their hips. They were probably meant to appear as hired security, but when I focused on them, their info boxes clearly read “Hired Thug” under their names. Hired thugs and guards could be considered the same thing by certain types of people, but with them here in front of this building, I felt that only one title suited them.

                I swallowed my pride and my fear and stepped up to them while they were mid-conversation. The one on the right, the balding man that looked like he worked himself to the bone to build up his muscles specifically to make up for his lack of hair, scowled at me while the other, a lanky man wearing a scarf that hid half of his expression just rolled his eyes for being interrupted in whatever he was saying.

                The bald one took a step down the stairs and leaned into me.

                “Ya, and what do you want? Why you just standing there? Got something to say?”

                The thug’s paltry greeting left me wanting and left me retching from the foul stench coming from his mouth. I didn’t know if they invented toothpaste yet in this world, but if they did, this man clearly hadn’t heard about it.

                “Well?”

                “I-I want to…”

                “Come on. Out with it. I ain’t got all day.”

                “I-I would like to see what slaves you have available!”

                I blurted out my reason at his pressuring and quickly covered my mouth to try and undo what I’d said. I’d only just barely thought that I could have the wrong place, that Albert had lied to me as a joke or maybe even that, if this was indeed the right place, that blurting something like that out could have the police, the knights, running straight over to arrest us all for our obvious crimes against humanity.

                But instead of looking bothered, the man just grunted at me.

                “Geez. If that’s all ye wanted, just say so next time. Wait here.”

                The man shoved the door open and went inside while his companion leaned against the railing, his beady eyes lingering on me long enough to shake my already barely existent composure. It was almost like he was expecting me to pull out a knife and attack him. The thought was laughable, but it was the same sort of cautious stare security guards always had. Constant vigilance in the face of potential dangers. The sort that made you feel as though you were speaking to a brick wall. Appearances aside, at least he was taking his job seriously.

                Once more, in hindsight, after these men, Albert, the innkeeper and the dog-girl, I realized that my confidence-boosting trait must not work against those of a higher level than mine. The thugs surely were, even though they were only around level 10. I wasn’t sure about the dog-girl, since her info box wasn’t exactly the part of her I had been looking at, but I did remember seeing a number that was bigger than mine. But whether it was her age or her level, I did not know. Then there was Albert and the innkeeper to consider. The innkeeper was a high-level Mage and Albert a seasoned Merchant. And I found speaking with both difficult.

                This needed to change. If my boost was contingent on my level and that of the person I was speaking to, then I had to level up and test to see if my hunch was correct. I didn’t want to continue walking around like the timid asshole I was back on Earth.

                A few silent minutes after deciding this for myself, the thug came back, this time with a well-dressed man in tow.

                His body was stout, lean and likely muscled under his well-tailored suit. The slickly smoothed back hair atop his head was mostly a fine jet black and while the sides were starting to grey, he wore it proudly. When our eyes met, he didn’t share the same happy customer service smile Albert did, but neither did he show visible distain for my existence like the Innkeeper did. His face was placid. Almost like he was waiting to decide how to shape his emotions until after we greeted one another.

                The bald thug gave a quick, contemporary bow to this man before he mirrored his lanky friend and leaned against the opposite railing. His part in the introduction done with, he easily started to ignore my existence while the new man put his hand over his heart and gave me a slight bow.

                Scanning this person’s info box, I noticed that he too was a much higher level than me, a level 50 Merchant. Beneath this comparably shocking number, he also had the Slave Master class, as one might expect. Both of these classes conflicted with his well-mannered appearance and shows of humbleness in front of someone dressed only slightly better than a stereotypical peasant, like myself. I decided his demeanor as something acquired with age since the info box said he was in his upper fifties.

                “Welcome to De Grave Imports, dear customer,” he said. “My name is Alphonse De Grave. How may I help you?”

                I got this far. Might as well go all the way and see what the place had to offer. I sucked in a deep, discrete breath and answered.

                “I’m… I mean, I would like to see what girls you have. Please.”

                The man’s features creaked into a smile as he nodded.

                “Then by all means. I can assure you that De Grave Imports will always have the sort of merchandise you are looking for. You may even find yourself distraught with the sheer number of possibilities to choose from. However, should such indecision come to pass, I would be honored if you’d allow me to offer my opinion.”

                “S-Sure…”

                With that declaration, he stood out of the way and held the door for me. Operating so smoothly like this, the man looked more like a butler than how I thought a slave master would look. Not that I knew how one should look.

                I stepped up the short staircase to this den of evil karma and into the doorway, all the while feeling as though I needed to worry about the thugs slapping a collar on me the moment I passed the threshold thanks to their uncomfortable glaring. I hurried to weasel past them since they were blocking half the staircase. Alphonse politely cut us off from them and the outside world by shutting the door. He gestured down the hall and we walked.

                The hall he took me through was lined with sconces lit burning candles, allowing not a shred of shadow to eek across the long, expensive red carpet we walked on, as if somehow owning such a thing was meant to be a show of status that needed to be seen, rather than something to both protect the smoothly polished floor board while looking pleasant to the eye. It was, at least, a feature the Lazy Cat most definitely didn’t offer. Unlike that dusty, broken building, it looked like he had it and the floor cleaned every day, there was not a spec of dust on it. 

                Judging by what he sold here, he certainly didn’t have a lack of man-power to actually do just that. Once more, my mental impression of what I was expecting to find here had been turned on its head.

                Alphonse eyed me over his shoulder and faced forward before speaking, his arms folded neatly behind his back as though wanting to show he had no dagger there to ease my mind.

                “Excuse me, dear customer, but if you don’t mind my asking, is this your first time in a shop such as this?”

                Coming to stop, he gestured to a room with an open door. All I could see inside was a couple of couches and a coffee table.

                “Y-yes. I only recently heard slavery was legal in this country.”

                “Oh, it’s legal everywhere. Please, step this way. We need to speak on the requirements to buy a slave before I can let you see what I have in stock.”

                “I thought the only requirement was the coin.”

                “Yes, sir. But, and I don’t mean to be disrespectful towards a customer, but you don’t necessarily look like you can afford any of our merchandise. Frankly, I don’t see the point in showing you what I have if you can’t afford it in the first place. However, in honor of future business, I would love to hear any inquiries you have regarding this establishment.”

                He chose his words carefully, as if sensing my continued dissent over what I was doing. Nevertheless, I had to persevere.

                He must have been referring to the conditions Albert mentioned about being able to feed and house whoever you bought. I looked down at my clothes. The cheap, basic starting gear I was given naturally couldn’t compare to his finely tailored suit, but it wasn’t exactly patched up or full of holes. It even looked mostly clean, save for a few specks of what I just realized was more of the spiced berryweed powder that I hadn’t thought to clean off.

                But if he felt I couldn’t support this need, why let me inside in the first place? 

                “I see. If that’s what you meant, then I don’t mind. I have some questions of my own anyway.”

                He put up a small smile at that and I almost got the feeling that he was happy I didn’t complain.

                The room we entered looked a lot like what I expected a tea room would look like in a noble’s mansion. A pair of elegantly designed couches on either side of a coffee table. A few bookshelves packed with various volumes of differing sizes and thicknesses whose titles escaped me. A curtained window drawn to show off the sun settling over the city, just hours before it was set to start sinking behind the horizon. There were even a few well-kept plants lounging about nearby, whose potted soil looked freshly watered.

                He closed the door behind himself and gestured for me to sat on one of the couches. I did so, cautious to make sure I didn’t somehow tear or dirty the thing. I guessed that without a factory to produce furniture like this, that it had been handcrafted and therefore was exceedingly expensive.

                Alphonse took to the opposite side of the table and sat. He eyed me for what felt like dozens of minutes without a word. Purely holding onto the desire to get this want for companionship out of my head, I held myself as firm as I could. Him throwing me out now felt like it might save my soul for even considering whatever he had on offer, but I didn’t think the want would dissipate until I knew that I truly couldn’t have any of what, whom, he called merchandise.

                “First, may I ask, what it is you wish to know about what we do here?”

                “W-Well,” I thought hard, but my impatient foolishness made me come inside without an actual game plan. “I was told that there are only three requirements to own a slave.”

                I allowed a bit of re-iterated word vomit to answer for me and he nodded.

                “Money, food and housing. Yes. Go on.”

                “Well, is that really all there is? My question is, couldn’t the slave just kill their master or ruin them some other way, like maybe burn all their money so they can’t afford to keep them, in order to break free of their master? I mean, beast-kin are stronger than the average human, aren’t they?”

                “I see. So, you are interested in purchasing a beast-kin slave.”

                Shit. He caught onto something I didn’t even say out loud the second I answered. My love for animal-eared cuties was sniffed out too easily. High level merchants are scary. I really needed to be more careful.

                Alphonse continued.

                “To answer your question, no that is not possible. While the beast-kin are indeed physically stronger than humans, they are also entirely incapable of using magic. Meaning, that they are also weak to magic. That is a human’s best bet to beat them in a fight. You see, the slave contract that the slaves are bound to, isn’t a physical piece of parchment like you would get for, say, buying a house. It’s more of a magic spell that is written on the very soul of the subject, binding them for life to their master.”

                “And that stops them from killing their masters?”

                “No, sir. It does not,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Not the contract itself, anyways. What it does is cause them a great amount of pain if they so much as give actual, real tangible thought to doing harm to their master. In anyway. That includes intentionally bringing about their financial ruin, since you asked.”

                So, they are forced into subservience not by overwhelming force and ignorance like in old times back on Earth, but because the magic binding them forces them to bend the knee. Despite my beloved magic being involved, that sounded somehow almost more barbaric.

                “It causes pain? What happens to them, exactly?”

                “Oh, don’t worry. You have my word the spell won’t leave any marks on their body. It just strangles them until they either give up their wicked thoughts, their master forgives them or they die. However, this rarely happens since the magic is triggered by thought alone, so they are always quick to correct themselves before it comes to that.”

                “But what if they manage to kill me before they themselves die?”

                “Unlikely, but to be honest, it has happened before. They would have to truly despise their master to be willing to go that far, because the slave contract will immediately execute the slave for the crime of murder thereafter. Even if the master’s death was an accident.”

                That’s dark…

                What if their master is a drunken idiot that staggers over to them while they are chopping wood for the fire like they were told to do and the master trips over himself and lands under the path of the axe mid-swing? In that case, it’d be the master’s fault, right? Would the slave still be punished? As unfortunate as it sounded, the answer was probably yes. The spell and anyone else would probably look at the slave’s status and the victim assume they killed their master on purpose. And if it were the spell itself that decides guilt and not whatever the detective equivalent in this world is, then maybe all that matters is that the master died and died by the slave’s hand.

                “Then what if the master dies or loses their job and can no longer afford to keep them? What happens to them then?”

                “If their master is found to be unable to keep up with the conditions required of them, they are seen as unfit by the binding spell and the slave is released. However, if you were to unfortunately fall down that path, you would be smart to see your slave back to us or another similar establishment before things get that far. That way, you can at least get some of your money back and work to get back on your feet.”

                I felt he intentionally left out explaining what happens were I to die while owning a slave out of the sake of sympathy for my obvious unease, but it didn’t exactly show on his face. Even if he didn’t think I could buy now, he wanted me as a potential customer later. My coming here was already proof of interest, after all. Even if I didn’t want to admit it.

                It was easy enough to understand what happened to the slaves based on the condition of the master losing their wealth. So, in the event the master died and the slave was entirely innocent, such as dying from old age, they would likely be set free.

                “I see,” I said. “Then, um… how much does a slave typically cost?”

                After finally managing to bring up the subject of costs, I shifted in my seat slightly, only just now realizing how uncomfortable the stiff leather was on my backside and I regretted it. Alphonse was quick to notice this misstep. I had to keep in mind that I was under the watchful eyes of a seasoned merchant.

                He nodded, gathering something from my discomfort that even I wasn’t aware of, and explained.

                “The lowest quality slaves go for around 100 gold pieces.”

                For a reason I didn’t quite understand, I felt heartbroken. That is the exact amount I started with and almost all I had left, but I blew some of it on a bag entirely on a whim to hide accessing my item box, when I could have played it off as a party trick if I was ever caught using it. If I spent it all here right now, I might end up ruining myself the same day I reincarnated.

                Alphonse continued despite my obviously worried state. There was a curious arch to his brow and what looked like the beginning of a smile to his thin, drawn-out lips.

                “The higher-quality slaves typically range from 10,000 to 50,000 gold pieces. On rare occasions, based on the product, that price can go even higher.”

                While I didn’t have a concrete sense of the value of the money in this world yet, that number would have been unimaginable for me to just throw away if converted simply from gold to the currency of my homeland. Even if you completely omitted the value of gold and just converted it to simple numbers, those prices were still staggering. But taking into mind the fact that we were talking about gold was mind boggling.

                Earning that much money in a game wasn’t usually all that hard, but it took time to get that much without some kind of exploit. Considering how much I got from just the three items I sold earlier, I didn’t see how I had a chance.

                A fine fur like the one belonging to the white wolf would have gotten me a good amount of money back on earth, since it would no doubt be used to make some sort of fashionable piece of clothing that would sit in a storefront window until it was bought by some rich snob that only wore the best of the best clothing lines, but I only got a couple silvers for it. For risking my life to earn it.

                Since the coins were made of rare metals, the value of the money here must be several times higher than back on Earth. Scarcity breeds value. Sort of the opposite of inflation.

                “I see… What would be the best way for an Adventurer to make money, er, coin, then?”

                I asked the question I had been stewing over purely out of curiosity, but he happily obliged me by answering. And I realized I messed up again.

                “So, you’re an Adventurer. I see, then you must be wanting one of our battle-slaves to help you clear the dungeon.”

                “Dungeon?”

                Upon hearing that word, the first image that came to mind was a bunch of prison cells locked away in the bowels of a castle, but it apparently meant something different here. Most likely he was referring to something like that of a labyrinth filled with monsters and traps. A staple of fantasy worlds from fiction the world over. My mind then turned right to the thought of a random cave hidden away on the side of a mountain somewhere, waiting for me to trounce up and beat to death whatever creatures lived inside with my sword.

                “Yes,” he answered. “That is how Adventurers like yourself typically make their living. They venture down into local dungeons and wipe out the monsters that live there. They bring back whatever their kills drop and sell it for profit. The objects found inside the dungeons are worth much more than those found from killing simple wildlife, so it can be quite profitable if the Adventurer is skilled enough.”

                I perked up at that and asked, “Because the monsters inside are stronger?”

                “Indeed. Much stronger. Sometimes they even drop rarer items that go for more coin than the usual drops. Though, I wouldn’t stake my purse on finding such drops. Also, if you are lucky, you might even find a treasure chest with something even more valuable inside. It’s searching for these possibilities that give Adventurers life.”

                That definitely sounded interesting, but there was a flaw with what he said.

                “How can adventurers make money that way if the monsters disappear after being killed? Won’t the dungeon be cleared in no time like that?”

                Thinking back to how the wolves and rabbit completely disappeared after death made the concept of someone routinely clearing the dungeons to be impossible. Once they were cleared out and the local monster population was extinct, wouldn’t there be nothing left for them to farm? However, Alphonse nodded knowingly, as if he knew I lacked a basic understanding of not just the dungeons, but of this world.

                “That is because the monsters in the dungeons are created from the very same magic that created the dungeons themselves. The monsters are created again and again each day without end. So, there is no need for an Adventurer to worry about running out of prey the way an overzealous Hunter might if they cleared an entire forest of its inhabitants. In fact,” he continued, raising a finger. “If they are left alone too long, they will break free of the dungeon and go on a rampage in the city, slaughtering humans by the thousands. It is for this reason we are all very grateful to the Adventurers inhabiting this city. Because it is their duty to ensure this outcome never come to pass.”

                I had to admit, that made sense. If the monsters were spawned infinitely, the world would be overrun in a matter of months. Must be similar to how killing a bunch of enemies in a video game, be it animal or humanoid, and leaving the area for a few in game days causes them to respawn. But in the games, the developers put a stopper on how many enemies can spawn in any given area, so the player doesn’t get bogged down in a fight they couldn’t possibly win, therefore halting their progress in the game. Although, since there would be ways around such a thing, it was always likely more so the player’s hardware doesn’t burn itself alive trying to process so many NPC’s at the same time.

                In the real world, this world, however, such limitations wouldn’t be necessary.

                “Isn’t there a way to stop them from spawning?”

                “I am afraid that I don’t know. Nobody does, really. There are legends suggesting that dungeons and all their inhabitants disappear once the boss on the deepest level is beaten. But there has never been any evidence of that ever happening in all of recorded history.”

                “Right…”

                That too made sense. Thinking alongside that logic, the final boss may be the one supplying the magic generating the monsters in the first place. Take him out, and there is nothing left to spawn them. Simple. However, if that were true, I felt that actually clearing a dungeon would throw the economy of the nearest city out of whack.

                Assuming that the prices of the items dropped in dungeons are worth more because they are highly sought after and hard to get, as opposed to people just being grateful to what is essentially their protectors and offering more for their hard work, then the loss of the dungeon would also mean a major loss of revenue for the city. And if the people are actively buying these drops from Adventurers, then the items themselves were needed.

                Not only this, but the Adventurers themselves would have to leave the city because of the class they were born with would then become useless there. Which would then lead to the city losing some of its protection from other enemies as well.

                Making money was fine, but if I push too hard, I might end up ruining the city.

                Then again, if no one else managed it so far, I might not need to worry that I might.

                “How are the dungeons even formed?”

                “Nobody knows for sure,” Alphonse said. “There is speculation that it is somehow part of a plot conceived by the demon king and that he means to use the dungeons to expand his armies all over the world.”

                “… There would be a demon king.”

                I nearly sighed. As much as I was enjoying this world so far, the goddess sure cheaped out with the final boss.

                A demon king being the end-all evil that nobody but the protagonist could kill was such an overly used trope in fantasy media that it had become horribly cliched. It had been around for longer than I even knew. It was overdone, over saturated and at this point, I was over it. I mean, really? Why not make something else up? I’d settle for a giant dragon at this point. They’d kind of fallen out of fashion, at least.

                Not that I would put myself willingly up against either of those options. This was the real world. There is no such thing as a protagonist and I wasn’t about to assume I was wearing plot armor under this tunic.

                Well, I suppose the Goddess did base this world on my knowledge, so maybe she was limited only to what I knew. And I suppose I did invoke a cliché by getting reincarnated after getting hit by a truck anyways. So, I can’t really complain.

                “I’m sorry?” Alphonse asked, eyebrow raised at my boring response to learning about the final boss.

                “Sorry. It’s nothing. Please continue.”

                “Ahem, well. If you are looking to make some money, I would also recommend you join the Adventurer’s Guild here in the city. You may always explore the dungeon as you wish, but as a member of the guild, you may take on quests to earn some extra coin. Some quests of which may even be to collect a certain number of items from the dungeons. Although, you must be an Adventurer of at least level 10 before they will accept you into their ranks. Can’t have you ruining their reputation by being too weak, can they?”

                Level 10? Does that mean they have some way to tell my level? Nobody else so far has said anything about it and just treated me as if I weren’t the novice I really was. Or were they? I wasn’t the best at guessing people’s intentions regarding me. A life of assuming the worst may have blinded me to the truth.

                I was curious, but I kept quiet about it for now so I didn’t lay all my cards on the table. If they were able to tell my level with some sort of item rather than my menu’s ability to analyze people and things, I would only out myself by bringing it up here now.

                I wasn’t all that sure it would matter if I were found out, but I didn’t care to learn what they might do to me if they found I had abilities nobody else in the world did. I’d rather not end up as a side attraction in a roaming freakshow.

                “Thanks. I will keep that in mind for later.”

                “You are welcome. Now, back to business. If you still wish to purchase from us, I recommend that you buy one of the cheapest slaves at 100 gold coins. This way, you can bring them into the dungeon with you and you can earn back that money twice as fast than you normally would alone. Then, if it pleases you, you could then save up your coin, sell that slave back to us for a discount and purchase one of a  higher quality.”

                I mulled over his logic and found it to be pretty sturdy on its own. He’d already decided that I was broke, not that it mattered. He was probably right. The only pitfall with it was that there were most likely several other Adventurers taking to the dungeons every day. Who knows how many I’d have to compete with if I went? And more importantly, who is to say that there will even be any monsters or loot left for me by the time I get there? Furthermore, as if those concerns weren’t enough, do the treasure chests he mentioned even spawn again after being looted? Does the dungeon make coins and gear as well as monsters? Surely the hope of finding the chests was a bigger draw than the monsters’ loot, right?

                Needless to say, it’s still a risk no matter how good it sounds.

                “Well, sir, would you like to see what slaves we have for your price range? Since you are interested in beast-kin women, may I also remind you that their extra strength will be a big help in the dungeons? On top of that, a fine gentleman such as yourself might like to know that it is entirely impossible for a beast-kin woman to give birth to a human’s child. Meaning, you can do with your slave however you please, whenever you please.”

                No. No. I was here to rid myself of evil thoughts. I will not be tempted by your honeyed words, sir. I cannot let myself fall into such a wicked taboo, just for the sake of my own pleasure. I was given this new life to better myself. Not to fall into such trappings.

                I am not strong yet, but I will be soon. So, with that in mind, my answer is…

                “Please, let me see them. I want a cute one.”

                Dammit…

                My deepest male desires gave in and I answered instantly. Not only were the reasons behind why he insisted on telling me that last fact likely just a sales ploy to get me interested in buying, but because that meant I wouldn’t have to worry about contraceptives. Which I am only just now questioning the existence of.

                So much for the path of righteousness. All jokes aside, I was just as much a slave to my desires as I was my comforts.

                There was still the lingering hope that something would prevent me from taking this crucial step to the dark side, that I would be turned away, sent back to the inn and given time to cool off, but such thoughts were fleeting compared to those of the dog-girl I met in the inn’s backyard.

                “Gladly, sir. If you please, I will bring out a few for you to look at. If none are to your liking, I will send for more and we can…”

                Just as he stood and was about to reach for the door, the sound of something huge crashing resounded throughout the entire building. The blow was hard enough to make it feel as though the building itself might collapse were it to happen a second time. I guessed from the sudden concerned look on Alphonse’s face that this wasn’t a common happening here.

                “What was that?”

                “I-I’m sorry sir, but I do not know. Please, let me check. I’ll be right back. Just wait right there.”

                Alphonse opened the door and I heard the clinking sounds of around a dozen men in metal armor stampeding through the building to find out what the problem was. Alphonse made a sour face at their appearance and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind himself again.

                The sounds of destruction continued to shake the building, despite the presence of such heavily armored guards being a welcomed surprise, at least when compared to the bald and lanky ones waiting outside who were likely going to be of no help, I grew concerned.

                There weren’t many things I could think of that could cause such a commotion, but I very suddenly felt unsafe in this place.

                “That’s not the demon king he was talking about, right?”

                The chances of such a being showing up right after just mentioning its name were slim to none, but the power behind the continued bashing and pained cries of men I didn’t know was making it easily believable. 

                I tried to sit still like he suggested, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind kept telling me to get up and go see what was happening for myself. Maybe it was the part of me wishing to take a more active role in my own life. Maybe not. Call it curiosity, or whatever you wish, all I know is that I had the sudden unbearable urge to leave the room. So, I did. If it proved to be too much trouble for what it was worth, then I could just run away and use my cowardice as an excuse to prevent my buying a slave.

                Ain’t no chance of me fighting a demon king at level 1.

                The sound of wood smashing against the stone walls continued non-stop. Men groaned and grunted and yelled as they fought off an unseen enemy. The vibrations of battle continued to give the impression of the building shaking, making my footsteps unsteady. At least, that’s the explanation I chose to believe as the cause for my unsteady gait.

                The call of my curiosity continued, so I equipped my sword and followed the sound of battle.

                I headed further into the building through the same hall I entered from to follow the sounds of fighting and rounded a corner, putting more distance between myself and the exit. Up one flight of stairs later, I found several more men labeled as Thugs standing out in the hall.

                All of them between level 1 and 3. All of them faced a single door in the middle of the hall. Each of them held their weapons, swords, axes, clubs, at the ready. Some of their bodies were covered in fresh, bleeding gashes that cut straight through their leather armor in several places, the cuts expertly placed between the metal sections that covered their vitals, but many more were clearly beaten and bruised to the point of their swelling injuries almost completely obscuring their facial features.

                “Iron Fist!”

                At the sound of this growl, there was another heavy crash, a pained, wheezing grunt and many of the men lining the hall started shaking in their boots, clutching their weapons to their chests.

                One of them noticed me.

                “Oi, you. Get out of here!”

                Just then, the body of another man flew through the open doorway and slammed into the one that called out to me. Both of them collapsed to the floor and remained motionless. I focused on them and their info boxes showed that they were simply unconscious. Not that that fact eased any of the tension among any of us here.

                To replace the man that was launched into the hall, two more of the thugs not busy wetting themselves rushed inside and the sounds of fighting resumed.

                I took a few cautious steps over to where the men stood and they didn’t seem to mind. Didn’t’ even seem to notice me. Since I had my sword drawn, they might have even been grateful for the help.

                Finally, I managed to peek inside the room and saw the men that just rushed in flung like a couple sacks of potatoes into the wall, shattering the frame of an expensive-looking painting in the process. They immediately staggered back to their feet, shook off their dazed states and ran back at their attacker.

                Where was Alphonse in all of this? Didn’t he leave to come settle this issue? Someone of his level, even if he has a non-combat job, must be able to put up a better fight than these guys.

                As I was thinking this, the men inside were pushed back once more, only this time their attacker lunged at them before they could come back at her.

                A ferocious, yet undeniably beautiful girl with long, chestnut-colored hair draped messily over her shoulders came into view just as she sent her fist flying into one of the thug’s chests, throwing him violently back into the wall. Though she grunted violently as she fought, she did so with glossy lips that looked as though they tasted of peaches.

                She wore a pair of exceedingly tight leather pants that reached all the way until they stopped just above her ankles and that seemed to only be holding themselves in place due to their sheer tightness as there was no button or tie or belt binding them around her shapely hips. The leather they were made of was only a few shades darker than the rest of her smooth skin. That fact coupled with how the feet she used to kick at the second man’s head weren’t covered with shoes, boots, nor anything resembling socks, made it look almost like there was nothing covering her lower half at all.

                The top she wore looked a lot like the hand-me-down version of a commoner’s dress that all the other city girls might wear on a daily basis, but hers was cut down short enough to leave her navel exposed as she fought. The hastily thrown together shirt seemed to be missing a few buttons, as it was held together by a couple leather strings located both above and below her sizable breasts where the fabric was stretched to its limits and begged to breathe as it displayed just a small portion of her seemingly ample cleavage.

                Most notable of all, well above the rest, was the pair of small, triangular ears standing at attention on top of her head and the long tail the same color as her hair that stretched out from a hole sewn into the back of her pants.

                “A cat-kin?” I guessed.

                A cat-girl. And a gorgeous one at that.

                Mid-punch, as if hearing my inner appraisal of her beauty, she suddenly turned her attention to me. Her face scrunched up in anger as if she thought I was her next opponent, but when our eyes met and she made a motion that looked like she sniffed the air, that anger faded away almost instantaneously. The glistening emerald eyes that stared back at me, what made up the fantastical center piece of her already stunning face, seemed to almost grow calm.

                She paused there, still mid-punch, her fist hanging in the air, and we stared at each other, neither of us making a move for several seconds.

                 We just stared. And all other sounds in the building faded into obscurity. It was as if the universe had stopped spinning just to give us enough time to fully notice each other’s existence. If I hadn’t seen the destruction this woman caused right in front of me, I would have called my own eyes a pair of rueful liars if they so much as suggested her existence was even possible.

                Finally, she withdrew her arm, tilted her head curiously at me and then…

                “Now’s your chance! Gang up and hold her down!”

                Alphonse’s voice appeared, boomed from somewhere inside the room, shaking me and the girl out of our collective stupors, and all the thugs rushed at her.

                They grabbed hold of the distracted girl’s arms, legs and dove to grab hold of even her slender waist. In their frantic rush to pin her to the floor, I was genuinely surprised that nobody tried to cop a feel of such a beauty’s softest parts. But nothing surprised me more than the fact that she just continued looking straight into my eyes when the men latched onto her. Not once, not even when they finally managed to lock all her limbs in place, did she look away. Those emeralds just continued to gaze right into me, maybe not to judge like the rest of the world would, but for some other, indiscernible reason that baffled even her.

                Once she was good and secure, Alphonse stepped up, looking a little worse for wear himself, though he did appear to be uninjured. He wiped the sweat from his brow and placed a hand on the girl’s chestnut hair, right between her cat-like ears, and began chanting a spell. For some reason, I was drawn immediately to his words, even though I had no idea what they meant. Not because they were in another language, but because I could do nothing but watch.

                “Forced Sleep.”

                As soon as the short incantation was finished, the cat-girl’s eyelids drooped. She tried to keep them open. Oh, how she tried. But before long the beautiful emeralds lighting up the room were hidden by sleep. Her body grew limp and only after making sure she was down for the count, did the thugs slowly ease up.

                I wasn’t overly shocked by the use of the spell. Nor did the short incantation for it surprise me after considering how many fantasy worlds required incantations spanning entire sentences just to cast a single spell. After learning it from the Goddess’ gift box, I knew my own Fire Ball spell typically needed an incantation to activate it as well and it was only as short as saying its name. Unlike with Alphonse, my silent spell casting trait just relieved me of the need to actually speak it.

                [New Spell Learned: Forced Sleep.]

                What got to me was right after the effect of the spell kicked in, I got a notification indicating that I learned the spell I’d just seen used.

                “What the hell?”

                After the spell was cast, the fight was over and the thugs holding her fell to the floor, exhausted and happy to have survived the fight. This left the girl in a state of freefall for a moment when her legs gave out beneath her, but before her head could hit the floor, Alphonse swooped in behind her and caught her by the shoulders. With one arm under the small of her back and another under her knees, he lifted her up into his arms as easily as if she were only as heavy as a thick pillow.

                Then he saw me standing in the doorway. I don’t know when I moved that close to the room, but there was no denying that I did. I felt his eyes on me, but mine were affixed entirely to the girl in his arms as the once rampaging beast now slumbered with an almost peaceful expression that seemed to fit her leagues more than the ferociousness I’d just seen.

                “My apologies, sir,” he said after a pause. “The commotion is under control now. If you please, wait for me back in the room I brought you to and I will be right with you after I take care of her.”

                He gestured down at the girl in his arms with his chin and walked towards me. Towards the door.

                I quietly stepped out of the way. I didn’t know what he was going to do with her, maybe have her thrown in prison for assaulting his men and breaking his thing or maybe something much worse, but I knew in that instant that I didn’t want her to be taken away from me. But judging by his level and the strength he showed with the ease in which he held her, there was nothing I could do to stop him. Never mind the thugs panting on the ground next to us. I just didn’t want to see her leave and I had no idea why.

                I felt week. I felt lesser. And I watched as he carried her into a nearby room, followed closely inside by a couple of other women dressed as maids. They must have been hiding somewhere nearby to have responded so quickly. None of them came back out.

                For all my curiosity was worth, I decided it was best to just head back like Alphonse suggested and wait for him to explain what the hell just happened.