My father, Balan, hadn’t just granted me a territory; he had also provided a small pouch heavy with gold coins as a relocation allowance.
For someone like me—stuck at a near-starting Level before the original story had even begun—it was a godsend.
Does he actually care for his son?
No. There was no way that man harbored such a commendable sentiment. They say a lion drops its cub into a ravine to test it, but my father was the type to send an assassin down after the cub just to finish the job. If anything, I had to assume this "gift" of land was nothing more than a trap.
I’d even had an appraiser check the gold, suspecting they might be counterfeit, but every last coin was genuine. I suppose a deception that obvious was beneath him.
In that case, the trap lay elsewhere. It could be the coachman or the guards escorting me to the village, or perhaps one—or all—of the servants assigned to me were hidden assassins. Perhaps my father, who was already in league with the demons, would use their influence to set monsters on my trail.
Or, and I felt this was the most likely scenario, the commoners living in my new domain were either assassins themselves or those who had dared to defy him.
In the current climate, a "good noble" was defined as someone who squeezed every last cent from the populace to fund a decadent lifestyle in the Royal Capital. It was only logical to assume the people of the Lousouth domain hated my father’s guts. If he were going to hand a piece of that land to me, where would he pick?
If I were in his shoes, I’d choose a place with zero revenue and a rebellious population.
I stared down at the documents my father had spread across the table. One appointed me as the lord of the area surrounding Alf Village. The other was a map of the territory.
On paper, the location was a vital strategic point for the Kingdom of Inraku, situated at the crossroads of the Trismalis Demon Kingdom, the Huge Beast Kingdom, the Holy Principality of Ames, and the Dragunov Empire. Because of its importance, Duke Lousouth had kept a personal watch over it. Sending his own son, Yuri, to govern it might sound like a prestigious appointment to an outsider.
In reality, the area around Alf Village was a barren wasteland with no resources and soil too poor for crops. There wasn't a country in the world that actually wanted to occupy it. If anything, it was a strategic liability; it required a garrison of soldiers that most nations couldn't afford to waste.
It wasn't a promotion. It was a polite form of exile.
"Well, food shortages are a certainty," I muttered. "I probably won't even have decent weapons or armor. I'll need to arrange for traveling merchants, but more than anything, I’m short on people I can trust."
The more I planned, the more the list of deficiencies grew.
"I suppose if it comes down to it, I only need to look after myself. I could build a hut and aim for a quiet, slow life."
That was the absolute last resort, of course.
The movements of my father, the mastermind. The actions of the game's protagonists. The shifting tides of the Kingdom and its neighbors. With so many unknowns, trying to live a "slow life" now would be like walking naked into a lion’s den.
"I need at least one person I can trust implicitly. Ideally three, but I don't have the funds to hire that kind of loyalty."
However, I knew of a place in this city that could provide exactly what I needed. Clutching the pouch of gold, I headed straight for the shop.
◇ ◇ ◇
The destination for my high-spirited march was, as you might have guessed, a slave trader.
In the Kingdom of Inraku, the slave trade was perfectly legal. Of course, the treatment of slaves was strictly regulated by law; you couldn't just go around intentionally harming them.
The same legal weight applied to the slaves themselves. Contract Magic was used to ensure a master’s orders were absolute, provided they didn't violate the law. For someone in my position, they were the only "human resources" I could rely on without fearing a knife in the back.
Despite being only ten years old, my status as the Duke’s son earned me immediate entry into a lavish reception room. Shortly after, a portly man hurried in to greet me.
"My, my, Lord Yuri! What brings you to such a humble establishment? Are you perhaps looking for personnel for your new pioneering project?"
As expected of a slave trader—hardly a day had passed, and he already had the intel. For a split second, I was impressed, but then a cold suspicion took hold. I looked at the man's greasy, practiced smile.
Isn't his information a bit too fresh? It was as if he’d heard it directly from my father.
Once the seed of doubt was planted, everything about the man felt like a red flag.
"You’re well-informed. Where did you hear about my appointment?"
"That is a trade secret, I’m afraid. Even for a request from Lord Yuri, I cannot reveal my sources."
"I see... Well, if you already know the situation, this should be quick. May I see the stock?"
"Certainly. I shall bring out my finest specimens immediately. Please, wait just a moment."
He stepped out and returned almost instantly with three slaves, as if they had been waiting in the wings. There were two men and one woman, all dressed in clean white tunics. Aside from their shackled hands, they didn't look like slaves at all.
"I’ve gathered the most elite warriors in my shop. From the right, their Levels are 45, 39, and 42. These are veterans who can hold their own against high-ranking adventurers. What do you think?"
The men were clearly powerful, their muscles bulging beneath their clothes, and the woman had the sharp, disciplined air of a professional.
I didn't take the merchant's word for it. Instead, I activated Appraisal Magic.
In the game, this was an ability exclusive to the protagonist. For some reason, I had been able to use it since my reincarnation. It seemed the world treated me as a "player" rather than just an NPC. It was because of this magic that I’d realized I was Yuri Lousouth, discovered my own terrifyingly high aptitudes, and learned that I had been subconsciously faking my abilities to hide them from my father. I suppose I had my father to thank for that much; I had taken his lesson of "trust no one, not even family" very much to heart.
I turned the Appraisal Magic on the slaves.
Their Levels were exactly as the merchant had claimed. Their stats were high, and some even possessed rare skills. However, I noticed a glaring problem in their status windows.
Every single one of them was already bound by a contract to another person.
The name on the contracts: Balan Lousouth.
I knew it. This trader was firmly under my father’s thumb.
Could you even place a second contract on a slave who was already bound? Likely not, but if my father was behind it, he’d found a way to bypass the logic. If I had signed those papers, I would have been paying gold to house my own executioners.
I bit my lip, suppressed the rage building inside me, and maintained a polite smile.
"They certainly look capable, but I don't think they'll fit my specific needs. My apologies."
"Oh? Is that so?" the trader asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Would you like to see the others, then?"
"Yes. If you please."
I kept my voice steady and my smile fixed. To the trader, a ten-year-old acting with this much composure must have seemed eerie. To his credit, he didn't let his mask slip either.
However, every single slave he brought out after that carried the same hidden contract with Balan.
◇ ◇ ◇
In the end, I left the shop without buying a single soul.
My father truly was a master of his craft. He had anticipated that I would turn to slaves for "trustworthy" help and had set the snare before I even arrived. It wasn't just me, either; he likely planted pre-contracted slaves with other nobles too.
That way, he could trigger an assassination whenever it suited him.
"At this rate, I’ll never find anyone who isn't a puppet for the mastermind..."
Actually, that wasn't true. I had a few names in mind.
The game’s protagonists were definitely clean, but getting involved with them meant triggering the main plot. If the story followed its original course, I would eventually be dragged to the chopping block regardless.
I needed someone completely disconnected from the main scenario. Someone the mastermind wouldn't even bother to notice.
"Wait... there was that girl."
A memory surfaced—a "mob" character from the early game. She was originally from the Royal Capital. Because she died before the plot even thickened, she had zero connection to the mastermind.
She carried a heavy burden, though. As a commoner and a half-beastman, she was a pariah in the Kingdom of Inraku. Unable to find honest work, she lived on scraps and garbage.
In the original timeline, five years from now, she would be chased away by guards and grow desperate. Despite having no combat ability, she would venture outside the city to hunt, only to be killed by a high-ranking monster that had no business being in the starting zone. It was a tragic, forced event that was mentioned only in a single, throwaway line of dialogue. No one ever saved her.
She was perfect. She was safe, she was far removed from the plot, and she was exactly what I needed right now.
"Alright. It's time to go find Fee."