I could safely say the flavor was a success. It was worth using the other day's failure as a lesson.
"It's delicious," Roxanne said.
Because she approved of the taste, today’s meal was a Genghis Khan Hot Pot.
Both the meat and the vegetables were excellent. I thoroughly enjoyed the feast, grilling the meat right at the table while chatting with two beautiful women. It was a level of luxury on par with Lieutenant General Mutaguchi surrounded by geishas in the Meimyo war zone.
"Sherry, is it all right if I ask why you became a slave?"
"Um..."
"No, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."
I tossed the question out casually during the conversation. Roxanne’s previous prodding about the books in Sherry's house hadn't seemed to cause any issues, so this much should be fine.
"My older brother was injured in a Labyrinth," Sherry replied.
"An injury?"
"My father does not possess much resourcefulness. Our family income relied entirely on my brother."
Apparently, her grandfather’s generation had been quite prosperous. Her father, who had overseen the family's decline, might have truly lacked talent, or perhaps he was simply judged harshly because he was the one at the helm when they lost everything.
"If it was just an injury, couldn't you have borrowed money to buy medicine?" Roxanne asked. "I mean, most injuries can be cured if you can afford high-grade Healing Medicine."
"That’s true," Sherry agreed. "I believe they bought the medicine with the proceeds from my sale."
"Was debt not an option?" I asked.
"Once you fall into debt, escaping it is difficult. I have seen many families where things grew increasingly dire just because they took out one small loan. I didn't want our home to become like that."
I suppose that made sense. Once you were caught in a debt trap, there was no getting out. The interest rates were likely usurious and the collection methods brutal.
"There certainly are families like that," Roxanne noted.
"Once people borrow money once, they immediately start relying on loans for every little thing. It starts as a small amount, but eventually, the debt grows until they can never hope to repay it. When that happens, the family is torn apart in the end. That is why I suggested they sell me as a slave before things reached that point."
"You were the one who suggested it?"
"Yes."
I wasn't sure if I should call her rational or something else entirely. Considering the circumstances, it might have been the "better" choice, even if it wasn't the "best."
"That's quite impressive of you."
"No. Thinking logically, it was the most sensible path. I had already failed to change jobs to a Master Smith or a Shrine Maiden at the time. Besides, becoming a slave offered the chance to learn Brahim. Most people wealthy enough to buy slaves speak it, after all."
"Brahim, huh?"
So there were even practical advantages to slavery. In this world, being fluent in Brahim would certainly make one more versatile. Knowing Sherry, she had likely factored those benefits into her calculations with cold precision.
"My younger brother and sister are still small, and we couldn't sell my older brother, as he is our provider. For the sake of the family, my being sold was the most logical solution."
I suppose selling the father wasn't an option. Or perhaps, as a man deemed talentless even by his own daughter, he simply wouldn't have fetched a high enough price.
"I see. Well, we're basically family now. Just work hard for our sake from here on out."
"Of course. I look forward to serving you."
"Sherry, you were truly lucky to meet such a wonderful Master," Roxanne added. "After all, he is the best Master there is."
"Yes."
The terrifying thing about Roxanne was that she seemed to believe that with every fiber of her being.
"Eat more meat. Here, meat."
I passed some more to Roxanne.
The Genghis Khan Hot Pot was a hit, judging by how quickly the ingredients were vanishing. The three of us ate voraciously until the supplies I’d prepared were nearly gone.
It was a shame we didn't have any yakisoba to finish it off. I’d dropped the ball there; I should have prepared some. There were pasta-like noodles in this world, so I probably could have made it work.
However, I had no idea if yakisoba made with pasta and fish sauce would actually taste good. I was too afraid of a total failure to try it on a whim. I’d have to try making a small test batch as a side dish sometime.
"Thanks for the info. By the way, is an Explorer considered a good 'career path' for a slave's owner?"
I asked the question that had been bugging me since the day I bought her. Roxanne had claimed it was a good deal, but was that the objective truth?
"Um. Is it all right if I speak freely?" Sherry asked.
"It's fine. He is our Master, after all," Roxanne encouraged her.
Was it really that difficult to say? I suppose it was hard to tell your owner to his face what kind of owner was considered "top tier."
"Well then. It is said there are three patterns for a slave to find a desirable situation."
"Three, huh?"
"The first is to be purchased by an extremely wealthy individual and become a special favorite. If you are promoted to a high position, your treatment and environment improve significantly. In households with many slaves, the First Slave wields considerable authority."
In large-scale operations, I imagined the owners delegated management to the slaves themselves. If you were the manager, your lifestyle changed. It was like the difference between working for a massive corporation versus a tiny local shop.
Wait, then what did that make the First Slave in a household with only two slaves?
"Ah, I heard that as well," Roxanne chimed in.
"You too, Roxanne?"
It wasn't surprising they'd heard the same rumors, considering they’d been at the same Slave Merchant House.
"From what I heard—I don't know about high positions—but one can sometimes become a concubine. I was told that becoming a wealthy man's concubine would allow me to live without any hardships."
Right. Roxanne, that was essentially a boast. To become a concubine, you had to be exceptionally beautiful. The Slave Trader had clearly intended to market Roxanne that way, which is why he’d filled her head with those stories.
"E-err. Being bought by a tycoon and becoming a favorite seems to require an incredible amount of luck," I said, steering the conversation back on track.
"Of course, it is a rare occurrence. However, many who are forced into slavery against their will dream of becoming a wealthy person's favorite."
"Escapism, then."
To rise above the masses of other slaves, you would need both talent and the kind of luck that should have kept you out of slavery in the first place.
"Another favorable case is when a widower buys a slave to serve as a surrogate spouse," Sherry continued.
"That happens?"
"If the children are already grown, a proper remarriage often leads to inheritance disputes. If the father buys a slave of a different race, no succession issues will arise. In fact, the children often encourage it. By purchasing a slave, the owner ensures they will be cared for until the very end."
"So they're end-of-life caregivers."
This world had its own complex social issues, it seemed. If they could afford a slave, they had money, which naturally led to family feuds over the estate.
"It is common for the owner to grant the slave their freedom in their will. Owners looking for a surrogate spouse are usually elderly, so for the slave, it's a better life than being overworked for decades."
"You're being remarkably blunt about this."
"In such cases, the Master is usually a successful, gentle person. To ensure they are well-cared for in their final years, they don't treat the slave poorly."
It made sense. You wouldn't want to abuse the person who would eventually be handling your bedpan. If the treatment was bad, they’d get their revenge once you were bedridden. Though, I could see a senile owner accusing a slave of stealing or withholding food. Since the slave’s position was so weak, they’d likely be punished without a second thought.
Then again, I doubted this world had the medical infrastructure to keep someone with advanced dementia alive for long. And unlike modern Japan, families here were large. Even if a slave did the heavy lifting, living in a communal house meant someone was usually watching. At least there weren't many "meddling sisters-in-law" living far away who would only show up to complain.
"And the third case is being purchased for Labyrinth exploration."
"That feels like a bit of a step down from the first two."
"It's unavoidable. The first two cases are extremely rare in practice."
"I suppose that's true, but still..."
"Exploration slaves start out like any other. However, they hone their combat skills and grow progressively stronger. Once a Combat Slave becomes powerful, they are irreplaceable. Consequently, their treatment improves, and the risk of abuse vanishes."
"I see."
Slaves working on farms, in mines, or in kitchens reached a ceiling fairly quickly. They would almost never earn more than their master. In contrast, slaves who entered the Labyrinth had levels.
It wasn't even impossible for them to eventually surpass their master. In reality, they were part of a party, and since experience was shared, they couldn't realistically outpace a master who was always with them. But as their level rose, so did their value. A high-level slave was less likely to die, and discarding an asset you’d invested so much time in was just bad business.
There were plenty of level 10 slaves, but once you hit level 40 or 50, you became a rare commodity. You could afford to be a bit more assertive.
"I'm telling you this because you're our Master, but I've heard that if a powerful slave is treated poorly, they can sometimes arrange for someone else to buy out their contract."
So there were even loopholes like that. No wonder masters felt pressured to provide good treatment.
And then, a thought struck me.
"Wait. Does that mean I’m going to have to spoil you two even more from now on?"
"N-no! I only mentioned it because you are my Master. I have absolutely no intention of looking for another owner!"
"Me neither!"
As Roxanne and Sherry leveled up, finding replacements for them would become impossible. Honestly, they were already irreplaceable to me.
"I would rather die than be sold to anyone but Master!"
"M-me too!"
If they became indispensable, the power dynamic would shift. Our positions might even reverse. If they reached level 40 or 50, I might be the one on my knees, begging them to stay.
"I am perfectly happy with the way things are now!"
"I am too!"
This was ridiculous. Did this mean I’d never be able to hold my head up high around Roxanne? I was already so grateful to her that I didn't know how to repay her. What would happen in the future?
"If you wish, you can even subject us to much harsher treatment!"
"That's right!"
No, that wasn't right at all. There was no such thing as a slave superior to their master. I wouldn't let it happen! I wouldn't!
"Hmph. Fine. In that case, I shall re-evaluate your treatment from a zero-base."
"Yes, Master."
"As you wish."
"I’ll be conducting a strict assessment, so be prepared."
This was the perfect time to reset the status quo. I had to make them realize that I was the one in charge.
"Um. First, the food. I think having the same meals as Master is far too indulgent."
"No, food stays. An army can't fight on an empty stomach."
That was the only logical conclusion.
"Then how about we eat in a separate room?"
"No, I can't gather information or discuss tactics while we eat, and staggered meal times are inefficient."
"What if Master sits at the table while we eat on the floor?"
On the floor? That seemed a bit extreme.
"You don't need to go that far."
"Then the clothes. I think we should wear much more ragged, basic garments."
"She's right. These clothes are far too nice for slaves."
"The clothes, huh? But both of you are so beautiful..." I sighed.
"Th-thank you, Master."
"Thank you."
"No, the clothes stay too. I prefer you both looking clean and presentable. It's one thing if you were showing off for other men, but looking nice for me is just right."
I shook my head.
"Thank you. Well, if food and clothing are out..."
"Then there is the living environment," Sherry suggested.
Yes, the living environment. Since food and clothing were off the table, only the "shelter" part of the equation remained. My dignity as a master was reflected in our home. This was the perfect way to make them feel their place. This was where I would finally show my presence as their owner. They were about to realize the weight of their status.
"That's it!"
"As I thought... perhaps sleeping in the same bed as Master is too much of a luxury..."
What... did she just say?
"...No, that's out of the question."
"Sharing a bath with Master is also far too gracious a gesture for us."
Wait, what?
"That too... is out of the question."
"And having Master wash our bodies with soap is surely more than we deserve."
You have to be kidding me. My daily highlight? You’re going to take that away?
"...Guh... N-no. Absolutely not."
"Um. Is there anything else?"
Stop, Roxanne. My HP is already at zero.
"Ahem. After a thorough review of your current terms of employment, I have reached a decision, which I shall now announce."
"Um. So... everything stays exactly the same?"
"Precisely. I look forward to your continued service."
"I think this review was very beneficial. It made me realize all over again just how well we are treated," Sherry added kindly.
Sherry’s support cut straight to my heart. It seemed I truly had been blessed with wonderful slaves.