Damn Reincarnation

ho looked venomous-tongued and ill-tempered.

“While you’re at it, you should also change the way you speak.”

“Huh?”

“Your polite way of speaking doesn’t fit that face at all.
You should mix in a few curses, and make your voice a bit scratchier…,” Eugene trailed off in thought.

“…Do I really need to do that?” Kristina asked reluctantly.

“Would you rather be more of a hindrance than a helper by making a fuss and drawing attention?” Eugene challenged.

“I’ll… I’ll do my…,” Kristina hesitated and then changed tracks.
“G-Got it, boss.”

“It looks like you just can’t pull it off.” Eugene shook his head.
“Why don’t you try acting like a mute instead? There shouldn’t be any need for you to open your mouth while we’re in there in any case.”

Kristina squeezed her lips shut and glared at Eugene.
If she had her usual face, she would have been able to hide her anger behind a smile instead of glaring at him like this, but perhaps because of how her face had been altered, her angry stare looked especially harsh today.

Only the largest of tribes held the right to host this slave market.
This time, the market would be held in the territory of the Zyal tribe.

‘I thought that we would be going to a city at least.’

Perhaps because both foreigners and tribespeople would be coming and going, the market would be held in the middle of the forest instead of in a city.
In terms of being a black market, it resembled the Bolero Road that he had visited in Aroth, but otherwise, the slave market held here was incomparably more primitive than Bolero Road.

Even the entrance reflected this fact.
The warriors of the Zyal tribe, who had set up patrols throughout this area of the forest, gave wide-eyed looks to the merchants who were trickling in, while making threatening gestures to the guests from the other tribes.

‘It feels like the market is just a front.’

Eugene had a rough idea of what was going on here.
The slave market only opened twice a year.
During those times, even hostile tribes were not allowed to fight each other.
This was because the great tribes had prohibited any fighting within the slave market.

Even so, in a place where so many people gathered, seeds of conflict couldn’t help but be sowed here and there.
With how much wariness and hostility each tribe harbored toward the others, the tribes felt the need to inflate their own stature in order to deter each other’s influence.

The distinguished guests who were connected to each of the tribes also deeply enjoyed such a sight.
For them, the market itself was a rarely-seen attraction.
Also, slaves weren’t the only things traded here — various other items of interest were also being exchanged.

Samar was vast.
This place wasn’t just overgrown with trees; many other valuable resources rarely seen in the rest of the continent were buried within.
Various priceless gems and mithril extracted from Samar’s mines and the materials rendered from the forest’s monsters were all sold here.
Apart from that, there were also potions that could artificially increase one’s mana or strengthen one’s body.
These were the product of the legacies being passed down through each of the tribes from their ancestors.

For these foreign nobles, such things were more valuable than slaves, even if these slaves were elves.

“…I want an elf with some kind of physical imperfection,” one such noble muttered to himself.

It was Dajarang Kobal.
Rather than things that weren’t of obvious value, this pig was more interested in an elven slave that he could see with his own eyes, possess, and play with.

“…There’s no need to rush,” Ujicha persuaded Dajarang while resisting the urge to sneer.

This chief warrior of the Garung tribe had somehow managed to survive the encounter with the unknown assailant a few days ago.

It was all thanks to the unknown man’s whims.
After looking at the pathetic Ujicha, who had pissed his pants on the spot and was begging for his life, the man had simply disappeared.

Ujicha felt no shame from what had happened.
Anyone who was placed in such a situation would have peed their pants.
In fact, none of the warriors of the Garung tribe who were there at that time had come out of it with dry pants.
Some had even shit themselves.
There weren’t just one or two of them who had also collapsed to the ground and started begging for their lives.

Compared to these warriors, Ujicha seemed practically dignified and had kept his honor as the chief warrior.
He might have begged for his life, but he hadn’t fallen to his knees.
He might have pissed himself, but at least he hadn’t emptied his bowels.

He somehow hadn’t died and had managed to live another day.
Wasn’t that enough to ask for?

One of Shimuin’s Twelve Finest, Bron Jerak, had lost his life, but Ujicha had survived.
Dajarang Kobal, an important guest, had also made it out of the situation alive.

That was enough to count the situation as a success.
Ujicha had not been able to get Bron to introduce him to the ladies of the Shimuin Kingdom, but as long as he managed to satisfy Dajarang’s desires, he could still ensure a splendid future for himself in Shimuin.

“You… just let me tell you, you’d better make sure to take good care of me,” Dajarang glared at Ujicha with an arrogant upturn of his eyes.
“Just because Bron got himself killed, it doesn’t mean that you can get away with treating me badly.
After all, you… you know who my father is, don’t you? Do you really think I wouldn’t notice what you’re really feeling on the inside?”

Dajarang sure was an asshole, but it wasn’t like he was completely brainless.
Before he had come here, he had been forced to listen to dozens of lectures about the importance of the deal being made between his father, Count Kobal, and Ujicha.
Even after arriving at the Garung tribe, the deceased Bron had also given him dozens of reminders.

“About your tribe’s mine.
You know that my father is the only one who can give you the terms that you want for the deal, right?” Dajarang haughtily sniffed.

Although not necessarily the truth, Count Kobal was the best trading partner that Ujicha had found after reaching out to several places.
In the first place, Count Kobal was an aristocrat of major importance even within the entirety of Shimuin.

“Bron’s death… well… it was unavoidable.
I-it wasn’t my fault,” Dajarang stammered.

Dajarang had no desire to recall that moment.
No, he did not.
What made it even more frightening in retrospect was the fact that Bron had died.

Even though he had been the least of Shimuin’s Twelve Finest, Bron had nevertheless been one of the twelve strongest knights in Shimuin, and Count Kobal had valued him very much.
That was why he had attached Bron as an escort for his foolish son and had sent him to Samar.

“I understand what you’re saying, young master.” Ujicha widened his eyes innocently as he looked at Dajarang.
“Bron’s death was an accident.
Should the deal be finalized, I will make sure to testify to Count Kobal as the young master wishes me to.”

“Right… that’s right.
B-Bron died after falling in a cesspit.
After getting drunk… h-he fell in your tribe’s toilets because of their open design[2].
He stumbled into the hole feet-first and died,” Dajarang declared proudly.

Ujicha hesitated, “…Rather than that, how about we say that he died while trying to ride a horse after he had too much to drink.
In any case, there’s no need for the young master to worry.
Since I’ll do all that I can so that you don’t need to worry about anything.”

“M-mhm, okay then,” Dajarang accepted.
“I’ll make sure to compliment you to my father, so that my father can grant you a knighthood.”

At the word ‘knighthood,’ the corners of Ujicha’s lips twitched upward.
Although he felt sorry for the deceased Bron, thanks to Bron’s death, Ujicha’s future was becoming even brighter.

Having lost such a knight, Count Kobal was sure to be on the lookout for strong warriors.
Ujicha had the confidence that he was skilled enough to fill Bron’s spot.
After receiving a knighthood from Count Kobal, if Ujicha was able to accumulate enough merits, he might even be able to get his name listed within the Group of the Twelve Finest that Bron had been a member of.

‘If that happens, then… I’ll be sure to live a luxurious life as an aristocrat,’ Ujicha thought to himself with a smile as he turned to look at his surroundings.

He looked around the primitive and dirty market.
Foreign slaves, naked and in chains, were displayed like pieces of meat hung up at a butcher’s stall.

“Please save me!”

There were all sorts of similar calls.
Every foreign slave was shouting who they were and what country they were from, hoping for rescue.
The tribal criminals who had been punished with slavery were just looking around with fearful eyes, even as they inflated themselves to try and look as muscular as possible.

Seeing this, Ujicha made up his mind.
Right now, he had arrived at this market as this pig’s escort, but someday he would return here again after having become a noble of Shimuin.
In front of these big guys from the greater tribes, whom as the chief warrior of the Garung tribe he wasn’t even qualified to look in the eye as they swaggered about, he would return as a noble that they would all struggle to line up to greet.

While picturing that distant — no, not-so-distant future, Ujicha’s lips quivered into a smile.

“Ujicha!” At that moment, Dajarang shouted, grabbed Ujicha by the arm, and started shaking him.
“Th-that elf! Over there!”

“What elf?” Ujicha asked.

Up to this point, they had been taking a look around the market, but they had only managed to find one elf for sale.
The problem was that the elf was a man and Dajarang didn’t show any interest in him because all his limbs were intact.

However, now, Dajarang’s voice was filled with more desire than ever before.
“Right in front of us!”

Ujicha looked up ahead to where Dajarang was pointing.

“…But she has all her limbs?” Ujicha pointed out hesitantly.

“Don’t you see she’s missing an eye!” Dajarang shouted, practically gulping back his drool.

Indeed, now that Ujicha took a second look, the elf in front of them had lost her right eye, leaving behind a mass of scars.

Dajaran muttered excitedly, “She doesn’t even have an eyepatch….
Are… are those scars from a knife? Or could they be burn scars instead?”

The scarring left on blatant display had aroused Dajaran’s interest.
While Ujicha definitely couldn’t understand such a twisted taste, for the sake of his glorious and sweet future, he had to satisfy Dajarang’s desires.

Ujicha gave a confident nod of his head and quickly strode forward.

“Oi, you there,” he shouted.

The merchants dragging this elf with them were a man and a woman.
Dajarang’s eyes fluttered as he glared at the man holding the elf’s chain.

The male merchant’s physique was quite good, but it couldn’t compare to that of Ujicha’s, who had been training in the forest for decades.

‘Could he be a mercenary turned slaver? That means his skills shouldn’t be that great.’ Ujicha evaluated the skills of this slaver with the sharp eyes of Garung’s chief warrior. ‘The one beside him… could she be his wife?’

Seeing how their faces were similarly worn down, they seemed like a married couple.

‘Her body doesn’t appear to have been trained all that much.
Could she be a wizard… or just a bed warmer?’

The answer didn’t really matter.

While blatantly showing off his imposing biceps, Ujicha blocked the path of the two with his arms folded and demanded, “That elf.
Sell her to me.”