At my absolutely innocent greeting, the two beastfolk instinctively stepped back as if my words carried ill intent. Somehow, deep in my soul, I already knew this was Stevin’s fault.

  A shocking number of problems since I arrived in this world could be traced back to that boy. Maybe I should separate him from the group. Put him in a time-out corner. Or a terrarium.

  I sighed and addressed the two standing behind him.

  “My name is Elio Welchia. As I promised last night, no one here intends to hurt you. You’re free to return to your home.”

  “...don’t have one,” the catwoman murmured.

  “Sorry?” I frowned, stepping closer without thinking, not catching her words.

  Immediately, Stevin scrambled aside, and the two beastfolk took another synchronized step back, like I was some kind of explosive device with legs.

  “Stay back,” the lionman said, hands raised defensively. “Please, stay back.”

  Right. So that was the situation. Wonderful.

  I lifted my hands as gently as possible, palms open, a universal sign for ‘Look, no murder here.’

  “Stevin,” I muttered without taking my eyes off the pair. “Be honest. Is this your doing?”

  “Ah.”

  The boy scratched the back of his head and inhaled sharply. The prelude to stupidity.

  “Maybe? I just told them the basic things.”

  “Basic,” I repeated. “Such as?”

  “T-the, uh… general things about our group. Who not to anger. And… why.”

  I knew it. I fucking knew it. He’d probably told them I was some vampiric eldritch abomination.

  “Do not listen to him,” I sighed. “Please. He eats dogs.”

  Stevin gasped in offense. “Your Grace… Lundud Dogs are not dogs.”

  Ah yes. The first stage of grief: Denial.

  Ignoring him, I turned my head back toward the woman, “Could you please repeat what you said? Only if you want to, of course.”

  The woman fidgeted, unsure of whether to speak or not, but then, with a voice that sounded just as pretty as she was, she muttered, “We don’t have one. A home.”

  “Did something happen to it?” I asked gently, pity in my eyes, imagining some tragedy.

  But from the way the two beastfolk shook their heads, real sadness in their eyes, and the look on Stevin’s face, it seemed I had it all wrong from the very beginning.

  Stevin tugged at my sleeve and pulled me a few steps aside just as the catwoman broke down, sinking to her knees, tears streaking down her cheeks.

  And then he explained. Explained what he knew from this morning's conversation. Explained what he and Enna had somehow forgotten to tell me.

  A blunder that slipped my mind, despite all the knowledge of history I had. One of the most disturbing acts of cruelty of mankind since time immemorial. Slavery.

  Slavery was not a new atrocity. It was one of the oldest stains on any world’s humanity, apparently humanoidity had ever built.

  From the earliest tribes of Earth stealing women and children from the losing side, to Egyptian dynasties, to the horrors of American slavery, to the modern era where the industry of human trafficking thrives more than ever, slavery has always been a persistent rot.

  Although the definition of what a slave was did change over time, it was a widespread and far-too-common practice in most ancient and historical societies across all continents throughout the ages.

  So why had I expected this world to be any different?

  In a way, what else could I have expected from this world besides more of the same? Yes, there were godlike beings, vampires, elves, magic, beastpeople, and feudal kingdoms... but beneath all of that, the core of sentient life did not change, especially on the moral and ethical side of things.

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  If our brains were more or less the same, it could also be expected that our mistakes would be more or less the same. Unfortunate as it may be.

  “I see…” I muttered at Stevin’s explanation, unsure what to say. “From an unfortunate fate to another.”

  “Yes,” Stevin sighed, looking at the beastfolk in front of us as the lion man tried comforting the catwoman. “It seems all of them were slaves to some small merchant who kept using them however he pleased. That boy inside…”

  “Don’t tell me,” I frowned in utter disgust at what I could’ve imagined happened.

  But Stevin nodded. “Yes, it’s a half-breed, made out of wedlock and… well, out of everything.”

  I sighed, closing my eyes for a few seconds. “That is why Enna looked so disgusted last night.”

  “Ah, no, that’s just her hating beastfolk,” Stevin clarified, tagging it as racism instead of just some religious reason.

  All the same, this world was just as fucked as the Earth was, if not worse.

  But the question of ‘what now?’ soon arose, making me turn inward to my schizophrenic sass machine.

  ‘Ephe, forgive me, but last night when I fell asleep, did you give me more Directives that I didn’t register?’

  [Yes.]

  [Current Directive: Escort your guests back to the Ashtara Kingdom.]

  [Current Optional Directive: Take the Beastwoman as your First Wife in this World.]

  [Current Optional Directive: Take all the Beastfolk to Safety.]

  I froze on the damn spot. My breath caught in the middle of my windpipe.

  ‘What did you just say? First Wife?’

  [Yes.]

  [Recommendation: Polygamy will be helpful to Elio.]

  [The Future is Unknown.]

  [The Ruler of the Calcan Castle cannot remain Unmarried.]

  ‘I am married. I have a first wife. An only wife. Julia.’

  [Elio.]

  [Strong Alliances will be Required to Restore the Broken Laws.]

  [Julia is not yet Revived.]

  [The Deal has not yet been Fulfilled.]

  [Recommendation: Marriage would reduce Mental Strain and Deterioration.]

  ‘Enough!’ I said in my head, almost yelling it out loud, ‘I reject, Deny, and piss on that “Optional Directive’ Ephe. You know my heart, you know that I would not do that.’

  [Ephe knows.]

  [It is an Optional Directive for that Reason.]

  [Do you wish to reject the Directive?]

  ‘I do.’

  [Understood]

  [Optional Directive: Take the Beastwoman as your First Wife in this World - Rejected.]

  [The Custodians are Not Pleased.]

  ‘Tell them I would cheat on my dead wife if the Custodians come here personally and suck me off one by one. How dare they act displeased with such a thing?’

  But Ephe did not reply, and it seems that no punishment came from rejecting a stupid Directive beside the Custodians and their bloody feelings.

  Hoping to forget the discussion that I just had in my head, I turned my focus back on the two beastfolk as they slowly calmed down.

  “What do you suggest, Your Grace?” Stevin asked. “Should we allow them to come with us for now?”

  “Before that,” I said quietly, hoping that I could do some good at least to these poor people, “Tell me, how do you free a slave?”

  Stevin looked confused, then surprised as he looked at me.

  He didn’t say it; it was obvious only from his standing as a Noble and the general knowledge he had on the topic that made me draw the simple conclusion that his not-so-kind family would also dabble in some good old slavery.

  And so, with a defeated sigh, he told me everything I needed to know.

  Quietly, after the woman calmed down, we approached them again, keeping our distance at first.

  “Forgive my ignorance,” I said gently. “I wasn’t aware of your situation. Please, would you allow me to change that?”

  The woman sniffed as she raised her head from her palms, finally meeting my eyes, her ears lowered.

  “W-What do you mean?” the lion man stuttered as he asked.

  “Allow me to free you,” I corrected.

  The two beastfolk looked at each other for a moment, then with a quiet, resigned look on his face, the man began walking toward me, unsure at first.

  The woman opened her mouth to speak, her cat ears perched up, only to fall back down as she stood silent.

  It was uncomfortable knowing what I had to do, but after another reassuring nod from Stevin, I met the lionman halfway.

  We stopped a few feet from each other, both of us studying the other up close, only to be interrupted by two rhythmic taps as a spike shot up from the ground near my left side, almost making the man fall on his back from the jumpscare.

  “It’s fine,” I smiled. “I do not want to have a weapon in hand when I do this.”

  The man blinked once before regaining his posture and finally kneeling before me.

  “M-my name is Arther Leonheart,” he stuttered, beginning the process.

  Unfortunately, to free a slave, you first have to own it. And the way one does that is pretty straightforward, though highly disturbing.

  Which is why I pressed my left pointing finger on the spike and pressed gently, just enough for the sharp spike to cut through the layers of skin, allowing blood to flow freely.

  When a droplet formed on the tip of my finger, I spoke, offering my blood to him, “Arther Leonheart, accept me as your new master.”

  With trembling hands, he reached forward, grabbing my forearm before, with quickened breaths as if he was in fight or flight, he opened his mouth gently and licked the blood of my finger before swallowing it, thus completing the transfer.

  Success was made obvious when a small glimmer appeared around his collar.

  Truth be told, before I learned the truth, I thought that those collars of theirs were just chokers, or more of a fashion statement. But it seemed it was actually some form of magical artifact. Chains made fashionable, I guess.

  It was heartbreaking to see the look in Arther’s eyes after the transfer was complete, thinking he was fooled yet again.

  “A person who knows only suffering confuses it for normality,” I sighed, crouching down to meet him at the same level. “I have not lied to you, my friend.”

  Slowly, I reached forward, grabbing the collar and, now that it knew I was Arther’s master, it snapped free.

  “See?” I asked, showing off his former chains, before getting back up, straightening my back, and ignoring the shocked look the catwoman had on her face as I offered Arther my hand. “Come, Arther, you have suffered enough.”

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