Despite being midday, the Milfia Guildmaster’s office was dark. Not only were the lights off, but the blinds were drawn down, dragging on the floor. Only weak rays filtered through the gaps in the blinds.

“Where…”

Beneath the slowly floating dust, fierce breathing echoed repeatedly.

“Where are you…”

Levian was masturbating while clutching a worn picture frame so tightly it seemed about to break.

His scarred hand roughly kneaded his thick, swollen member. He repeatedly squeezed the taut foreskin as if punishing himself.

Levian swallowed a moan while gritting his molars. His amber gaze, hazy from the drugs’ effects, turned upward.

Pale fluid dripped steadily from his rigidly erect organ.

His jaw muscles bulged and receded. Hot, labored breaths followed.

Even after three or four ejaculations, his arousal wouldn’t subside. The veins leading to his blunt tip twitched as if alive. Just as Levian reached down again between his unquenched thighs—

“!”

He dropped the already damaged frame. Crack—a fine line appeared on the clear glass from his careless mistake.

His amber eyes slowly rolled downward. His pupils gradually focused as he stared at the broken frame.

Inside was a crumpled photograph. It briefly showed a figure with grass-colored skin.

It had been a photo he hadn’t needed to treasure, since he could see the real person anytime. But now Egru’s photo, which he used to carelessly stuff in his pocket, was the only remaining evidence.

Right…

He had definitely been alive.

With his drug-addled mind, Levian had to keep reminding himself.

That unripe pea of a fellow had definitely been breathing before his eyes. He was certainly not an illusion conjured up in his mind.

Wiping his semen-stained hand, Levian listlessly rummaged through his desk drawer. When he couldn’t find what he wanted after searching for a while, he finally stuck his head in. What he found after all that effort was Egru’s note.

Levian blinked his squinting eyes. The letters danced like trampled worms before his drug-affected vision.

“Where are you…”

Levian muttered in a voice sunken to the depths.

He had been an existence that defied logic from the start. Salvanel had brought him into this world through mad experiments.

By now, he was probably trapped in some corner of the netherworld. He might be crying from loneliness.

“About time for a cool comeback…”

Levian gripped the end of the chair’s armrest. The rough tendons stood out on his scarred hand.

“Fuck, did that idiot forget his promise…”

His hand, tensed to its limit, began to shake. Whether from the drug’s side effects or not, his emotional control was worse than before.

Creak.

“Guildmaster, I have good new—”

“Where the fuck is he?!”

The moment the Vice Guildmaster opened the door, Levian hurled the chair. Straight at the office door before him.

The Vice Guildmaster was startled by the flying chair. It crashed and shattered against the door he had quickly closed again.

“Guildmaster, have you truly lost your mind?!”

The Vice Guildmaster shouted while struggling with the damaged door. Levian’s shoulders, still not calmed from his outburst, rose and fell slowly.

“I’m losing even more hair because of you these days, you know?”

There was no response to his complaints about hair loss. Levian simply slumped down heavily on a nearby sofa, draping his shoulders over it.

“Good grief! At least zip up your pants!”

Levian ignored him completely. Seeing him start to smoke a harsh cigar instead, the Vice Guildmaster heaved a deep sigh and got to the point.

“I have good news, Guildmaster.”

“…”

“It’s about a request I made to an information broker I know personally. I’m tired of seeing you like this.”

The Vice Guildmaster pointed directly at the Guildmaster, who looked not just haggard but insane.

“Listen to this. You can’t go on like this forever.”

“…”

As if used to Levian’s lack of response, the Vice Guildmaster began his explanation.

“There’s information about a half-orc in the slave market who looks like ‘him’… Eek!”

But before he could finish speaking, the Vice Guildmaster had to duck.

Crash!

A heavy ashtray came flying. It shattered into pieces as it hit the wall behind him.

“Ah! At least listen to the end before throwing a fit! I’m not suggesting you buy a replacement!”

The Vice Guildmaster shouted while swallowing dryly.

“How do you know the half-orc in the slave market isn’t ‘him’?!”

That’s when Levian’s momentum faltered. The Vice Guildmaster seized the opportunity to desperately persuade him.

“They say his hair color and eye color are exactly the same! Even though he’s a half-orc, they say he’s unusually skinny! Since he’s a demon race, couldn’t he be alive in some form? You know, isn’t the ‘ma’ in demon the same as the ‘ma’ in magic?”

In truth, the Vice Guildmaster knew. That he was spouting nonsense.

The dead could not return to life. Not even demons.

The Vice Guildmaster had personally confirmed Egru’s return as a cold corpse.

Though he had suspected it might happen, it was still shocking. The horrific state of the corpse had briefly taken his breath away.

Despite always coming back alive with his tenacious life force no matter how much he got hurt and injured.

Still…

The living must go on living.

The Guildmaster needed someone else now. Anyone he could form an attachment to would do.

In his current state, he probably couldn’t properly distinguish between people anyway.

The Vice Guildmaster looked at the Guildmaster with complicated eyes. His drug-intoxicated amber gaze was frighteningly distant, as if not existing in the same space.

The Guildmaster’s lifestyle had completely changed after the half-orc’s death.

Meals became tobacco leaves, water became alcohol, and snacks became drugs.

It was as if he was personally experimenting to see how far a person could go before dying.

This can’t go on.

The Vice Guildmaster had long since planted an insider who could communicate with the slave market.

In reality, finding someone who looked exactly like Egru was impossible. They had found a quarter-orc with similar eye color, and dyed his hair dark brown.

The remaining challenge was how to make the Guildmaster take a liking to him.

“Elf…”

Just then, a slow voice leaked through Levian’s teeth.

“Don’t need an orc. Need to see an elf.”

“Pardon? An elf would be rather difficult to find these days…”

“Then I’m not going.”

“Ah, I was just talking to myself! Please wait a moment!”

The Vice Guildmaster was utterly bewildered.

Wasn’t he suffering from the half-orc’s death?

No, wait. This might be better.

The Vice Guildmaster shook his head. What did it matter whether it was an orc or an elf? It was fortunate enough that he wanted someone real instead of the dead one.

“I’ll make some calls first. Need to check which markets have elves in stock. Do you have any specific characteristics in mind?”

When Levian frowned, the Vice Guildmaster quickly finished speaking.

“Ah, don’t worry! I’ll take care of everything!”

The Vice Guildmaster hurried out of the office while pulling out his communication device.

***

Egru coughed violently.

Time in the slave market passed with physical pain.

His body cycled through electrical torture followed by healing potions.

“Slave scum only listens when they’re hurting,” the slave trader said. His attitude suggested that this much potion investment was worthwhile for training an elf.

“Hey. I’ll let you off if you admit your wrongdoing now. Say it.”

Egru only kept his lips tightly sealed. Electricity flowed once again from the restraint around his neck. Days passed like this, uncertain whether he was alive or dead.

“Why’d they have to come on the same day as those mongrel dogs?”

“Guess they came running as soon as they heard about the elf.”

It was a nightmarish day like any other.

Whispers had been drifting in since early dawn.

The slave traders’ footsteps hurried back and forth outside the cage.

“The auction hasn’t even started yet—how did the news leak? Already having two people sniffing around, does that make sense?”

“Anyway, let’s prepare quietly. We’ve scheduled them at different times. They’re both big spenders, so we should try negotiating, right?”

“Selling quickly would be safer, but…”

“That’s why I gave priority to our regular customer. I think he’ll definitely buy a flawless elf. He’s a collector obsessed with rare demon races. The one coming later might be famous in the underground, but I’m uneasy about showing illegal goods right away. It’s our first deal, so let’s test him first.”

“If they weren’t big spenders, we wouldn’t be bringing him out now…”

“We just need to avoid getting caught by the dogs. Let’s move him to the reception room.”

The atmosphere was as if they were hiding Egru from someone.

Clank.

The cage that had seemed permanently sealed finally opened.

The slave traders grabbed Egru, who was collapsed on the floor, from both sides and lifted him while speaking.

“Wow, didn’t expect to part ways so soon!”

“Let’s keep things nice and smooth, okay?”

Then an unfamiliar preparation process began.

True to the phrase “spick and span,” the slave traders busily decorated Egru. They scrubbed him thoroughly and slathered fruit perfume from head to toe. They even rubbed finely ground pearl powder on his face and body. Everything was done with practiced speed.

“Elves really are different, huh? Worth the effort of dressing up.”

Finally, they draped quality fabric over his shoulders. The material was thin and easy to remove.

“You’d better not make noise today. Try causing a scene and we’ll cut off your feet.”

“Hey, why say that on such a good day?”

The slave trader stopped his companion while covering Egru’s face with cloth.

Egru was led somewhere while unable to see. When he slowly moistened his dry lips, he tasted the bitterness of cosmetics.

T-today is…

Egru tightly closed his damp eyes. He couldn’t help but know.

The day I’m being sold.