Damn Reincarnation

“I think you might look a bit more intimidating if we stick a beard on you,” Kristina said thoughtfully.

“Do I even need to look more intimidating?” Eugene questioned.

“Since you’re trying to disguise yourself as a slave trader, wouldn’t it be better if everyone could recognize you as a slave trader as soon as they looked at you?” Kristina argued.

“Maybe so,” Eugene admitted as he looked at Kristina with a falsely apologetic expression. “But why are we only working on my disguise? You need to disguise yourself as well.”

“Why do I have to put on a disguise as well?” Kristina objected.

“Then, do you really intend on trying to get into a slave market while wearing a priest’s outfit that tells everyone that you’re a priest? Do you really think those bunch of bastards would be willing to let you in?” Eugene pointed out.

“...That might truly be the case, but I have no intention of changing my outfit or altering my appearance,” Kristina insisted, her face hardening into a stubborn pout as she stuck her chin out. It seemed that she was unwilling to take off her priest garb for any reason. “Also, there’s no need for me to put on a disguise as well, is there? If we come up with a reason for why a priest might be accompanying you, then—”

“Setting aside your position as the Saint, that course of action is sure to bring a lot of scorn to the Holy Empire. For one of their priests to actually accept money from a slave trader in order to help them purchase an elf… will you really be alright if such rumors start to circulate?” Eugene asked with a raised brow.

At these words, Kristina’s face stiffened even further. After hesitating for a few moments, she got up from her seat.

“...I’ll give it some thought,” Kristina said, giving in.

“In fact, it’s not like anything will happen if you don’t follow me,” Eugene offered as an alternative.

“There’s no way that I can do that,” Kristina firmly denied. “It is my duty to accompany you on your journey.”

“Why would you go so far as to call it your duty?” Eugene teased her as he turned back to look into the mirror.

He was using a transformation spell a level higher than the one he had used on Bolero Street in the past. Although he still wasn’t able to make any changes to his skeletal structure, Eugene’s current face had completely transformed into that of a grumpy middle-aged man. On top of that, his hair color had been changed from gray to yellow; after covering his hands in oil, Eugene smoothed his hair to the side.

A slave market was going to be held today, and all the tribes of Samar were expected to be attending in large numbers. This market, which was only held twice a year, would exhibit several races that particularly captured the interests of its foreign visitors, and the most valuable among all these races were the elves.

Before heading out to rediscover the elven domain by using the leaf of the World Tree, Eugene had decided to attend the slave market in order to rescue the elves that were to be exhibited there.

His reason for doing so wasn’t particularly pressing.

It was still uncertain whether the leaf of the world tree could truly be used to lead them into the elven territory, but once that matter was taken care of, Eugene had promised to take the elves living in the village back with him to the Lionheart clan’s main estate. Although it would be better if he had first sought out the permission of the main family, since he had already decided on this course of action, he intended to just take them back with him for now and then ask for permission later.

And since he was going to take them with him anyway, wouldn’t it wrap things up nicely if he took care of the elves that were going to be exhibitted at the slave market first?

“I think a beard might be going too far,” Eugene muttered as he looked into the mirror and twisted his face this way and that way.

“Yes, I believe that your face already looks intimidating enough as it is, young master.” The one who had just chimed in with her opinion[1] was a one-eyed elf. She was staring at Eugene with her single eye, and unlike her polite manner of address, her gaze wasn’t all that polite.

Although Eugene and Kristina were the guests of Guardian Signard, many of the elves living in this village harbored antipathy toward humans.

That was also the case for this one-eyed elf named Lavera. The elves living here felt particular animosity toward Eugene, since they had been informed that they would be leaving Samar soon in order to follow him and live in the forest that belonged to the Lionheart clan.

They understood why this was happening. Guardian Signard had personally informed them of the facts behind this move. Rather than Samar, which was infested with barbarians and slavers, it would be much more comfortable for the elves to live in the forests of the Lionheart clan’s main estate. Since they would even be moving over the fairy trees that had long protected the elves of this village, there would also be no need to worry about the Demonic Disease.

However… several elves, including Lavera, felt unavoidable fear at the thought of being protected not by their own kind or by the forest, but by the hated humans.

Eugene also had a rough idea of what kind of position this proposal had left the elves in. He had to admit to himself that by first attending the slave market and rescuing the elves that were being exhibited there, he was hoping to make a public demonstration of his goodwill toward the elves.

‘Although I don’t really have the spare time to care about how they might react to it,’ Eugene mused.

Still, it should at least soften the hostility that they had shown him from the very start. They wouldn’t have any choice but to do so, right? They were taking an unnecessary risk in going to the slave market, and they were going to have to spend a lot of money to purchase the exhibitied elves and escort them back to the village. Then, Eugene would also be allowing them to live in the Lionheart clan’s estate, which was much safer than this forest.

‘After having done that much, if they still mindlessly dislike us just because we’re humans, would they still be able to call themselves elves? They would just be mannerless bastards instead.’

While having these thoughts, Eugene changed the cut of his cloak. Then Kristina, who had headed out a few moments ago, returned to Eugene’s side.

“Sir Eugene,” Kristina called. “Take a look at this.”

On her return, Kristina’s face was covered with a proud smile. Having covered up her priestly outfit with a large robe, she walked over to stand in front of Eugene and spun in circles.

“If I do this, then there’s no need for me to take off my priest’s garb, and if I put up the hood as well, I can even cover my face,” Kristina declared.

“Don’t you think that it’s a little funny to brag about that like it’s some great discovery?” Eugene asked mockingly.

Kristina’s smile faltered at this question. She stopped spinning around on the spot and, while glaring at Eugene with narrowed eyes, she buttoned up her robe.

“...Is it really alright for me to not follow along?” Narissa, who was standing nearby on her crutches, asked hesitantly.

She certainly was afraid of going to the slave market, but she also felt the desire to assist Eugene and Kristina, who had already done so much to help her.

“You should just wait here,” Eugene said firmly. “If we needlessly take you with us, it would be a pain if we were to run into the Garung tribe.”

“...Yes…,” Narissa accepted meekly.

Narissa’s shoulders shook slightly at the words ‘Garung tribe.’ It had only been a few days since she had thrown herself off of a cliff in order to escape her tribal pursuers mounted on giant wolves.

“There’s also no real need for you to follow us,” Eugene said, addressing Lavera.

Lavera shook her head. “Do you really think that a foreigner without any goods for sale will be able to enter and exit the market as he wills?”

Her argument was irrefutable. Eugene checked the ivory plaque that he had already received from Signard. This plaque was issued by the Erbor tribe, one of the great tribes of Samar. Without this plaque, no matter what they did to disguise themselves as slave traders, they wouldn’t even be able to enter the market.

“Perhaps you could rely on the Lionheart name to get in,” Lavera proposed. “If you reveal your true identity, Master, then the various tribes are sure to receive you as an esteemed guest and allow you to participate in the market.

“I don’t want to get in there bad enough that I’m willing to smear dirt all over the clan’s name,” Eugene grumbled as he stood up.

With a smile in her single eye, Lavera assured him, “As long as you’re carrying the plaque and have trade goods to sell, you can enter the market by just paying a small entrance fee.”

“Will there be an inspection?” Eugene asked.

“There shouldn’t be. In the first place, those plaques are only spread amongst the slave traders,” Lavera explained.

Eugene didn’t bother to ask why Signard would have such a plaque. Wasn’t the reason obvious? The slave traders who originally held it must have been caught sneaking around, trying to capture a few of the wandering elves, only to meet their ends at Signard’s sword.

“Don’t worry about it too much. Since I’ve had personal experience with the slave market, I can provide you with all the guidance that you need,” Lavera said as she fastened a set of shackles around her own neck and limbs.

Watching this sight, Narissa began to tremble in fright. Especially when Lavera locked the heavy chains around her own ankles, Narissa couldn’t bear it any longer and was forced to sit down with a pale face.

“Sob… hic… sob….”

Unlike Narissa, who had been overcome by her trauma, Lavera’s eyes had settled into a cold gaze. She staggered upright and then placed the end of the long chain in Eugene’s hand.

“...Do I really need to hold on to this so early?” Eugene asked uncomfortably.

“You need to get used to treating me with as much cruelty as your face suggests you are. If you pointlessly treat me with care, the other slave merchants and the natives will be suspicious of you, Sir Eugene,” Lavera insisted.

“Come then, slave,” Eugene immediately acquiesced and awkwardly tugged on the chain.

At this sight, Narissa was forced to cover up a shaky smile, while Lavera just shook her head without saying a word.

* * *

“I’m Ryan.”

“...And I am Tina.”

Before they arrived at the slave market, they stopped to get their stories straight. Eugene’s alias was Ryan and Kristina’s alias was Tina.

Ryan was a former mercenary turned slaver, and Tina was Ryan’s wife.

“Do I really need to be your wife?” Kristina asked petulantly.

“Then do you want to act as a slave as well?” Eugene asked in return.

“...In the first place, for a couple to work as a pair of slavers—”

“There’s a saying, isn’t there, that ‘birds of a feather, flock together’?”

“When you say that with your current face Sir Eugene, no, Sir Ryan, it feels very offensive to me,” Kristina protested.

“Sorry to say, but your current face isn’t exactly a looker either,” Eugene said without sounding particularly apologetic.

Kristina’s face twisted into a scowl at these provocative words. Kristina’s face had been transformed into that of a middle-aged woman who 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.”

1. The original Korean version of this idiom is ‘the one who had just sparked a match.’ ☜

2. Here’s an image of the kind of toilet that he is describing. https://mlbpark.donga.com/mp/b.php?m=view&b=bullpen&id=201706150005037331 ☜