Rebellious Grey: The Demon Girl Rises from Slavery
In the city of Granveld, where human greed turns flesh into currency, demons are born already condemned. Gurei—thirteen years old, horned, hungry, and utterly alone—has known nothing but the stinking gutters of the Ash Bottom slum. When a bounty hunter's iron grip drags her from the rain-soaked streets into the slave market's cold machinery, she is stripped of her name, her rags, and what little freedom she had left, reduced to nothing more than "property" to be priced and sold.
But something b
Rebellious Grey: The Demon Girl Rises from Slavery - Travel Companions
The arena's underground passage was dim and cold, even though it was morning.
The smell of blood, sweat, and mold soaked into the stone walls—air that had been seeping into Gurei's lungs for three years. Today, it clung to her skin with an unusual persistence.
Gurei climbed the stone steps toward the Kenpei Corps command room. On her back hung the usual execution greatsword—that hundred-and-fifty-centimeter weight the woman had left behind. With every step she planted, the sensation of it biting into her shoulder reminded her of exactly what it was that kept her chained here.
(I don't like it.)
Deep in her chest, an emotion settled like silt, pulsing dully.
The day after the exhibition match. The memory of cutting down the Holy Knight Order's knights in that white stone arena was still raw. The feel of severing bone when she'd lopped off a horse's head. The moment she'd been an inch from driving her blade into a fallen knight's throat. And then—that innocent voice raining down from the spectator seats.
"Gurei won, so Gurei's the guard."
A thirteen-year-old yuusha, summoned from another world.
Gurei gritted her teeth.
(That brat. Sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.)
The command room door was thick oak. The iron hinges groaned as it swung open.
Inside was even colder than the corridor. Stone walls. Shelves of documents lining the edges. A single rough-hewn wooden desk in the center. Behind it stood two Kenpei officers in deep navy cloaks. Their silver breast pins caught the lamplight in dull reflections.
"So you've come, demon."
The taller of the two looked down at Gurei as he spoke. Close-cropped black hair. Stubble. A face she remembered. The man who'd stomped on the back of her head more times than she could count, down in the arena's basement.
Gurei walked to the center of the room without a word.
"Heard you put on quite the show at the exhibition match. Five Holy Knights in the hospital, was it? A monster like you, pulling a stunt like that."
The Kenpei officer snatched a scroll from the desk and spread it open roughly.
"Orders. As of today, you're assigned as guard to the yuusha Yuuto. You leave this city. Make your travel preparations and depart by nightfall."
Gurei's brow twitched.
"Guard... you say."
Her voice came out lower and flatter than even she expected.
"That's right. Be grateful. A monster like you, getting to accompany the yuusha. An honor beyond your station."
The officer approached her slowly. Then he reached out and hooked his finger around the black iron collar at her throat.
Clink.
The cold sound of metal echoed through the quiet room. The officer flicked the collar with his finger, letting it swing back and forth, taunting.
"...But don't you forget. That thing doesn't come off unless we take it off. Ever."
His breath washed over Gurei's face.
"Guard to the yuusha is just a title. You're nothing but a disposable pawn. If anything happens to that boy, that collar never comes off. Worse—I'll have your head separated from your body. Understand?"
Gurei fixed her dark violet eyes on the officer's face. Her eyes, devoid of highlights, swallowed the lamplight and looked like bottomless darkness.
There was no murderous intent.
No anger, either.
Only the resolve, carved into her like a rule, that she would never forget this man's face, these words.
"...Is that all?"
The officer looked momentarily thrown by her lack of reaction, but quickly snorted.
"Hmph. Same creepy eyes as always. Get out of here. The yuusha's waiting outside."
Gurei turned and walked away.
"Try not to drop dead on the road. We'll be wanting that collar sent back."
The officer's mockery stabbed into her back.
Gurei didn't look back.
She left the command room and walked the corridor toward the outer gate.
(A disposable pawn, huh.)
(That was always the plan.)
(It's not as if I have anywhere to go anyway.)
With every step, the greatsword on her back weighed heavy.
When she passed through the outer gate, the morning light stabbed at her eyes.
"Gurei!"
A bright voice came flying through the light.
Yuuto was waiting just outside the gate, waving. The same worn white shirt as yesterday. The same small leather bag slung across his shoulder. He didn't look like a yuusha summoned from another world at all—just a thirteen-year-old boy you could find anywhere.
"Morning! From today on, I'm counting on you!"
Yuuto ran up to Gurei with a full-faced grin.
"...I never said I'd be your guard."
Gurei's words were ice.
"Huh? But the orders came down, right? The Kenpei guy said it earlier. That Gurei would be traveling as my guard."
Yuuto tilted his head.
"Don't assume I'll obey just because I've been ordered. I refuse to be your guard."
"Why? I want to go on adventures with you, Gurei. You're my partner."
Partner.
The word lodged in Gurei's chest like a tiny thorn.
"...I don't like it."
Gurei's voice came out as a low growl.
"Huh? Don't like what?"
"That way you call me. That smile of yours. Everything. And don't go calling my name so casually."
Gurei glared at Yuuto.
Yuuto pouted for a moment, lips pursed.
"...Why? I can't call you by your name? I like you, Gurei, so I want to call you by your name."
"I don't like you. So don't."
"That's not a reason. Then what should I call you?"
"Don't call me anything. I have nothing to talk to you about in the first place."
Gurei said it and started walking.
Yuuto trotted after her.
"Wait, Gurei! Then should I call you 'Big Sister'? Or keep it 'Partner'? Oh, but you don't like being called by your name, right? Hmm..."
Gurei stopped and turned around.
"Why do you bother with me? I'm a demon. Everyone in this city sees my horns and looks away. You should be the same."
Yuuto blinked up at her horns with a blank expression.
"Horns? Oh, you mean these? They're cool. The first time I saw them, I thought they were amazing. Plus you're strong, and cool, and it seems like it'd be fun to be with you."
Yuuto laughed innocently.
Gurei's eyes were captured by that smile.
(This one actually means it.)
(He's not afraid of my horns. Not disgusted.)
(He just says they're cool.)
(...I don't like it.)
Gurei bit her lip and started walking again.
"Do what you want. But don't call my name. That much, don't forget."
"...Got it. Then what should I call you?"
"Don't call me anything."
"But then I can't talk to you."
"Then don't talk to me."
"Ehh, that's impossible. We're going to be traveling together, after all."
Yuuto said it with perfect nonchalance.
Gurei exhaled deeply.
(This one doesn't hear a single word I say.)
The cobblestone road toward the merchant district. The morning market was already bustling. Wagons loaded with fruit and vegetables. The smell of fish being gutted. The calls of hawkers. For Gurei, whose entire world for three years had been the arena's basement and the sand above it, all of it felt like scenery from some distant foreign land.
People passing by saw her horns and turned their faces away without subtlety.
"Hey, look. A demon."
"She's got a collar. A slave, huh. One of the arena lot."
"Creepy. Why's something like that walking around outside?"
Whispers meant to be heard reached her ears.
Gurei ignored them.
But Yuuto was different.
"Hey, Gurei. Those people just now, they're awful. You haven't done anything wrong."
Yuuto walked beside her with an angry face.
"...It's always like this. Don't mind it."
"But I do mind. You're my partner. If someone badmouths my partner, I don't like it."
Gurei said nothing.
(Partner, huh.)
(Why does this one go so far for me?)
The weapon shop was one alley off the merchant district's main street.
A wooden signboard painted with a sword and shield. In front of the shop, rusted armor and well-worn swords were piled carelessly.
When Gurei opened the door, a bell jingled.
"Hey, welcome."
A fat man poked his head out from behind the counter. A grease-stained apron. Thick arms visible beneath rolled-up sleeves.
But the man's face twisted openly the moment he saw Gurei.
"...What, a demon? Sorry, but we don't serve demons here. Get out."
The shopkeeper waved his hand dismissively, shooing her away.
"I'm a customer. Show me your equipment."
Gurei's voice was low.
"Huh? A customer? A demon? Don't make me laugh. Just having something like you touch my goods'll drive off every other customer. Get out of here."
The shopkeeper's voice grew sharper.
That was when it happened.
"Excuse me, please."
Yuuto popped his head out from beside Gurei.
"This person is my guard. We want to buy new equipment for our journey. We have money."
Yuuto pulled a leather pouch from the bag on his shoulder.
Then he opened it on the counter.
Jingle, jingle, jingle.
Gold coins spilled out with a clatter.
"This is my travel allowance. And also—"
Yuuto glanced at Gurei.
Without a word, Gurei set another leather pouch she'd been carrying at her hip onto the counter.
She upended it.
Silver and copper coins formed a pile beside the gold.
Three years. On the arena's sand, she had shaved away her life, spilled blood, and kept winning. This was every last coin of her reward.
"...Is this enough?"
Gurei stared straight at the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper stood with his mouth half open, staring at the mountain of gold and silver on the counter.
"Th-this is..."
The shopkeeper's throat clicked as he swallowed.
"A scarf. A chest piece. Short trousers. Gauntlets. Boots. Bring out your best."
Gurei fired off her order.
The shopkeeper hesitated for a while, looking back and forth between Gurei and the pile of gold, but eventually plastered on a fawning smile.
"R-right! Thank you for your business! I'll bring out the good stuff right away!"
The shopkeeper's attitude flipped completely as he retreated into the back storeroom.
Gurei snorted.
(The moment he sees gold, this is how he acts.)
(I don't like it.)
"Gurei, that's amazing! You have so much money!"
Yuuto's eyes sparkled as he stared at the pile of gold.
"...Three years' worth. This is all of it."
"All of it? So you're going to spend everything, including my share?"
"Equipment is life. Not something to be stingy about."
Gurei said it and glanced at the cheap swords leaning against the wall.
(Besides, I have nowhere else to spend money anyway.)
The shopkeeper returned from the back.
His arms were full of leather equipment.
"Sorry for the wait! These are our finest goods. First, the scarf. This is a soft, high-quality cloth dyed in purple. It protects the neck while not hindering movement at all."
The scarf the shopkeeper reverently presented was deep purple fabric. Smooth to the touch, with a luster. Nothing like the filthy black sarashi she'd been issued at the arena.
Gurei took the scarf without a word.
"Next, the chest piece. This is a black iron breastplate forged by dwarves. The most important piece of armor—it protects the heart and lungs. Then, short trousers. Built for gladiators, with ease of movement as the top priority. The gauntlets protect the arms and wrists while leaving the fingers free to move. For the boots, I've prepared a pair with studded soles for good traction."
The shopkeeper laid out the equipment one after another.
All of it smelled brand new.
"...I'll try them on."
Gurei gathered up the equipment and headed for the fitting room at the back of the shop.
The fitting room was narrow and dim.
A clouded mirror on the wall. A single old wooden chair.
Gurei lowered the greatsword from her back and leaned it against the wall.
Then she removed the battered gladiator gear she wore, piece by piece.
The filthy black sarashi. The brown leather armor covering her shoulders, arms, and waist. Three years of history soaked and caked into it with sweat and blood.
When she let them fall to the floor, she picked up the new equipment.
First, the short trousers.
She stepped into them, and the soft leather clu
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