Debt Man's Harem Revolution ~Absolutely Obedient to the Sadistic Grimoire~
In the garbage dump of the royal capital Mistoria, debt-ridden poor adventurer Leon picks up an old grimoire. The moment he opens it, Lilia, the spirit of the legendary Seven Great Grimoires 'Black Apocalypse', appears. But despite her cute, small appearance, she's an ultra-sadist!
'Since we've made a contract, you're my slave now. Your only replies are "Yes" or "I'll kill you"!'
Bound by a contract of absolute obedience, Leon endures her unreasonable training every day. But thanks to that, he
Debt Man's Harem Revolution ~Absolutely Obedient to the Sadistic Grimoire~ - A small kindness shining at the bottom of the chains
The morning sun stabbed into the stone steps of the guild.
Leon sat there, slumped. The cold stone's chill crept up from his backside into his spine. Last night, Lilia had vanished right here. The grimoire's light had gone out. And Misha's tear-streaked face wouldn't leave his mind.
"…………Hah."
His sigh misted white. What the hell was he supposed to do now? The morning market bustled noisily in the distance, but the sound felt impossibly far away.
*Clap.*
A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
He turned to find a man standing there, beaming.
"Good morning, Leon-san! Man, I've been waiting since yesterday! Heard you'd be here!"
Bald. The debt collector. His face was smiling, but his eyes weren't smiling at all. His usual smarmy friendliness was cranked up an extra thirty percent.
"Gah… Bald-san. Why are you here?"
"Well, you see, the rumor that you got kicked out of the guild has already spread. Figured this is exactly the time to offer some advice."
*Flutter.*
Bald held out a single sheet of paper. It was crammed with tiny writing. At the edge, a space for a thumbprint loomed large.
"This here's called a debt labor contract. Simply put, it's where you pay off your debt with your body. One quick stamp here, and your interest gets cut in half. Pretty good deal, right?"
(*As if it could possibly be a good deal.*)
But he had no right to refuse. His guild license had been confiscated. His wallet was empty. He couldn't even use magic.
Leon pressed his trembling thumb into the ink.
The thought that the hiragana he'd learned existed for documents like this nearly brought him to tears.
"Alright, contract sealed! Now, let's get going!"
---
Underground.
His nose told him immediately that this was a converted old sewer. Musty. Water dripped somewhere.
He'd been brought to an arena: the "Grau Pit."
A giant of a man, apparently the manager, looked down at Leon. An old scar ran across his neck. His arms were thicker than Leon's thighs. A henchman of the Helgein Trading Company—Volg.
"Hmph. A new one. Scrawny."
"Uh, wait, what am I supposed to—"
"Isn't it obvious? Starting today, you're a slave fighter. We just so happen to be one act short for tonight's show. We'll use you."
He was thrown into an iron cage.
*Clang.*
The sound of the lock clicking shut behind him echoed all the way to the top of his skull.
---
Night.
The arena was dyed red by torchlight. Three hundred spectators. The smell of alcohol, feverish heat, and cheers swirled in a vortex.
Leon watched it all from inside the cage. He looked at the back of his hand. The contract crest remained faint. No voice from Lilia either.
(*The magic… won't come out?*)
"Get out. It's time."
The cage door opened. As if shoved, Leon stepped into the center of the arena.
Sand swirled.
The iron gate on the far side opened. Out came a giant of a man, built like a bear. A former mercenary, they said. Countless scars on his arms. His eyes were dead-set.
"…………You've gotta be kidding me."
The starting bell tolled.
*DOOOONG.*
The man charged. There was no time to think.
*Wham!*
A fist grazed his cheek. He thought he'd dodged, but the second blow sank deep into his gut.
"Guhah…!"
The contents of his stomach surged upward. He couldn't breathe.
(*I'm going to die.*)
In that instant, the man's knee flew at his face.
*Smack.*
Blood gushed from his nose. His vision shook, tinted red.
(*I don't want to die.*)
Leon didn't fall. He clung to the man's leg with desperate, frantic strength. The man, irritated, hammered fists down onto him. He took blow after blow to his back. Still, he didn't let go.
Before he knew it, the bell had rung.
A draw, they said.
Boos flew from the audience. Jeers of "boring" rained down.
Leon collapsed spread-eagle onto the sand, slick with his own blood.
(*Am I… alive?*)
---
He was thrown back into the cage. Every part of his body ached. His left eyelid was swollen and wouldn't open properly.
The iron bars were cold.
"…………Water."
A hoarse voice escaped him.
That's when it happened.
*Clink.*
A thin arm reached out from the neighboring cage. The arm bore marks where chains had been wound. In its hand, a cracked pitcher filled with water.
"…Huh?"
He lifted his head.
There was a girl. Silver hair, small wolf ears. Ice-blue eyes. Her mouth was set in a firm line, saying nothing.
"You… why?"
She didn't answer, simply offering the pitcher. Her hand trembled. Even though she herself was covered in wounds.
(*Is she a slave too?*)
Leon accepted the water. It was lukewarm. It tasted of mud.
But it seeped into him. Not just his throat—the corners of his eyes grew hot.
"Thank you."
The girl's ear twitched.
That was all.
---
The next day, and the day after that.
Every night, she came. She would wet a rag with water and wipe the wounds on Leon's arms. She would silently offer half of her own bread.
Her name was Tina.
"Why are you doing this? You're struggling to eat too, aren't you?"
Tina tilted her head. That was all.
On the third night.
Leon's wounds had gotten a little better. Because Tina had tended to them.
"I… I lost the guild, the grimoire, everything. I thought it was all over."
Tina remained silent.
"But you… why do you have such a kind look on your face…"
As he started to speak, Tina quietly held out her own wrist.
A slave's brand floated up in the torchlight.
Leon lost his words.
She had fallen into the same place.
And yet, she had given him water.
"…………At least you."
Something snapped deep in his chest.
(*At the very least, I want to get her out of here.*)
---
Midday of the third day.
Volg passed by the cages. He seemed to be in a good mood. His face was smirking.
"Gentlemen, tonight is a special event! Our patrons, you see, have grown tired of ordinary deathmatches. So—we thought we'd offer a live viewing of a magical beast's feeding time!"
The arena erupted.
"As for the bait, let's see… hey, that little kitten over there will do. Take her away."
Volg's finger pointed at Tina.
Tina slowly stood up. She didn't resist. She didn't even cry.
A chain was put around her neck, and she was dragged away.
"Stop…!!"
Leon grabbed the iron bars.
He shook them violently. They didn't budge.
"Tina!! Damn it, damn it all!!"
Tina's small back disappeared into the center of the arena.
She was bound to a pillar with chains.
The crowd rose to its feet.
The gate on the opposite side opened.
What emerged was a magical beast three times the size of a wolf. An Iron Fang, its entire body covered in iron-gray fur.
Its fangs glistened with drool.
"…………"
That's when it happened.
The grimoire he'd left sitting on his thigh emitted a faint light.
He looked at the back of his hand.
The contract crest glimmered faintly, like a candle about to go out.
Lilia's voice didn't come. No magic came out either.
But the light was returning.
"…………I'll decide. This isn't an order. I'm going to protect her."
Leon rose to his feet.
He kicked the iron bars.
*CLANG!*
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