Her morning begins while the world is still sunk in darkness. Aria knelt on the cold stone floor, her hands clasped tightly on her thighs. She held her breath and waited. She heard the sound of her waking master casually spreading his legs atop the bed. Bare feet groped for the floor, and then — Greive's thick finger pointed to where she was. "[cold]Come." A single word. That decided everything, every morning. Aria did not stand. She advanced on her knees, scraping across the floor. Her soiled linen dress chafed against her bare legs. She came before her master, his eyes still closed in drowsiness, and reached for his lower body. She gently shifted the cloth, slightly damp with sleep, and drew him out. The organ, still mostly dormant, quivered faintly at the touch of her breath. "...Take it slow." The sleepy voice drifted down. Aria nodded and bent forward. Her short black hair swayed beside her ears. First, she wrapped him softly in the pads of her fingers. Warm. Every time that raw, visceral sensation touched her fingers, the pit of her stomach clenched tight — how many times had it been now? (*...No matter how many times I do this, I never get used to it.*) She brought her lips to the tip of his penis. Let her breath ghost over it. Then, timidly, she extended her tongue and moistened it. Greive's hips lifted, just barely. He was still half in dreams. Confirming his reaction, Aria coated him in saliva and slowly licked her way up. Through her tongue, she could trace the path of every vein. She knew by heart now how to move to change his breathing. Flat-chested, frail — by this world's standards, she was a woman of little value. So she had honed only the skill of her mouth. She had no choice but to hone it. (*...This was the only way I could carve out a place for myself.*) Aria pursed her lips and enveloped the glans. She sucked slowly, teasing the ridge with the tip of her tongue. Her thin, pale cheeks flushed faintly from within. With each movement of her mouth, the *yougumu* around her neck swayed slightly. The cold metal touched her collarbone in rhythm with her motions. A silver collar embedded with a magic stone. A restraint fitted to every slave in the Kingdom of Landia. Defy it, and searing pain would wrack her body. Stray beyond a certain distance, and an alarm would sound. That kind of thing. The system had been codified into law roughly one hundred and twenty years ago, under King Bertrand. Officially, it was for the protection of slaves — a right not to be killed wantonly — but in practice, it was a mechanism to incorporate human trafficking into the nation's tax revenue. Aria had learned this history from reading old books. Not that knowing it changed anything. (*...It's not like I could ever defy it in the first place.*) She had tried to run away. Just once. While Greive was out in town, through the back gate. She had only run a few steps before a pain like lightning shot from the collar. Every muscle in her body seized, and she collapsed on the spot. When she woke, she had been returned to the floor. Since then, she had given up on escape. Aria opened her mouth wide and took him to the base. His penis struck the back of her throat. Tears welled up. Enduring it, she opened her throat and slowly moved her head back and forth. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, dampening the sheets slightly. Greive let out a satisfied breath. "...That's it. Good." He stroked her head. As if confirming the texture of her hair. The gesture was like petting a dog. Aria did not resist his hand and continued her service for a while. Her jaw ached. Her tongue went numb. Still, she did not stop moving. And so, until the moment he ejaculated, Aria fulfilled her morning duty, feeling only the changes of his organ inside her mouth. --- She swallowed the cloudy fluid. Greive turned his back, satisfied, and began to breathe in sleep once more. Aria wiped her mouth and sat down at the foot of the bed. Outside the window, it was still dim. "...Someone, help me." She murmured it in Japanese, in a tiny, truly tiny voice. Words no one in this world could understand. The words of her homeland, a distant country. Aria wrapped her arms around her own shoulders. Her bony, fragile body was trembling. She was not originally from this world. She had been an ordinary first-year university student in Japan. Her name was — it had been so long since anyone had called her by that name. On her way home late at night, her vision had suddenly warped, and the next thing she knew, she had collapsed on a country road in the Kingdom of Landia. The traveling merchant who found her identified her as a drifter and promptly reported her to the authorities. Under Landian law, if no guarantor appeared within thirty days, the drifter was registered as a state-owned slave and put up for auction. No one appeared. Of course they didn't. She didn't exist in this world. She was bought by Greive in the auction square. That day, too, had been a dim morning like this one. In Landia, there was a custom of shunning drifters as tainted souls. If anyone learned she was originally Japanese and had been reincarnated — it would be the stake. So Aria had never once spoken Japanese. She had kept up the pretense of not understanding. But inside her heart, it was different. "...Mom." The laughter of her friends. The smell of the university campus. Her mother's smile. She could still recall them vividly. The fact that she could recall them was the only thing that kept her human. But even that might only be a matter of time. If she repeated days like this, someday she would truly forget everything. In the small mirror propped against the wall, her own face was reflected. Short black hair, deep brown, narrow eyes. A haggard woman in a soiled, shabby dress stared back at her. She couldn't believe this was the same person who had once laughed at a Japanese university. --- Past noon. The sound of horse hooves echoed before the quiet Greive estate. Aria stopped her hands, which had been helping a servant in the kitchen. Greive had mentioned a visitor — but at this hour? "Ah, good of you to come, Zahal." She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But the voices leaking from the parlor carried all the way into the hallway. Aria killed her footsteps and drew near, pressing her back against the wall. "[serious]So — about that slave we discussed." Aria's back pressed flat against the wall. Her breath stopped. "I've grown rather tired of her lately." Tired of her. The tone was as if he were letting go of a tool he had used for too long. There was no malice in it. That was the cruelest part. The slave trader — Zahal Varingia — seemed to laugh, his corpulent body shaking. A bald merchant in his forties, affiliated with the Vinkla Trading Company. Aria had heard the name. He was mild-mannered on the surface, but rumor had it he had an unsavory habit of "testing" slaves during transport. "The girl's face isn't bad, and her age is suitable. In that case, I'll take her for fifty pieces." Fifty silver coins. The price of two thousand five hundred loaves of bread. That was the value of a single human being. Aria realized her knees were trembling. "Is that so. Then I'll leave the handover to you, tomorrow morning." "Understood." The conversation ended there. Treating slaves as objects was common sense for the nobility of this world. Aria slid down the wall, slumping to the floor. The cold stone leeched the warmth from her body. The magic stone in her collar glowed with a faint, pale blue light. Perhaps it had sensed her agitation — though in reality, it was merely the spell's periodic activation — but to Aria, it looked like a watchful eye, mocking her. She pressed a hand over her mouth and stifled her voice. She couldn't let out a sob. If she did, she would only be sold to an even worse place. (*What should I do...*) Hundreds of thoughts raced through her head. But there wasn't a single answer. She could do nothing. There was nothing a slave could do. --- That night. Resolved, Aria opened the door to Greive's bedroom. He was just in the middle of having a nightcap, and when he saw Aria enter the bedroom, he looked slightly surprised. "What is it?" "[gentle]...May I?" So saying, she undid her sash. The shabby dress fell to her feet. Thin shoulders. A meager chest. Gaunt hipbones. It was by no means a body overflowing with sexual appeal. Yet she stood naked before Greive. "Shall we continue from this morning, then?" He spoke without interest. Still, Aria climbed onto the bed and buried her face between his legs. (*Don't sell me.*) Screaming in her heart, she took his penis into her mouth. More intensely, faster than she had in the morning. She took him deep into her throat, sucking him as tears streamed down her face. Her mouth filled with the taste of him. Feeling it still wasn't enough, she moved her tongue even more frantically. She sucked the glans, licked the underside of the shaft, and sometimes even took his testicles into her mouth. Saliva ran down his thighs, staining the sheets. (*Please...*) She trailed her fingers over her own vagina. Wetting herself, she straddled Greive. As she lowered her hips on trembling legs, she felt the sensation of him, still not fully hard, sliding slickly inside her. Aria moved her hips herself. Not for pleasure. But to cling to him desperately. "[surprised]Hey... what's gotten into you, all of a sudden?" Greive's voice was unusually shaken. Even so, his penis was definitely beginning to regain its hardness inside Aria's vagina. She collapsed her upper body, clinging to his chest as she quickened the movement of her hips. Each time she was rubbed inside, a dull pain, separate from pleasure, spread through her lower body. But none of that mattered. If he could just feel good like this, and then, if he would just stop letting her go — "[scared]...Please." She begged out loud for the first time. But she couldn't say what for. To ask him not to sell her would be to defy her master's decision. If she did that, the collar would activate. "[cold]Do as you like. I'm going to sleep." He spoke coldly and closed his eyes. Even so, Aria continued to move her hips atop him. Until he climaxed. Until her own vagina convulsed and his semen was released inside her. Breathing raggedly, tears spilled from her eyes. (*It's no use, after all.*) --- The next morning. Zahal visited the estate again and signed the contract. Fifty silver coins. Aria watched the numbers being written into the ledger from the corner of the parlor. Greive handed over the documents, immediately rose from his seat, and went out to inspect the garden. To the very end, he did not spare Aria a single glance. "[gentle]Now then, young lady. Shall we be going?" Zahal smiled amiably as he seized Aria's arm. His large hand, though seemingly gentle, possessed a strength that would never allow her to shake it off. His deep brown eyes roamed over Aria's entire body, as if licking her all over. "[cold]Not bad at all. First-rate." It was the voice of someone appraising merchandise. Her head hung low, Aria was led by him out the front door. A carriage waited outside. A covered wagon, the kind used for transporting criminals. "[sad]...Someone." She murmured it faintly in Japanese. It didn't become a voice. It was just air scraping at the back of her throat. The magic stone in her collar glowed pale blue. Resistance was not permitted. Raising her voice, running away — even hoping, none of it was allowed. (*Help me.*) She screamed it only inside her heart. But she already knew that voice would never reach anyone. The carriage door shut with a heavy sound. Where she was being taken from here — to a brothel in Helda City, or somewhere even worse. Aria simply curled up in the dark wagon bed. The sound of horse hooves striking the cobblestones receded, steady and rhythmic. Outside the window, she faintly heard the sound of