1.
Her eyes shone, luminous even in the gloom. Below them, her lips were plump and red. Her face was so small and delicate, it was a marvel how her features fit so perfectly upon it. The line of her neck flowed down to skin so pale it seed to glow, even through a layer of gri. And below that...
“Whoa.”
They were in the sa cart, bound in the sa way, presumably both slaves. He didn’t need to strain his eyes to make out her attire. What she wore could barely be called clothing—just thin, tattered rags stitched together and riddled with holes. As if even that was a luxury, her back was almost entirely bare, save for a small knot of fabric holding it together. The cold, rough wood of the cart pressed directly against her skin. In short, she was practically naked.
As his gaze drifted down, he caught himself and quickly looked up. He had no idea where he was, but as a man from modern society, the instinct that such a blatant stare was a one-way ticket to social ruin was drilled into his very bones.
When he t her eyes again, feigning nonchalance, her expression was unchanged. There was no trace of sha or anger.
“What?” Kim Buja said, breaking the silence. It was a relief she wasn’t calling him out, but her unwavering stare was starting to unnerve him.
“Who are you?” she asked in return.
He paused before answering, studying her once more. This ti, his gaze was purely analytical. He had a hunch, but in an uncertain situation, he had to be careful. A crisis would be hard to handle while unard and bound. Even if she was in the sa predicant, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
“I only ask because you seem unusually cheerful for soone being sold into slavery,” she clarified, her voice even. “There’s no need to be so guarded.”
“Ah.”
Fortunately, she seed to have read his caution and explained her question. It wasn’t enough to earn his complete trust, but he decided to answer.
“I’m just a guy in the sa boat as you, being sold off. What else is there to it?”
“The sa boat? A noble of the Empire?”
The words tumbled from her lips, giving him the clues he needed to piece together the situation. He quickly decided which story to tell.
“Not a high-ranking one. You?” he asked back.
“... too. I was captured while fleeing the Allied Forces’ invasion.”
“Hmm, I see.”
He didn’t ask any foolish follow-up questions; he could mull that over on his own. He carefully assembled the puzzle pieces: ‘the Empire’ and ‘the Alliance forces.’ They were terms straight out of a fantasy novel. Typically, the Empire would rule the continent, while the Alliance represented a coalition of other nations. For an Imperial noble to be captured and enslaved by the Alliance ant that the Alliance had rebelled, and a war had broken out. The fact that they were selling off Imperial nobles as slaves ant the Alliance clearly had the upper hand.
’Right. That’s why the quest is to rescue the princess.’ He’d suspected as much from the mont he found himself being carted away. When a mission was focused on a single individual, the key elents for its completion were usually close at hand.
“Huh?”
As he connected the dots, sothing else occurred to him, sothing that didn’t quite fit. He t her clear eyes again. She matched every stereotype he had of a princess. The kind of princess he ’hoped’ for. She was beautiful despite her filthy clothes, and her gaze held an unbroken dignity despite her humiliating circumstances.
"Heh."
A small laugh escaped him. Jumping to conclusions could jeopardize the mission, but it was just so painfully obvious. She had to be the princess. Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to ask her directly. It was just a gut feeling, and there was still a high probability he was wrong. The real princess could be a ditz, and this woman could just be an exceptionally sharp noblewoman. So, he held his tongue. He could afford to observe a little longer.
Still, he decided not to ignore his instincts completely.
“You’re lucky, though.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“You look like you’ll sell for a high price.”
She said nothing.
’Might as well try to get on her good side,’ he thought, offering a ntal apology to Jeong Seora for the joke. All he received in return was a look one might give a filthy animal.
’Thud!’
Before long, the cart lurched to a halt, and the door was thrown open.
“Out!”
* * *
They were in a clearing. A lake shimred nearby, and about five carts were gathered in the lush forest.
“Get down, now!”
“Over there!”
The scene was one of pure terror, divided into two groups: those dressed like him, being herded out of the carts, and those doing the herding with brutal efficiency.
’About twenty of them?’ he thought, cautiously assessing the mission’s difficulty. A dozen or so slaves versus twenty slave traders. ’Wait, are those slave traders?’ He’d seen his fair share of them in gas, but he’d never seen or heard of a group decked out in full plate armor and carrying swords. They looked more like a knightly order.
He didn’t question it. If the captives were truly Imperial nobles, and if the princess was among them, it made sense that their captors would be Alliance knights. If he were the Alliance’s commander, he’d have done the sa. The only problem was that to escape, he had to get through these ridiculously well-ard bastards, identify the princess among the dozen or so slaves, and rescue her.
’Can I even do this?’
He wasn’t entirely without confidence. The system wouldn’t give him an impossible mission. This was the first stage of the Gold Mission—a tutorial, essentially. It stood to reason that it should be clearable even without weapons or equipnt, designed to give him a feel for how these missions worked.
He deliberately slowed his pace as he was herded toward the other slaves. A knight imdiately barked at him.
“Move it!”
“I’ve got a cramp in my leg...” Buja mumbled, dragging his feet even more.
Instead of a curse, a boot ca flying. ’Thwack!’
“Ugh!”
A cramp he didn’t actually have exploded in his kicked leg, and he rolled several ters before landing in a heap with the other slaves.
’Shit.’
As pain radiated through his body, his assessnt was complete. ’Taking them head-on is suicide.’ He now understood the difficulty of this damn Gold Mission and the stats required for any kind of unconventional victory. Even with his original gear, he couldn’t take down a single one of these knights. A surprise attack with every dirty trick in the book might let him handle two, at most. It wasn’t a matter of skill; it was the absolute, overwhelming difference in stats that governed both gas and this new reality.
He quickly changed his line of thinking, erasing any thought of fighting the heavily ard bastards. ’So, where’s the best place to run to beco a legendary escape artist?’
When it ca to compromising with reality, Kim Buja was second to none.
* * *
The carts had stopped because night was falling. Contrary to his fears, an opportunity to escape presented itself sooner than expected.
“Go get so firewood,” one of the knights ordered, re-tying their hands in front of them. “And I wouldn’t think about running. Those bracelets suppress magic. If we catch you, I’ll make sure you’re eaten alive by beasts while we keep you from dying.”
It was the confidence of n who knew they could easily recapture any who fled. The kick from earlier had taught Buja that this wasn’t re arrogance, so he nodded obediently. He then ambled into the forest with six other male slaves. Judging by their trembling hands and furtive glances, none of them had the nerve to try anything.
Neither did he. Escaping alone was pointless when his mission was to rescue the princess. His first priority was to identify her without arousing the knights’ suspicion.
’Still, it’s a relief there are only four won,’ he thought. He was 99% certain the woman from the cart was the princess—or at least, he hoped she was. If he made a run for it with her only to find out she wasn’t, he’d be in a world of trouble.
That led to another thought. ’What happens if I die here?’
It was the kind of cliché worry he used to mock in the ga-fantasy novels he read. Protagonists who readily accepted their fantasy world but then fretted about the ga-like concept of death. Of course, his real body had been transported here, so death would be permanent.
Or so he’d always assud. Now that he was facing the possibility, he couldn’t help but wonder. Perhaps there was hope. If it was okay to die, if the mission granted him an extra life, another chance... but wasn’t the risk too great? The thoughts swirled in his mind before he pushed them away.
’I just have to not die.’
More than half the virtual reality gas he’d played had been hardcore, giving only one life. The injustice of being forced into slavery to gather firewood still stung, but what could he do?
Once they were a good distance into the woods, he discreetly opened the Gold Shop.
“Being a slave is bad enough. I’m not eating dog food on top of it.”
He spent three gold on a perfectly cooked steak, sourced from Australia, and a Coke. The savory sauce, the tender at that lted in his mouth, the burst of juices—it was heavenly. Eating with his hands bound was awkward, but not impossible. As he filled his stomach, marveling once again at the utility of the Gold Shop, a thought struck him. ’Wait a second. Is there any reason to hide the Gold Shop here?’
He had no reason to conceal his Gold Maker class from the people of this world. Not that he planned on announcing it, but he figured they would find the Gold Shop just as fascinating as he did. Especially if they saw modern food.
After burying the disposable container, he gathered a reasonable amount of firewood and headed back toward the camp.
“Let’s do this.”
Gold Mission. Chapter 1-1.
He had played countless genres, but RPGs were considered the king. It was ti to show them what true role-playing was all about. A capitalist’s smile spread across Kim Buja’s face.
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