Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 16: The Slave Trade

Daisuke and April took a moment to look around.

Inside the manor, they were swept into a realm of refined luxury that was worlds apart from the slums they knew. The walls were ornamented with intricate tapestries depicting ancient tales of valor and heroism. A grand chandelier, crafted with a myriad of bizarre crystals, hung from the ceiling, casting a shimmering cascade of light that danced upon the polished marble floor.

Before they could begin admiring the furnishings—

"She will guide you both to your rooms and help you freshen up in time for supper," the butler said with a stoic expression, gesturing toward a lone female on the stairs. "Well then... Master Langley, Young Miss," he bowed courteously before excusing himself.

The young woman who received the task of caretaker only slightly lifted her head as her superior departed. She was a Beastkin garbed in a maid's uniform. Daisuke didn't miss the metal collar around her neck, which hinted at her social status within the Percival household.

Her gaze shifted around awkwardly as she hesitated on where to direct her attention. Finally, she turned around and meekly began leading the way. "I-I will show you to your rooms now," she stammered softly.

A red carpet edged with gold trim layered the grand staircase leading to the second floor. Mosaic windows bathed the space in natural light, casting shimmering reflections upon the imposing suits of armor stationed at each corner.

Along the extensive corridor, framed paintings showcased the portraits of past Percival leaders through the ages, a visual chronicle of their lineage and legacy.

Daisuke's gaze shifted to the maid's drooping ears perched atop her head and the listless tail trailing behind her. It prompted him to ponder the living conditions that Sheba and the others would have to endure.

"Hey you," Daisuke called offhandedly, staying in character. "What's your name?"

The girl offered a sidelong glance, her eyes shimmering with a hint of confusion. "Umm. I don't have a name."

"You... don't have one?"

April exchanged a curious glance with Daisuke. She was pinching the hem of his shirt, walking closely at his side.

"What do you mean? Explain."

The girl's lips pressed into an uncomfortable line before she spoke. "With the exception of the Superior Races, demihuman and noxsian slaves aren't allowed to have names."

Setting aside his ignorance about the aforementioned races, Daisuke persisted. "And why is that?"

"...Demihumans are widely perceived as monsters," the girl explained in a dejected tone. "Names, according to humans, are only reserved for the civilized and refined. Here, we are generally identified by our gender or by numbers."

Daisuke sighed inwardly. So demihumans face discrimination and are often enslaved. From what I've gathered from the slave merchants, females especially are vulnerable to exploitation. They're either sold into sex-trafficking rings or forced into domestic servitude.

I suppose that's why there were so many female Beastkin in the wagon with us. It seems that no matter the world, racism and prejudice persist. People struggle to accept those who are different from themselves.

***

The air carried a subtle scent of polished wood and aged leather, lending an air of antiquity to the expansive bedroom. Priceless antiques and ornate artifacts adorned the space. A large four poster bed sat in one corner and a heart in another.

The Beastkin who had covertly introduced herself as Sylvia was engrossed in rummaging through an ancient trunk near the wardrobe. With swift movements, she sifted through the belongings, sending clothes once worn by the family's children swirling into the air as she searched for something specific.