Chapter 1 (1/2)

An old-fas.h.i.+oned horse carriage ran along the b.u.mpy road.

From the outside, there was nothing remarkable about it, but riding inside, there was a bit of a problem.

The feeling of riding in a shaky carriage as it clattered along was the worst. In this box, which didn’t even have a window to look out of, much less seat cus.h.i.+ons, we were rolling around like cargo. No, more like we were being rolled around.

But looking at it rationally, it was hardly surprising. To the guys transporting us, that was exactly what we were.

In short —

The guys transporting us were slave traders, and we were the slaves.

Of course, the slave trade was now a crime under international conventions, so it depended on the place, but if they were arrested, they’d get an appropriately severe sentence. That, possibly, being the death penalty.

But unfortunately, because it could be profitable from time to time, there were many willing to commit a crime that could put their heads on the chopping block. It would definitely never die out.

So, having been kicked by the proverbial horse, these victims had no choice but to give up.

But.

“Hh…mm. Nggh…mh.”

Naturally, I hadn’t.

Growing frantic, I rubbed my wrists together, struggling to undo the ropes used to tie my hands behind me.

You’ve gotta be kidding me. 1

The rest of this lot looked like they’d already given up, but there was no way in h.e.l.l I would. I didn’t want to die a slave. I’d never accept such a ridiculous life.

Glaring at nothing in particular, I rubbed my wrists together over and over again.

It was morning on the third day of my captivity.

The name’s Christopher Carson. Nickname, Chris. Incidentally, I’m a woman.

You’re probably thinking, ‘What a way for a woman to talk,’ but there’s a reason for it.

See, I used to be a man.

I’ll say this straight out to avoid any misunderstandings: I am not a transvest.i.te.

I used to be one-hundred percent man, and now I’m one hundred percent woman.

You may not know what I’m talking about, but it’s the truth.

My transformation into a woman was all thanks to some old… well, magic potion is my best guess.

An adventurer with a good bit of experience, even at eighteen, I tackled a certain set of ancient ruins.

In practice, an adventurer is a jack of all trades.

As long as you pay in gold, they’ll be your merc, your investigator, your explorer — you name it.

But an adventurer’s primary occupation has got to be ruin exploration. Well, it sounds better if you call it ‘exploration’, but it’s basically glorified grave-robbing.

Treasures sleep in those ruins, amazing treasures you’d normally never even dream of. Depending on the situation, it might even be so valuable that you wouldn’t have to work another day for the rest of your life.

But ancient ruins are also dangerous places.

Heaps and heaps of bizarre traps. Strong monsters acting as guardians.

But there’s as just much value in deliberately confronting those dangers. That was also why I challenged that nameless ruin.

It wasn’t my first time taking on ancient ruins, but these were completely untouched. They hadn’t been disturbed even once, and that was a first for me.

I found these unexplored ruins by sheer luck.

Well, it wouldn’t be wrong to call it an unexpected windfall. I think any adventurer would want to have the experience at least once. Ruins that pristine aren’t that easy to come by.

It was in a part of the Artor Ruins Cl.u.s.ter, a hunting ground for ancient relics that was relatively famous among the adventuring community. However, after being searched over and over because of its reputation, the well had all but run dry. Since it was basically slim pickings, famous or not, the usual adventurer would pay it no mind.

If someone were to ask me why I discovered untouched ruins in such a place, it really was nothing but good luck, as I said. To be more specific, I happened to pa.s.s near the area, happened to decide on taking the scenic route, and then happened to find the entrance. Even I wanted to call bulls.h.i.+t.

But anyway, you would’ve had to pry this golden opportunity from my cold, dead hands. It was unexplored.

It was risky, but I was going to milk first dibs for all it was worth. Alone, I stepped into the ruins.

The ruins extended underground, forming a structure popularly known as a labyrinth.

At five levels, it was relatively shallow. But it didn’t fall short in the traps and monsters department. Even so, I managed to hack my way through it all, and I was able to wrangle myself more treasure than I expected.

Converted into cash, it wouldn’t sustain me for a lifetime, but it would definitely be enough to live the good life for ten years or so.

But…I made a minor, and I mean tiny, miscalculation.

I triggered a trap that poisoned me.

‘s.h.i.+t,’ I thought, but it was too late. The poison had begun to circulate in my body with considerable speed. Unfortunately, I hadn’t brought an antidote with me.

See, antidotes come in a thousand different kinds, just like poisons do. If the antidote doesn’t match the poison, it’s no better than snake oil.2 Considering I was poisoned in an ancient ruin, it probably wouldn’t be commonly known. So taking an off-the-shelf antidote would’ve been pointless.

There are magical panaceae, but they’re pricey. Still, you’d want to carry one around, but at the time I was horribly broke and couldn’t afford it.

My entire body felt as if it’d caught on fire. It was so hard to breathe, it’s like I’d scaled a tall mountain. My head spun around in circles, and my legs collapsed.

I was dying.

That was my instinctive thought.

But as I teetered on the brink of death, my mind seemed to clear for a moment.

Noticing a certain something, I ransacked my knapsack full of treasure and took out —

Five gla.s.s vials of medicine — probably. One red, one blue, one white, one green, and one purple. Very pretty to look at, but very suspiciously colored for medicine.

There were labels stuck to the vials, more or less, but the words on them had faded to an unreadable yellow. Since it would have been written in an ancient script anyway, I still wouldn’t have been able to understand it.

At any rate, I decided to try drinking them.

See, they were from ancient times. At the time, I thought, ‘One of them might be a panacea.’ As for the other four, I’d just pretend they weren’t there.

But that was a dangerous gamble. Items from so long ago are often hazardous, and people have died using things they couldn’t identify.

But under these circ.u.mstances, I used them without hesitation. If I was going to take poison, might as well take it all.

So basically, in my desperation, I downed all five at once.

Then, I fell over unconscious.

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The introduction was on the long side, but long story short, the poison was gone but I’d become female. Still, it didn’t look like I was unsuited for adventuring. There are girls like this wherever you go.

It seemed that until my consciousness completely recovered from my dead faint, I’d been sleepwalking my way through the labyrinth. While I was trying to make sense of things, I was shocked to discover that I was female.

I spent a good few hours in confusion. Once I came back to my senses, I checked my equipment, but with my clearly smaller body size, it had all slipped off somehow and left me b.u.t.t-naked.

I’d even lost the treasure that would have made this trip worthwhile.

In the midst of my anger, confusion, and regret, I still managed to make it out of the labyrinth. That could only be considered a stroke of good fortune. But then I was suddenly seized by a caravan of slave traders that happened to be on their way to the nearby town.

If I looked at it with a clear mind, it was a complete disaster. In the s.p.a.ce of two or three days, I’d gone from adventurer to young girl, and from young girl to slave.

Still, I wasn’t in that much of a panic, simply because I was an adventurer. Proof? Take these other captive [friends] of mine. They were crying and screaming at the beginning, and now they just rolled around in complete dejection.

Incidentally, all my friends were female. And every one a beauty, to boot.

In short, these slave traders dealt in slaves used for [that] kind of personal use. They’d probably be sold to some millionaire or territorial lord as expensive playthings.

All in all, the only word for them was ‘pitiful’. But it was the same for me. Life was cruel the world over.

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