RETURN OF THE FEMALE KNIGHT

112. I've Returned

Jimin was an orphan. He had never seen his parents as a child, so he probably was an orphan.

He was a slave as well. A brand on his shoulder marked him as such, and at that time, he was called slave ninety-five.

— Slave ninety-five, try again.

Jimin was trained in a famous assassins' guild from an early age. At that time, there were perhaps hundreds of slaves of similar age who were trained like him. A dozen of children would die a day from the harsh training, and a dozen more would be brought in to replace them. With such a quick turnover, he could never remember the boy sleeping next to him.

However, he was not a slave at the assassins' guild from the start.

The earliest memory he had was of being a slave to a little girl. And that little girl had a sociopathic curiosity.

— How hot would it be if I put this cigar on your body?

The girl's favorite pastime was to have her servants hold him while she pressed the hot end of a cigar against his chest. She always smiled when she saw him writhe in pain.

—I told you that my shoes must always be polished. Did you forget that?

— I-I never heard that order...

— Talking back really will get you into trouble.

The young lady always hurt Jimin for his mistakes. At first he thought his punishments were dispensed unfairly, but later he realized that she did this purely for entertainment. She would abuse him even if she did not have the reason to do so—she simply enjoyed his look of resentment.

— These bugs are so gross. Hmmm...I wonder what they taste like?

Dozens of bugs were forced down Jimin's throat.

— How dare you glare at me like that? Lock him up in the shed and don't give him food for three days!

Whenever something went wrong for the girl, she would take out her anger on Jimin. There was little chance he could escape this life.

One time, she pressed a hot cigar on his skin as usual, and him, thrashing from the heat and fear, tore the girl's new dress.

The sound of her dress being ripped was louder than thunder to his ears.

— Kkyaaa! How dare you ruin my dress?

The girl wailed and went to her father to complain, her cheeks dripping with tears. The father ended up buying the girl a new dress with the money he received from selling Jimin to the assassination guild.

That was the last of the most comfortable slave life Jimin ever remembered.

While he suffered vicious abuse from the little girl, he never felt the threat of death as closely as he did in the assassinations' guild. Each day was like walking on thin ice, and the slightest slip-up could spell doom. Young boys weren't very useful; they weren't good for hard labor, and they took up a lot of time and food before they reached adulthood. As a result, young male slaves were considered cheap and relatively disposable. The cost of treating injuries for slaves was deemed too expensive for the guild, and the instructors were cruel and pitiless.

Jimin knew he had to follow the instructor's words, or else he would die. It wasn't an exaggeration, and more than once a boy came back as a cold body.

And so, Jimin did everything the instructor told him to do to survive.

— From now on, only one in seven of your group can escape from here alive. There will be no food until there is one left.

At that time, Jimin lived without thinking. He only moved when the instructors told him to move, and killed when they told him to kill. He was simply an empty puppet that moved on command, and it never occurred to him that something was deeply wrong with this life.