Speaker 10

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It all happened in an instant.

The eyes of the “Guard Captain” staring at me were filled with bewilderment.

He looked like he still couldn’t process what had just happened.

“This is…”

Understandable.

He had clearly been charging at me with the intent to split my skull, and yet, the next thing he knew, he was kneeling in front of me.

“…”

He still looked down at his knees, unable to believe what was happening.

“…!”

From his movements, it was clear he was trying his best to get back on his feet.

But his body wouldn’t budge.

That’s because it was a “Word of Command.”

An absolute order that cannot be defied.

“What kind of trick is this…!”

He trembled with rage as he looked back up.

In response, I met his eyes directly and folded my arms.

“I told you to kneel before me.”

The “Word of Command” was an ability that compelled the target to follow a given order unconsciously, but of course, it had its limits.

For example, commands like “Kill yourself” would be met with intense subconscious resistance due to the survival instinct inherent in all living beings.

So to enforce such orders, you’d need an extremely high skill level—something a mere level-3 bard like me couldn’t even dream of.

However, a command like “Kneel” was well within my capabilities.

“How does it feel?”

I looked down at the “Guard Captain” still kneeling as commanded, and gave him a mocking smile.

“To be forced into submission, regardless of your own will.”

There was also the matter of success rate.

Since it was a skill that could instantly incapacitate a target if successful, even basic commands were designed with generally low success rates for balance.

“How does it feel to be treated just like the merchandise you were handling here?”

But if the opponent was “charmed” and you had a Charisma stat of 30, that changed everything.

Since that far surpassed the resistance based on the opponent’s level and mental stats, there was no chance of failure.

“You bastard…!”

Of course, all I’d done was neutralize him for now.

“Word of Command” was fundamentally a crowd control skill, a CC, so this alone wouldn’t finish him.

And I couldn’t cast “Verbal Assault” either, as doing so would cancel the active “Word of Command.”

Not that I necessarily had to deal with him myself anyway.

After all the other participants had fled in a panic, the chaos around us had mostly settled down.

Aside from the scattered corpses of guards, broken wood fragments, and the fires still burning here and there.

Now, only a few of us remained: me and my “companion,” the “Guard Captain,” the man who had collapsed from the Captain’s sword, and the muscular woman supporting him, along with four others watching them with worry.

They were still carrying their contracts, and could’ve easily fled during the chaos, yet they had stayed behind.

Even if they couldn’t fight, they probably still wanted to help however they could.

“Everyone, could you gather the remaining barrels of liquor for me?”

The moment I asked, they moved quickly and efficiently, as if they had just been waiting for the order.

One by one, they brought over all the intact barrels and placed them beside the “Guard Captain.”

They seemed to have caught on to my intent immediately.

Just like this bastard, whose face suddenly went pale.

“You crazy bastards…!”

Most of the liquor brewed here was high in alcohol content.

The faster a person gets drunk, the faster they open their wallets.

And high-proof liquor catches fire easily.

Just like the flames still burning all around proved.

So then, what if—

“Stop.”

What if we piled up those barrels and set them ablaze?

“You sons of bitches! Stop! I said stop!”

One thing was clear—the “Guard Captain” did not want to find out the answer to that question.

He looked like he was trying to move with all his might, but all that happened was that his bloodless face flushed red with rage—he still couldn’t stand.

“…!”

Eventually, even he seemed to realize he couldn’t break free of my “Word of Command.”

“Hey, no—wait, you! Yeah, you! Don’t you remember me? Huh? I treated you well, didn’t I? Yesterday, you looked hungry, so I even threw you a leftover apple, remember?”

Just moments ago, he’d been spitting curses, but now he was desperately switching tactics, pleading to the ones stacking barrels around him.

“Even if you try to run, you’ll all get caught soon because of those brandings! Got it? So help me! I’ll take full responsibility—I’ll make sure all of you get released, okay!?”

But they didn’t even act like they heard him.

They silently continued moving the barrels.

Soon enough, the setup was complete, and the only thing left was to light it.

Obviously, I had no intention of getting caught in the explosion myself.

So I planned to light it from a safe distance.

There was only one way to do that.

“Hey, Northern Elf!”

The “Guard Captain,” seemingly realizing what was coming, quickly turned his head.

Because I wasn’t the only one whose level had increased.

Unlike the others who were treated as temporary party members, she was an official companion.

Which meant she had been sharing levels and experience with me from the moment she joined.

In other words, she had leveled up as well—and gained access to another combat spell circle.

Ignoring the “Guard Captain’s” desperate pleas behind us, we made our way toward the door.

It was finally time to say goodbye to this disgusting place.

After sending the others out first, my “companion” and I were the only ones left.

I pulled the sack back over my head and took one last look at the distillery.

The “Guard Captain” was still ranting from the center of the liquor barrels—something about how running was pointless and the merchants would find us all anyway—but it wasn’t worth listening to.

“Every time I came here, I wanted to burn this whole place to the ground.”

The ‘companion’ already had one hand raised and aimed at the barrels, and a ‘circle’ magic formation was drawn in front of her.

“Fireball.”

Whoosh!

Flames burst forth.

And then, an explosion erupted.

***

The flames that had begun to rage quickly spread throughout the distillery, casting away the darkness under the soft glow of moonlight.

These flames would surely be visible even from the center of Stout.

So we had to get out of here before people started gathering.

However, the mood of those who had gone out before us and were now waiting outside seemed a little off.

“What’s wrong?”

“H-His wound…!”

They were gathered around the man collapsed on the ground.

“Ugh… S-Sir…”

Apparently, the wound he received earlier had become fatal; it was clear at a glance that he was in critical condition.

“Hey! Don’t close your eyes! Stay with me!”

The muscular woman crouched next to him was desperately trying to stop the bleeding and keep him conscious, but the man didn’t seem likely to survive with just that.

It was obvious—his breathing and pulse were fading rapidly.

“Just a moment.”

Fortunately, I knew exactly what kind of song to play in this kind of situation.

“The Song of Healing.”

“I’ll sing now.”

Since I didn’t have an instrument at the moment, I had no choice but to sing with my voice.

“W-What?”

“S-Singing?”

It probably sounded absurd.

Even the dying man looked slightly confused.

“What are you…”

But there was no time to explain everything right now.

I took a deep breath and began snapping my fingers, drawing everyone’s puzzled stares.

Snap, snap, snap.

I kept the rhythm at 104 BPM.

“Staying alive~”

I sang the line of the song that came to mind.

Snap, snap, snap, snap.

“Hah!”

At that moment, the man inhaled sharply.

Then, I heard the thump! of his heart restarting.

And most importantly, he pushed himself up on his own.

I had pulled him back from death’s door.

“S-Stayiiiiing aliiiive—”

“S-Sir?”

“Ah, um. Ahem.”

Maybe it was because the song is often recommended for CPR, but the effect was surprisingly fast.

The time it took for him to be captivated by the song was shorter than expected.

“My instincts as a bard just kind of took over.”

“You… saved me.”

“Well, you gave something, so it’s only fair I give something back.”

“Sir…!”

I wasn’t just saying it.

If he and the woman next to him hadn’t held the “Guard Captain” down, I probably would’ve died from his sword a long time ago.

“It’s time we part ways here.”

After helping the woman lift him to his feet, I looked around at the others who were finally starting to relax.

“He’s stable for now, but it’s only a temporary fix. He’s lost a lot of blood, so you’ll need to find a healer as soon as possible.”

“I know a healer.”

The one who answered, raising a hand, was someone who had been caught by the guards during the chaos.

“Someone I can trust.”

I turned to the woman still supporting the man, and she silently nodded in agreement.

“Take the contract and go find a mage named Nero in Tiaria. If you find him, he’ll be able to remove the brand and undo the contract spell.”

In fact, this was one of the few ways to erase the brand imprinted after going down the slave route.

“Oh, and take this.”

I then pulled out the pouch of gold coins I had taken from the office and handed it to them.

It wasn’t a significant amount for us anyway, but for them, it was different.

“Take it. That should be enough for all of you to travel to Tiaria.”

At that, the muscular woman who had been hesitating finally accepted the pouch.

The man beside her, still being supported, looked visibly emotional upon seeing it.

“How could we possibly repay this kindness…”

I gave a small, amused smile and replied.

“I told you—we used each other. You almost died because you were used, so there’s no kindness to repay.”

“Sir…”

“Go. I wish you luck.”

Everyone bowed their heads politely and then departed together.

They would survive.

They would earn their freedom, in the end.

And someday, when things had settled down for all of us, I’d probably hear from them again.

“Master.”

For that future, I had also come to find my ‘companion,’ who now stood by my side alone.

“Your next order.”

She looked up at me with the same expressionless face she had the first time we met.

“Yeah. I should.”

I drew the dagger from my belt.

Then—

“As the contractor, I hereby declare…”

I pressed the blade against my palm and made a swift cut.

“…!”

At that moment, she—who had been stiff and unmoving like stone—showed, for the first time, the faintest trace of surprise.

Immediately, I returned the dagger to its sheath and took out the “Contract of Eastwood,” which I had rolled up and kept hidden inside my clothes.

“I, Yubin, renounce all rights as the contractor to whom this individual is bound.”

With my bleeding hand, I clenched it around the contract tightly, almost crushing it.

“—Contract terminated.”

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