who I am?
A question that sounded philosophical and even a little strange was the biggest question in the boy's mind.
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This strange question seemed to break something, causing ripples in the stagnant room.
Among the numb and emaciated crowd, an aged-looking figure spoke in a hoarse voice:
"You're asking us who you are? Are you insane too?"
The boy tilted his head, not understanding what the other person meant.
"Don't you... remember what happened before?"
Seeing the boy's genuine calm, the old man sighed and murmured:
"It's better to forget, it's better to forget."
Shaking his head, a flicker of pity crossed the old man's eyes, but it quickly vanished. He then lowered his head and continued his work, which he had stopped.
Do you know my name?
Because the old man was the only one who spoke, the boy approached him after the others had left and pressed him for answers.
The old man gave him a complicated look, but didn't answer and continued working.
He didn't answer, and the boy didn't leave; they just watched quietly.
"Don't stand here with me! You, sigh... slaves have no names before they are bought by their masters."
Under unspeakable pressure, the old man finally spoke out:
“You have no name. Perhaps some of us once did, but none of us do now.”
"Get to work! If... you don't want to be beaten to death like your parents."
Urged on by the old man, the boy finally came to the place where he had stood up.
I see...
“I am a slave.”
With that thought in mind, the boy joined the workforce.
"And both my parents are dead."
However, while he was thinking, a new question arose.
What is death?
...
...
The concept of time is very vague in the darkness.
Every now and then, they would bring some "food," which was cold, hard, and difficult to swallow, but at least it was enough to fill their stomachs.
The boy didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt that his wounds seemed to have completely healed.
The only old man who was willing to speak may have had a name, but he was unwilling to mention it, so the boy did not ask.
He didn't talk to anyone else, and although no one approached him, he continued to work methodically.
Beneath his silent exterior, he never stopped thinking.
The boy felt he had forgotten many things.
It seems that he has forgotten not only the deaths of his parents and his birth as the son of a slave, but also many other things.
So he has been trying to recall and search for the lost past.
He simply didn't recall his own "death," nor did he find answers to many of his questions.
And these peaceful days continued until that day came.
...
...
This is the base of a slave trader, and the slaves are commodities among them, forced to do more than just the work that children could do.
Their real purpose is to be bought by others.
During the time the boy was thinking, the number of slaves continued to decrease; some were bought, while others were forcibly taken away due to injury or illness.
The boy witnessed all of this, but never did anything out of line.
Because in his observation, regardless of the type, the slaves did not resist; in fact, they were delighted.
It seems that no matter which form it takes, it is a kind of relief for them.
But that day was different.
The old man who had spoken to him before fell ill.
Even though he tried his best to hide it, his age couldn't hold him back, and he collapsed just as the guards came in to check.
No slave trader would be willing to spend expensive medicine to treat a slave like himself, let alone an old one.
"Tsk, another old geezer died. You... damn it, I have to drag him out myself even though he died of illness."
Just as the burly man was cursing and walking towards the old man, this time, the boy made a move.
As he brushed past the burly guard, he swayed slightly and silently drew the short knife that the guard had tucked into his waistband.
Not a sound was made!
The guards were completely unaware and continued walking forward, oblivious to the approaching shadow behind them.
laugh.
"Damn it, what bad luck! You... ah!!!"
The guard's knees buckled and he was about to collapse due to the sudden, sharp pain in his back.
But just as he fell, a cold glint flashed across his neck, leaving a huge wound.
"Hehehe... No! Cough cough!"
Blood gushed out, and the burly guard tried to cover his wound, but suddenly everything went black.
The steel blade brutally pierced the eye socket, then stirred wildly.
"Aaaaaah!!!"
The guard didn't know why this was happening, but he never had the chance to find out.
winter.
The body crashed heavily onto the cold, hard, and dirty ground, proving the passing of a life and startling everyone who had been watching in shock.
Amidst the horrified gazes of the slaves, the boy gripped the short sword, which was painted red and white, and inhaled deeply.
"ha……"
The boy's body was splattered with blood, and compared to his own body, which was already soaked in cold, the blood flowing from someone else's body felt surprisingly hot.
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