Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are So Hot! [BL]-Chapter 255: Unspoken Past

If the noble family they had served had been dissolved, it made sense that they would be worried about the young lord’s well-being.

Now that it had come up, Damien was also curious about what had happened to this viscount.

He glanced over at the slave merchant, who was standing a little farther away, wondering if he might know something.

"That story will have to wait," the slave merchant responded, his expression implying that he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the situation, but he wasn’t going to answer at the moment.

Damien wondered if it was connected to something more complicated issues.

From their brief conversation, Isaac seemed like a calm, composed person, and Damien didn’t think there would be any issues with him.

Although he hadn’t had the chance to speak with Miria much, she also seemed composed and showed no signs of concern, even after seeing their unusual situation.

What Damien liked most was that neither of them had reacted visibly to their odd circumstances.

In any case, Damien knew that he couldn’t judge a person’s character just from first impressions.

He’d need to work with them first, but so far, he felt satisfied with how things had gone.

"Thank you," Damien said. "I have one last question: Do you think you would be willing to work for my household?"

There was a long pause.

Although it wasn’t as long as when he had asked about their children, it still felt a little bit tense.

Damien started to wonder if he was about to be turned down.

However, just as he thought that, Isaac finally spoke.

"...If you would allow us, we would be honored."

The response felt a little odd, like it wasn’t quite what Damien had expected, but he figured it was likely related to the unresolved matters they had mentioned earlier.

For now, Damien would have to wait for the slave merchant to clarify things.

After thanking the two people, Damien returned to the sofa with the slave merchant.

At some point, the shortcake they had finished earlier had been replenished.

With a smile, Damien took a bite-sized piece and popped it into Yor’s mouth, who was still clinging to his lap.

"Big brother, what is this? It’s delicious!" Yor exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.

Amused, Damien offered him another bite.

"Mmm!" Yor hummed, his cheeks slightly flushed as he savored the sweetness of the cake, his ears perking up in excitement.

Satisfied that Yor was enjoying himself, Damien felt a sense of relief.

Before expressing his gratitude to the slave merchant, Damien noticed his two lovers sitting nearby, both looking at him expectantly with their mouths open.

"Alright, alright," Damien chuckled, placing a piece of shortcake into each of their mouths.

Lysander seemed content with that, but Ithnan wasn’t so easily satisfied.

Damien noticed him gazing longingly at his lips.

"Ithnan, stay," Damien said firmly, his tone almost like one would use to tame an overeager pet.

As much as Ithnan’s affection was endearing, this wasn’t the place for such antics.

To his relief, Ithnan settled for holding hands, though his lingering expression still hinted at longing.

Wait, was Lysander looking at him the same way too?

Damien sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long day.

"Well, if that’s how it is, bring it on," Damien thought with a sigh of determination.

"Um, the cake was delicious. Thank you very much," Damien said, bowing his head slightly. "...And I apologize for showing such an embarrassing scene."

Truly, he felt he owed an apology.

"No need to worry about that at all," the slave merchant replied with a chuckle. "In fact, I must commend you for already incorporating your newly purchased people into your harem with such decisiveness. Truly impressive."

Damien decided it was best to pretend he hadn’t heard the harem comment.

"Now then, if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them," the slave merchant continued, gesturing casually. "Ah, no need to stand; stay just as you are."

Damien mentally apologized again.

The atmosphere in the room was far too relaxed for a serious discussion.

Truly, he regretted how things had played out.

But the phrase ’if you have any questions’ caught his attention.

The slave merchant wasn’t going to volunteer all the information.

Instead, it seemed he was only willing to answer direct inquiries.

Still, on the bright side, that might mean the slave merchant was willing to disclose even things he might prefer not to discuss—provided Damien asked.

But where to start?

Damien pondered his next move, uncertain.

Sensing the hesitation, the slave merchant clapped his hands twice, a sharp sound that echoed through the room.

Responding to the signal, one of the staff members guided Isaac and Miria out of the room.

This was a relief for Damien.

Now, he could ask the questions that would have been difficult to bring up in front of Isaac and Miria.

...And he wouldn’t have to show them his current, somewhat undignified state.

With that thought, Damien accepted the cake on the fork Lysander was offering and took a bite.

This situation had escalated because earlier, Damien, with both hands occupied, had inadvertently eaten the cake Yor had offered him.

Now, Lysander had joined in.

In hindsight, maybe it would have been better to let Isaac and Miria witness this scene and have them decline the arrangement themselves.

Regardless, the slave merchant had promised answers, so Damien needed to ask his questions.

Chewing on the cake Ithnan had just fed him, he considered where to start.

The first question was obvious.

"What exactly did Isaac and Miria’s former master, the Viscount, do to end up in this situation?"

From what Damien had heard, the sudden downfall, the servants saddled with debt, even the household leaders unaware of the safety of the family’s children—it all pointed to their former master being an utter disaster.

Surely, this "issue" was tied to that Viscount.

"The Viscount... or rather, the former Viscount... was involved in an embezzlement scandal," the slave merchant began.