The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed-Chapter 116: Miss Ferka (2)

Ferka was a practical realist.

She didn’t believe in gods, nor did she think there was a heaven or hell, and she didn’t believe in an afterlife. To her, the reality unfolding in front of her eyes was more important than anything else.

If there was anything she might believe in, it would be the “spirit of weapons,” a phrase dwarves often said as a habit.

She’d heard it so often from her father and acquaintances that it had worn down her ears, though she only believed in it on a “maybe it exists” level.

But right now, Ferka was seriously reconsidering reincarnation.

‘Did I commit some terrible crime in my past life?’

Otherwise, it didn’t make sense.

She’d met Karami for the first time only recently.

She hadn’t been all that interested in the world’s affairs, so she’d only learned about the so-called “Slave Reaper” through the guards’ conversation a few days ago.

And judging by the guards’ reactions whenever they mentioned the Slave Reaper, along with their attitude when they handed her over to Karami, she could tell just how terrifying a person he was.

Out of all the slaves, out of so many others, Karami had chosen her.

It wasn’t strange for Ferka to question if this was punishment for her past life’s sins.

Maybe she had been a horrendous serial killer. Or perhaps a dream demon who preyed on men.

She might have consumed so many men in her past life that, as punishment, a man’s soul had clung to her own in this life. That’s why she, a female Ferka, was constantly mistaken for a boy!

‘What’s going to happen to me now?’

The rumors said that the Slave Reaper rescued female slaves only to torment and eventually kill them. So did that mean her fate would be the same...?

"I’ll leave the clothes outside. Take your time and wash up."

"Oh, yes, sir!"

At the sound from outside the bathroom, Ferka responded quickly.

Right now, Ferka was soaking in a bathtub.

After working in the mine and sweating all day, slaves weren’t given proper time to wash, and Ferka’s body and clothes were soaked with sweat.

The smell was so awful it seeped through even if she tried to block her nose. When Karami had grimaced slightly at the stench, even Ferka, who had grown up being told she acted like a boy, was a little shocked.

Sniff sniff.

The bath was filled with various herbs and oils. A fragrance unlike anything she had smelled before.

She instantly recognized that these were quite expensive.

Naturally, a question arose in her mind.

‘Isn’t he treating me a bit too well...?’

She’d expected him to be a brute, but he was nothing like the image she had imagined. The disparity left her feeling even more confused.

However, Ferka’s perception of Karami didn’t change so easily. She clearly remembered what he had said to her.

He would send her deep underground.

What could that mean? The only thing that came to mind was being buried alive.

‘Sorry, Dad. But at least if I’m buried underground, it’ll be close. Maybe you could come to visit now and then.’

Ferka mentally composed her farewell, then stepped out of the bath and dried herself. Draping a towel around herself, she opened the door slightly. Right outside the door, as Karami had mentioned, was a new set of clothes.

Women’s undergarments and a pure white dress. It was Karami’s choice, as he’d thought a dress would be the most practical given the lack of detailed measurements.

Ferka felt deeply conflicted.

The dwarf physique wasn’t as tall and slender as humans, and more importantly, Ferka had never worn a dress—or even a skirt.

But she couldn’t very well walk around naked, and it wasn’t as if a slave could be picky about clothes...

Ferka took a deep breath, put on the dress, and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Oh, all done with your bath?"

"Y-yes...."

"Definitely better than before. But why are you standing like that?"

Karami tilted his head in genuine confusion.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

Ferka stood awkwardly, fidgeting with her legs, constantly tugging at the hem of the dress.

"My, my legs feel exposed...."

At home, she’d had no qualms about walking around naked, but the sight of her bare legs made her feel incredibly self-conscious.

When the wind crept up under the dress and tickled her inner thighs—

"Eeek?!"

Ferka let out a high-pitched scream, her face turning as red as molten iron.

Was the air always this chilly?!

Ferka felt like sinking into the ground out of embarrassment.

The truth was, Karami knew very well that Ferka’s feminine side was practically nonexistent. She wasn’t a main character, but as a supporting character crucial to the storyline, he had grown familiar with her character during the game’s development.

If he had given her pants and a shirt instead of a dress, it would have created a more neutral relationship between them, but he couldn’t allow that.

Ferka had the characteristics of a tomboy, a type that occasionally appears in subcultures.

She had faint scars on her cheeks. She used rough speech. She’d grown up mining, with strong, toned limbs covered in compact muscles. Her brown ponytail was messily tied, stiff and unkempt.

And yet, she had a surprisingly provocative figure.

Dwarves were evolved for life underground, and they had shorter stature, making it easier to maneuver through tight tunnels.

But Ferka was different. She was a half-dwarf, born from a dwarf and a human.

Even though she had fully matured, she was as small as Mirabel, owing to her dwarf genetics. Her figure, though, was slender like that of a human woman.

She might have looked like a young human girl at first glance, but she was indeed an adult and, without a doubt, a dwarf.

As proof, her chest bore the prominent fullness characteristic of dwarf women. In less flattering terms, she was a “petite with a voluptuous chest”—small in stature but with a chest that seemed even more pronounced because of it!

A petite, busty tomboy. And he had dressed her in a delicate, flowing dress?

‘Perfect.’

Karami inwardly marveled.

Look at how embarrassed she was, how adorably she fidgeted.

To be honest, it was even better to have her put it on herself, as it looked more natural and added a hint of allure. This kind of transformation is often called "the fall of innocence."

But forcing her to wear it had its own charm.

Her face was flushed as red as a carrot, and she glared at him sharply, her gaze filled with unfiltered, pure reactions.

"Hehehehe."

Karami laughed mischievously as he looked at Ferka.

Ferka felt with her whole being that the rumors about the Slave Reaper were not exaggerated.

Dwarves.

In fantasy worlds, they stand alongside elves and beastfolk as one of the primary non-human races. In this world, dwarven slaves are highly valuable.

Dwarves are known for their exceptional craftsmanship.

If you raise a dwarven slave, you don’t need to purchase furniture or buildings for your tycoon; they can make them directly. On top of that, their creations come with additional effects.

Not only that, but they can also forge the best equipment and accessories for characters.

‘That’s why I set up a specific training path for each dwarf.’

Some are dedicated to furniture, others to equipment, and others to accessories.

Dwarven slaves are essential for maxing out a character’s specs.

However, my reason for buying Ferka wasn’t just to make items.

She wasn’t a main character, but she had a story as a supporting character, one that connected to the fourth main character’s storyline.

The first link in that connection was a sacred place for dwarves.

The underground city of Doomheim, the hometown that Ferka longed to return to.

After bringing Ferka out, we rode a carriage straight to Doomheim.

As we approached, Ferka’s reaction grew more and more emotional, and upon arrival, her jaw dropped in amazement.

She probably hadn’t expected to return home. Of course, Doomheim was a magnificent sight, worthy of awe.

Just as elves live in great trees in their sacred forests, dwarves dig cities deep into the earth.

An enormous cavern with no end in sight.

The vast rocky ceiling arched endlessly, with glowing stones embedded like stars, casting golden light into the deep underground.

The black stone buildings, arranged in perfect rows and columns, suggested an architect with obsessive precision.

Every household had a forge, with bearded blacksmiths hammering away.

And in the center of the city—

A massive furnace, reminiscent of a volcano.

Just as blood from the heart flows through veins, the molten metal flowed through iron channels, feeding all the city’s forges.

An eternal flame, a revered monument among dwarves.

This was the Heart of Magmora.

‘So that’s it.’

Seeing it in person, it truly was impressive. Even as a non-dwarf, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of reverence.

"Shall we go?"

Ferka, still in a daze, responded with a start.

"Huh? Y-yes? You called?"

"Let’s go."

"Uh, where to?"

"To meet your father, of course."

"Hey, look, isn’t that Ferka?"

"What nonsense are you talking about? It’s been half a year since Ferka disappeared."

"No, seriously, look closer! I’m telling you, that’s really Ferka!"

All eyes were on the same spot.

On a dimly lit underground street, illuminated by glowing street lamps, a human man walked with a dwarven girl trailing behind him nervously.

The girl couldn’t keep still, glancing around anxiously and tugging at the hem of her dress.

"Are you blind? There’s no way that’s Ferka. Do you really think she’d wear such a girly dress? It’d be more believable if an elf claimed the World Tree was just a regular tree."

"The World Tree is just a big tree anyway. Seriously, take a closer look! The face, the hair, even the scar on her cheek—it’s a dead ringer for Ferka!"

“...Huh?”

It really was her.

Even after rubbing his eyes, he couldn’t deny it. Ferka, who had disappeared, was back.

But who was that human man?

And more importantly, why was Ferka wearing a dress?

She looked like a girl physically, but her spirit was undoubtedly masculine.

Yet there she was, blushing deeply, squirming as if embarrassed, with the mannerisms of a shy, bashful young girl.

"What’s going on here?"

"Beats me."

Maybe she’d gone through some sort of training.

She’d returned after half a year, looking like a completely different person.

Amidst the buzzing whispers and stares, Ferka clenched her eyes shut.

‘Just kill me now....’

Meanwhile, Karami, who had forced her into the dress, hummed a tune as he admired the city.

Ferka had a revelation once again.

This man was a genius.

A genius at making women miserable.