The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed-Chapter 123: Ashies’ Hand"

"Wake up. How long are you planning to sleep in?"

It was Ashies' first morning in Doomheim. The soft, bluish glow of the luminous stones overhead emitted a warmth reminiscent of sunlight.

The city was already noisy, alive with the boisterous voices of spirited dwarves and the constant clang of hammers echoing from the forges.

"Mmm..."

Still half-asleep, Ashies shifted under her covers, lazily raising her upper body. Her eyes remained half-lidded, as though she was still swimming through a dream.

She drooped her head forward, nodding off before stretching her arms in an exaggerated yawn.

"Haaaah..."

A chill brushed her cheek. Her breath came out in visible puffs of white.

One might wonder why anyone’s breath would be visible in Doomheim, a city kept warm by geothermal energy and Magmar's Heart. But Ashies' room was an exception—a personal winter kingdom.

Her soft bed had frozen solid overnight, its surface as hard as ice.

The ceiling glittered with frosty crystals, the walls bloomed with intricate patterns of frost resembling flowers, and snow gently fell from above, blanketing the floor in a pristine layer of white.

The glass of water on the table had turned into a solid block of ice. Outside, the scenery was obscured by a veil of frost.

All this, after just one night.

Ashies had turned her room into a miniature Frozen wonderland.

"Wow, this is so pretty!"

Ferka, who had followed behind, gushed as she admired the scene, while Torbar let out a groan and slapped his forehead.

"...?"

Ashies, meanwhile, had no idea this was her doing.

"It's too late to back out now. If you kick her out, I’ll make sure the whole town knows a Meister expelled a princess. That wouldn’t look good, would it?"

Before Torbar could say anything, Karami interjected with his usual quick wit. Ashies, who had already gained the adoration of the local dwarves, even had a fan club forming somewhere in town.

If word got out that Torbar had expelled her, it would mean his disgraceful retirement was as good as guaranteed.

"...We'll find a solution."

Resigned, Torbar could only think about ways to manage Ashies’ icy aura.

Karami, crunching through the snow-covered floor, approached Ashies. Her once pristine hair was now a wild bird's nest.

"Turn to the side, please."

Producing a comb from his pocket, Karami began tidying Ashies' hair.

"A man carrying around a comb...?"

"The slaves I raised wouldn’t brush their hair unless I did it for them. I’ve gotten into the habit of carrying one around."

"Still, a master brushing a slave’s hair? That’s unheard of."

"Maintaining the quality of a slave is a fundamental duty of a trader. Have you only met incompetent masters before?"

...Fair point.

It did make sense, to some degree.

Karami had treated Ferka the same way, caring for her like a noble daughter. While his methods couldn’t be considered wholly altruistic—he’d used her as leverage when needed—he was undeniably different from other traders who abused their slaves for sport.

Karami was... peculiar.

"There, all done."

Soon, Ashies' hair was neatly arranged, and the group headed downstairs to prepare breakfast.

With Ferka now freed, she naturally reclaimed her own seat. This left the group short two chairs for humans.

Creak.

Ice began to form and solidify. Before long, an ornate, glimmering throne of ice stood tall. Without hesitation, Ashies seated herself upon it.

"And mine?"

"...?"

"Could you make one for me too?"

Ashies created another ice chair, and Karami gleefully took a seat. But as soon as he settled in:

"...This is freezing."

It was unbearably cold.

"It’s made of ice. Did you expect it to be warm?"

"Well, no, but..."

Karami had imagined it might at least feel refreshing. He was sorely mistaken—sitting on the ice throne felt like his backside would succumb to frostbite.

He reluctantly stood up, his pants frosted over.

"Elder, could you make me a proper chair instead?"

"Hmph."

Torbar dismissed the request with a scoff, choosing instead to tear into a piece of bread. Watching him, Ashies reached for a loaf from the basket.

She examined it as if it were some alien artifact, turning it over and inspecting it from every angle. Time passed, and frost began to coat the bread, transforming it into an inedible block of ice.

Standing to eat due to his lack of a chair, Karami gently took the ruined loaf from Ashies’ hands.

"Surely you’ve had bread before in the castle. Don’t you remember?"

"Bread...?"

"Yes, bread. Not to be confused with its opposite, mourning."

"Mourning...?"

"What are you even teaching her?"

Ferka gave Karami a frosty glare.

Unbothered, Karami grabbed a fresh loaf, tore it into small pieces, and prepared to feed Ashies. Her icy aura made direct contact impossible without risking freezing the food.

"Say ah."

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"Ah..."

Ashies obediently opened her mouth, her crimson lips contrasting against her snow-like complexion. The sight was oddly captivating.

Forcing himself to look away, Karami placed a piece of bread into her mouth.

"You know how to chew, right?"

Thankfully, Ashies wasn’t completely clueless. She managed to chew and swallow without issue.

"How is it?"

Ashies didn’t respond. Taste was an unfamiliar sensation to her, and she tilted her head from side to side in thought.

"Do you like it? Is it okay?"

Ashies nodded, and Karami beamed.

"Great! Keep saying ‘ah.’ I’ll feed you for now."

Ferka and Torbar watched in silent astonishment.

This was supposed to be a master-slave relationship?

Clearly not.

Karami and Ashies were... different.

Most masters would likely exploit Ashies for her beauty, molding her to their whims. Even Ferka found herself tempted to tease Ashies—a response not unlike wanting to trample untouched snow or tug at an adorable animal.

Yet Karami?

"He’s like a mother bird..."

Just a doting parent, taking care of an innocent child. It was an oddly fitting image.

"I think he’s kinder to her than my father is to me."

"If my daughter were like her, I’d treat her just as well."

"Considering I’m the best daughter you’ll ever have, I’d say that’s wishful thinking."

"Don’t kid yourself. You’re just like your mother. My responsibility for that is barely 1%."

Their banter ended with both walking away battered. Karami, shaking his head at the pair, turned to gently wipe Ashies' mouth.

"Tsk tsk. What a mess. This is why the bond between master and slave is unparalleled. Don’t you agree?"

"Hmm... Is it really?"

"Absolutely."

If he said so, it must be true.

Ashies saw no reason to think otherwise.

After breakfast, Karami and Ashies went for a walk.

They kept a safe distance of one arm’s length. The previous day, Karami had returned home to find his clothes dotted with ice crystals from being too close to Ashies.

Even now, her footsteps left a trail of frost in her wake. Wherever Ashies walked, winter followed.

While wandering the city, Ashies often stopped abruptly. Once, it was because she saw a fluffy white "cloud dog" being walked by a passerby.

"Isn’t it adorable? Its snowy fur is just like yours, Princess. So soft and fluffy! Its name is Fluffy. Would you like to pet it?"

Ashies extended her hand, and the little dog wagged its tail excitedly. Even animals were drawn to her charm.

Then her hand touched the dog’s fur.

Creak.

The soft, cloud-like fur froze solid, turning into an icy shell.

"My Fluffy!!!"

The owner hurriedly scooped up the now-frozen dog and ran off, leaving Ashies gazing longingly after him.

"Fluffy... turned hard..."

Fluffy had become Stiff.

The next stop was a flower shop, a rarity in the underground city.

"Oh my, Princess! You shouldn’t be here—you’re making my flowers look plain!"

The shopkeeper’s compliment flew over Ashies’ head, leaving her tilting her head in confusion.

She crouched in front of a pot of vibrant roses.

"Are you interested in roses, Princess?"

Ashies stared silently at the flowers. Vague memories surfaced—a garden adorned with roses of every color.

"Roses symbolize love, passion, and beauty," Karami explained.

Dwarves loved roses, with their fiery passion matching the flower’s vibrant red. The thorns were no deterrent—they pursued love fearlessly, just as they did life.

Ashies reached out to touch a petal.

Creak.

The rose froze entirely, its fiery red turning into a chilling blue.

"Oh no, the flowers!"

Ashies flinched, pulling her hand back. She looked at the shopkeeper, then at Karami, her gaze filled with guilt.

Karami sighed and ruffled her hair.

"How much for this flower? I’ll buy it."

"Fifty silver coins, but it’s—"

"Here’s a gold coin. Consider it compensation for the trouble."

Before the shopkeeper could protest, Karami handed over the coin and picked up the pot.

"Let’s head back, shall we?"

Ashies nodded slowly. Her steps home were heavy, her thoughts unspoken.

"You’re back? Earlier than I expected, huh," Ferka greeted, emerging from the forge while wiping her face with a towel.

Having been freed from slavery, Ferka was now dressed in practical overalls—a staple of a hardworking dwarf. The outfit accentuated her dwarven essence, though the straps tightly pressed against her ample chest, drawing more attention than intended.

"But what’s with your expression, sis?"

Ferka quickly noticed Ashies' subdued demeanor. Her face, already pale, looked even more drained, her usual detached expression weighed down further by drooping eyelids.

"It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it," Karami replied casually before Ashies could.

"If you say so. But what’s that?"

Ferka pointed to the object Karami was holding.

"As you can see, it’s a potted plant. Not just any plant—it’s an ice rose," Karami said, holding the pot out for Ferka to inspect.

"Ferka, what do you think of this pot?"

"Hmm..."

Ferka alternated her gaze between the frozen rose and Ashies, who stood a step behind, visibly uneasy.

Although Ferka hadn’t known Ashies long, it wasn’t hard to deduce that something had happened. Ashies' posture and expression resembled that of a guilty child.

‘She froze the flower.’

The intricacy of the ice sculpture surpassed anything artificial. Only something truly alive could be frozen into such a flawless replica. Ferka’s keen dwarven instincts recognized this immediately.

If that was the case, there was only one appropriate response.

"It’s absolutely stunning."

"Really?"

"Yes. For us dwarves, who specialize in fire, creating such a beautiful ice sculpture is impossible. It’s so exquisite that I’d like to meet the artisan who crafted it."

"You’d be surprised. This masterpiece was made by none other than Ashies herself," Karami revealed with a smirk.

"What? Is that true?"

Ferka’s knack for social finesse shone as she played her part, prompting a satisfied chuckle from Karami.

"It’s as true as it gets. This is a one-of-a-kind ice rose—a genuine treasure."

"To think such a treasure would end up in our home. It has to be displayed in the most prominent spot," Ferka declared with enthusiasm.

Karami, perfectly in sync with Ferka’s sentiments, turned his attention to Ashies.

"You hear that? That’s what she thinks. If it’s going to be displayed, then..."

After glancing around the room, Karami settled on a spot. With deliberate care, he placed the pot in the exact center of the dining table.

"Right here. This will brighten up the dreary atmosphere of the house. Now, every time we eat, we can admire it."

Karami turned to Ashies, meeting her wavering gaze directly. He smiled warmly.

"What do you think, Ashies? Don’t you agree this is the perfect spot?"

Ashies hesitated. Her trembling gaze gradually stilled. Clasping her hands together tightly, she finally nodded.

Slowly, hesitantly, but with quiet conviction, she nodded again.