-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: The Effects of the Slave Collar
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A week had passed since then.
The annex was unusually quiet.
Or rather than quiet, it had become far more livable than before.
The Argent Family seemed to have caught on.
To the fact that a High Elf princess was here in this annex.
Since that day, the changes had been blatant.
The servants attached to the annex under the pretext of surveillance and care—citing the victory in the Proxy Blood Fate—had all vanished that very day.
But separately from that, the stingy supplies they'd been sending had completely transformed.
Rotten ingredients.
Shoddy daily necessities.
Meat fit only for livestock.
The supply crates filled with such trash had suddenly changed overnight.
It started the next day, if memory served.
Piles of top-grade goods—the kind reserved only for official heirs—were left silently in front of the annex, as if delivering packages.
"Master! They left more stuff again today!"
Piel shouted excitedly.
"Yeah."
I gave a wry smile.
"If they could give it, they should've done so sooner."
"But isn't it weird?"
Aira tilted her head.
"If they knew I'm a High Elf... I thought they'd make some direct move."
She had a point.
The Argents could kidnap, coax, or threaten if they wanted.
Yet they said nothing, just left the goods and vanished.
Thanks to that, the three of us were now seated at a lavish table with premium steaks instead of tough mutton.
Goods clearly prepared for the annex's residents.
So why leave them so quietly?
Aira kept tilting her head, but the reason was surprisingly simple.
"Because the owner of that slave collar around your neck right now... is me."
"Slave... collar?"
"Yeah."
Piel was stuffing two bites of Aira-grilled Hanwoo steak into her mouth at once, and I pointed to the iron collar encircling Aira's neck.
A plain iron ring that shimmered with a subtle silver-gray sheen in the light, devoid of any ornaments or patterns.
But it was no mere accessory.
"All those collars put on slaves? They're 'contract magic tools.' Not just lumps of metal."
Aira still looked confused.
So I chose the most direct method.
"If you really don't get it, I'll show you."
And as a test, I said,
"...Aira. Stand up."
Before the words even finished—
Snap!
"Wh-what?!"
Her fork and knife flew through the air, and Aira shot up from her chair like she'd been launched.
The chair toppled backward with a thud.
Piel choked mid-swallow in surprise, and Aira stared wide-eyed at her own body.
"Wh-what... is this?"
Her trembling voice leaked out.
Her body frozen in the exact pose of rising from the chair.
"My body... won't obey me."
"It can't."
The calm reply came.
"Contract magic is engraved on the inside of the collar. It's designed to execute commands infused with the master's mana—without judgment, without refusal."
"So..."
"Yeah."
A short affirmation.
"When a command comes, your will, emotions, choices—all shoved aside. Your body moves first."
A brief silence fell.
"The reason you didn't feel it until now is simple. No one had registered as your 'master.'"
Slave traders.
Brokerages.
Temporary owners who were just names on paper.
They treated slaves like objects but never qualified to complete the contract.
"But now it's different."
My gaze returned to her.
"Ownership has officially transferred, and the contract is complete. That's why the Argents can't touch this annex recklessly."
Finally, I drew a clear line.
"As long as I'm the registered master of that collar, not even the Argents have the right to lay a hand on you."
Very slowly, a breath escaped her.
The iron ring around her neck.
Just seconds ago, it had felt merely cold. Now her eyes saw it in an entirely different light.
"But, Master..."
This time, Piel tilted her head.
After the command released, she'd glanced at Aira, who had righted her chair and sat back down, then wagged her tail slightly in delight.
"If it has that function, why haven't you used it until now?"
Pure curiosity.
"Even when we first met. You could've just ordered me to sit at the table."
"Same for me... If you'd used it on me, I could've learned maid duties faster and been more helpful to you, Master."
To the slaves' puzzled questions, my answer was straightforward.
"Because I didn't want to."
"Huh?"
"I know it's convenient. But to me... it's too repulsive."
Their expressions hardened.
"You're my people. That makes you family. What family in the world issues commands to their own?"
I took a moment to steady my breath, then continued.
"I can ask. But I won't force."
"...!"
"What I used on Aira today was just to demonstrate. I won't use it like that again. Ever."
Those words were close to a vow.
The sensation of actually triggering it was more horrific than I'd imagined.
Aira's body leaping against her will. Piel freezing up beside me watching it.
It felt like fumbling a scalpel mid-major surgery.
The kind of feeling I never wanted to experience again.
But then.
Wide-eyed and sparkling.
Before I knew it, the two had circled the table and approached me.
And then—squeeze!—they hugged me tightly from both sides.
"Hehe... I like Master so much! My tummy's all fluttery!"
"That's from the meal. Look at how much meat you just ate. Protein and fat hitting your system at once rushes blood to your digestive organs. Heart rate naturally spikes."
"M-me too... I'm so happy Lucas is my master, my heart's pounding..."
"You're the same, Aira. Sudden tension release spikes the parasympathetic nervous system, then your heart thumps big once more. Post-surprise fluttering is totally normal."
These two... moved?
Told them I won't hurt them, and they cling right away. Guess kids are kids.
They listen well, quick on the uptake, don't grit their teeth needlessly.
If only patients like Aira and Piel lined up, I might've skipped trauma surgery for pediatrics.
As I recalled that already-ended past life,
"Miss Aira~!"
A voice sliced through the air.
"?!"
"That voice—"
"Walter...?"
The warmth of lunch chilled instantly.
From beyond the window came a voice strained with forced effort, cracked somewhere.
In Argent territory, only one person could make that sound.
Walter.
As the three of us reached the window side by side, he was already waving from the center of the annex yard.
Face screaming "when did he get hit?"
That made it even more revolting.
"Hahaha! Did the goods and food we sent suit your tastes? We made sure to include portions for the two under Miss Aira's care—nothing left out!"
The moment I saw his jaw, I got the gist.
Twisted mandible forcibly realigned and fixed with metal reinforcements.
Emergency fix sacrificing joint mobility for shape.
'Best' by this world's medicine, 'half-assed' by modern standards.
A medieval implant, you could call it.
Yet his expression beamed with excessive brightness, satisfied with that level.
"Miss Aira, I'm not here for games today."
He caught his breath, then deliberately raised his voice.
"I'm here to formally welcome the Fourth Princess of the Elf Kingdom—through official procedures!"
"...That bastard's lost it."
"He doesn't even have the status to welcome me. I've already been exiled..."
Aira averted her eyes, and Piel bristled her tail, stepping back.
"M-Master... what should we do?"
Outside the window, Walter kept waving.
As if this were his stage.
Cheeky, with that jaw full of iron rods.
"Walter."
I threw my voice first.
"This is my turf. The annex of Lucas Argent, acknowledged by the Family Head in the last Proxy Blood Fate."
I swept my gaze over him.
"Did a so-called official heir think he could barge in without notice?"
My tone was even, but the line was clear.
This wasn't a greeting or negotiation. It was a territory declaration.
I'd already factored in the Argents moving on Aira.
Just not in this near-worst way.
Openly shoving princess treatment and demanding to take her?
The problem was, this was neither diplomacy nor threat.
No justification, no resolve—just emotions running wild.
If they'd planned force, response would've been simpler.
Unleash Ashen Hand's intel network, drag in the Elf Kingdom.
Exiled or not, they'd never let a living High Elf bloodline fall to rival powers.
Stoke their obsession with tradition and lineage, and Aira alone could spark all-out war between the factions.
In other words, whether they came soft or hard, with me as the slave collar's master, I already held the spear to pierce and the shield to block.
Which made this even stranger.
'Agram wouldn't have left that idiot alone.'
Walter's attitude was too flippant.
All emotion, no calculation.
Zero forethought outside magic research.
A shut-in nerd acting on impulse? That explains it.
But this was smack in Argent territory's heart.
And behind Walter lurked Agram, one of this world's ultimate black.
No way he'd permit such pointless action.
In that instant, my thoughts converged.
This wasn't Walter's play.
It was bait.
And as if proving it, Walter spoke.
"Father already gave permission! And we talked it over with Miss Aira's side too."
"...Huh?"
"What?"
For a moment, I doubted my ears.
Aira stood blankly, unconsciously touching her pointed ear tip.
But the next words shattered everything.
"Word came from the Elf Kingdom! They said it's fine to make Miss Aira my 'fiancée'."
"What did you say?"
"Family's coming here soon too. Excited?"
The moment I heard that.
"Uweeeek!"
Aira collapsed right there.
Slumping to the floor by the window, she vomited.
"A-Aira!"
"Damn it, snap out of it!"
No response.
"Aaaaaaah—!!"
Only a scream-like wail erupted.
Face flooded with revived past, terror, memories.
It wasn't acting.
Nor fragility.
A utterly shattered reaction.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Read 98 more chapters ahead on NovelDex!
https://noveldex.io/series/the-slaves-i-expelled-have-become-strong-and-returned
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━