The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed

Karami survived Zakaryl’s attack purely by luck.

With Ashies far away and no one else to protect him, Karami’s only option was to gamble.

The moment persuasion failed, he didn’t hesitate—he rolled the Dice That Bends Fate.

The die landed on 15.

Out of 20 possible outcomes, it was a remarkably high number—enough to summon fortune.

By sheer coincidence, the rolling die triggered a buried artifact within the treasure pile—a Kaleidoscope enchanted to protect its user from external attacks.

The Kaleidoscope activated, absorbing Karami, but the process came at a cost—he lost his right arm.

Even an artifact from the Fox Spirits couldn’t fully shield him with only a fragment of its power.

It was a reckless gamble.

Had the die rolled even slightly lower, Ashies wouldn’t have found Karami missing an arm—she would have found half his body.

“Rami...!”

But even with just one arm missing, it was enough to devastate Ashies.

Sliding quickly to his side, she inspected his condition.

Her breath hitched.

Karami’s right arm—

Gone below the elbow.

Blood poured out, pooling on the frozen ground.

“Rami?”

She called out, but he only grimaced in pain. No reply.

He’d already passed out, unable to withstand the agony.

Ashies’s pale skin turned even whiter.

At this rate, he would die of blood loss.

Thinking fast, she froze the wound to stop the bleeding and preserved the severed arm in ice to prevent decay.

If they made it back to the city, there might be a way to reattach it.

Carrying Karami in her arms, Ashies ascended back to the surface.

The Princess’s Room.

Ashies laid Karami on the bed.

Though she’d stopped the bleeding, his situation remained dire.

The ice she used to cauterize the wound was causing his body temperature to plummet faster.

The real problem?

There was nowhere in the kingdom to warm him up.

The bed, the blankets—everything was frozen solid.

The princess, pampered all her life, didn’t know how to make a fire.

The only magic she could use was ice.

Even sharing body heat, the most primitive form of warmth, was impossible.

The Lazulite merely suppressed her curse—it hadn’t lifted it.

Her body was still as cold as ice.

If she tried to share warmth, she’d only steal what little Karami had left.

Ashies cursed herself.

For the first time, she hated being what she was—a creature of frost.

Pacing the room, she searched desperately for a solution.

And then—

A faint memory surfaced.

—“Princess, would you try this on?”

—“?”

—“It’s called the Gentle Cloak. It’ll keep you wonderfully warm~.”

The memory was of her father, the king, wrapping a reddish-brown cloak around her shoulders.

He’d commissioned ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) it specifically for Ashies, who constantly battled the effects of her freezing aura.

But she’d only worn it once.

It was too warm, and like kicking away blankets in her sleep, she’d tossed it aside.

The king had been disappointed, but Ashies didn’t care about that now.

What mattered was that she vaguely remembered a maid putting the cloak in the wardrobe.

Ashies flung the wardrobe open and began digging through it.

Dresses piled up around her as she tossed them aside without care—layers of silk, lace, and velvet scattered across the floor.

After a frantic search, she found it—the cloak.

Frozen like everything else, but thankfully, its magic was intact.

She rushed back to Karami and covered him with it like a blanket.

For now, she could at least stabilize his body temperature.

Next, they had to return to Doomheim.

She had no idea how to get there.

But she’d figure it out.

Dragging a chair to the bedside, Ashies sat and curled up, resting her chin on her knees.

Lately, she’d been sitting like this a lot—lost in endless confusion.

If only she hadn’t let Karami out of her sight.

If she’d followed him instead of sulking, this wouldn’t have happened.

Maybe it would’ve been better if she’d never learned to feel.

“Cough, cough.”

Karami’s faint coughing jolted Ashies out of her thoughts.

“Rami! What’s wrong? Are you... thirsty?”

Karami responded with another fit of coughing.

Each convulsion twisted his face in pain.

“Water...”

There was a waterskin in the carriage.

But Ashies couldn’t leave him alone again—not after what happened.

Zakaryl was gone for now, but there was no telling if the demon would return.

She had to find a solution here.

Ashies scanned the room.

Of course, there was no water.

If people could freeze here, why wouldn’t water?

Fortunately, there was snow and ice everywhere.

Unfortunately, her frozen body made it impossible to melt them.

No.

There was one way.

Scooping a handful of clean snow, Ashies pressed it to her lips.

No matter how cold she seemed, she was still alive.

Her body retained just enough heat to sustain life—enough warmth to melt snow.

Her mouth, too, was warm enough for the job.

It was humiliating.

But Ashies wasn’t thinking about embarrassment.

She was thinking about Karami.

Without hesitation, she melted the snow in her mouth.

Then, lowering her head, she pressed her lips to his.

She let the water trickle from her mouth to his, bit by bit.

*****

After many twists and turns, the two finally returned to Doomheim.

Ashies, who always fell asleep in carriages, had no idea how to navigate. Fortunately, the Frostwolf they had been traveling with remembered the path.

Understanding Ashies’s intentions with just a sorrowful gaze and a gentle stroke, it returned them safely to Doomheim—like some unicorn devoted to its maiden.

The Next Day in Doomheim.

Karami regained consciousness a day after arriving.

His right arm was bandaged at the stump, and when he tried to move it, only the empty sleeve flapped uselessly.

“Well, well. Look at you now, Mr. High-and-Mighty.”

“Father! How can you say that when someone’s arm just got cut off? Shouldn’t you be comforting him instead?”

Ferca snapped at Torvar’s sarcastic jab.

Though Torvar seemed unfazed, the icy glare Ashies directed at him froze him to the core.

For once, even Torvar had the sense to adjust his attitude.

“How’s the damage?” Karami asked, rubbing the bandaged stump.

“The first aid was excellent. Freezing the wound with magic prevented major complications, and we completed the treatment here,” Torvar replied.

“What about reattaching the arm?”

“Well...” Torvar hesitated. “The severed arm was also frozen, so it didn’t rot. But we can’t reattach it here.”

The problem wasn’t just the severed state—it had been bitten off by a shark, leaving the cut jagged and irregular.

Even if it were forcibly reattached, it would likely end up deformed or useless. In that case, leaving it as it was might be better.

“To reattach it properly, we’ll need a priest. Surgery will have to be done alongside regeneration magic.”

“Hm...”

“If you want, I can craft you a prosthetic. I’ll make it look flashy—way better than that scrawny arm you had before.”

“Can it shoot lasers? Or lift boulders?”

“With your flimsy body? No chance. But hey, maybe you’ll beat a neighborhood kid at arm wrestling. Maybe.”

“Oh.”

Karami pondered for a moment before making his decision.

“I’ll go with reattaching the arm.”

“No imagination. Fine. Just know it’ll take time.”

Karami exhaled deeply.

He never imagined he’d end up like this—not after dealing with the Puppet King, and now Zakaryl.

The pain of losing his arm had been excruciating, and the realization of becoming one-armed was jarring.

Yet, Karami remained surprisingly calm.

It wasn’t as if he’d merged souls with some tragic martyr.

‘It’s not even my real body.’

Whether he lost an arm, caught an incurable disease, or ended up terminally ill, it didn’t matter.

Once he freed the slaves, he’d return to his original body—fully intact.

Karami didn’t even fight with weapons, so losing an arm wasn’t much of a handicap.

If the dice had rolled lower, he wouldn’t have survived to think about any of this.

Karami was practical enough to be grateful.

That’s why he stayed composed.

The same couldn’t be said for someone else.

“Rami... I’m sorry... I... I wasn’t there....”

Ashies apologized in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible.

Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, were downcast, as if she were ready to collapse under the weight of guilt.

‘This is bad.’

The Frisian Kingdom was supposed to be a key moment—an event to ignite Ashies’s fighting spirit.

Instead, it had turned her into a sniveling wreck.

Heroes weren’t supposed to cry like this.

I had to snap her out of it.

“Ashies, you did nothing wrong. If anything, I was careless for wandering off and poking around the palace. And let’s not forget—the real culprit is that demon brat.”

“But...”

Karami reached out with his remaining hand and took Ashies’s.

He threaded his fingers through hers, firmly locking them together.

“My right arm’s gone, but now I’m a lefty—just like you. Doesn’t this make us even closer?”

“Really...?”

“Of course. Or... do you not feel the same way?”

Ashies sniffled, struggling to find her voice.

“I do... I feel the same....”

She squeezed his hand tighter.

His warmth was comforting—steady, soothing, and calming.

So much so that she didn’t want to let go.

Seeing her calm down, Karami smiled.

“That’s a relief.”

Meanwhile.

‘This bastard is a menace.’

Watching from the side, Ferca shuddered.

Karami’s silver tongue was working miracles, leaving her utterly dumbfounded.

Her whole body was covered in goosebumps.

She barely stopped herself from screaming.

Every single word that came out of his mouth was too perfect.

So perfect that even Ferca, a bystander, felt her heart skip a beat.

‘This guy’s bound to get stabbed by a woman someday.’

That was the only logical conclusion Ferca could come up with.