The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed

Living with one arm was incredibly inconvenient.

Especially for someone who had been perfectly fine with both arms just a few days ago. Whenever I tried to use my right arm out of habit, all I got was the empty sleeve flapping around.

It would take some time to adjust, but by the time I got used to it, my arm would already be reattached. I just had to manage until the priest arrived.

Ironically, it wasn’t all bad. One upside was that Ashies had started doing things voluntarily.

Just this morning, for example.

She was trying to get up on her own without me waking her up.

“Ashies... getting up by herself?”

It was an astonishing improvement.

And then—

“Rami. Ah...”

Ashies brought a spoonful of soup to my lips, intending to feed me just like I had done for her once.

“I’m fine. I can eat by myself with my left hand.”

“Ah.”

It was practically forced consideration.

I tried to refuse, saying I could do it alone, but she completely ignored me.

Her tone carried an unshakable determination.

In the end, I had no choice but to quietly open my mouth and accept the spoonful.

“Is it... good?”

“Well... it’s better because Ashies is feeding me.”

Satisfied, Ashies gave a small nod.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

“Rami. Arm.”

“I can dress myself—”

“Arm.”

“...Arm.”

She even dressed me.

And during our morning walk after breakfast, I felt her change even more.

While walking to digest the meal, I had to endure the sorrow of being one-armed yet again.

‘Wow. I can’t even clasp my hands behind my back now.’

I used to put my hands behind my back out of habit, but now my right hand was gone. My left hand had no partner and became a lonely outcast.

As I walked, letting my left hand dangle limply, I felt a cool sensation.

I turned to see Ashies stepping closer and taking my hand.

“Ashies?”

“...Because it’s lonely.”

“You feel lonely?”

“Rami does.”

She’d done this before, saying I must feel lonely and holding my hand.

I appreciated the sentiment, but Ashies’s hands were far too cold.

“I’m not lonely enough to need hand-holding.”

“...Lonely.”

“I told you I’m not that lonely.”

“Lonely.”

“Your hands are cold. Let go.”

“...No.”

Even after I said it directly, Ashies pretended not to understand and gripped my hand even tighter instead of letting go.

‘Hmm...’

The childish Ashies had suddenly matured overnight.

I’d raised Ashies hundreds of times before, but I’d never seen her act like this. Her personality had completely changed.

As a parent, I should feel proud of my child’s growth—or as a master, proud of my slave’s development—but it worried me that the trigger for this was my arm being blown off.

‘This feels just like Rin.’

Rin had started obsessing over me after I got injured. She secretly drained my energy and even locked me up so I couldn’t leave.

I had promised myself back then to be more cautious in the future, yet somehow, I’d ended up in the same situation again.

‘She’s not going to lock me up too, is she?’

Freeze me forever ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) and turn me into another Skadia?

I could only pray that wouldn’t happen.

*****

“Snow White was startled... White fairies appeared from the snow...”

Ashies’s overprotectiveness of Karami didn’t stop even when night fell.

The room, shared by the two humanoids, was decorated with mana-powered mood lights and snow globes. As the music box wound down, soft melodies filled the space.

Karami was the one sitting on the bed—not Ashies.

Beside him, Ashies read a fairy tale in a gentle, soothing voice, just like Karami had done for her before.

If he simply closed his eyes and listened, he might’ve drifted off to sleep.

“Ashies? You really don’t need to read this to me.”

Karami found the situation awkward.

He appreciated Ashies’s sentiment, but it felt strange to listen to fairy tales at his age. Embarrassing, even.

“You don’t... like it?”

But then Ashies pulled out her ultimate weapon—a cuteness so devastating it transcended gender.

There was no hidden intent behind it, which somehow made it even more lethal. Rejecting her would mean wounding that innocent heart.

“...No, I’ll listen.”

In the end, Karami had no choice but to surrender and let her continue.

Ashies picked up where she left off.

It wasn’t anything new. Karami himself had written this story and read it to her several times before.

Even so, hearing her crystal-clear voice, like chimes ringing through glass, was pleasant enough to make him feel pampered.

“The sleeping Snow White awoke with the prince’s kiss...”

“?”

“...and the prince placed a ring on her finger... and proposed.”

“...?”

Wait.

Something was different. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Karami glanced at Ashies in confusion. That part wasn’t in the original.

Ashies nervously shifted her eyes away to avoid his gaze.

“What’s with the ring all of a sudden?”

“Ferca said... people propose with rings...”

“Well... She’s not wrong.”

As a girl, it wasn’t strange for Ashies to find romance in such gestures.

Karami brushed it off without giving it much thought.

Even after that, Ashies kept sneaking glances at him, but Karami didn’t realize why—not even as he fell asleep.

*****

The Day of Reckoning Drew Near.

Preparations for the battle against Skadia had finally reached their climax. Yet, as the confrontation with the dragon approached, Doomheim, usually lively and bustling, was now thick with an undeniable tension.

At The Drunkard’s Barrel, dwarves spoke in hushed, uneasy tones.

“Are we really doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fighting a dragon. Don’t you think it’s a bit too reckless?”

“Are you getting cold feet now? Didn’t you say you wanted to set a proud example for the youngsters?”

“That was... just me getting swept up in the mood...”

Some of the dwarves who had been persuaded by Karami’s words were beginning to reconsider the fight.

They’d been sincere back then, but no one could stay drunk on passion forever. After nearly a month of waiting, their heads had cooled—and doubts started creeping in.

“Hmph...”

Fear was the most contagious emotion of all.

The primal instinct to survive.

On this day, the dwarves clutched their heavy tankards of ale more tightly than ever.

That was when a certain dwarf approached their table.

“You all look awfully worried.”

“W-Wulbram, sir? What brings you here...?”

“Ha! What brings me? Can’t a dwarf enjoy a drink at the tavern?”

“N-No, of course not. Please, have a seat! Waiter! A cold ale for the Master!”

“Much obliged.”

Wulbram, the leader of the dwarves, joined their table with ease.

Without hesitation, he downed the ale in one gulp—a display of boldness worthy of Doomheim’s chief.

“Ahh~ That hits the spot. So, are you afraid of the upcoming battle?”

“W-Well...”

“You can be honest.”

One dwarf flinched under Wulbram’s piercing gaze but eventually confessed.

“...Yes. I’m scared. To be frank, this isn’t even our fight. Is it really right for us to risk our kingdom’s survival for this?”

“Hmm. I can understand why you’d think that. It’s a perfectly natural concern.”

After all, Doomheim’s involvement wasn’t about Skadia directly.

Strictly speaking, they were fighting to help Ashies, who had suffered at Skadia’s hands.

While their solidarity was admirable, doubts about whether it was the right decision were only natural.

But Wulbram dismissed their hesitation without mercy.

“You’re mistaken if you think this fight is some act of charity. It’s for us dwarves.”

“What...?”

“Do you know why dwarves live underground?”

“Isn’t it because of the rich ore deposits?”

Wulbram shook his head.

“There are plenty of mines aboveground, too. And we’re blacksmiths. Even the most brilliant weapons we forge are just scrap metal if no one wields them.”

Just as producers needed consumers, smiths needed warriors to use their creations.

It was common sense that living aboveground, where most races gathered, would make trade and interaction easier.

But the dwarves had chosen the opposite—they’d hidden themselves underground.

And it hadn’t been by choice.

“Dragons have always coveted our craft. They enslaved dwarves to forge weapons to their satisfaction—until their hammers broke and their souls burned out.”

“......”

“To escape their gaze, dwarves were forced to retreat underground. Despite the vast skies and wide-open lands above, we’ve been trapped in this narrow, suffocating darkness.”

The great dwarf Vargan—

Founder of the underground city of Doomheim and creator of the Heart of Magmar, a legendary artifact.

He was both the greatest blacksmith and the greatest coward among dwarves.

He had fled from dragons faster than anyone and buried Doomheim deep underground.

Vargan was a hero—and a coward.

“But now we have a once-in-a-lifetime chance. A chance to slay the wicked dragon and reclaim the surface world!”

For once, Wulbram’s usually solemn voice brimmed with excitement.

When Karami first arrived in Doomheim with Ferca, Wulbram hadn’t thought much of it.

When Karami returned with Ashies and revealed she was cursed by Skadia, Wulbram had chalked it up to coincidence.

But when Karami persuaded the dwarves with his tale of Snow White, Wulbram saw it as fate.

Karami the Slave Priest.

Wulbram didn’t fully understand what Karami meant by “liberation,” which he spoke of so often.

But in Wulbram’s ears, it sounded like this:

“A chance to break free from this dark, suffocating underground and from the dragons that have oppressed us.”

“......”

“It’s fine to be afraid. It’s fine to tremble. But don’t run. Burn your soul—for your pride as blacksmiths and as dwarves!”

“W-Wulbram, sir...”

The dwarves were struck speechless—not by fear, but by the weight of Wulbram’s words and sincerity.

Silence fell over the table until Wulbram let out a hearty laugh, lightening the mood. He stood up.

“Ah, perhaps I drank too much. I’ve rambled on about nonsense. You don’t need to take my words to heart—just remember this: this battle isn’t for anyone else. It’s for us.”

The dwarves unconsciously nodded.

And a few more days later—

The day of reckoning arrived in Doomheim.