I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

He decided to ignore his grumbling stomach and clean himself up first. His skin felt sticky to the touch, covered in a film of dried sweat, grime, blood, and mud. Anything he tried to eat with his hands would become inedible anyway, he thought. It's a birthday celebration. I should at least be clean if I don't want to disrespect the twins. After all, Cadmun warned me that I'll be treated the same.

He found a bucket of water near one of the slaves' tents. The rags inside had been used before, likely by other miners, and the cold water was nasty. Still, it would have to suffice. He picked up the bucket and searched for a secluded spot away from the camp to clean himself. He found a rock surrounded by bushes where he could sit. The cheerful conversations from the campfire could still be heard in the distance, but as he looked around, he saw no one else. He stripped the piece of tent from his waist and laid it on the rock inside out. The inside part looks cleaner at least.

He sat on the rock, placed the bucket of water beside him, and got to work. Scrubbing his arms and legs with the cold water was tolerable, but when he moved to other areas of his body, the water's temperature became a problem. He tried putting off cleaning his torso, back, and waist by starting with his face. However, when he brought the water to his nose, he recoiled at the smell. Maybe I shouldn't clean my wounds with this.

Finally, he gave in and plunged the rag into the water. He decided to start with his back—at least he tried to convince himself he would begin any moment. He hesitated, but his stomach reminded him of his hunger, so he took a deep breath and braced for the worst. He swung the wet rag over his shoulder, and as soon as it touched his back, he cried out. This is way too cold! What have I done? This was a mistake! Oh please, God of Life, why are you not protecting me?

He panted, taking deep breaths as the freezing water trickled down his spine. Ew, ew, ew. Why did I do this?

"There you are!" a female voice called from behind him.

What? Who?

His head snapped around to see who was peeking out of the bushes. It was Lydia. What is she doing here?

Realizing he was naked, his cheeks burned.

"I've been looking all over for you!" Lydia climbed over the bushes and approached him.

"P-Please don't come closer," he stammered, curling into a ball to cover as much skin as possible, "I'm not wearing anything!"

Maybe the moonlight-

"Yes, I know that. Montgomery told me you were cleaning yourself." She placed a bucket next to his.

That dog! That little goblinshit! I'll kill him!

She took out a piece of fine cloth from the steaming water. "I can't believe you were using that muck."

Without warning, she pressed the cloth on his shoulder blades, and he let out a whine. It was hot, but just the right amount of hot. Especially after he drenched himself in that wretched ice water. It was… nice.

He snapped back to reality. "I can do this myself, you know!"

"Yes, I can see that. Using wastewater you didn't even boil. The well is right behind my hut, and the campfire is already burning. I mean, gods, you men."

His shame quickly gave way to feeling insulted. I'm hungry and want to be done as soon as possible. Who does she think she is?

Still, he couldn't retort because she was absolutely right. It did feel much better being scrubbed with hot water. So, he crossed his arms over his legs to cover everything and just sat there as Lydia applied a bar of soap to his back. Man, she really came prepared.

His heart began to pound heavily, and he tensed up. Why did she come prepared? Is she-?

"Don't worry, that's my job," Lydia said, sensing his discomfort, "you wouldn't be able to reach your back anyway. You're going to do the rest by yourself."

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"Your job is to scrub people's backs?"

"Yes… in a way." Her voice sounded sadder, less strict than before. "Actually, just the Baron's. He likes to keep me close, so I have to also serve his meals and bring him his tea."

"Oh…"

That bastard!

Lydia rinsed the soap from his back and handed him the cloth. She turned away as he started cleaning his arms.

"Timothy told me about you."

He lowered his head. "Yeah, I know."

Water started to pool around the rock, and he watched the reflection of the moonlight dance in the disgusting mix of mud and blood. They didn't speak for a while.

"You don't seem like the Adventurers from today," Lydia broke the silence.

"What do you mean?" he asked while plunging the rag into the hot water.

"You remind me of those who first arrived here years ago."

"How so?"

"They were kind." She paused, deep in thought. "Like the Great Hero."

"The Great Hero?" he queried.

But before Lydia could explain, they heard rustling from the bushes, startling them both. A figure emerged into the moonlight. It was Varyan.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd be interrupting," Varyan said.

Interrupting? His cheeks warmed.

"Lord Blitz! No, you're not interrupting us at all," Lydia explained, flustered by Varyan's sudden appearance.

Varyan tilted his head. "Well, it seems the man is trying to wash in peace. We should go, Lydia."

What a relief. He didn't take it the wrong way.

Lydia, however, seemed very tense while bowing. Her face was flushed red. "Yes, of course. As you command, my Lord."

He relaxed a bit. He couldn't say he wasn't disappointed, but what did he expect? I guess she's not.

Without commenting, he began to clean his torso, wanting to finish quickly before more people arrived. The other two retreated through the bushes.

"Lord Blitz, may I ask, what were you doing out here? You're meant to be at the birthday festivities." Lydia twitched. "Of course! The birthday!"

Oh no! The birthday!

Lydia bowed again. "I wish you the happiest of birthdays! May you live a hundred years, my Lord!"

He turned awkwardly, trying to hide his lower half behind the rock while bowing to greet Varyan. "Happy birthday, Lord Blitz!"

"Thank you, both of you." Varyan laughed uneasily. "I spoke with Cadmun earlier. I'm just glad that your father is okay. I heard he was supposed to stay at the slaughterhouse indefinitely."

Lydia bowed repeatedly. "You're too kind, my Lord. Thank you!"

Varyan turned to him. "And I'm also glad you're okay. We'll talk later. Come to me when you're done freshening up."

He nodded, watching the distance grow between them as he stayed hidden behind the rock. Does he know?

Lydia pointed to the ground near him.

"There are your clothes. Next time, you should wash your undergarments before bed to avoid illness," she said sternly.

Before he could make out the rags on the ground, she had already turned away and started following Varyan. It's not like I left them unwashed on purpose. Well, I kind of did.

"You should bury that soap when you're done," Varyan called before disappearing into the dark.

Lydia was apologizing profusely to Varyan for breaking the rules again as he lectured her on how dangerous it was to steal from the Adventurers. Lydia argued that it wasn't stealing but rather taking back or even borrowing from them, but Varyan would hear none of it. The last thing he heard from them was a discussion about Varyan's clothes. Now he realized that Varyan wore a linen outfit instead of his slave rags. Did Lydia steal that too?

Once he was sure they were gone, he stood up to finish cleaning. He tried to hurry before anyone else spotted him. Then, he carefully poured the bucket's contents over his head to rinse out the mud. The warm water on his scalp was soothing, and for a brief moment, his thoughts and worries cleared as he put on his clothes. Once clothed and clean, he felt deep satisfaction, like a hug from a loved one. I feel like a new man.

With his body now alert to other needs, mainly food and drink, he tidied up. As instructed, he buried the soap nearby. He'd have liked to use it again one day, but if he smelled like citrus and cloves, Bonatelli would know it wasn't pig water he used. That'd be bad for Lydia.

He used the rest of the water in the buckets on the piece of tent he'd been wearing. It'd be best to leave it on the rock to dry in the sun tomorrow before taking it back to camp. He gathered everything else and headed to the shanty town. It was quite a challenge to find the well behind Lydia's hut in the darkness, but not one he couldn't manage. What was that about the Great Hero? I wanted to ask, but the moment passed. What kind of man had earned that name?

He could hear the commotion of festivities nearby and, fearing the pork might have been served already, quickened his pace. Soon, he filled one of the buckets with water to drink and clean his face with afterward. Since he didn't need more water, he closed the well's cap and left the buckets on top. Now he had only the rags and fine cloth he used to wash and dry himself. The smartest place to let them dry was the clothesline inside Lydia's hut he'd seen on his first day. That way she could return the cloth she probably 'borrowed' from the Adventurers in the morning before anyone noticed. What if I were to keep it? Am I allowed to own property as a Player?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden hush from the slave camp. He wasted no time hanging the rags and cloth and bolted to the campfire.

As he reached the fireplace, he stumbled upon the man with the scruffy beard, Shadis – he was fairly certain that was the man's name – addressing the attentive crowd. The man appeared more gallant than usual. He wore red garments, likely borrowed for him by a servant, and his beard no longer appeared scruffy. Clearly, he had groomed it for the special occasion about which he was delivering a speech.

"…and that is why it is my great pleasure to announce the Lords Blitz on their 17th birthday!"