I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

"Yes, Sir," Becket answered.

"Then tell me, Officer Becket, why did it take you nearly a full day to recognize Stick Arslan as a Player?"

"Well…" Becket shot a glance at the Baron before clearing his throat. "We don't inspect NPCs' Statuses unless they're ill, and there was no reason to think a new slave was any different. He didn't stand out."

That's not true! You slapped me on day one!

Stick opened his mouth, but Becket's hard gaze stopped him short, sending the same silent message as Shadis. Something about it told him that he shouldn't.

"So without reason to use the HUD, he appeared like any other NPC," Becket concluded.

"I see…" Herzog still looked skeptical. "This brings me to another question I had. Sir Arslan, would you please step forward?"

What? Me?

Stick froze. He didn't expect that he had to move at all during all of this.

"Step forward to the center," Herzog repeated, flipping through the papers.

Stick rose reluctantly, approaching the bailiff in the middle of the room. What now?

"Remove your clothes, please," Herzog said.

Stick blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me, Sir?"

"Remove your clothes!" Herzog ordered again. "Just lifting the top will suffice. The council wants to see your stomach."

Stick's mind finally clicked. "Yes, Sir."

He lifted his shirt, revealing the odd smoothness of his abdomen where a belly button should be. A wave of murmurs spread through the room; amazement and confusion were painted on every face.

"How is that even possible?" the cloaked lord asked, eyes narrowing.

"How very interesting!" the Jester marveled, leaning forward.

"Oh my, what a specimen," the red-haired woman commented, her voice a mix of fascination and intrigue.

Stick shifted uneasily under their scrutiny. "Would that be all, Sir?"

Herzog gave a curt nod. "Yes, you may return to your place."

Relieved, Stick quickly lowered his shirt to hide his shame and returned to his stand beside Shadis and PP. The room buzzed with speculation. What's wrong with them?

Finally, Baron Bonatelli spoke up. "See? I told you—he's an NPC, plain and simple!"

"It would be easy to just dismiss him as an NPC and be done with it," Herzog tried to respectfully disagree with Bonatelli. "But the whole reason we have gathered here today was that his Status says otherwise. We can't just hang him. It's against everything Carnifex stands for."

Hang him?

"Yeah, we can't do that, Lucio. His Status says he's human," Nakamura pointed out, his tone skeptical but intrigued.

Stick's eyes widened, pulse racing. Human?

Stick clenched his fists under the table, seething at yet another casual dismissal of the NPCs' humanity. He had tried to keep his cool, but Nakamura's comment felt like a slap across his face, only worsening as Herzog, the Baron, and the rest of the council added their indifferent comments to the mix.

"And as you saw, Milords and Ladies," Becket's voice was tense, "there was no reason to doubt he was not human."

Human. Always human. As if that word made them better. The word killed Michael.

A storm broiling in his mind. So this was what they truly believed—being "human" meant something superior, an untouchable status that NPCs could never attain. Inventory, high LVLs, Status screens—what right do they have to measure others' worth based on these alone? If this is what Players think, then I don't want anything to do with it.

As the council muttered in agreement, Herzog leaned back, observing the scene with an air of calm calculation.

"One must say," he remarked, "it is impossible to tell him apart."

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General Solo's piercing gaze fixed on Becket. "So, you took the 'recruit' to the mines?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Becket answered, his words clipped.

"And when did you realize he was a Player?" General Solo pressed, pen in hand.

"Reacher and I read his status before he went to work."

"So he worked in the mines that day?"

Becket took a deep breath, visibly reluctant to admit, "Yes, Ma'am."

General Solo's expression tightened as she wrote something down.

"So, kidnapping and forced labor," she noted coldly, causing Baron Bonatelli to shift nervously, tapping his foot.

The Jester chimed in, "That is a PvP crime, Baron Bonatelli. You just allow your subordinates to do that to Players?"

"They couldn't have known he was human!" Herzog protested, his voice strained.

Stick's frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, his voice cutting through the room. "That's it!"

All eyes turned to him, the room falling silent.

Shadis hissed at him, "What are you doing?"

Stick ignored him, his voice trembling with anger. "I've had it with you Adventurers calling yourselves human!"

The bailiff started towards him, but Herzog held up a hand. "Stand down."

Shadis tugged on Stick's slave rags. "Sit down!"

The bailiff halted, but Stick wasn't finished. He pressed on, the anger spilling out. "You Adventurers are disgusting. You can't see past your fancy menus."

He felt Shadis's warning gaze on him, but he had come too far to stop now. General Solo watched him intently, her focus shifting entirely to him. Stick took a deep breath, feeling his heart race as he seized the moment to say what he had long wanted to.

"You don't see these people for what they are. They have families, dreams, feelings—they're human just like any other! How can you ignore that?"

His words hung in the air, but no one responded. Only cold, unfeeling eyes stared back, and he felt a chill settle over him. His heart hammered as he looked from one indifferent face to another.

Finally, the lord with a heavy cloak spoke up, his voice dismissive. "They're programmed to be that way."

Stick felt a wave of disbelief. "What? That's it? That's all you have to say?"

Baron Bonatelli seized the opportunity, a smug grin spreading across his face. "See? He chose to be an NPC long ago."

The Jester rocked back, snickering to himself, while Herzog rubbed his temples in exasperation.

The Baroness raised a brow, her voice dripping with mock surprise. "Shocking."

A murmur rippled through the hall, but General Solo's voice cut through, sharp and commanding. "Focus, everyone. The hearing is far from over."

The hall fell into a suffocating silence, sharper than any rebuke. It hurt Stick more than any punch could, that hollow, indifferent response to everything he had just said.

General Solo turned to him, her gaze steady. "Refrain from such outbursts in the future, Sir Arslan. They don't reflect well on your case."

Stick felt a hand on his shoulder, and a steady pressure pushed him back into his seat. He sank down, his anger simmering beneath the surface, as the council resumed their proceedings with mechanical precision, unfazed by his words. General Solo's eyes were piercing, calculating as she shifted her attention back to Becket.

"Now, Officer Becket," she said in a cold, even tone. "Why did you force him to work in the mines, even after realizing your mistake?"

Becket hesitated, visibly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "We... we were confused. We thought it might be a glitch in the UI. He didn't have a Class, a Name, or any Origin listed on his Status."

Stick's stomach twisted as he listened, his anger dissipating into a hollow frustration. This hearing, this entire council, every one of them—they weren't interested in justice or truth. They had decided long ago that NPCs were beneath them, disposable tools at best. Nothing he said, no amount of pleading or anger, would change their minds. It's hopeless.

General Solo leaned forward, her gaze still fixed on Becket. "When did that change?"

"Recently," Becket admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Probably a few days ago, around the time he accepted the Baron's offer."

The council's attention swiveled to Stick, who felt their eyes on him like a weight pressing down on his shoulders. Stick lowered his gaze, feeling the last of his defiance drain away.

"Sir Arslan," General Solo said, "how did you hide your name?"

Stick blinked, his mind numb. "I don't know."

"And your Origin?"

"I don't know," his voice came out flat, mechanical.

General Solo tilted her head, scrutinizing him. "When did you receive your class?"

"On the morning of the uprising." He could barely hear his own voice.

Herzog raised an eyebrow. "So, not upon arrival, but rather like an NPC does. That does complicate things."

A sudden, mocking laugh cut through the tension in the room. The Jester clapped his hands together, echoing through the hall with his sharp, grating voice.

"Well, congratulations on your birthday, Sir Arslan!" he crowed, his tone thick with irony. "That means you can be tried like a real adult."

The courtroom was thick with tension, every word resonating like a hammer in the vast hall. Duke Herzog regarded Stick with an unyielding gaze, his eyes sharp and calculating as he sifted through the web of lies and half-truths surrounding the young man.

"So," Herzog began slowly, "after realizing your error, you brought him to Baron Bonatelli, where he was offered a place among the Players. Is that correct?"

Stick swallowed, glancing around the room. On the opposing stand, the Baron gave a slight nudge to Becket under the table, prompting him to respond.

Becket cleared his throat. "Yes, Sir. He instigated a fight with the NPCs first, but that's correct."

General Solo, her demeanor icy and exacting, jotted something down.

Herzog shifted his attention to Stick, eyebrows raised. "And you didn't accept the offer immediately. A few days later, perhaps, if memory serves?"

Bonatelli cut in before Stick could answer. "That's right! He stayed with the NPCs for a few nights to plan their rebellion, before he pretended to accept. He just wanted time to—"

"He spoke to Sir Arslan," General Solo interrupted.

Bonatelli clamped his mouth shut, shooting Stick a resentful look. Stick felt his stomach churn.

"Sir Arslan," Herzog asked, leaning forward, "is it true that you accepted the offer only to stall for time?"

Stick hesitated, feeling the weight of the room pressing down on him.

"Well, I…" He paused, struggling to find words that would neither betray his allies nor condemn himself.

He looked down. There was no point; no words could get him out of this. He was tired, exhausted from the constant fight to let Carnifex see reason. That he was justified in his actions. There's a lot more to it, but on the whole, that's what happened.

Suddenly, a voice broke his reverie.

"He didn't stall, Your Honours. He believed in the plan," Shadis called out, grinning defiantly, his eyes flashing beneath his scruffy beard. "My plan."

Your escape plan?