Mia's tail shifted subtly, coils tightening—not in threat, but in awareness.
Her gaze stayed locked on me as Jessy spoke, studying my posture, my expression, the faint tremor I hadn't quite managed to hide. I had the unsettling feeling that she was reading more than just my surface.
"She doesn't speak much," Jessy continued. "Not because she can't. She just chooses her words carefully."
She glanced at the lamia. "Mia. This is a potential buyer."
Mia's eyes flicked briefly to Jessy—then back to me.
"So," Mia said at last.
Her voice was calm, low, and steady. Not weak. Not broken.
"You are the one deciding my worth today."
The words weren't bitter. They weren't pleading either. They were simply stated, like an observation.
Jessy blinked, clearly unused to slaves speaking so directly, but she said nothing.
I stepped closer to the bars.
"You're not afraid," I noted.
Mia tilted her head slightly. "Fear is inefficient," she replied. "It clouds judgment. If you intend to kill me, it will happen regardless. If you intend to buy me, fear will not improve my value."
There it was.
Intelligence.
Controlled. Sharp.
Exactly what I needed—and exactly what made this choice heavier than the others.
"Why were you captured?" I asked.
Her eyes dimmed for just a moment. "My wetlands were claimed by humans to the south. When the lamia refused to submit, they hired hunters instead."
No embellishment. No anger. Just fact.
"And you?" she asked in return. "You don't look like a slaver."
Jessy bristled. "Careful—"
"It's fine," I interrupted.
I met Mia's gaze directly.
"I'm not," I said. "But I am someone who needs to survive."
Her pupils narrowed slightly.
"Survival is rarely clean," she said.
"I know."
Silence stretched between us.
Then Mia shifted, uncoiling just enough to raise herself higher, placing her eyes level with mine through the bars.
"If you buy me," she said, "I will not beg. I will not grovel. But I will not betray you either—so long as you do not lie about why you want me."
Jessy let out a quiet breath. "She's… difficult."
"No," I said quietly. "She's honest."
I turned to Jessy. "What's the price?"
Jessy didn't hesitate this time. "Ten gold. Exactly."
I nodded and reached into my pouch.
As the coins clinked onto the counter, a familiar sensation stirred at the edge of my awareness—something cold and mechanical preparing to assert itself.
The moment the collar's ownership rune flared and faded, the system confirmed it.
/New slave acquired/
Name: Mia
Mia winced faintly as the magic settled, her jaw tightening—but she did not cry out.
Instead, she exhaled slowly… and looked at me again.
"So," she said. "What do you intend to survive?"
I didn't answer right away.
Because for the first time since this path had begun, I wasn't just buying strength.
I was bringing someone intelligent—someone observant—into the core of what I was building.
And that meant one thing was certain.
From this moment on, I would need to be careful.
Not just of my enemies.
But of the people who followed me.
By the time we reached my house, the sky had already begun to darken. The sun hovered low on the horizon, painting the clouds in muted shades of orange and purple. Traveling any farther tonight would be reckless, and both of us knew it.
"We'll stay here," I said.
Mia didn't argue.
I led her inside and showed her to the guest room—a small but clean space with a simple bed, a wooden chair, and a narrow window that looked out over the trees. It wasn't a cage. It wasn't luxurious either. Just… a room.
She coiled near the wall, watching me closely.
The silence stretched.
Then she spoke.
"Why did you buy me?"
The question was calm, but there was an edge beneath it—not fear, not anger, but the need to understand. I wasn't prepared for it.
"I…" I hesitated, words catching in my throat. Lying felt pointless. "I needed the blood."
Her eyes widened slightly.
For the first time since I'd met her, genuine surprise crossed her face.
"You don't look like a vampire," she said carefully. "And lamia blood has little value outside of alchemy."
"Are you an alchemist?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No."
That only deepened the confusion in her expression.
The room fell quiet again, heavier this time.
I exhaled slowly. "I don't regenerate," I said. "At least… not the way others do. I'm trying to find out why."
Her gaze sharpened, studying me with renewed intensity—not as property, but as something strange.
"Hybrid," she murmured. Not a question.
I didn't deny it.
After a moment, I spoke again, forcing myself to meet her eyes.
"This might hurt," I said honestly.
Mia stiffened.
She slid backward instinctively until her back met the wall, coils tightening beneath her. Her breathing quickened—not panicked, but wary.
"You should have said that first," she replied quietly.
"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."
I stepped closer, slowly, deliberately—giving her time to react, to pull away if she chose to resist. She didn't strike. She didn't flee. She simply watched me, eyes never leaving mine.
When I reached her, I lifted a hand—not roughly, not forcefully—and gently guided her face to the side, exposing her neck.
Her skin was cool beneath my fingers.
"I won't take more than I need," I said. "And I won't do this again without your consent."
Her jaw tightened.
"…Do it," she said.
The change came instinctively.
My teeth sharpened, pressure building behind my eyes as something ancient and unfamiliar stirred within me. I leaned in—and bit.
There was no tearing. No savagery.
Just a sharp sting—and then warmth.
The moment her blood touched my tongue, something inside me reacted violently. Power surged through my body, spreading like fire through my veins. The ache in my muscles dulled. The emptiness in my core shifted, no longer hollow.
I pulled back almost immediately, breathing hard.
Mia gasped softly, pressing a hand to her neck. The wound was already closing, scales faintly shimmering as her natural regeneration took hold.
My vision blurred for a second.
Then—
HP restored: +15
MP restored: +5
I stared at the notifications, heart pounding.
It worked.
I looked back at her, guilt tightening my chest.
"…Thank you," I said quietly.
Mia didn't answer right away. She steadied her breathing, then looked up at me—not angry, not afraid.
Just thoughtful.
"So that's why," she said. "You're not a predator."
She paused.
"You're a survivor."
I didn't know whether that made this better—or worse.