The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed-Chapter 208: The Fairy’s Journey Rides the Wind (4)

Drip.

Drip.

Arpia ran her hand along her wrist.

Without the slightest effort, she snapped the restraints apart.

It was thanks to her Servant.

The shackles only suppressed mana.

Spirits were another matter entirely.

She had known from the start—that’s why she allowed herself to be bound so easily.

Because she could break free whenever she wanted.

Though, I wonder if anyone’s ever made a tool that could suppress spirits too.

She had never seen such a thing, but if it ever did exist—well, Karami would probably come to her rescue.

Yeah. No doubt about it.

There was no logic behind it, but Arpia didn’t question it for a second.

As she stepped forward, she glanced down at Hugo’s charred, blackened corpse.

Not a shred of sympathy surfaced.

She was Karami’s slave.

Her body belonged to Karami.

The only one allowed to leave marks on it—was him.

This was the price for daring to sully her body with filthy hands.

Of course, from Hugo’s perspective, it was rather unfair—after all, she had agreed to this.

“If you’ve got a problem with it, try being born an elf next time.”

The world was unfair, after all.

Besides—he had bad intentions from the start. This was his own damn fault.

Without another glance, Arpia moved on, climbing the stairs to leave the basement.

The moment she opened the door—

Thump!

A pair of maid slaves collapsed onto the floor, having been pressed against the door, clearly eavesdropping.

"Kyaa—!"

Tangled together, they groaned and scrambled upright, their faces pale with fear.

They didn’t dare meet Arpia’s gaze, their heads bowed low to avoid her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“W-we heard screams... We were worried...”

“About your master?”

“N-no! I-I mean... About you, Elf... miss...”

One of them stammered, nervously glancing back toward the basement.

It wasn’t hard to guess whose wrath they were trying to avoid.

“Your master’s dead.” ƒrēenovelkiss.com

“W-what?”

“He hit me first. Can you believe it? Hitting an elf. It was self-defense. Right?”

Arpia explained the situation casually. The maids, wide-eyed and panicked, quickly bobbed their heads, nodding so fast they blurred.

“O-of course! Absolutely!”

A faint smirk tugged at Arpia’s lips.

With a casual wave of her hand—

Swish—

A sudden gust of bladed wind sliced through the air.

The iron shackles on the maids’ wrists and ankles were severed cleanly.

The maids blinked down at their freed limbs in disbelief.

“H-huh?”

“They looked heavy. Don’t tell me... Were those precious badges of your servitude? Should I put them back on?”

If someone dared to destroy her brand without consent, Arpia would be livid.

So, she asked sincerely—her apology genuine.

The maids, terrified, frantically shook their heads.

“N-no! Precious?! Not at all! Th-thank you so much!”

“Mmm... I don’t really get why you’re thanking me, but if you say it’s fine, then it’s fine. Here—let me at least fix you up a bit.”

Tiny bubbles formed and floated in the air, drifting toward the women.

The shimmering orbs settled on their bruised and wounded bodies, seeping into their flesh with a soft, soothing glow.

Festering wounds and broken skin—healed in an instant.

“My wounds...?”

“They’re... gone...”

“The pain... it’s gone!”

“My foot...! My foot is whole again!”

The water spirit’s healing ability rivaled even the blessings of a priest. And Arpia’s Servant, an entity of the highest tier, could restore anything—so long as the recipient was still alive.

The bruises, scars, and every mark left from Hugo’s cruelty vanished without a trace.

Arpia herself healed the whip wounds Hugo had given her.

The maids, their eyes brimming with tears, dropped to their knees.

“Thank you! Thank you!”

“How could we ever repay you...?”

“No need. It wasn’t a big deal. This is just something I can do.”

Arpia paused for a fleeting moment.

If it were Karami... What would he do?

He would help them find a path forward—empower them to stand on their own.

But she... was not Karami.

Freeing slaves...

That wasn’t something she could do.

“I’m sorry I can’t set you free.”

“Huh? Aren’t we... already free?”

“No. You’re just... no longer slaves.”

“Isn’t... that what freedom is?”

“...?”

Their conversation hit a wall.

Two entirely different understandings of the word “freedom” collided—neither able to grasp the other’s meaning.

But it didn’t matter.

The women felt free.

That was enough.

“Well, I’ll be going—ugh.”

Suddenly, Arpia stumbled, her body lurching sideways.

She caught herself against the wall, her breath shallow.

“A-are you alright?!”

“I’m... fine.”

“But you’re drenched in cold sweat! And your hands... they’re trembling!”

Her hand was shaking violently.

But not from Hugo’s beating—

Arpia knew exactly what was causing it.

“I said I’m fine. It’s nothing serious. I’ve got somewhere to be, so take care of yourselves. And if you need money, help yourselves to anything in this mansion.”

“Thank you! Take care, pretty fairy lady!”

“Safe travels!”

The maids watched as Arpia left the mansion.

Her steps were swift—too swift—like she was running from something.

With every step, unease rippled through her chest.

As though something was chasing her—

—Or perhaps, something inside her was about to catch up.

"Welcome."

Without so much as a reply, Arpia stumbled into the room and collapsed onto the floor.

Her lips were parched, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.

Withdrawal.

Her shaking fingers fumbled at the pocket on her thigh, pulling out a small bundle of supplies.

A vial of Aether Resin.

A pouch of Larknia pollen.

She had secretly obtained them while purchasing goods for the caravan—

All ingredients for making cigarettes.

Arpia’s first brush with smoking had been nothing more than idle curiosity.

She had seen humans from the trade caravans puffing away on their pipes.

They claimed that smoking lifted their spirits—

That it brought a fleeting escape from the suffocating burdens of life.

The word escape—

It had pierced straight through her.

She wondered—

Could this bring her that same feeling of release?

So, she tried it.

Ordinary tobacco, at first.

Bitter. Dry. Harsh on the throat.

She couldn't understand why anyone would enjoy it.

But there was something insidious—something that made it hard to stop.

The hazy, drowsy warmth that followed was... different.

Like water soaking into cracked, dry earth.

But the effect never lasted long.

An elf’s body was built to purge toxins, purifying anything harmful the moment it entered her ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) system.

The more she smoked, the faster her body adapted. The fleeting haze vanished almost instantly—washed away before she could savor it.

Yet by then—

She was already addicted.

And she needed something stronger.

Arpia spread out a single leaf—

A World Tree Leaf.

She had plucked it in secret before leaving on her journey.

She held it beneath her nose, inhaling deeply.

Despite how long it had been since she’d taken it—

The leaf still carried the forest’s scent.

The sweet, earthy aroma tickled her senses.

There were expensive rolling papers on the market—

But Arpia preferred this.

Softer, easier to roll—

And once burned, its fragrance was unmatched.

To use a World Tree leaf for cigarettes—

Any other elf would have been horrified.

But no one knew.

No one would ever know.

With practiced fingers, she finely shredded the leaf’s delicate veins—careful, meticulous.

Next, she opened the pouch of Larknia pollen.

A delicate, golden dust.

She pinched the tiniest amount and sprinkled it over the leaf—so lightly that the grains barely clung to the fibers.

Too much, and even her elf body wouldn’t handle it.

Lastly—

The vial.

Aether Resin.

A substance often used for burning mana herbs—

She popped the vial open and let a single, viscous drop fall onto her fingertips.

It glistened with a faint, iridescent blue.

She rubbed her fingers together, spreading the sticky resin thin—

Then kneaded it gently into the shredded leaves, blending them thoroughly.

Finally—

She rolled it.

Twisting the end tight—

A perfect cylinder.

Her hands—shaking violently—

Brought the rolled leaf to her lips.

A tiny flame bloomed from her fingertip—

A gift from a spirit.

The flame kissed the leaf’s end—

A soft crackle.

A wisp of pale blue smoke rose, carrying the scent of the deep forest.

Slowly—

So slowly—

Arpia inhaled.

The first taste—

Bitter.

Dry, roasted leaf clinging to her tongue.

But then—

The sweetness—

A soft floral warmth—

The rich, honeyed breath of Larknia blossoms.

And with it—

A comforting heat—

Sliding down her throat—

Spreading—

Deep—

So deep inside her.

Smoke filled her lungs, and soon, her heart began to race as if it were dancing.

“Hoo...”

She exhaled. The smoke brushed against her lips as it seeped out.

Her entire body felt languid.

The crushing weight that had been pressing down on her brain vanished.

Something inside her mind felt like it was melting—

Something that should never, ever disappear.

A creeping sense of becoming a fool.

As the room filled with a hazy cloud, Arpia suddenly found herself sprawled across a field of flowers.

Soft blossoms cradled her.

The sky was a boundless blue.

A gentle breeze whispered through the air.

She felt the air seep against her skin, vivid and real.

Each brush of the wind against her body sent a delicate shiver down her spine.

Her mind emptied—

Only colors remained.

Gold.

Crimson.

Azure.

When she closed her eyes, everything blazed with brilliance.

Petals scattered on the wind, fluttering like notes in a fleeting melody.

Then, the light melted away—

Ripples of golden waves, shimmering as they broke apart.

The air itself brimmed with a sweet, floral fragrance.

With every breath, it felt as though pollen soaked into her lungs.

It felt like flowers were blooming from within her.

“Puhuhu...”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips—

Laughter with no reason, no restraint.

Then—

Drip.

The sound of a droplet.

A smear of red spread through the vibrant sea of flowers.

At first, it was only a small dot.

But it seeped—

And spread—

As though an unseen hand had spilled ink upon a petal.

The sweet floral scent grew heavy, laced with something else—

A sharp, metallic tang—hot, thick, and unmistakably vivid.

A faint sting brushed her skin—

But she didn’t care.

Because it felt good.

She wished this moment could last forever.

She inhaled again—

Deeper.

Slower.

Her senses dulled further.

The ground felt distant, her body drifting weightlessly—

Surrendering to the wind.

And then—

She sank.

Anywhere.

Everywhere—

It didn’t matter.

As long as—

When she opened her eyes—

He would be there.

The fae rides the wind.