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墨書 Inktalez
On the second floor, John sat on the sofa, gazing at a group of voluptuous maids that had been brought in. His mouth watered; was this something a commoner could see? No, he was a noble now. Ah, being a noble was truly wonderful—no wonder everyone aspired to be rich.
The happiness of the wealthy was beyond imagination.
"Keep Number One and Number Four; send the others away and bring in a new batch," he commanded. "This time, I want Number Nine, Number Fourteen, and Number Ten."
The more he looked, the more dazzled John became, especially when he laid eyes on the last one. What was this? Goodness gracious! A white-haired beauty—Iman.
And then there was this one, Number Twenty-One.
To be honest, John had his reservations about black women, but with looks like hers, she hardly counted. My goodness! This was the Black Pearl.
It was like those islanders; while he wished to eliminate them all, it didn’t stop him from seeking out beautiful women among them.
After a cursory glance, he decided that the black girl could serve as a starter—she would be a gift for him.
For people from Hecha Kingdom, they preferred women with normal white skin; they were not particularly fond of darker skin tones. At least among the lower classes, such preferences were clear.
"Number Twenty-One, you should thank the guest for taking you away," he said.
With trepidation, Number Twenty-One approached John as if she wanted to kneel and kiss his shoes. To her, John was her savior; no matter what happened next, she no longer had to worry about being left outside as food for wild dogs.
A worthless slave had only one fate: death.
John tugged at her hair and pulled her head down until it was buried at his feet. He then lifted her face to meet his gaze.
Not bad—she looked even more beautiful than before. "From now on, you shall be called Iman. Is there a bathroom? Make sure to give my little Iman a good wash; she will be my personal maid from now on."
The lackeys didn’t care about John's interests or hobbies. "Don’t worry, guest; we at Difeiya handle slaves in the cleanest manner possible. It will absolutely not affect your experience."
"That’s good." With a wave of his left hand, a silver coin flew from John's grasp and landed in the attendant's hand. "Also, get her a clean maid outfit—something long."
As he waited for several female slaves to be taken to the bathroom, John kept himself busy by taking liberties with the service staff nearby. Perhaps he had once been a good person, but in this world of degradation, it didn’t take long for someone to fall from grace. After all, good people or normal folks couldn’t survive here.
The whip marks on his back constantly reminded him that he could not become one of those trapped in a cage.
(Note: This is a personal account of a world where people consume each other; there are good people—at least those who are good to John—but there are definitely no altruistic individuals.)
John was not a good person, after all, good people don’t live long.
Tap, tap.
Wearing an ordinary maid outfit (not the kind you see on TikTok!), Iman slowly walked in front of John, her hands unsure of where to rest, her eyes helplessly fixed on the ground.
Beautiful, truly beautiful! Like a Black Pearl.
Forgive John for his lack of cultural sophistication; at that moment, his mind was consumed by hormones, and his little head had already taken control over the big one. If it weren't for the inconvenient setting, he would have pulled Iman's hands and placed them on his shoulders, burying his head deep in her chest.
So fragrant!
(How could it not be? I used so much detergent to clean it. But this black girl is stunning; I must have been mistaken.)
"Kuiradi, pay up! Let’s go!" John was already eager to find a hotel.
As John pulled Iman away, she suddenly turned her head to look at another railing nearby.
One could only wonder how much courage this black female slave had mustered at that moment.
"Master, could you please stop for a moment?"
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