Chapter 2: I’m so angry!

Freya hissed as things took a turn for the worse.

She jerked her neck to the side, narrowly dodging a sharp Hand Blade strike.

The wind generated by the strike still managed to graze her, slicing a thin line across her skin.

Wincing at the sharp sting, Freya clutched her neck and immediately retaliated with a spell.

“Wind Blade!”

The blade of pressurized air flew toward the white-haired girl.

The girl dodged with feline agility, her gaze toward Freya growing even more intense and heated.

“A Mage? Hahahaha! I love Mages!”

The girl licked her lips.

“I wonder what the difference is between a Mage’s blood and a normal person’s?”

She truly, desperately wanted to find out.

‘She’s a complete psycho…’

“Does the Black Market staff know you were faking it?” Freya asked, her brow furrowed.

“Master, you’re breaking my heart. I only have eyes for you, yet you keep bringing up other people.”

The girl blinked, looking like a child who had done something wrong and was trying to act cute to win forgiveness.

“That’s why I’ve decided to kill you. That way, you’ll only have eyes for me too~”

“Surprised? Excited?”

Freya took several deep breaths, trying to keep her composure.

Her refined noble upbringing made her truly, truly loathe the idea of swearing.

However, in the next second—

Before Freya could even process the movement, the girl pounced like a lithe cat.

There was no way a 14-year-old girl should possess this level of combat skill!

Who exactly was this lunatic?

“Master~ Master~ What are you thinking about?”

The girl suddenly grabbed Freya and executed a perfect shoulder throw!

Freya slammed into the ground with a dull thud.

The pain was so intense she nearly blacked out.

To make matters worse, the girl blinked at her with a look of feigned innocence.

“Master, oh dear, why did you fall? Was I too rough?”

…

Freya couldn’t take it anymore.

“To hell with this! That damn scamming Black Market!”

“You absolute piece of—!”

“Son of a—!”

“Go rot in—!”

Enough was enough!

Freya snapped, her frustration boiling over into a torrent of abuse.

Gone was the grace and etiquette expected of a noble lady.

Instead, she let out a string of curses so foul they would make a sailor blush.

The white-haired girl froze, stunned by the sudden outburst.

She stayed stunned for several long seconds.

‘Is this person… alright in the head?’

Weren’t the rich and the nobility supposed to be obsessed with their image and etiquette?

Something was wrong with this woman.

Before she could finish that thought, the girl took a heavy punch directly to the face.

While the strength behind it wasn’t immense to someone of her skills, it was enough to make her nose and eyes sting with pain.

Staggering back to her feet, the white-haired girl’s vision finally cleared.

She looked up and saw—

The buyer had ripped off the Disguise Mask required for all Black Market transactions, revealing a stunningly beautiful face.

Freya was gorgeous, possessing a cold, elegant beauty.

Her long purple hair, previously tied back, had come loose during the struggle and now cascaded down her shoulders like silk.

Her light purple eyes were like stars in the dark night, glittering with a brilliance that was only intensified by her righteous fury.

The white-haired girl stared at the buyer, who was currently gnashing her teeth in rage.

After a few blinks, she slowly squeezed out a few words.

“You… you’re a girl?”

“OBVIOUSLY!”

Freya clenched her fists.

Looking at the white-haired girl, who now seemed strangely sheepish, and thinking about how she had spent 100,000,000 gold coins on a “pervert,” she felt another surge of murderous intent.

The girl scratched her chin awkwardly, her eyes darting around.

“Well—I didn’t know you were a girl. I don’t hit girls, so…”

“So you weren’t trying to hit me, you were trying to kill me, right? Hmm?”

Magic began to swirl in Freya’s hand as her Magic Wand materialized.

The rule of the Central Magic Academy was simple—

Only a C-rank Mage or higher was qualified to use a Magic Wand!

In an instant, Freya began a display of high-speed incantation.

It caught the white-haired girl completely off guard.

“Wind Blade!”

“Earth Rock Rupture!”

“Lightning Strike!”

As the numerous spells were chanted in rapid succession, a barrage of multicolored magical energy swept toward the girl.

?!

No matter how fast the girl moved, she couldn’t outrun the flood of magic.

Even if she dodged one spell, the next was already upon her.

Wind blades and bolts of lightning grazed her limbs, leaving countless small cuts.

A strike of lightning hit close enough to turn her white hair into a frizzy, charred mess.

However, the girl noticed that while Freya’s attacks seemed fierce, she was actually controlling her power.

She wasn’t trying to kill her.

Just as she realized this, Freya cast another spell: “Wind Binding.”

A gentle yet swift wind wrapped around the girl, hoisting her into the air.

The girl was tightly bound by invisible chains of wind, suspended mid-air and unable to move.

Her limbs were covered in small wounds from the previous barrage, blood staining her tattered clothes.

With her wild, exploded hair, she looked like a pathetic, bedraggled cat.

But her eyes remained incredibly bright, shimmering with an almost excited curiosity as she stared directly at Freya.

“Such precise control…”

The girl licked the blood from the corner of her mouth, a raspy smile playing on her lips.

“Master really can’t bring herself to kill me, can she?”

Freya’s grip on her wand tightened, her light purple eyes as cold as ice.

“I just need you alive for a refund. I have no intention of being murdered by my own merchandise.”

She stepped forward, a small, dangerous orb of light condensing at the tip of her wand.

“Black Market rules state that if the goods are significantly different from their description—especially if the ‘goods’ attempt to kill the buyer—I have the right to a full refund and the right to dispose of the defective ‘merchandise’.”

“Dispose?”

The white-haired girl tilted her head, the wind chains humming slightly at the movement.

“How does Master plan to dispose of me?”

“By handing you over to the Black Market managers first, so they can explain why a slave labeled as ‘harmless, obedient, and suitable for housework and simple guard duties’ is actually a…”

Freya paused, searching for the right words.

“…a dangerous extremist with bizarre combat skills, an unstable psyche, and a clearly faked age.”

“Ah, that—”

The girl swung her dangling legs nonchalantly.

“The labels are put on by the sellers. I never said I was ‘harmless.’ And besides…”

She suddenly lowered her voice, a cunning glint flashing in her beautiful ruby-red eyes.

“Does Master really want to hand me back? Back to the people who… made me like this?”

Freya’s movements faltered for a fraction of a second.

The girl caught the tiny hesitation, and her smile deepened.

“Master spent 100,000,000 gold coins. Does a person spend that kind of money just for a normal, docile slave? In a place like the Black Market, people who pay a premium for ‘disguised goods’ usually have special needs they don’t want others to know about.”

She spoke slowly, her gaze sweeping over Freya’s wand.

“Like, perhaps, a noble Mage lady who needs to hide her identity and movements but has to venture into dangerous territory? You don’t just need a slave. You need a… ‘blade’ that can truly handle trouble for you, don’t you?”

The chains of Wind Binding seemed to loosen slightly.

Freya looked at her in silence, her anger gradually replaced by a cold, calculating scrutiny.

The girl wasn’t wrong.

Freya Christo Dale, the youngest A-rank Mage at the Central Magic Academy and the first heir of the Christo Family, infiltrating the Black Market alone to buy a slave was highly unusual.

There were undercurrents within her family, and unknown eyes watched her at the academy.

She needed a guard who could stand in the light, but more importantly, an assistant who could handle certain “inconvenient matters” in the dark.

Her original plan was to buy a harmless-looking slave with a special constitution who would be easy to control, then use a contract and magic to mold them into a pawn.

She hadn’t expected to buy such an uncontrollable “surprise” instead.

“What kind of trouble can you handle?” Freya finally asked, her voice flat and calm.

She wanted to see what kind of justification the girl could offer.

“Many things,” the white-haired girl replied, blinking.

“For example, I had at least three opportunities to truly wound you—when I feigned the strike at your neck, when I had the chance to follow up that throw with an elbow strike, and in that half a second gap before you started your incantation. But I didn’t. I was observing to see if Master was… someone worth cooperating with.”

“Cooperating?” Freya raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. A partnership, not a slave.”

The girl tried to move her bound wrists.

“I can be the ‘blade’ you need, clearing your path and doing the things you can’t do yourself. In exchange, you give me a legal identity, a place to stay, and… a relative amount of freedom. That’s a much better deal than handing me back, facing whatever trouble the market might stir up to keep you quiet, or going out to find another uncertain piece of ‘merchandise,’ right?”

Freya remained silent for a long time.

The orb of light at the tip of her wand flickered, casting shadows across her calm face.

The wind flowed silently between them, kicking up small clouds of dust.

“Your name,” Freya said at last.

“Lyra,” the girl answered immediately.

She then added, “Of course, if you don’t like it, you can call me ‘Snowy’? My hair is white, after all.”

She even tried to force a cute smile, though it looked entirely out of place given her battered state and the madness lingering in her eyes.

Freya took a soft breath and lowered her wand.

The Wind Binding didn’t vanish, but the pressure eased significantly.

“Freya Christo Dale.”

She gave her name—a calculated concession.

“Lyra, remember what you just said. If you make a single suspicious move, or if I decide you’ve lost your value…”

She raised her other hand, and a complex purple magic circle for a Master-Servant Contract appeared in her palm.

“I won’t hesitate to use the harshest contract possible to ensure the ‘blade’ doesn’t cut its master. Now, make your choice.”