Chapter 8 : Protecting the Town (Part 1)

The child must have fallen off the slave trader’s cart—probably disabled and discarded as worthless.

In this chaotic little town, it wasn’t unusual for slave children to be abandoned like this.

Many caravans would pass by, and after a wheel rolled past, there would be one more crippled little slave lying in the dust, left to die.

Though the kingdom’s laws strictly prohibit such acts, enforcement was difficult—it was rare to catch offenders red-handed.And even when such children were found, the kingdom had no proper system to take them in.

More often than not, they were left to starve by the roadside, and the corpses would be dealt with later, buried quietly and without fuss.

So no one would come to save this little beastkin slave girl.

People watched, yes—but no one would intervene. No one wanted to bring trouble upon themselves.

**“\[Healing Spell].”**

Suddenly, a warm green glow emerged from within the crowd.

The beastkin girl’s short, injured legs were bathed in gentle light.

Her red, swollen wounds from the fracture began to heal slowly—it was almost miraculous.

After a good while, the little girl’s eyes sparkled again. She was alive, able to sit up with some effort.

The surrounding bystanders gasped in surprise and turned toward the caster—a black-robed nun with a blindfold covering her eyes.

She didn’t look like a good person. Everyone instinctively stepped back, unwilling to get involved with someone so clearly “tainted.”

“If you’ve got nowhere to go, come with me,” said Samimi, unfazed by the crowd’s judgment, as she addressed the little beastkin girl.

The child didn’t hesitate. She stumbled to her feet and quickly clung to Samimi’s leg.

“Kid, don’t go! She might be one of those child-eating witches!”

“Yeah, yeah! You can tell at a glance—she’s the kind who kidnaps kids for evil experiments!”A few malicious onlookers began to slander Samimi out loud.

Samimi didn’t argue. She simply picked up the beastkin girl—her shackled feet couldn’t walk fast—and carried her away from this place full of foul gossip.

At the same time, her Good and Evil Value System flashed a message:

**\[Goodness +15]**.

*Nice!*

Samimi returned to the Sweet Melon Chapel with the little slave girl.

She locked the iron gate behind her, instantly feeling insulated from the world’s malice—back in her own little sanctuary.

“Am I really doing the whole raise-a-kid, live-on-a-farm trope?” she muttered to herself.

She brought the girl to the back of the chapel and let her sit on a bench.

Then she rummaged around the storage room and found a metal file.

“I’ll go make food. You work on sawing those off.”Handing the file to the beastkin girl, Samimi instructed her to try removing her own shackles while she went over to start a fire and cook.

The old nun had left behind a decent stockpile of food—not much, but enough for a few meals.

Samimi’s cooking skills were average. But compared to most modern shut-ins, she was decent—at least she had normal taste buds and a realistic grasp of her ability.

The safest approach? A big stew pot—toss in everything, boil it all until the meat’s cooked, add enough seasoning, and it’ll taste fine.

**“\[Weapon Enhancement].”**

While waiting for the stew, Samimi even enhanced the girl’s file to make her sawing faster.

**“Clink, clink! Clink, clink!”**

Soon enough, the little girl sawed off the shackles and was finally free.

“Come eat.”Samimi called her over.

They sat at the back of the chapel and ate together.

Apparently, her stew skills were decent—the beastkin girl wolfed it down, barely pausing for breath, only stopping now and then to gulp down water.

“What’s your name, child?” Samimi asked.

The little girl shook her head.

“What’s your race?” she asked again.A

gain, the girl shook her head.

“Then from now on, you’ll live here and help me out. I’m a nun—I heal people, and I need an assistant,” Samimi said.

“Mm! Mm! Mm!” The girl nodded furiously, even bumping her head into her bowl, splashing soup all over her face.

Samimi grabbed a towel to wipe her clean. The kid didn’t seem very bright.Eighty percent of isekai protagonists adopt a little slave girl as their first task.

It was practically a standard trope in otherworld fantasy novels. After all, slave adoption was such a defining part of the setting—you just had to experience it.

Samimi hadn’t expected to fall into the cliché herself, but here she was.

After dinner, she took the filthy girl to the small bathhouse and scrubbed her clean from head to toe. Once washed, the girl actually looked quite cute—like a porcelain doll.

The only discordant thing was the two crooked horns sticking out of her head.

“From now on, your name is Niubao,” said Samimi.“Niubao?” The little beastkin tilted her head, repeating the name.

Following the genre formula, this little slave had to be obedient and well-behaved—that’s what gave the “player” a satisfying sense of progression.

And sure enough, Niubao scarfed down her food, then flopped over and immediately fell asleep—quiet and sweet, like a good child.

Even though Samimi currently had nothing, she did have plenty of rooms.She carried Niubao to one of the small rooms, set up a little bed for her, and let her rest properly—after all, the girl had nearly died not long ago.

Then Samimi returned to the room the old nun had left her. Finally, she had a moment to herself.

She looked in the mirror and examined her face.

“Ugh…” she let out a strange sound.

Her face looked like the cold, brooding heroine of some Western high school revenge drama—the kind who goes dark after being bullied, a beauty with a broken vibe.

Originally, she had noble-style wavy hair befitting a villainess, but after everything she’d been through, it was now a mess of slightly wild, golden hair—more like a fallen avenging angel.

Thankfully, the black lace blindfold over her eyes softened her otherwise intense, villainous aura.

She checked her body—looked about sixteen years old at most. And Niubao, the girl she had picked up, was around thirteen.

The child only looked smaller because she was malnourished. In truth, they weren’t far apart in age.

Samimi had helped Niubao bathe, but hadn’t bathed herself yet. She still wasn’t used to this girl’s body.

But she quickly settled into her new identity as a Mana Practitioner. That night, she sat cross-legged on her bed and began meditating, absorbing elemental energy from the world to boost her magic power.

Clerics, Priests, Witches, Sorcerers, Mages…All of them belonged to the group of people who could awaken and control magic—they were collectively known as Mana Practitioners.

But because each person awakened different talents, they specialized in different branches of magic, which is why they had different titles.

“Wahhh! Where’s Miss Nun?” Suddenly, Niubao burst into the room hugging a pillow, crying with fear.

“What happened?” Samimi asked in surprise.

“Wahh, Niubao’s scared of the dark! I don’t want to be alone! Miss Nun won’t leave me, right?” she sobbed by the bed.

“This is my home. Why would I leave you?” Samimi patted her head gently, quickly understanding.

Sighing in resignation, she dragged the little cot into her own room and let Niubao sleep beside her.

“I’m not going anywhere. Go to sleep,” Samimi said softly, settling back into her meditative pose.

**“Zzz\~”**

This time, with the goddess-like Samimi by her side, Niubao slept peacefully.