"Boss, no offense, but these pieces are pretty average. It's only because our Tifa is so pretty that they look decent at all," Thunder remarked, scrutinizing the hairpin and bracelet.
"True, but that's what makes them worth the price, no?" The shopkeeper chuckled.
Thunder shook his head. "Look at this bracelet—surface shine is fine, but the inside has casting flaws, pinholes, and the lines aren't clean. The engraving's unnatural too." He ran his fingers over it. "Smoothness? Mediocre. Feels a bit rough if you pay attention."
"You've got a sharp eye." The shopkeeper stared at Thunder in surprise. *An expert knows at a glance.* Thunder's critique left him stunned.
"Give me a fair price. Fayel City isn't short on jewelry shops."
"One and a half gold!" The shopkeeper gritted his teeth, his face twitching.
Tifa blinked up at Thunder with wide, admiring eyes.
Thunder kept shaking his head. "Boss, all merchants are shrewd, but you're overcharging. The materials here aren't rare. Even with labor and crafting costs, it shouldn't be this much."
"Sir, this is a small business. Let me earn *something*." The shopkeeper looked ready to cry. Thunder's haggling had drawn a crowd, and if everyone started bargaining like this, profits would vanish.
"One gold. You're still making a killing." Thunder held up a finger.
"You're a demon. Fine—one gold, thirty silver. Rock-bottom price." The man looked like he'd been skinned alive.
Thunder nodded. Not bad—he'd haggled it down by half. Even with money now, he wasn't about to waste it.
After paying, Tifa trailed behind him, adorned with her new accessories. She'd learned—when the young master gave something, you took it. Refusal meant a scolding.
"Demon… I mean, *sir*, take care!" The shopkeeper bowed profusely.
They hadn't gone far when Tifa suddenly called out, "Young Master, wait!"
Before Thunder could turn, she'd darted back into the shop. Moments later, she rushed out again. Thunder thought she'd returned the jewelry and was about to reprimand her—until he saw the pieces still on her.
Flushed and panting, Tifa crouched before him, fussing with his clothes. When she stood back up, Thunder found a jade pendant hanging from his waist.
"You bought this?" He lifted it for inspection.
Tifa nodded.
"How much?"
Two fingers.
"And his asking price?"
Four fingers.
"Not bad!" Thunder gave her an approving look. She'd haggled a four-gold item down to two. Tifa stared at her toes, twisting her hem in silence.
"Must've learned from you," Oak muttered proudly.
Thunder sighed. The two gold he'd just given her had gone straight to this. Well, as a young master, he *should* have some status symbols.
Ten minutes later, they reached Fayel City's slave market.
Slaves were commonplace in this world—captives of war, children of the poor, criminals, and those condemned by association. There were also those captured by slavers: comely women and brawny men from other nations. The most valuable slaves, however, were beastfolk. Whether warriors or beauties, they fetched prices several tiers above humans.
Over dinner last night, Thunder and Oak had discussed their needs: at minimum, a few guard-type slaves and some maids.
Upon entering, Thunder was awed. The market spanned thousands of square meters, bustling with activity. At its center stood a massive platform, crowded with onlookers. A whip-wielding man stood atop it, bellowing announcements while a line of beautiful young women stood beside him.
"What's going on?" Thunder asked Oak.
"Looks like a slave auction," Oak replied. "High-quality slaves are sold this way to fetch higher prices."
Just then, the man cracked his whip. The women dropped to their knees, arching their backs, lips pursed, eyes wide and glistening as they gazed at the crowd.
A jolt of heat shot through Thunder.
"Gentlemen, these are our latest *bunny play-slaves*—fresh, untouched, top quality! Feel free to inspect up close, but hands *off* unless you're buying!"
A dozen men immediately surged forward, circling the kneeling women with lecherous stares, licking their lips, faces flushed.
"Starting bid: twenty gold per play-slave. Increments of five. Whether for personal use, gifting, or entertaining guests, they're the wisest choice. Auction starts now—Hey! I said *no touching*! Guards, drag him out!"
Thunder saw a man groping one of the women. Two burly guards hauled him off, tossing him outside. The man kicked and screamed, "I'm a baron! A noble! You can't treat me like this!"
The auctioneer spat in disdain.
*A baron…* From Colin's memories, Thunder knew slave markets had official backing. A petty noble couldn't defy their rules.
"Buying a few wouldn't be bad," Thunder mused.
Tifa gaped at him. Oak looked equally stunned.
"Kidding!" Flustered under their stares, Thunder quickly walked away.
**Will Thunder's moral compass survive the slave market's temptations?**