“M . . . monster!”

“Somebody save me!”

Filo spit the unconscious half-wit out and tore the rope from her neck.

“I prefer them a bit saltier. He didn’t taste very healthy!”

“. . .”

The thought that Filo might actually turn into a man-eating monster scared me. I had a feeling she was growing up to be a real basket case.

“Filo, people are not for eating.”

“Huh?”

She was just a filolial, after all. Maybe it was delayed intellectual development. What a bother. Considering what I needed her for, less intellect would be better.

“Filo. The thing about people is . . . it’s the children that taste best. They’re nice and tender.”

“Rafu! Rafu rafu!”

“Don’t tell her that, Mr. Naofumi! And don’t you encourage him, Raph-chan!”

I remembered there being a monster from some game or book that said something like that, so I tried repeating it to Filo, but she shook her head with revulsion.

“Nooo!”

“See, that kind of thing works better on Filo.”

“Oh, for crying out loud. I can’t tell if she actually gets it or not.”

“Look, Filo. Don’t go putting people in your mouth unless you’re trying to scare them. It’s for your own good.”

“Yup! I just did it because I figured it would make them run away!”

Oh? So she actually understood intimidation and that’s why she did it. I guess she was learning, after all. I couldn’t have her being too smart, but understanding that much should be fine.

“What was that about being salty?”

“The taste he left in my mouth.”

I just had to pray she didn’t acquire a taste for humans because of that.

We stopped the carriage in front of a shop owned by an acquaintance of the slave trader, and then we got out and followed the slave trader down the alley. When we came out of the other side, I could see a huge coliseum. It was a stone building that resembled a domed ballpark, and a brawny man stood guard at its entrance. It must have been a pretty popular place, because there was a long line of people waiting to get in.

“This way.”

The slave trader continued around to the back entrance and gave a quick nod to the man standing guard, who then stepped aside and let us through.

“This place is a coliseum on the surface, but underground is a black market where slaves are sold. Yes sir.”

“Oh?”

“Of course, the same is true for the vast majority of coliseums in this country. The wares offered vary with each guild. Yes sir.”

“What about yours?”

“Needless to say, we deal primarily in slaves. Even so, we don’t control the market exclusively.”

After continuing on for a few moments, we came to a stairway leading underground. As we walked down the steps, I could hear cheers coming from above. Business must have been good.