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The Slave's Desire

When the main character Ken Hemdall was hit by a vehicle and killed due to an accident on God’s part he is reincarnated into another world. A world of fantasy and adventure with all sorts of fantastical creatures and magic… the only problem is that he was reincarnated into the body of a slave about to be sold at auction. (Adult content, use your own discretion in reading and discussing the contents. Do not read if you are under the age of 18.)

Heavy_Helium · แฟนตาซี
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53 Chs

Chapter - 42

I was standing in the street with the evening sun beating down on me. The house that I was required to infiltrate was there in front of me, standing in all its decrepit glory as if daring me to come and enter despite the daylight exposing me to the sight of anyone who happened by. Of course, I might be overreacting as I don't see anyone coming or going in any direction at the moment, there do not seem to be that many inhabitants in the buildings this far out.

Sighing inwardly, I decided to just bite the bullet and get this over with, so I gave one last glance around to confirm that nobody was around and then quickly ran up to the house, circling around to the back to keep myself hidden from view. When I reached the rear entrance, I saw a door made of rotten wood, cracked and faded. It would be very easy to simply kick the door in but I am certain that this would make me fail Lilly's test and so I knelt down and pulled out my roll of lock picks.

Selecting one I slid it into the keyhole, wiggling it around a bit to feel for the tumbler. After a few moments I felt it slide into the socket. Grinning to myself I slipped in the flat piece and gave it a twist. Damn! Something went wrong. I carefully pulled out the tools and then placed them again, making sure that I had them in the right position. Nope, this wasn't working. Must be a second tumbler. Nobody in a decrepit house like this would have a lock with two tumblers but Lilly had replaced the locks.

I took the flat piece back out and carefully holding the first probe in place I inserted the second one and slid it back until I felt it slide into another socket. With sweat dripping down my face I carefully inserted the flat piece again and turned once more. Success! About time too, I was starting to get very worried that someone would come along and see me picking the lock. It had been less than two minutes since I had been standing on the road, but it was unnerving me that I had not seen a single person.

Pulling the door open, I then carefully removed my picks and then slipped inside, quiet as a ghost, except for the loudly creaking door. As soon as I was inside, I looked around. It was dark in here, a little sunlight coming in through cracks in the walls and shutters on the windows. I looked for some stairs and found them on the far side of the building, near the front door. I was about to start creeping up them when something struck me, a memory from my childhood on earth.

I had been visiting my grandparents house with my parents and siblings as a child. We had stayed the night and they had lived in a big house with multiple floors and lots of rooms. The part of the memory that was standing out to me was when I had made a game of stepping on different parts of the old stairs to see which parts creaked the most. An idea was forming in my mind as I remembered this. I needed to use that knowledge but now, instead of trying to make as much noise as possible, I would be trying to select the spots that would creak the least and according to my memories of experimentation as a child that meant sticking to the sides, closest to the wall as possible.

I didn't know that this was because the center of the stairs was more worn from being stepped on more frequently or because the boards that support the stairs are stronger at the sides. Only that the sides made almost no noise as compared to the center which made the most. Relying on those memories I made my way up the stairs and was rewarded by a nearly silent ascension to the second floor. Now I only needed to find the opening into the attic, and I could locate Lilly and pass this test. I really wanted to hurry up and get away from Silvan's clutches.

I stayed low and moved slowly on this floor, testing each step before trusting my weight to it. Passing a test was all well and fine but it would do me no good if I fell through the floor because I wasn't careful in this ancient building. If this was modern America this building would have long since been condemned. Pushing back my reservations regarding the structural integrity of the building and this floor I kept looking for the entrance.

It took me nearly twenty minutes from the time I ascended the stairs to when I managed to find the ladder that led to the attic. I used the same logic for the ladder as I had for the stairs and made my way to the door. There was another lock on this door, strange for an attic but if that was the test then it would also need to be picked.

Looking at the lock carefully I thought to myself that this would not be a single tumbler lock. I pulled out my lockpicks and selected the first one and slipped it all the way to the back before sliding it forward a bit until I felt it slide into place. Wasting no time, I grabbed another pick and slid it in as well. After a third pick found its position, each one now carefully held between two fingers of my left hand I slipped the flat tool into position and gave a little twist. Damn you Lilly! You really wasted no effort on making this test difficult.

I slipped a fourth pick in and after finding its position in the lock I inserted the flat tool once more and gave a hopeful little jiggle. Holding my breath, I felt the lock start to shift. Holding my hands carefully, I kept twisting, trying not to lose the motion that I had started. A moment later the lock clicked, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had to hold the last pick between my thumb and forefinger so as not to drop the others. Any more picks and I would have really been in trouble.

Without wasting any more time, I gathered up my tools and proceeded cautiously into the attic. When I went in there it looked like it had been renovated to look like a bedroom. Not a creepy decrepit bedroom but a clean one with fresh paint on the walls and furniture and clean linens on the bed. The bed… there was someone sleeping in the bed!