“If it's for my sake, then leave me alone. Now, let's go, Kaisar-sama.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Hey, wait! I'm not done talking!”
“I don't need to listen to someone who calls my master trash.”
I wonder if this is what they mean when they say ''standoffish”?
I feel a little bit sorry for His Highness Prince Claude.
And since I felt guilty and uncomfortable looking at him, who was devastated, I looked away and saw Sufia with an indescribable expression on her face.
As is the case with His Highness Prince Claude, I got reminded again that someone around me was always hurt and that there will always be someone who will get hurt.
Yes, I'm garbage like His Highness Prince Claude says, but I'm still the same helpless guy who almost forgot about it just because one of my classmates, Bridgette, became my friend, even though my memories of my previous life would not erase what I have done so far.
Garbage will be garbage, whether the memory comes back or not.
That's all there is to it.
“What happened, Kaisar-sama?”
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“No, I was merely reaffirming my position. It was nothing.”
“Hm? I see. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. I am your, Kaisar-sama's do— Sorry, I mean sword.”
Was she about to say dog?
“Oh, thank you. Those words alone are a lifesaver.”
“You're welcome. If it's this much, it's not much to ask, and I'll tell you as much as you want, forever.”
At least there is only one person in my class who understands me (but she is a pervert) but to think that this is the only thing that can keep my heart from breaking.
After a day of being gawked at like pandas, we went to where the other slaves were.
I was planning to buy a villa put up for sale by a fallen noble, and I wanted to consult with the slaves before we arrived at a decision together.
However, when I told them, they said that I did not need to listen to the opinions of the slaves, but I was glad that they seemed to agree when I said that they would be the ones spending the most time there as their home base.
After consulting with them, it was decided that I would buy the villa, and we would get referred to as a mysterious wealthy merchant.
Well, with such beautiful women and people as slaves, and with enough money to buy a villa, even if second-hand, it is unlikely that anyone will suspect the wealthy merchant's identity, even if they try to find out who he really is.
Chapter end
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