The woman flinched at Ethan's words, her thin shoulders trembling as though bracing for a blow. Ethan softened his tone further. "You're safe now," he said, his voice steady. "I promise."
She remained silent, her head bowed and hair shielding her face like a curtain. Gently, Ethan reached for the frayed ropes binding her wrists. They were tied tightly, cutting into her skin. He winced at the sight but carefully worked the knots loose. The ropes fell away, and her hands dropped limply to her sides.
"Do you have a name?"
The woman hesitated, her body tense as though even answering might invite punishment. Finally, she murmured something so faint that Ethan had to lean closer to catch it.
"...Lia."
"Lia. That's a nice name." He rose to his feet, offering his hand to her. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
As if his words were a command, the woman listlessly held his hand and started walking. She was so frail and fragile that Ethan feared she might collapse with every step.
Ethan kept his pace slow and steady, glancing at her occasionally to make sure she was still upright. Each time her knees wobbled, he tightened his hold, ready to catch her if she fell. "Almost there."
A few minutes later, they arrived at the inn. No one found anything odd in Ethan dragging the woman upstairs to his room. One even congratulated him on his acquisition, which was quickly withdrawn when the man took a look at Lia.
"Oh, you got one of the cheap wenches. Well, a hole is a hole." The man laughed and walked away.
Ethan glanced at Lia to see if she had reacted to the crude remark, but she remained as unresponsive as before, her eyes fixed on the floor.
A confrontation wouldn't help anyone right now, and drawing attention to them was the last thing they needed. Ethan did not respond to the guy and continued walking upstairs.
Once they reached the room, Ethan pushed the door shut with his foot and locked it behind him. Lia stood in the middle of the room, her arms hanging limply at her sides as if she didn't know what to do next.
"You don't have to stand there," Ethan said gently, motioning to the bed. "Sit down. Rest."
Lia hesitated, her gaze flicking to the bed and then back to Ethan. He gave her another nod, and she shuffled to the edge of the bed and sank down, her posture stiff and her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
Ethan pulled a small loaf of bread and a canteen of water from his bag and set them on the bed beside her. "You should eat something," he said, keeping his voice soft. "It's not much, but it'll help."
Lia stared at the food for a long moment before slowly reaching out. Her hands trembled as she tore off a small piece of bread and brought it to her mouth. She chewed mechanically as if she wasn't tasting it at all, but at least she was eating.
Ethan sat down in the chair by the window, watching her quietly. The woman still seemed to be in a state of terror.
"You're not a slave anymore," Ethan said after a moment, his voice firm but kind. "No one owns you. Not me, not anyone. You're free to leave whenever you want."
Lia's hand froze mid-reach for another piece of bread. She looked up at him then, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and disbelief. For a moment, Ethan thought she might say something, but instead, she lowered her gaze and continued eating.
Ethan let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in the chair. No response? Did she not believe him? Wait, did she even hear him?
He decided to work on this later. With some time, she would come to see that he meant her no harm and would automatically feel safer with him. There was no need to rush. He didn't want to disturb her too much tonight.
But there was one thing he wanted to ask her. Even back in the town square, he did feel sorry for her, but the main reason he ended up bringing her along was this. Information.
"Hey, what class are you?"
Lia froze, the small piece of bread trembling in her fingers. Her wide, hollow eyes darted to Ethan's face, wary and confused. It was as if she were trying to decipher his intentions, to determine if the question was some kind of test or trap.
Ethan noticed her hesitation and softened his tone, leaning forward slightly. "I'm not trying to force anything," he said quickly. "I just... I was curious. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."
She swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out at first. Finally, her voice came, barely above a whisper, so soft that Ethan had to strain to hear it.
"No... Class."
Ethan blinked. "No class? You mean you did not go through the 'awakening'?"
Lia's trembling fingers tightened around the piece of bread, her knuckles whitening. She shook her head slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor. "No... I never awakened," she whispered, her voice laced with shame.
Ethan furrowed his brow. "Is that even possible?" Everything he had heard so far suggested that the awakening and the class system were an inevitability, something everyone went through at the age of eighteen. But here was Lia, a clear exception.
She nodded again, her posture shrinking as if expecting ridicule or scorn. "I-I was supposed to..." Her voice broke slightly, and she hesitated before continuing. "...but nothing happened. The gods did not accept me."
Ethan frowned. Then suddenly everything clicked. "Wait, none of the slaves are awakened? Nobody has a class?"
Lia weakly nodded.
"And the gods?" Ethan pressed gently, trying to piece it all together. "What does that have to do with it?"
Lia shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening around the remains of the bread. "The gods are the ones who... bless people with their class," she said hesitantly. "It's said that only those deemed worthy by the gods awaken. Those who don't are... abandoned."
Now, Ethan understood what was happening. It looked like the people who did not awaken classes were captured and tortured and treated like shit.
The religious zealotry surrounding the class system made it even worse.
Ethan could imagine how those who didn't awaken were stigmatized, cast aside not just as failures but as people unworthy of divine favor. It was a convenient excuse for society to marginalize them, to exploit them without guilt.
Ethan leaned back, processing Lia's words. If this world truly believed that the gods themselves were responsible for determining who was "worthy," then the entire system was rooted in an ideology designed to maintain oppression.
Those who didn't awaken weren't just powerless; they were stripped of any chance to prove their worth. They weren't even allowed to take menial jobs and somehow survive. They were simply abandoned and taken advantage of in the worst ways possible.
"That's… twisted," Ethan muttered. Lia flinched at his tone, and he quickly softened his expression. "Not you," he clarified. "This whole system. It's not right."
Lia hesitated, her eyes flicking up to meet his for the briefest moment before darting away again. "It's... how it's always been," she murmured, her voice tinged with resignation. "People like me... we don't matter."
"Well, that's bullshit," Ethan said firmly, leaning forward. "You matter. I don't care what anyone else says."
Lia stared at him, her expression unreadable. Her grip on the piece of bread loosened, and her shoulders seemed to relax just a little. She didn't respond, but the faintest glimmer of something—hope?—flickered in her eyes.
Ethan let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair. "Get some rest," he said softly. "Tomorrow, we'll figure out what comes next."
Lia hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting to the bed before cautiously nodding. She placed the unfinished bread back on the plate and then stood up. The next second she started removing the tattered robe covering her body.