Dragged into the chaos, Herace—unable to continue his research or receive his magic book—sat indifferently in the meeting room.
“…Why is everyone looking at me?”
Until all eyes in the room turned to him.
“No matter how you look at it, isn’t Mr. Schule the most qualified for this task?”
“What?”
Herace had learned about bookworms in history classes.
Correcting the storyline required a massive expenditure of causal points, diving directly into the book, and restoring the original flow of events.
He had no desire to leave the peaceful stability of his home, where he had settled after a lifetime of exhausting adventures.
He loved research, quiet, and tranquility.
“Besides, Mr. Schule is a skilled magician. Didn’t you resolve an issue brilliantly just today?”
“Well, yes, but…”
In situations like this, it might have been wise to feign modesty, but Herace was a man confident in his own abilities.
“And Mr. Schule, you’re the protagonist of a ‘Closed World,’ aren’t you? That might make it easier for you to handle the protagonist of this story.”
“There are others from ‘Closed Worlds’ besides me, you know.”
“True, but…”
One of the higher-ups averted their gaze slightly.
“Most of them are… well, a bit too old. They’ve grown too comfortable where they are.”
“More like ancient dragons who refuse to leave their lairs.”
“And their personalities are…”
Since interacting with the book’s characters was essential for the mission, those candidates weren’t ideal.
In the end, it was clear they saw Herace as both a highly capable individual and someone adept at managing relationships.
“Most importantly!”
A higher-up clapped their hands.
“Mr. Schule, what’s your type?”
“Someone prettier than me.”
Having grown up admiring his own stunning beauty, Herace had developed impossibly high standards.
“Exactly!”
“…How is that relevant?”
“It’s an old issue. When entering a book, the biggest problem isn’t just catching the bookworm.”
After a dramatic pause, they explained:
The real issue was employees falling in love with the book’s characters and disrupting the story.
Back when bookworms ran rampant, the greatest obstacle wasn’t the bookworms themselves but employees who fell for the protagonists and altered the plot on a whim.
At least with Herace, they were confident this wouldn’t happen.
After all, in the fifty years since he’d left his own story, he’d never once shown any interest in love.
“In that case… I suppose I am the most qualified.”
Herace ultimately admitted.
If he could simply capture the bookworm and return without incident, it would be an easy task.
“Mr. Schule, thank you!”
“Thanks so much!”
“Once this is over, we’ll get you every magic book you’ve ever wanted! Or any treasure in the world you desire!”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Thus began an indefinite business trip.
* * *
Dealing with the aftermath is always too late, as it inevitably happens only after things have gone awry.
The Dimensional Management Bureau expedited the procedures for dimensional travel, liberally using precious causality points.
Thanks to their efforts, Herace’s departure date was set sooner than expected.
“Let’s go over this one last time.”
The fairy standing by the dimensional gate spoke sternly.
Only fairies could open gates between dimensions without causality, making them indispensable to the Bureau.
Herace nodded absentmindedly.
This was already the fourth “last time.”
He understood their concern, but it felt excessive.
“Key points to remember?”
“You can overwrite the story only three times, never disrupt the balance by using excessive power, and intervene in the storyline as minimally as possible.”
“Correct!”
By now, Herace had heard this spiel at least a hundred times, so reciting it was second nature.
“And the most important rule is…”
“Never, ever fall in love with the protagonist.”
Herace’s response was indifferent as he idly twirled his hair around a pale finger.
His soft lavender locks wrapped around and slipped free of his hand like silk.
Among all the cautions repeatedly drilled into him, this one seemed the least concerning.
“Do you know how high my standards are? Like I’d fall for just anyone.”
“Such confidence! Normally I’d tease you for it, but… since it’s you, Schulle, I’ll allow it.”
The fairy’s words of quick agreement brought a satisfied smile to Herace Schulle’s lips.
“Well then, shall we?”
“I’ll adjust the timing and visit soon. Good luck, Schulle!”
With a snap of the fairy’s fingers, the book resting on the stand opened on its own.
Pages fluttered, and a magical gate appeared.
Beyond the gate was a lush green forest.
‘Made it safely.’
Herace had entered the world of the web novel ‘The Black Sheep Swordsmanship Genius of a Magical Family’.
It was a quintessential male-oriented fantasy—a mix of the ever-popular “disgraced protagonist” trope with the inevitable harem setup.
Just the title alone was enough to reveal how derivative and predictable it was.
‘First, I need to get the protagonist out safely…’
Reviewing his plan, Herace began walking toward his destination.
Emerging from the secluded forest path, he saw an eye-catching, grandiose building.
The protagonist’s current location.
A slave auction house.
‘How did he end up in a place like this?’
If the story had a concept like ‘From Slave to Sovereign’ or ‘Reincarnated Emperor Turned Gladiator,’ it might make sense.
But the protagonist was from a noble magical family, making it highly unusual for the narrative to start with him enslaved.
Especially as a s*x slave.
Unless the story was explicitly set on that path, such developments were exceedingly rare.
‘That must be the auction site.’
Herace had read and reread the book while waiting for his departure date.
He always prided himself on completing tasks flawlessly.
The only question was how long it would take.
As he approached the secret auction house for the elite, a gatekeeper stopped him.
“Invitation, please.”
Despite engaging in the vile practice of trading slaves, they had the audacity to maintain an air of exclusivity.
Behind his mask, Herace sneered at their hypocrisy.
He didn’t bring an invitation, nor did he need one.
“…May I go in now?”
His voice, laced with magical charm, was soft and persuasive.
No ordinary gatekeeper could resist the allure of an archmage.
“Yes, your invitation is confirmed.”
The gatekeeper, imagining a nonexistent invitation in his hands, opened the door.
Herace entered, seamlessly moving to a prime seat in the auction hall.
When a noble approached, claiming the spot, Herace discreetly altered his memories and sent him elsewhere.
Soon, the auction began.
The hall buzzed with perverse anticipation, a reflection of the crowd’s vile nature.
After all, today’s offerings were s*x slaves—a fact that underscored the attendees’ depravity.
“A wolf beastman, formerly a combat slave! It’s been trained and is no longer violent. Starting at 50 gold!”
“A rare elf, known for their reclusiveness! After their previous owner’s death, it’s a rare treat to see one at auction. Starting at 200 gold!”
Eyes gleamed red with lust as bidders feverishly pressed the buttons at their sides, their so-called noble dignity discarded.
Herace ignored the commotion, reviewing his plan until his target appeared.
‘Buy the protagonist, Luke, and pretend to be a villain who wants to test him. As the fake villain, throw him into a dangerous beast subjugation unit and guide him to the cave where his cheat ability unlocks.’
Once Luke gains his system, Herace would fake his own death to exit the narrative.
From there, his task would be to locate the bookworm.
That part shouldn’t take long.
After all, he hadn’t struggled with any mission since his own protagonist days.
“And now, the highlight of today’s auction!”
Finally.
The room fell silent.
All eyes turned to the stage, eagerly awaiting the day’s main attraction.
Luke Clayton, the eldest son of the Clayton Count Family, now reduced to a trembling slave.
“Mmph! Mmmph!”
The silence shattered as Luke, gagged and bound, roared in defiance.
His face flushed red, he thrashed against the chair holding him captive.
Despite being restrained, his spirit was unbroken, his fiery gaze fixed on the crowd.
Though the story had deviated, the protagonist’s defining traits remained intact.
Herace was relieved. A proper protagonist needed this level of resolve.
“Everyone knows ‘Luke.’ He’s large in stature, but his tendons have been severed, so he’s no threat to his owner. His attitude hasn’t been corrected yet, but breaking a rebellious slave is part of the fun, isn’t it? We’ve fitted him with a shock collar for extra control.”
A device that delivered electric shocks if disobedient.
Barbaric and crude.
Herace’s face twisted in disgust.
Even in the medieval fantasy world he came from, slavery didn’t exist.
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