Free Isekai Reproduction Life with an Endangered Demi-Human Onee-san in the Forest of Certain Death ~My Mental Stat Is Pathetically Weak, But After Transferring, I’ll Live for Myself This Time~

Chapter 96: Extra Value with Boobs

I wasn’t planning to buy Maia-san, but her passion (and milk) won me over. She’ll handle housework and cooking support, plus nighttime milk-squeezing. Luna-san’s next. Unless something wild comes up, I’m set to buy her as a guard, but I want more on her background.

“Luna-san, I’ll say upfront, I plan to buy you. Can I ask more about your past? Relax, no pressure.”

“Yes. And if I’m to be your slave, no need for polite speech.”

Luna-san doesn’t budge, stone-faced. Her beastly features make her hard to read, but she’s expressionless. Is this how Hyena Tribe folks are?

“You’re not my slave yet, so you can be casual too.”

“This is my default.”

Blunt Luna-san. Fair enough.

“Got it. You said you were a slave soldier, but I don’t know much about that. What roles did you take in the military or on the battlefield?”

Forgive my modern Japanese interview vibe. I’ve never picked people like this, and I know zilch about war or armies, so I’m just framing it in terms I get. What even is a slave soldier?

“Slave soldiers are slave soldiers. We get food, clothes, shelter, and do anything ordered. That’s all I know. Told to be a meat shield, I’m a meat shield. Told to be a training dummy, I get beaten unconscious. Told to service, I service—same race or not. I’m no virgin. Doubt a Human Tribe like you cares.”

Her beast-heavy face stays blank, voice flat.

Wow, harsher past than I expected. Solreon’s slave system seems decent, but elsewhere? Rough. I wasn’t into kemono girls before, but Luna-san’s wild boobs and fluffy fur are awakening something. Weird feeling.

“I see. Any weapons you’re bad with?”

“None, but too heavy, and I can’t move.”

Impressive. Bows too? An all-rounder’s perfect—can teach the kids.

“Front, mid, or rear guard—which are you best at?”

“No preference.”

No emotion. Don’t people take pride in their strengths? Am I too game-brained? Let’s ask.

“Interested in honor or pride?”

“None.”

She snaps, tone sharp. Oof, I feel dumb. No time for that when you’ve lived without freedom since childhood, right? My bad.

“Have you fought in a team or given orders?”

“Slave soldiers don’t usually fight in units. We’re disposable, no ranks, all equal. But I’ve given orders to survive.”

Wait, surviving decades as a disposable soldier? That’s huge. I’d break mentally and physically in no time.

“You said since childhood—how old were you when you hit the battlefield? No need to answer if it’s tough.”

“…Before 10, sold by my parents. Carried supplies until my body grew, then fought.”

Brutal. Makes my cushy Japanese job complaints look pathetic.

“What was your focus in battle?”

“Surviving. Slave soldiers who live become the victor’s property.”

War spoils, huh? That’s how she got by.

“Why were you sold to Madame Django’s shop?”

“I’ll answer that.”

Madame Django steps forward.

“She led a small group in a battle, holding back many enemies. Using Hyena Tribe’s sense of smell, endurance, and toughness, she ambushed in a forest. Her group was wiped out, but she survived. Captured and assaulted by enemies, I found and protected her during an inspection.”

Guerrilla tactics? Insane.

“Luna-san, is that true?”

“Yes. The commander ordered us to buy time for regulars to escape.”

Who risks their life for that? Maybe she doesn’t care about living. A life of exploitation—what’s there to hope for?

“If told to die, would you?”

“Not for a pointless death.”

Quick answer. She’s not attached to life but avoids meaningless death, so she seeks some purpose. Good—she’s not completely broken.

Her disregard for life could be a minus, but not entirely, and her experience and know-how are solid. No Halcrift’s roughness, no Shazus’s mouthiness, combat-proven unlike Maia, and fine with long-term contracts unlike Argalo.

One more thing.

“Any issue working with kids?”

“None.”

“Would you snap at or be cold to kids?”

“No. I’ve cared for orphans.”

“Do you like kids?”

“…Somewhat.”

Good, no problems there.

“Luna-san, I’m definitely buying you. Long-term contract okay?”

“No issue.”

So casual. Maybe it’s all the same to her—where or how she lives. Hope she finds a hobby.

“Client, she’s a seasoned slave soldier, so she’s pricier. Her lack of emotion and appearance are drawbacks. She’s okay with night service, but it’s assumed for her kind. Not for Human Tribe like you—problem?”

So, pricey for her skills and night service, but I’m human, so no kemono action expected. Most folks here don’t vibe with beast girls, but I’m fine. My wide tastes and adaptability got me this far.

“No problem.”

“I see.”

Luna looks slightly surprised. Cute.

“Sorry, one question.”

Luna asking something? Rare.

“What is it?”

“I’m female, but Hyena Tribe traits include something like a male organ. Is that okay?”

I don’t mind at all!!

A bonus! Extra value with boobs.

I bought Luna and Maia, signing contracts. Maia’s deal: freedom after years of work, lots of food, unlimited milking. Luna’s fine with lifelong slavery if food, clothes, and shelter are covered. Lifelong slave? Shocking, but she knows no other life, so fair enough.

Total cost: 10 million Soln. One platinum coin. Insane price—sweaty palms hearing it. But buying people, yeah, it’s steep. Luna’s 8 million, Maia’s 2 million. Huge gap. Luna’s proven, while Maia’s from a common Bovine Tribe (hate saying it) and a big eater, so cheaper. But Maia’s unique as a milk server, and both are my precious slaves now.

“Kei-sama, thank you for your purchase.”

Django-san’s all smiles.

“No, thank you. You discounted it—are you sure?”

“Yes, no issue. Our errors, plus I learned from Tanezu-sama’s slave-picking.”

She says, gleefully groping a male slave’s butt.

The intros, huh? I’ll take the kindness.

“Good. I’ll be back soon—find more slaves with the same conditions?”

“Of course. We’ll await you.”

Django-san bows deeply, male slaves still groped, as we leave.

“Let’s renew contracts yearly.”

We’re out of Django’s shop.

Now master and slaves, no more polite speech.