I shall give you a job as a reward
As someone who believes that, aside from social roles, men and women are equal in every other respect, I don’t entirely agree. But from the geological era through the modern age—and perhaps even among a small number of modern men—there has been a tendency to view progressive women as uncomfortable existences. Still, when you consider the countless female scientists and poetesses who thrived in those regrettable times, not hindered by their gender but rather strengthened by it, there is no doubt that the virtues dwelling within them acted as catalysts, continuously sparking creative vitality so that their inner merits could leave footprints across history.
Therefore, men and women who possess virtue are higher beings, and what determines their greatness is not their gender, but the completion of their actions and virtues.
"A girl’s body, yet handling that much workload…!"
"Is that really the same Helen who used to whine about how scary high places are? My chest feels so full…."
"She’s become a proper industrial warrior. Equal to me, or perhaps even greater."
The workers brushed the soot clinging to their bodies and sent their praises in their own ways as they watched Helen emerge. Meanwhile…
Helen, now officially reborn as a vertical thermal management system (chimney) maintenance engineer (chimney sweep), kept a straight face to uphold the dignity her new title demanded. She had finally earned their recognition.
“Fucking Bread Hat bastard…”
That was a lie, of course. She was quietly cursing the man who had presented her with the lovely binary choice of brothel or factory—both essentially a death sentence—where no one could hear.
“These days, with all the industrial safety and health laws or whatever, finding a boy willing to go up a chimney is like plucking stars from the sky. What a relief!”
“What about me?”
“Huh? You? You’re a girl. Anyway, good work. Here’s your daily wage.”
The supervisor, whose chubby cheeks had swelled so much that his original ethnicity was impossible to guess and whose face looked like a watered-down Winston Churchill, handed her a small pouch. The flannel bag was so low-quality and light that she could immediately tell how little was inside. Still, just to be sure, Helen peeked inside—and as expected, her hopes were dashed.
“Eight coppers… twenty-four thousand won…”
She was well aware that the amount was absurdly low compared to her title and the intensity of the labor. Frankly, prostitution would have paid better. She even considered pushing back a little, taking advantage of their recent manpower shortage.
“Got something to say?”
“…No, nothing.”
“Boring.”
But Helen’s rebellious spirit always clashed with the human-life-dismissing sensibilities of this annoyingly high-class romance fantasy world. Staring at the iron rod in the supervisor’s left hand, she ultimately chose to emphasize the old world’s unique brand of courtesy and silently endure this trial.
“Then I’ll be going.”
“Yeah, sure. Oh, right—want to join us for a company dinner tonight?”
“Company dinner?”
“Yeah. Lots of food. And plenty of booze.”
Helen looked at the supervisor’s eyes, which sparkled brighter than his greasy bald head. The expression he thought was hiding his true intentions only amounted to one strangely raised eyebrow. Thanks to the various survival instincts she had naturally picked up from her unfortunate family life, Helen possessed an absolute sense that let her instantly deduce the future awaiting her. She could declare with certainty that she would never attend.
“I’d love to, but my little sibling is sick at home, so I have to hurry back. Mom’s gone now too…”
“Your little sister… is sick?! I-I see! Then you’d better go. Yes, you must.”
“Sniff, thank you so much.”
Using the heavy emotional appeal granted by her age and family situation, Helen’s refusal made the supervisor instantly retract the lust flickering in his eyes. He clicked his tongue in disappointment as she slipped safely out through the employees’ back door. Although her excuse was close to a lie, the intention behind it had been transparently impure, so Helen felt no guilt whatsoever.
“How the hell is everyone here… fuck…”
She spat out a curse and looked up at the factory’s outer wall. A massive emblem declaring the owning family’s crest was carved prominently into it. She didn’t know exactly what kind of house it was, but it was apparently a very powerful one.
“Powerful family, boy meets girl, high society, girl crush…”
“Bullshit.”
Helen stepped out onto the street and irritably shook her coin pouch. With only eight tiny coins inside, it couldn’t produce a cheerful metallic jingle—only a dull, drum-like thud.
That was how she headed home.
“I’ll take this.”
“Three coppers.”
Helen stopped by a nearby bakery, reached into her pouch, and pulled out three lead coins.
“Now move.”
“…”
The bakery owner, who had been standing near the entrance with his arms crossed and eyes lowered, finally returned to his original spot. Helen left the shop carrying five rye breads she would have to rely on over the weekend.
With three coins gone, the pouch felt about thirty-nine grams lighter. No matter how hard she shook it, it made no sound at all.
. . .
After a bit more time, Helen safely returned home. She chewed the rye bread she had bought, then collapsed into sleep as if fainting. Before she knew it, it was already her third weekend morning.
“…Ugh.”
On the bed whose springs she had tried to stuff back in only to give up due to lack of strength, Helen groaned from a dizzying toothache. The pain had been getting worse with each passing day. It was obvious that, whether in the past or now, this wasn’t an age where one could afford to neglect dental health. At first, she had suspected some chronic or genetic disease she wasn’t aware of.
“Oww… do I already need dentures?”
Helen forced down the leftover rye bread from yesterday and seriously considered just having all her teeth pulled. After all, with her debt barely even a fraction repaid, taking out another loan for dentures would make the situation truly irreversible.
“Should I really just yank them all out? I’ve been eating nothing but bread this whole time anyway. Do I even need teeth… hm?”
Helen stared blankly at the rye bread she was chewing.
“Ah… it’s because of you!”
The suddenly accused rye bread felt extremely wronged. Sure, rye bread was somewhat tough and hard, but not enough to damage teeth.
“No, not that. It’s because I’ve only been eating you for three weeks straight. I never imagined it would be scurvy.”
When Helen spoke in a calm, soothing tone, the rye bread finally settled down. Now that she knew the cause of her toothache, there was no need to be rough anymore. Ignoring her usual morning low blood pressure as best she could, Helen threw on whatever clothes seemed warm enough and headed for the front door.
“Should I lock it?”
Even though it didn’t seem like anyone would care, she still secured the door roughly before passing the noisy forge next door and walking toward the market. How admirable!
. . . . .
Bread Hat hated debtors. More precisely, he hated debtors who didn’t pay. Especially those who didn’t even pretend to pay. Those types gave him a splitting headache at his temples.
“You’re completely hopeless. When the hell are you going to pay?”
“Dunno. Cut me open.”
Seeing a debtor who used to serve as a chair now sitting on a wooden block and talking back so boldly would make even a saint want to commit murder.
“Should I really cut you open?”
“Yeah, go ahead. Not like you’ll find anything.”
The debtor’s shameless attitude left Bread Hat beyond speechless and straight into rage. He seriously considered slicing the man open but stopped. Even in this era where natural philosophy—once exclusive to ivory towers—had spread like a trend and science halls had grown bloated, organ transplants were still a distant concept.
Instead of cutting open the debtor’s stomach, Bread Hat bravely confronted the disgusting attitude with infinite patience, suppressing his revulsion as he and his subordinates searched for any place that might hold money or be worth money.
“There’s nothing?”
“Look harder, you idiot. Ceiling, floorboards, fireplace—everything. Rip it all apart and search.”
“Boss… do we look like we’re from One Day? We’ve already torn everything apart. There’s seriously nothing. This guy is completely broke.”
“Goddammit.”
But they found no clues. No dusty secret funds, no smuggled artworks, not even the old grandfather’s worn Rolex that could have been pawned. Nothing that could even indirectly become money.
“Heh heh heh… What did I tell you? I got nothing.”
Bread Hat stared at the debtor sprawled on the floor, making an absurdly idiotic face.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Is your back hole sturdy?”
“What? W-wait a second, what are you…”
The debtor sensed the suddenly chilling atmosphere that came with Bread Hat’s meaningful question, but it was already too late.
“Roll it up tight so no sound leaks out.”
“Yes, boss.”
At the signal, the subordinates pulled out the burlap sacks they always carried and yanked one over the debtor’s head.
“W-what the hell! You guys crazy?!”
“Don’t worry. There’s a place that can turn even the manliest guy into a heavenly maiden in a month. Just roll around there for about five years and come back out.”
“This is illegal! Illegal!”
“I know.”
“You’re not scared of the law?!”
“Buddy. When have we ever lived by the law? The moment things look like they’re about to go to shit, suddenly your sense of legality pops up fresh, huh?”
“N-no, what I mean is… aren’t you scared of the Empress?!”
“The Empress?”
“Y-yeah! Don’t you know the Civil Execution Act the Empress created?! This is illegal debt collection! Defying an imperial decree means immediate execution, you don’t even kn—mmph! Mmph!”
“Aha… so that’s what you were relying on to act so cocky…”
Bread Hat’s eyebrows twitched at the word “Empress” as he watched the debtor get crumpled into the burlap sack from a distance. The Empress was an endlessly irritating existence to him, and until recently she had been the cause of his migraines.
Of course, from a macro perspective, the Empress was undoubtedly a legendary figure who had strengthened the empire with political prowess far ahead of her time and brilliant ideas. But in other areas… especially the legal sphere, starting with the Industrial Safety and Health Act that was still controversial even five years later, she had made the vast majority of capitalists—including Bread Hat—extremely uncomfortable and deeply worried.
Among those, the Civil Execution Act was particularly grating to Bread Hat, who preferred somewhat rougher methods. It was practically an evil law in his eyes. Especially in the satirical plays put on by academy students terrified by the Empress’s women’s rights movement, she was often portrayed as a man-hating equality-obsessed fanatic or a Diggers*…
*Diggers: Radical egalitarians
Hmm. The story wandered off track for a moment. It’s a bad habit of mine. Anyway, let’s wrap up the story about the Empress who hasn’t even appeared yet and return to the original tale.
…So where were we?
—Mmph…!
Aha—(sound of slapping knee)
The brave debtor who had been recklessly defiant without any backup plan completely disappeared into the burlap sack. If the debtor’s scratching sounds hadn’t irritated Bread Hat’s nerves, the description might have lasted a little longer.
“Khh khh… Still, you’re getting off easy, kid. In the old days, your hands would’ve already flown off. Incontinence is a cheap price to pay.”
—Ugh—mmph—!!!!
“Whoa, you’re really enjoying this, huh?”
Bread Hat’s subordinates poked the vigorously wriggling sack with their toes, mocking him in anticipation of the new pleasure to come.
“Stop yapping and start wrapping things up.”
“Yes, boss. Where are you headed?”
“The market up ahead. Once you hand that bastard over, you guys can head home immediately too.”
“Understood.”