Who Is the Savior?
To liberate every slave in this world.
To cleanse every sin from this world.
John Brown, a man who sowed violence, controversy, and slaughter wherever he went, traveled south to Mississippi with his son, Owen Brown, and his subordinate, Kid. Naturally, the name "John Brown" was far too famous, so he didn't commit the stupidity of using his real name. He created a fake identity under the alias Isaac Smith.
The three of them were employees of a company called Light of the World, which published Bibles and scientific books, and they had entered Mississippi under the guise of seeking more customers. Once he had fully internalized this concept, he boldly began gathering information near Natchez, the habitat of the arch-demon James Sett.
Their first base of operations was a shabby tavern in the notorious "Under the Hill." It was a place where the smells of river water, sweat, and cheap whiskey mingled—a place where truth and lies floated atop every glass.
Isaac Smith—that is, John Brown—sat in a corner with his son, Owen, silently tilting their glasses. Gathering information was the job of the young and impressionable-looking Kid. Kid bought a drink for a shabbily dressed white farmer at the next table and struck up a conversation naturally.
"We're looking for places to supply Bibles, and we hear the most impressive man around here is the young master of the Sett family? Do you happen to know what kind of person he is?"
At the mention of James's name, the farmer's face brightened. He quickly brought the drink Kid had bought him to his lips and shouted loudly.
"Impressive doesn't even begin to cover it! He's a true hero who catches those darkies like rats. On top of that, he's even building a hospital where people like us who aren't well-off can get treated for a low price! He's a man blessed by God. Yes, indeed, that he is."
John Brown didn't move a muscle, his glass still in hand. A detestable hypocrite. A cold voice echoed in his heart.
Another man nearby tilted his glass and added cynically,
"It's true he's merciful, but that man is truly terrifying. My cousin supplies lumber to that plantation, and he says the inside of the farm is as quiet as a monastery. Aside from the sound of the slaves working, you can't even hear them breathe. It’s... unnaturally so."
At that moment, a middle-aged man who appeared to be an overseer from another plantation chimed in, clicking his tongue.
"Of course it's quiet! Sett is the type of man who catches people with ledgers instead of whips! They say he records every mistake by the minute and uses that to control their rations. The slaves in that house would sell their own mothers just to look good to their master. They say if they see an outsider, they report them immediately. He's a genius—a devilish genius."
As expected of the most famous man in the region, useful information was gathered in an instant. That night, in the cheap boarding house where the three were staying, John Brown muttered low.
"You heard it too, didn't you? The atrocities of that devil."
A fire intense enough to burn all slave owners to death blazed in his eyes.
"A simple tyrant inspires fear, but that man is exercising perfect control that transcends fear. A whip leaves scars on the flesh, but that man adds ledgers and discipline on top of it, shackling their very souls."
Infiltrating the plantation was impossible. Since they didn't allow outsiders and even the slaves were pickled in fear, entering that place was the same as entering a fortress.
"Father, but what about the hospital..."
"Yes. I was thinking the same thing."
At first, he had wondered why a plantation owner would randomly build a hospital, but now the terrifying intent was perfectly clear. He had seen countless planters and trash who defended slavery, but he swore this was the first time he had seen this kind of evil.
"I have seen devils who whip, but I have never seen a devil who fixes broken bones just to whip them again! He intends to repair the slaves he has broken in his own workshop and work them until their breath stops! How can one call such a person a human being!"
John Brown stood up abruptly. Looking at the dark Southern sky visible through the window, he felt an unbearable sense of guilt and responsibility as a human being, and as a fellow white man.
"I finally know. The Lord sent me here for this very moment."
His eyes flashed with hot resolve.
"I will surely pass judgment on that devil with my own hands."
The plantation was like a fortress and could not be breached. But the hospital, which had just begun construction, was different. It was an open space where countless laborers and supplies came and went, making it inevitable that security would be lax.
"We are changing the plan. We will not cut off his life in his fortress, but in the Tower of Babel he is building. I will make that hall of hypocrisy his grave."
James Sett, you will die by my hand. John Brown hardened his resolve and sought ways to approach him.
January 1857.
The harvest season had ended, and the plantation had entered a reorganization period for the next one. If you only look at the name, it might not seem that busy, but since all the work that couldn't be done during the harvest had to be handled, the actual workload was not easy.
Especially, as is the case with all businessmen in the world, a man like me who has drastically increased the number of fields he touches is fated to live with the word "overwork" attached to his life.
I am pioneering new agricultural markets with Rockefeller, paying attention to hospital construction, investing in promising Northern industries, and further increasing the scale and income of my Southern plantations. On top of this, in two months, Breckinridge will send an invitation to attend Buchanan's inauguration, so I have to prepare to leave the plantation for a while.
At this point, I did the same in my past life, but I sometimes wonder if it's just my nature to live carrying as much work as I can handle.
The work I am doing right now is the long-awaited new employee orientation. It is a time to help the new recruits brought from the auction house discard the inefficient habits they learned at their previous plantations and inject them with scientific and advanced Sett-style management methods. Of course, I just sit in the seat of honor and watch, and the actual employee training is being done by representatives like Ben and Leo.
"Now, Tom! Forget the methods you've used so far completely. Such inefficient labor is no longer necessary, and even if you do it, it will only hold back your teammates."
"...Yes? Teammates? So, you mean the result of everyone moving precisely by the minute and measuring even the time to change tools down to the second is something you guys optimized, not the master?"
"That's right. Because this is the only way to leave work and rest faster. But remember, you must not let the quality drop just because you increase the speed. However, if you catch these two things, certain rewards will follow."
The guy who was crying about being sold to me the other day couldn't keep his mind straight at the feast of new civilization unfolding before his eyes. Will they finally realize that they didn't come to hell, but to heaven? If you know how to be grateful, keep working hard to generate even greater profits in the future. That is the way for you to become comfortable.
Having confirmed that Tom's re-education was proceeding smoothly, I moved my feet. The hospital, another pillar of my business and the greatest shield that will guarantee my future. How is the training of the personnel to be deployed there going?
Inside a clean hut built temporarily next to the construction site, Sarah, the young woman who had sworn eternal gratitude to me at the auction house, stood with her son Toby, looking dazed. She, too, was in the middle of having all the common sense she had learned at her previous plantation destroyed.
"Sarah, I'll say it again, the most important thing is cleanliness."
The person in charge of training was Martha, who had already been designated as the head nurse of the hospital.
"You must wash your hands before and after touching a patient, and used bandages must be thrown into that bin over there without exception. We will disinfect them with boiling water every day. That is the master's policy."
"But... it's still a clean bandage, so why..."
When Sarah asked as if she couldn't understand, Martha recited my teachings exactly.
"The master said that invisible contamination is the most terrifying enemy. He said that a piece of cloth that looks clean could kill a person. Our mission is to fight that invisible enemy."
Sarah nodded, stunned. Then, Martha bent her knees to meet the eyes of her son, Toby.
"And Toby, your mission is also heavy. You must monitor whether the water in that copper boiler is always filled cleanly, and whether the fire beneath it never goes out. Since it is the water used to purify the tools the doctor uses, it is as if the lives of countless people depend on your hands."
"Yes. I'll work hard! Just for letting me stay with my mom, I will be loyal to the master for the rest of my life!"
"Thank you, thank you so much."
Could they have ever imagined that they, who were treated as objects and driven like livestock, would end up doing work that saves someone's life? Hearing the mother and son's reply, saying they would do their best with tears in their eyes, I turned my back.
This should be enough, right?
Just as I was turning around with satisfaction, confirming that the new recruits' orientation was successfully finishing, the housemaid approached with hurried steps.
"Master, a guest has arrived. They say they are employees of a publishing company that supplies Bibles, and they want to donate Bibles to the hospital being built."
Here we go again. It's not like they're door-to-door salesmen, so why do these kinds of people visit periodically? I've experienced this type of begging to the point of exhaustion. It's obvious this time, too. It must be a scheme to approach under the pretext of donation and eventually extort sponsorship money in reverse.
"Tell them I'm busy and send them away."
"But... they looked very desperate, saying it was essential work for the hospital."
Well, it's not like I can expect the maid to deal with this actively. Wondering if there was a suitable person, I looked around and caught sight of Leo and Ben, who had come to report after finishing the orientation.
"Leo, Ben. Thank you for the new recruit training."
"It was nothing, Master."
"There is a Bible salesman at the front gate. They want to donate to the hospital, but since I don't have time, you two go, listen to what they have to say, and politely refuse and send them away. Don't drag it out for more than 10 minutes."
I had once had the two of them chase away a swindler who wanted to sell "miracle water" that would heal you if you just drank it to the hospital. I don't have the time to waste on such peddlers. I trust the two of them will handle it well on their own this time, too.
"Yes, Master. Please leave it to us."
My interest in the uninvited guest ended exactly there. I waved my hand to encourage the two and headed to the study, where documents were piled up like a mountain.
Owen, John Brown's son, first knocked on the hospital door under the pretext of donating Bibles to test James. Putting Bibles in a newly built hospital was a perfectly common-sense thing to do, so it wouldn't arouse suspicion. If it went well, he could instantly open a path to approach James, and if it didn't, he could just find another way.
He left the wagon loaded with a large quantity of Bibles that would prove his identity and waited for someone from the Sett plantation to come out. He didn't know if his face had been sold, let alone his father, who was a celebrity, so if he maintained his composure as much as possible, no one would recognize him.
As expected, the two black men who appeared to be James's slaves didn't care at all when they saw Owen's face and bowed their heads.
"You want to donate Bibles to the hospital? We are very grateful, but the master has already found a supplier for Bibles."
"Ah, don't be like that. If it's not too much trouble, could you ask one more time? Even if it's not this hospital, there will definitely be days when more Bibles are needed. There's no way you'll lose anything by receiving them."
One of the young black men hesitated for a moment after hearing Owen's words and sighed as if he were in a difficult position.
"Hmm... you're so insistent, so we're in a difficult spot too."
The young black slave looked at Owen's face intently for a moment without a word. He wondered if he had made some mistake, but his acting as a publishing company employee from the North was perfect. Perhaps it was just unnecessary anxiety, as the young slave smiled nonchalantly and continued.
"Our master is so busy that he is reluctant to meet outsiders. Especially since there isn't just one or two people who have come looking for this kind of work. If I may ask, in which region did the Light of the World publishing company mainly operate?"
"We mainly operated in Ohio. We came down here to spread the Lord's word to the faithful people of the South as well."
The answer popped out immediately, as it was a prepared setting.
"Ah, Ohio. Then you must know Reverend Anderson. He is a very devout man who distributes Bibles along the river."
Anderson? There's no way I'd know such a person. But this field is such a narrow industry that if I say I don't know, I might be exposed immediately. Owen made an excuse as naturally as possible.
"Hmm, he is truly a devout man. I've heard stories, but unfortunately, I've never met him in person. We're both too busy with our livelihoods."
"I see. As expected, people who do noble work are different."
Seeing the young man's reaction, Owen was convinced that he had deceived them completely. As a white man who had received higher education, how could he not deceive a single black slave? It was a task that didn't even require tension in the first place.
As expected, the young man pointed to the large mansion visible in the distance with a face that trusted this side completely to anyone who saw it.
"Since your identity is certain, I'll have to convey your words to the master first. Would you mind waiting inside for a moment? Please follow me this way."
Got him. It's so easy to deceive them... as expected, black people lack education. As Owen nodded, suppressing his joy, the young man said to the sturdy man who had been quiet until now.
"Ben, guide the guest to Room 32."
'Room 32? There are that many rooms in the mansion? As expected of a rich bastard, living in a spacious place.'
Owen thought it was something like a reception room number inside the mansion and tried to follow Leo without much suspicion.
At that very moment.
Whoosh! Crack!
Along with a chilling sound cutting through the wind from behind his back, a dull impact struck the back of his head.
"Gah...!"
The world flashed white. Owen's body, unable to even let out a proper scream, slumped forward as it was. Within his blurring vision, the dirt floor approached rapidly. Amidst the shock and pain of an attack he didn't even know the reason for, he barely turned his head to look behind him.
The black slave called Ben was looking down at Owen expressionlessly, holding a heavy club.
"How did you know, Leo?"
The voice of the young man called Leo pierced his ears as his consciousness faded.
"You disguised your tone and words, but you couldn't hide your speech pattern. No white man in the South uses polite expressions like 'if it's not too much trouble' to us. That's the hypocritical speech pattern of the Northern bastards. I tested you one more time just in case, and didn't you fall for it nicely? In the first place, there is no such person as Reverend Anderson."
Leo began to search Owen's body. A pistol came out from his chest, and then a note he had hastily written while observing his surroundings while waiting here was discovered. Leo, who scanned the contents of the note, smiled bitterly.
"As expected. An outsider who came with other schemes. You were a pest that would have harmed the master."
Hearing those words, Owen gathered his last strength.
"You... you stupid darkies!"
You don't even recognize the savior who came to save you and you wield violence, so that's why you can't escape that fate. "Listen... I, we came to save you..."
Before those words could even finish, Ben's boot crushed Owen's face without hesitation.
Crack!
Along with the terrible sensation of his nasal bone cracking, something seemed to flash, and Owen's consciousness sank into deep darkness as it was.