[The Morning in Mississippi]
My head is throbbing.
It’s not because I actually have a headache, but because my brain is struggling to keep up with this absurd reality.
As I stare blankly at the calendar, a young Black man, presumably a slave, asks cautiously.
“Is there something wrong with the calendar, sir? Would you like me to replace it with another?”
“...No, I mean... the date... it’s correct, right?”
“Pardon? May 21st... yes, that is correct. Didn’t you say you were going to plan the New York itinerary with Mistress Kate?”
“...Kate?”
Once again, a sensation both unfamiliar and familiar washes over my entire body.
Simultaneously, as if something that had been dormant was waking up, memories that were not my own begin to flood into my brain.
It wasn’t so much that they were being overwritten; it was more like memories I had forgotten were suddenly surfacing all at once.
Just as hot water is poured into a tea bag filled with compressed leaves, the memories of James Sett melted into my own consciousness.
In the span of just a few seconds, recalling twenty years of life made my whole body tremble, and cold sweat broke out.
James Sett.
Born in 1836, he had inherited hundreds of slaves jointly with his sister Kate, who was two years his senior, following their father’s death just last year. By purchasing the plantation and slaves of his uncle, Francis Sett, the number of slaves James commanded had swelled to nearly 500.
If you count those belonging to his sister, the total number of slaves approached a thousand, so it would be no exaggeration to say he was one of the masters of a slave kingdom representing the state of Mississippi.
In Mississippi, the only individual who owned more slaves than James was Stephen Duncan, and even compared to the entire South, there would be barely a dozen people who could rival him.
In other words, it meant I was a terrifying Slave King, belonging to the top 0.003% even in the 19th-century American South.
“Augh... damn it.”
“Excuse me, Master? Mistress Kate will be here soon, so shouldn’t we start getting ready?”
“...Getting ready?”
“Yes. I will trim your beard and help you dress.”
Hoo, right. I certainly remember now.
Setting aside Kim Hyunwoo, a man from the 21st century, for James Sett, who commands hundreds of slaves, this is a perfectly natural daily routine.
I naturally remembered the name of this guy who serves me personally.
I think it was Leo.
It was an uncommon name for a slave, but as is typical for owners of large plantations, it was a name given deliberately to make him stand out.
I sit in my seat, receiving Leo’s service, and quietly organize my thoughts.
No matter how I look at it, this is reality, not a dream, and I have become James Sett, the owner of a large plantation in Mississippi in 1856.
If you own 500 slaves, your annual income might not reach the level of a British Duke, but it’s enough to slap the cheeks of most aristocrats.
Of course, the social treatment would never reach that level, but I cannot deny that I was born with a massive silver spoon in my mouth.
However... naturally, I am not very happy about it.
Damn it all, I said I wanted to live an autonomous life, not that I wanted to live like the founder of Juche ideology!
The guy who sent me here must be a swindler like a mountain spirit, not a god.
Still, wouldn’t it be good if a dirt-spoon modern person became a tycoon with hundreds of slaves? If I had become an aristocrat with similar wealth, I would have stood on my head and offered prayers of gratitude to the sky.
But a slave owner? And in 1856, of all years?
It’s not that my heart is twisted, but there is a definite reason why I have to be sensitive to the year.
Even though I say this, I am someone who has built up common sense by studying in my spare time even after entering a large corporation since I was young.
I know very well that the 19th-century United States split into two and fought a civil war over the survival of slavery.
The great war, also famous by the name Civil War.
If my memory serves me correctly, the year this war, the last war of Anglo-America and the one in which the most Americans died in history, takes place is 1861.
Yes. It is exactly five years from now, no more, no less.
At this point, I wonder if that quack mountain spirit sent me here out of malice.
The only silver lining is that I know this worst-case future and have at least some time to prepare.
Let’s think.
There must be a way to escape this worst-case future somewhere.
For now...
“Master, I am finished.”
While I was lost in thought, Leo neatly trimmed my beard and sideburns and stepped back.
Hmm, looking closely, I’m quite handsome and masculine.
With this level of wealth and this appearance, I would be a top-tier groom with a line of marriage proposals in the South.
Even if I end up being branded as a vicious plantation owner who oppressed Black slaves later on.
“Right, it’s clean. Thank you.”
“...Pardon?”
When I took my eyes off the mirror and said “thank you” out of habit, Leo’s eyes widened like saucers.
And then.
Thud.
“Master! If I have done something wrong, please scold me severely! I beg you! Please! Please, just don’t sell me elsewhere...!”
“...Huh? Uh, uh?”
“J-just once! Please give me one more chance! If you tell me what I did wrong, I, Leo, will never disappoint you again. It’s me, Leo. The loyal slave whose name you gave me yourself.”
What is he talking about?
I clearly said thank you, so why is he reacting as if he heard me say I’m going to kill him?
“Wait. Calm down, why are you suddenly acting like this?”
“T-that’s because you said you were thankful until now... doesn’t that mean my time in this mansion is over?”
“No, no, no, how on earth do you interpret it that way...”
My words, which couldn’t hide my bewilderment, stopped due to a memory that suddenly surfaced.
In the old days, it wasn’t that strange to say a small word of thanks to a close slave.
But now is the time when the conflict between the South and the North over slavery is reaching its extreme.
The South defended slavery more thoroughly than ever to protect the existing order, oppressing Black slaves and treating them as tools.
Because if Black people are human, then they become villains who treat fellow humans as slaves, and the legitimacy of slavery is greatly shaken.
Therefore, slave owners must treat slaves strictly as tools and must not show them being treated as people.
Naturally, James Sett also jumped on this bandwagon, treating his slaves strictly and beating them like rats for the slightest mistake.
Since a man who did that suddenly said thank you, he had no choice but to react like that.
‘Hoo... damn it, this is a truly crazy neighborhood.’
After saying thank you reflexively, I’m being begged like this, so I don’t know what to say.
In the end, I was only able to calm Leo down after explaining—or rather, making an excuse—that I was thinking about what to say to my sister Kate and it had slipped out unconsciously.
The American South in 1856, where I opened my eyes.
The atmosphere of a Mississippi cotton plantation was this friendly and family-like.
*
“Oh my, James. You came down a bit late today?”
“...I overslept a little.”
When I went down to the first floor after wasting time calming Leo down, the eldest daughter of the Sett family, two years my senior, was elegantly drinking tea.
To be precise, she was a married woman who should now be called Kate Minor, not Kate Sett.
“Then come sit here. You’ve returned after a long time, but I always feel at ease whenever I come to this mansion.”
“...I’m glad to hear that.”
Kate married the second son of the Minor family, who owned vast plantations in Louisiana and Mississippi, just last year.
If my memory is correct, John Minor, who became my brother-in-law, must have been a very gentlemanly yet uniquely pro-Northern Southerner.
Perhaps because of that, his reputation in the South wasn’t that good, and Kate also tended to keep a slight distance from her husband in public matters.
I suspect that might be the reason she came here alone.
“By the way, James, have you thought about what I said last time?”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“Oh my... you always let what your sister says go in one ear and out the other. I told you, why don’t you stop by Bloomington for a meeting before going up to New York?”
“Ah, right. I remembered.”
James Sett was scheduled to go with his sister Kate to acquire another uncle’s vast fortune in New York.
This is because his uncle, Jacob Sett, was not in good health and had left a will bequeathing his vast fortune to me, his nephew.
If I acquire the fortune left by my uncle, wouldn’t the number of slaves under me exceed 700?
It was rare for a Southerner in his twenties to have this much wealth, so it was inevitable that I would stand out whether I liked it or not.
The Democratic Party, which advocates for slavery, kept asking for support, and other slave owners were also asking me to join them and raise my voice.
Until now, I had been getting by saying, ‘I’m just a fledgling who has just inherited wealth, I don’t know anything. Boo-hoo-hoo,’ but I wouldn’t be able to get away with that forever.
The reason Kate suggested agreeing to the meeting this time was also because we couldn’t keep ignoring the requests directed at our family.
“As you know, that day is the day the Republican Party’s founding event is held in Bloomington. Since they say nearby slave owners and pro-slavery figures are also holding a separate gathering, it should be fine for the time being if you just show your face there.”
“Uh...”
So, she wants me to go to an event where people chant slavery is so good, slavery must never be lost, slavery is the best, greet the participants, and leave.
Crazy, just crazy.
No matter how much you follow the local customs when in Rome, this era is the only place in the Western world that maintains slavery.
Even by the universal ethical standards of this era, it is clear that this side is doing something barbaric.
I don’t want to get involved with anyone in the South if possible, but considering my social position, it seems that was impossible after all.
“...It would be a big deal if I didn’t go, right?”
“To be honest, I’m also a bit troubled. People are already saying that my husband is overly friendly to the North. If you and I just stay still here, we might be misunderstood as our family leaning toward the North.”
It is certainly a logical argument with no room for counter-argument.
As a family that owns one of the largest numbers of slaves in the South, the Sett family was in a position where they had to defend slavery.
The moment we thoughtlessly stepped away, we would become traitors to the entire South and be the first to be beaten and fall.
But if I shouted for the defense of slavery, my name would be branded in history forever... I’m going crazy, really.
“Then, I’ll just go, say hello, give them some money, and since we have to go to New York, I’ll just say I’m busy and leave, right?”
“Yes, actually, they’ve already booked a room at the Pike House, the largest hotel in Bloomington. We’ll stay there for just one day and then head to New York. Still, it would be good to be prepared, as you might have to meet not only Democrats but also Republican figures. Because you’ll inevitably be involved in some way.”
“Republican... Republican. If it’s the Republican Party, they must be in a position that is vehemently opposed to slavery.”
In the 21st century, they are a mainstream party leading American politics, but now they are just a fledgling party that has just been founded.
Hmm? But if it’s the Republican Party of this era, surely.
“Because it’s a party created by people who are firmly united against slavery in the first place. You can tell just by looking at the people participating that day, right? John Palmer, William Bissell, and... ah, that person was there too. The person who keeps appearing every time even though he lost the election every time except once.”
Kate laughed, saying she didn’t understand, and spoke that name.
“Abraham Lincoln.”