The Omen
A fanatic of conviction who hates slavery more than anyone in this world and wants to see the Southern *Dixies* ruined.
John Brown had rarely felt as exhilarated as he did at this moment.
"Father, it’s in the newspaper here, too. They say Mississippi is foaming at the mouth trying to find the culprit."
"The word 'culprit' is laughable. They never treated the slaves as human beings, and now they call us criminals?"
There wasn't a single thing the Southerners spouted that made sense, but the reaction to this incident was quite a sight to behold.
It happened in Mississippi, the front line of cotton plantations, and in Natchez, where the wealthiest planters congregated.
The entire South was boiling over with shock and terror, and a blade of intense scrutiny was directed at John Brown, who was being pointed to as the prime suspect.
"Mr. John Brown! Where were you and what were you doing on the day the incident occurred?"
"I was traveling around Ohio."
"Are you truly not affiliated with the organization called the *Arrow of Freedom*?"
"I think it’s a truly magnificent organization, but I told you, I was in Ohio at the time! Besides, I heard that Duncan Skinner fellow habitually abused Black people, so he simply received the punishment he deserved. Taking this incident as an opportunity, the Southern planters should seriously reflect on themselves..."
"Ah, yes, I understand. I'll stop there for now."
What could the Southerners do, no matter how much they blustered, when there was no physical evidence?
From the moment the crime occurred, Mississippi had mobilized all its resources to thoroughly inspect every means of transportation, including passenger ships and carriages, ensuring no one could escape to the North.
It would be one thing if it were one or two people, but how could someone who dragged away 10 slaves and headed north suddenly pop up in Ohio?
As long as they couldn't solve this mystery, John Brown would never be caught.
However, how to help the slaves he had pulled out of Cedar Grove settle down was a major concern for him as well.
Most of them said they would follow John Brown, but there were also those who wanted to try living a new life in the North.
A young man named Will, who had worked as a field supervisor at Cedar Grove, was a prime example.
"...You're really going to Boston?"
"Yes. I heard that Boston has so many jobs left over that even a Black man like me can easily find work."
"That may be so, but... Will, there will be a significant gap between the freedom you imagine and the freedom the North speaks of."
Previously, Sett had asked if it was over just by simply releasing the slaves in the North, and naturally, John Brown knew that wasn't the answer.
But the community he was currently building was too small, and he couldn't provide the satisfactory food, clothing, and shelter that Sett could.
Therefore, he couldn't stop someone who wanted to go to the North to find a job and work.
After all, it was he who had said he would give them the choice.
"Will, go and try working, and if you feel this isn't it, you're welcome to return at any time. It's not a matter of unnecessary pride."
"Thank you. But I don't want to live in hiding like this; I want to experience what true freedom is."
Although Will regarded John Brown as a benefactor, he had no intention of following the way of life he preached.
He had barely escaped after rolling around in a dog-like plantation his whole life, and now he was told to live in a mountain valley, hiding and farming for the rest of his life?
No matter how hard it was or how much humiliation he received, he was a person who had endured Duncan Skinner's oppression at Cedar Grove plantation.
Believing that any hardship would be better than Cedar Grove, he headed to Boston with confidence.
However.
"Hey, you stupid nigger! I told you to organize this first!"
"...Yes? But surely..."
*Thwack!*
"This bastard is even talking back? Hey? You don't want to work here?"
"I'm... sorry. I will fix it immediately."
From the very first day he found a job in Boston, Will tasted hell.
He knew that the only jobs Black people could find were in the docks or domestic labor.
But even in the jobs he found that way, discrimination and verbal abuse were the norm, and his wages were significantly lower than those of Irish white immigrants.
If that were the end of it, it would have been better.
"...Excuse me, why is my daily wage only this much? It's less than I was told."
"You're a newbie. You're supposed to work for half pay when you're an apprentice."
"Yes? What kind of law is that! Then you should have told me that in advance!"
"Bullshit. If you don't like it, go report it. But if you report it, an investigation will come in, and I wonder if our nigger here will be clean?"
*Damn it.*
It was the first time in his life that Will had felt the malice of humanity in this way.
Port cities like Boston were originally crawling with slaves who had escaped from the South.
But recently, there was a rare, disastrous ruling where a slave named Anthony Burns escaped to the North, stood trial, and was dragged back.
With the *Dred Scott Decision* confirming that it was legally acceptable to catch and drag back escaped slaves regardless of whether they were fugitives or not, the treatment of Black people of slave origin plummeted.
Blacks born and raised in the North were not affected, but Blacks who had fled from the South like Will could receive absolutely no protection from law enforcement.
Most citizens and intellectuals were outraged by that absurd ruling and called for the abolition of slavery, but the employers' attitudes were different.
"What? It's legal to drag back escaped slaves? Then I can slash their wages even more and they won't be able to say a word, right?"
If they made a fuss about unfair treatment, all they had to do was threaten to report them.
If they were slaves with a truly clean background, they would say go ahead, but those in Will's situation had no choice but to keep their mouths shut and be exploited.
"Judging by your reaction, you must be a bastard who ran away from the South. Hey, where can you find someone as kind as me? I'm even hiring a fugitive like you without reporting you. If you know grace, work hard and pay me back! Understand?"
"...Yes."
He couldn't say it was worse than working as a slave, but a completely different level of unpleasantness and humiliation weighed on his shoulders every day.
This is the North? This is the United States?
Why are the people who shout for the abolition of slavery and criticize the South's malice every day acting so differently in reality?
"What? Where does a nigger think he's trying to enter! Get lost to where you people gather!"
Even when entering a restaurant.
"If I accept a nigger, my regulars will all leave, so I can't help it. If you want to drink, go to that place where you people gather a lot."
Even when he wanted to buy some alcohol to relieve stress.
"Blacks go to the back and sit."
Even when moving to other places, he was discriminated against as naturally as breathing.
Yet, there were people walking around the streets shouting slogans every day to abolish slavery and that Black people were the same human beings.
"Should I just... go to Canada?"
Even though he had broken down the walls of the plantation and come out, Will was not free at all.
* * *
A few weeks after Duncan Skinner was murdered by the monstrous group called the *Arrow of Freedom*.
Mark, the field supervisor of Cedar Grove who welcomed a new master, was experiencing a new world.
In fact, he was the one who wanted to crush Duncan Skinner more than anyone and leave with John Brown, but unfortunately, he was left in a position where he had to stay here due to personnel limits.
He had lost his will to live for a while after the opportunity to escape this hellish place and go to the North was frustrated.
"Sigh... I should have run away too. I wonder how Will is doing? That bastard... he must be living while enjoying freedom by now, right? I'm jealous."
But something strange happened after the new master took over the plantation.
"From now on, you are the workers of Mr. James Sett, who is here! Let's all work together with pride! For your information, I will tear down every system you have experienced, so forget all your memories until now. From now on, you are reborn as workers of the Sett family!"
The slaves who followed James were spouting incomprehensible nonsense and completely changed the plantation's management policy itself.
"Since it will be difficult for you to understand at first, I have brought the field supervisors and overseers who work on our plantation. Stay here for a while and firmly engrave the Sett-style management method into your bodies."
How much more are they planning to squeeze us that they are even bringing people from the original plantation?
"And now, to prevent outside intrusion, I will semi-fortify this entire plantation. I will change the fences to walls, not wood, and create a structure where no news from the inside goes out at all."
They are really determined to grind us down.
Even the person who came as the new overseer was a minion of James Sett, whose notoriety had spread even to Cedar Grove.
"I am Jonathan, who will be with you as the overseer of Cedar Grove from now on. Keep in mind that this overseer can be an angel or a devil depending on how you do. Before that, I will check your nutritional status first. Those who are sick, go to the hospital and get a checkup at any time."
They are even managing our health to squeeze people more efficiently.
Mark even heard amazing rumors about Jonathan while talking with his colleagues.
"About the new overseer, he just beats people up first if they bother him. I heard he even beat up an overseer from another plantation and knocked all his teeth out?"
"Crazy... he beats up not only us but also fellow white people?"
It was obvious how he would treat Black people like himself if he beat up white people when things didn't go his way.
Maybe Duncan was actually the mild version.
Mark and his colleagues, who had fallen into fear and despair, learned the new culture according to the demonstrations of the skilled trainers dispatched from the Sett plantation, half-resigned.
However.
"Overseer! If we finish our work early today, shall we play a round of baseball?"
"Oh! Shall we?"
"The master gave us a barrel of beer for our hard work even going to other plantations. Shall we play baseball and have a beer party this evening?"
"It's a call, you bastards!"
They said they were devil-like overseers, so why do they look so familiar with the slaves from the Sett plantation?
No, before that, what do they trust to talk to the overseer so casually when they are the same slaves?
The questions didn't end there.
"Ah, don't you know? This is called a *Frolic*. You can drink as much food and drink as you want once a month. If you do well, beer is also provided."
Huh?
"Have you heard of this? This is called baseball. It's a demonic sport that drives people crazy once they get into it."
Huh?
"Whipping? Such barbaric things do not exist in the elegant and intelligent Sett plantation. Instead, if you don't do your work properly, you can't enjoy anything, so you have to work as efficiently as possible. But the benevolent master told us to teach you beginners the strategy, so we will kindly teach you."
It was too different from what he had thought.
Especially since the slaves of Cedar Grove had been suffering under a disastrous overseer like Duncan Skinner, this rapid improvement in labor conditions was beyond joyful; they were dumbfounded.
Could it be that he was actually hit too hard with a club and his head had turned, and he was still unconscious and dreaming?
And above all, the highlight was.
*Rat-a-tat-tat!*
"Hey, you bastards! Ammunition is as precious as our lives, so you shouldn't miss even a single shot! You don't often get the chance to practice live-fire shooting, so concentrate hard!"
"Yes!"
"The master said that the best marksman will be given an additional *Love House* pass and whiskey! The standard is hitting 18 out of 20 shots, so let's all try!"
*Bang! Bang!*
The people called supervisors among the slaves from the Sett plantation were carrying guns, not clubs.
Blacks carrying guns?
He had heard legends that some people received such special permits, but he never thought he would see a scene where 3 or 4 such people were gathered together in his lifetime.
"H-how on earth are you carrying guns?"
"Ah, about this. This is proof that we were chosen by the master as his *Personal Guard*. *Ahem*."
"If you work hard and grow your loyalty, you can become like us, so strive for it. *Hahaha!*"
Ah, I see.
This is a dream. There's no way such an absurd scene could be reality.
What crazy planter in the world would give a gun to Black people and have them guard the plantation?
This must be a dream world created by his delusion of not being able to escape to the North.
He had to wake up from the dream quickly and return to reality.
But strangely, no matter how much time passed, Mark didn't wake up from the dream, and laughter began to permeate the plantation, where only despair and anger had boiled over.
"Wow, is this the taste of beer?"
"Everyone! Today, the master is finally visiting our plantation!"
"Let's all show him the changed appearance of the plantation!"
Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't follow John Brown.
As the carriage that approached from afar stopped and the door opened, Mark jumped out faster than anyone else and gave a polite bow.
"Welcome, Master! We welcome your visit."
"Cedar Grove will loyally follow the Master!"
Will? Who was that again?
Mark no longer envied his old colleagues who had escaped the plantation.
It was something he couldn't even imagine just half a month ago.