044 "Respect, My Ass."
"Alright, let's tour the village first. Gotta get a cost estimate."
I waved her off in disgust.
"If just thinking it is a crime, then guilty as charged—hell, death penalty. I really didn't wanna do it."
I meant every word. Back when floods wrecked the rice paddy dikes, or blizzards collapsed the greenhouses. 'What, kid? That's all you got? Eat up and put some muscle into it!' No matter how hard I busted my ass spinning like a top, all I got was grief. Those memories of being treated like the state's official farmhand—or movable property. The contempt, the belittling.
And now I'm a noble! Nobles get a pass, right? A pass!
But Lily fired back with a saintly spin on my honest confession.
"What matters is that you showed up anyway."
She clasped her hands, eyes sparkling.
"Everyone's got an angel and a devil inside. The temptation to slack off, to run away. Overcoming that and pushing through—that's our fate."
"……"
"Don't you think forcing yourself to do good when you don't want to is worth more than doing it just because you feel like it? It's spiritual discipline through endurance."
Damn. She really hears what she wants to hear. And somehow, her sermon comes off as downright holy.
This girl... she's not some fashion saintess. She's the real deal.
If there's a God, take her already. She's a pass. Though he probably has.
"Such high praise leaves me at a loss. But fair warning—don't be too shocked."
"Huh?"
Lily tilted her head.
"I guarantee this is on a whole other level from your volunteer gigs."
"It's fine. I'm used to it. I did a lot of relief work for the slums from the temple."
"Nah. Bet you only hit the showy ones."
I jerked my chin toward the stench wafting from beyond the woods.
"This is the real deal."
That sly old fox of an archbishop probably only sent her to places poor enough to look good in photos but not too rough—groomed poverty for his idol project. Smear some dirt on your dress, pat a kid's head, snap a pic, done.
But Professor Wilhelm is a battlefield vet from the northern front. And now that we're living it, bits of the original story are coming back to me.
This whole thing? Gramps ripped into the capital nobles for their "style over substance" bullshit, grabbed the principal by the collar, and gutted the Region Tour—originally just a cushy vacation in disguise—turning it into this.
That's why the freshmen were all la-di-da in the carriages, giggling like idiots with flowers in their heads.
Lily's face hardened. She sensed something off from my serious vibe.
"……Got it."
"Yeah. Steel yourself for real. If you're gonna puke, say so. I'll pat your back."
What I was really worried about was Lily's constitution. In the original, she saw this hellhole, her mind shattered, puked, and passed out. Motion sickness + empty stomach + visual trauma—triple combo.
I'd dosed her with anti-nausea meds and jerky to fend off the first two, but the shock? No blocking that.
Even I'm nervous. Reading it ain't the same as 4D immersion.
Wonder if I'll stay sane seeing it up close?
That's when Professor Wilhelm's booming voice exploded.
"Listen up! Group assignments are meaningless! I'm divvying up the tasks!"
He swung his baton like a conductor.
"Women: head to the village center square for hot meals and dry rations! Men: village repairs! Grab shovels and hammers—move out! Execute!"
"Sir!"
The students caved to his iron-fisted aura, shuffling off without a peep.
We stepped into the village. I'd figured standing outside, shrugging off the smell as "kinda like a barn," had prepped me.
Arrogant mistake. One step in, and it all shattered.
Wham! Not just hitting the nose—an assault straight to the brain. Beyond numbing your senses, it twisted my guts like a rag. Vicious stench.
Then the visual gut-punch. Black, squelching mud pits. Rotting earth. Barefoot kids scampering over it. Elders slumped vacant-eyed. Or maybe not elders—could be 20s or 30s pickled in starvation and disease after every hardship imaginable.
"Urgh... blegh!"
A noble kid right behind me clamped his mouth. Couldn't hold it.
"Hurk—ugh, bleeech!"
Vomit splattered the ground. Hilariously, the village reek drowned it out completely.
A bit later.
"Urgh... blegh!"
A noble girl nearby covered her mouth. One more down.
"Ugh! Bleeetch!"
Fertilizing the rotten soil with premium goods. The raw sounds triggered a chain reaction—wails erupted everywhere.
"Ugh... I wanna go home..."
"People live here?"
The noble brats pinched their noses, faces like they'd dropped into hell.
The slum-dwellers' stares were even worse. Fear, hostility, misery all mixed in their eyes. How'd you feel watching nobles puke at your home?
Glancing at Lily beside me, she looked shell-shocked but was hanging on—must've taken my warning seriously.
Then a guy, face red, stepped up to the puking girl. Familiar mug.
He yelled at Professor Wilhelm in a shaky voice.
"Professor! This is too much!"
"What's too much?"
"Withdraw these pointless measures and treat us like proper nobles! Forcing us into this filth pit under 'education' isn't noblesse oblige—it's just sadism!"
"……Sadism?"
Wilhelm's brow twitched.
"Explain."
"This stench, the unsanitary conditions... no human could endure it!"
Wilhelm's eyes sharpened. He stomped right up to the kid's face. Overwhelming presence. The student just quivered, couldn't even back up.
"Nobles lead the Empire with intellect. Intellect is knowledge fused with wisdom. Knowledge comes from books."
His voice dropped low.
"Wisdom? From experience, not desks. If you'd felt the northern winds slicing flesh off your toes, or the desperation of eating dirt without a scrap of grain..."
He clapped the kid's shoulder.
"You wouldn't call conscription 'team-building busywork' bullshit."
"……!"
Ah. One of the duo who rolled out the red carpet for me in Military Studies 101—the community-spirit guy.
"For the record, these folks aren't escaped slaves or barbarians without status. They're Empire citizens like you—speaking the same language, under the Emperor's protection."
The kid's face screamed Then why?
Wilhelm pointed his baton at the village.
"Figuring out why they live like this? That's why you choke down your puke today. Got it?!"
"……Yes, sir."
The students were crushed into silence. Hushed awe.
General's a general. Discipline pro.
But my head stayed cool.
Pretty words. So what's the fix?
Talk big then make 'em dig? Classic boomer move.
After Gramps's brutal TED Talk, he barked orders.
"Women: meals at the central square. Men: haul ingredients and inspect village facilities for repairs. Dismissed!"
I snorted inwardly.
What a comedy.
Did they toss plausibility in the soup? For real impact, throw 'em into actual hard labor. Hire vet engineers or day-labor pros, make these brats their grunts or safety spotters. Boom—slum aid and attitude adjustment. Two birds.
Same for the girls. Bring Aunt Marie; she'd crush it.
Kids who know jack teaming up for 'repairs'?
Gonna demolish houses at this rate.
Obvious why Gramps set it up this way, though. Plot demands Lily shine.
Canon: guys stand around hauling till they drop, girls freak at the smell and bolt. Amid the chaos, Lily rolls up sleeves, grinds solo, radiates saintess glow.
That's the script. I wasn't clueless, so pre-village, I'd planned to chill in a corner, spectate mode. Let her shine—no skin off my back. Even if I wasn't fully sticking to principles.
I still wanted to let the story roll canon.
But.
Looking around, countless eyes steeped in despair hit me. Flecks of deep hostility, rage amid the fear. Agony. Pain. Emptiness. Not one positive vibe.
……Sigh.
My conscience ain't pristine, but it ain't ice-cold enough for robotic "eh, canon demands it."
Then.
Step, step.
Someone approached. Turned—Lucius, the anti-nausea guy.
"You look like you've got a plan. Mind if I join?"
"……Pardon?"
"Your eyes are different. Not like theirs."
Hm.
"Suit yourself. But no bailing when it sucks."
"Don't worry. I'm not all talk."
Figured.
Lucius rolled up his sleeves with a grin.
This guy's nuts too.
Pretty boy with wild tastes. Better keep distance—trouble type.
But useful today. More hands, the better.
"Good. Let's scout the village first. Need that estimate."
"Estimate. Roger."
"Follow me."
As everyone milled about hesitantly, my bold stride drew stares.
What's that guy's deal?
Contempt, curiosity, doubt—all mixed.
I ignored 'em and kept walking.