Chapter 64
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: <Malice>
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“What’s going on? The coast suddenly got all rowdy—what happened?”
“Ah... Lady Saint? Word is, people came from Spain!”
“From Spain? Crossing the Atlantic?”
“No, not that. From... over there in Florida...”
Eleanor whipped around in surprise, and sure enough, amid the bustling crowd gathered on the beach, she spotted a few dugout canoes and half-naked people.
They looked like they’d paddled in from far away. And if they’d come from Florida, it must have been a truly perilous and horrific journey.
As Eleanor approached, the crowd parted for her, and the trembling people—recognizing her as one of the colony’s “higher-ups”—stumbled forward to grasp her hand.
“P-please... h-help us... Th-that man, our m-master...!”
“...Yes?”
“He bought us from the slave market in Florida and even arranged a ship to get us here! He’s our benefactor!”
The former slaves, pointing shakily in exhaustion, directed her toward a Latin-looking man and a tall Black man who appeared to be in even worse shape than they were.
“Th-they gave us their food... whenever there was any...”
“...Ah.”
Eleanor felt her eyes welling up with tears.
As the liberated slaves gathered around began leading the newcomers away one by one, the “master” and his servant—legs giving out—were left collapsed on the shore.
Eleanor fetched them water, food, and blankets, lit a fire, and gradually, color returned to their faces.
“Uh... uh... Wh-where...?”
“This is Virginia. Are you alright?”
“...M-my greetings, miss. Is... is this Virginia?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“...Look here, Malco. Get up. We’ve... finally made it!”
“Ugh... urk... Master? Are you okay?”
“Ah, no, I’m fine. It’s you who...”
The two men grimaced as they forced their screaming bodies upright. Those watching teared up, applauding and rejoicing.
After all, this man had traveled hundreds of kilometers—from Florida to Virginia (Nemo had diligently imprinted the metric system into their minds)—to lead slaves to freedom. It was only natural everyone celebrated their survival.
“Are you... alright?”
Thomas Huet, who had come to stand beside Eleanor, asked. Asuero and the man named Malco nodded and slowly explained their situation.
They had been a slave owner and slave in Florida. The slave owners there were a cruel, inhuman lot—but Asuero was different.
He read the Bible to his slaves himself and even paid them monthly wages. He was a diligent plantation owner. Malco had been one of his standout slaves, serving as overseer.
Then one day...
“...we heard the news about Lord Nemo and Virginia.”
“...”
“...”
“We heard there were no slaves or slave owners there. That His Imperial Majesty, the emperor, despised slavery and had banned it forever.
That’s when we resolved to buy slaves and escape. Malco joined me.”
And so Asuero and Malco had emptied their fortunes at Florida’s slave market to purchase over ten slaves, then risked everything fleeing by boat.
That’s how they’d arrived in Virginia.
“Ho... impressive.”
“No, no. The Lord was nailed to the cross and died in agony for our sake. How could we not do that much for our fellow man?”
Thomas Huet marveled, but Asuero humbly bowed his head, while Malco gazed at him fondly.
However...
“Hm? So the people we just met—they were all slaves you bought later?”
“Yes. They’re free citizens now, of course.”
“I heard Florida gives every settler ten slaves by default... What happened to yours?”
At the question, Asuero’s face subtly stiffened—unnoticed by anyone—then relaxed.
“...You know our colony inside out.”
“Ah, well, stories from the south are just so infamous.”
“Is that so? Haha... Bitter to hear our homeland’s injustices have made it famous...”
“...”
“...”
“So, what happened that led to...”
“Lord Asuero freed them all...”
“They all died on the way here...”
“Yes?”
“...Meaning, I freed them, but they all died on the way.”
“Y-yes, exactly. God rest their souls. We can only pray for my slave brothers.”
A subtle inconsistency, a quick glance exchanged between them.
“Anyway, impressive. We can’t just send such righteous men to the barracks! Please, use my quarters.”
Thomas Huet, oblivious, glossed over it.
“R-really...?”
Eleanor felt a faint unease but couldn’t put it into words, merely nodding.
It was the same when they reported to Nemo.
“I think giving these righteous men a new house on Croatoan Island would be fine. They might become symbols of slave liberation!”
Huet exclaimed excitedly in the meeting hall.
“W-wait, isn’t that a bit hasty?”
Eleanor Dare tilted her head. Nemo asked her.
“Why do you think that, Eleanor?”
“Well... it’s hard to put into words, but they just feel off to me somehow.”
“...Hmm.”
“No, on second thought, judging by gut feeling alone seems weird. Was I rude to them...?”
“No. You’re right, Eleanor.”
Nemo nodded and pulled something from a drawer as if it had just occurred to him.
“Mr. Huet, when you take them to the room, leave this behind.”
“This... a small tablet?”
“...It’s called a smartphone. Press this button and this one, set it in a corner of the room, and bring it to me tomorrow.”
“Y-you’re not going to peek into their souls or... harm them, right...?”
“...No such function, don’t worry. But there’s no guarantee they’re not Spanish spies, is there?”
“Well... true.”
“So trust me and place it. A few days of monitoring their words and actions will confirm everything, won’t it?”
“If that’s the case...”
And so Huet guided them to his room before heading to Vicente’s quarters for reconnaissance. He hid the smartphone in an inconspicuous corner... and retrieved it the next morning with a greeting.
The full recording of their conversation that night reached Nemo’s hands.
(3:16:17)
-Rustle. Rustle.
-Click.
-“Ah, there you are, Master.”
-“No slaves here—what master? Call me by name.”
-“Hahaha! How could I? You’re still my benefactor!”
-“Just Asuero. Or Javier works too.”
-“...Javier, you’ve done well. I still can’t forget those worthless scum screaming in the basement as they burned. Why’d you buy them and make more work for us?”
-“Scum? They’re your kin too.”
-“Hah, kin? No chance. My family’s sold slaves for generations. If we hadn’t lost that war, we’d never have sunk to their level.”
-“Is that so? Anyway, cheers. To the new homeland and our new emperor.”
-“To the new master we’ll meet soon...”
Fast-forward.
Beep.
(14:39:21)
-“...”
-“...”
-“...J-just to be sure, no one’s caught on to that incident, right?”
-“Of course! We sealed the basement door tight.”
-“Still, what if? If they escaped and talked to other slaves... Or if their bodies are found? There’s torture marks!”
-“Well, they’re probably the ones who spread rumors about this ‘Nemo,’ our new master, and incited the slaves. But do you think they have the will or ability for a real investigation?”
-“True, Florida’s Spanish territory too. No matter how they scramble...”
-“Now we just enjoy life. Sure, no more hunting or whipping, but...”
-“Yeah. That’s not the point. Heard the land they promised? 500 hectares—you know how big that is? Ahahaha! Never dreamed I’d lord over land like this.”
-“Congratulations. Don’t forget me...”
-“Half of all I gain is yours. Don’t worry. I swear on my lord...”
Fast-forward.
Beep.
(27:52:33)
-Drag.
-“Why pull the chair?”
-“Just in case someone’s listening.”
-“We checked—no one’s around. Relax.”
-“Alright? Now tally it up. The glory we’ll enjoy... Shame we can’t hunt Indians around here. Maybe should’ve gone to Portuguese Brazil...”
(29:01:17)
-End.
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...Eleanor?”
“Y-yes?”
“Go back for now. I’ll... handle their disposition myself.”
Nemo spoke calmly to Eleanor.
But to her eyes, those two of his...
Were burning with fury.
“...”
Once Eleanor left, I was alone. I pocketed the smartphone and stepped out of the church. A short walk brought me home.
I checked the fridge inside.
Beef... still good. Seafood? Fresh that day, cook as needed.
Been a while since I made Spanish food...
...
...
...
“Urk.”
My stomach churned.
Just looking at meat brought on hallucinations.
I’d heard their conversation.
Heard what they’d done from it.
Heard how they’d skewered people on spits to death.
How they’d roasted people alive and fed the meat to their families.
How they’d stripped people naked, humiliated them, then shot them full of bullets.
How they...
Had killed... people... over and over.
‘This... is even crueler than original history.’
Humans could be insanely cruel to each other.
‘Utterly uncontrolled. The Spanish colonial authorities, too busy expanding, aren’t reining in settlers at all.’
When nothing but their conscience stands in their way.
And when they discard even that, unleashing base desires.
Humans can be crueler than devils.
My hands tremble. I couldn’t show weakness before Eleanor. No disgust, no fear. I’m an angel—I must maintain dignity.
But it’s revolting.
So revolting I want to kill those two right now.
And frightening.
Frightening that they played the righteous before our settlers. Frightening that I almost fell for it.
I am an angel.
At least, those around me believe so, and follow me because of it.
I am an angel.
Thus, I must act justly, keeping our community in peace.
I am an angel.
So I cannot tolerate villains around me.
And their single act of evil nearly shook our community’s foundation.
‘...What do I do?’
Torments swarm my mind instantly.
How should I, our community, respond to such malice?
How to expose and punish such villains’ crimes? How to defend against their insidious attacks?
And the Spanish colonies are far more brutal than imagined.
I knew countless Europeans staged atrocities in Africa and the Americas during colonial times, but not this raw.
What... should I...
Slap!
...Fuck, snap out of it. Can’t let this shake me like an idiot.
Thousands rely on me now. If two villains can topple us, I never should’ve started.
Honestly, even composed, I’ve no clue how to solve this. Fear lingers.
Of course. If I could single-handedly dispel colonialism’s darkness and punish all evil, I’d be a real angel.
I can’t. I can’t fix this now.
But.
“Those bastards...”
The scum in my sights? I’ll deal with them.
Everything else later.
I looked up—midnight already. Dishes clean themselves sans washing, clothes pristine without laundry.
Staring blankly, I think.
‘Promises... are made at night.’
I’d decided. Next morning, I summoned Eleanor.
“For now... summon just the one called Asuero to my house on Croatoan.”
“...”
“Make sure he comes alone. Me, interested in him, inviting for a meal? That pretext should suffice.”
“What about guards...?”
“None needed. But station troops to watch my farm from afar—ensure he can’t flee. Discreetly.”
Yeah.
Not always like this, but facing human malice isn’t new in running the community.
I have ways to handle it.
“Finally...”
“I’ll give him one chance.”
I’ll handle it myself.
With my own hands.