Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Judgment, and Purification (1)
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A bailiff might sound like an impressive title, but in truth, it wasn't anything that grand.
At best, it was like the head of a neighborhood office in some district dong in Seoul City.
And since they weren't an actual noble granted that land as a fiefdom, they just performed roles akin to an "acting section chief" or "acting junior staffer" at a company...
Most knights and other nobles eyed the flashy, comfortable city life or opportunities for advancement there, living in cities owned by titled nobles. Meanwhile, actual lords like knights dismissed meddling in the lives of commoners as beneath an elegant noble.
Thus, the nobles who held the land as fiefs only cared about collecting their taxes and ignored everything else.
That made the "acting neighborhood head"—the bailiff—a figure with near-absolute power, free from interference most of the time.
That's how he could get away with such corruption. Which was why I was heading there personally to deal with him.
"Young Master, we're almost at Bailiff Mars's residence."
Baldt, sitting beside me, grumbled as he spoke.
"This place is nicer than what most knights live in, isn't it? Even if it's the countryside where land's cheap, this is basically a mansion, right?"
He was right. The house was far too grand for some "acting neighborhood head" bailiff.
A fence of red brick, exterior walls plastered with lime, a roof of thin bricks instead of thatch piles, and even a small garden.
This was on par with mansions owned by knights with fairly large estates.
No way a bailiff on an official salary could build something like this legitimately.
"Baldt, what do you think? Smells like corruption, doesn't it?"
"Yes, even to me."
As we chatted, a fat man came waddling from the mansion's front gate, his belly jiggling as he hurried toward us.
He huffed and puffed midway, looking just like Pao-hu from some cartoon—it was almost funny.
No joke, did his breathing even go "wobble-wobble"?
The bailiff, belly flopping as he ran, bowed to me upon arrival.
"Huff... huff... Bailiff Mars greets Young Master Siel, heir to Baron Excellency of Kroitel, the rightful lord of this land."
Hiding my disgust, I smiled calmly and accepted the greeting.
The bailiff seemed relieved and looked at me.
"When I heard Young Master was coming, I prepared a modest banquet. Oh, this is purely from my heart, so please don't feel burdened."
"Is that so? What do you think, Baldt?"
Baldt blinked at me and replied.
"Of course we should graciously accept, Young Master."
His signal seemed to say, pretend to fall for it.
Well, even our undercover inspector nabbed that magistrate forcing village girls into his bed.
For dramatic effect, it was the way to go.
"Looking forward to it, Bailiff. I may seem this way, but I have high standards for women. Treat me well—we should get along, right?"
The bailiff erased his earlier worried look and beamed innocently.
"Leave it to me. I've brought a girl who's perfect for you, Young Master."
That wicked bastard—I want to kill him right now.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ After staying at the bailiff's for a few days, the night before our departure finally arrived.
"Good night, Baldt. You're not planning to guard me even in my room, are you?"
"Would that madman bailiff dare kill you, Young Master? I'll rest soundly too! Ha, that girl Chris from the village on the way here caught my eye... Too bad I couldn't even hold her hand."
"That's what you get for a near-thirty-year-old man falling for a widow just past twenty."
Baldt grumbled "Urgh..." at that, and I entered the room the bailiff had assigned me.
I tried to sleep, but for some reason, it wouldn't come tonight.
No, my head was spinning.
Even if it was to uncover the bailiff's corruption, the havoc I'd wreaked on the serfs during my stay was beyond imagination—pure tyranny and nuisance.
The mad bailiff had issued a levy on serfs needed for farming, claiming the young master required hunters, turning them into beaters on the spot.
Then he seized flour from their homes as if it were his, making serf women bake bread for him.
When I said I wanted beer, he stole the stores from their homes.
When one serf looked aggrieved, the bailiff kicked his shin and stomped his back.
The serfs' resentful glares toward me and the bailiff were still fresh in my mind.
How could I sleep? Well, it's a bit cramped and uncomfortable, but maybe I'll just wrap up in a cloak in the carriage.
As I thought that, someone suddenly knocked on the door.
Who knocks at this hour? Baldt?
"Baldt, why are you here so late? Something urgent?"
"...."
After about a minute, no reply came from outside.
Probably not Baldt. An assassin? Or some other suspicious figure?
I quickly dressed, drew the sword by my bed.
And slowly cracked the door to peek out.
A girl stood there, trembling.
I was so dumbfounded I stared blankly through the gap. Noticing I'd opened the door, she spoke while shaking.
"Y-Young Master... Please let me in."
Caught off guard, I froze with the door open, speechless for a moment.
I couldn't fathom even that mad bailiff sending such a young, small child to my room—I'd never requested it.
Still, I should let her in.
Get her explanation, politely send her off.
The bailiff would have his head chopped by inspectors in 2-3 weeks for corruption and deceiving his lord anyway... What's worse than this madness?
"A-Alright. Come in."
The girl cautiously entered my room.
As I closed the door, she huddled a bit away from my bed.
Only then did I take in her appearance. To sum it up: she was my ideal girl drawn to life.
Brown long hair, white skin, big cute eyes, small face, perfect height...
And her breasts—impressively full, even under that loose dress.
Her voice, upon closer listen, was clear like wind chimes swaying in summer breeze.
Her beauty and cuteness blinded me momentarily, making me forget my rage at the bailiff exploiting people with vile methods.
As I stared blankly, she spoke in a frightened voice.
"Y-Young Master... Do I not please you?"
"No, that's not it. You're cute. Really."
"..."
Most girls would love such praise, but the situation terrified her.
I wanted to kill the bailiff right then, but as the acting steward, offing him now would break protocol.
First, calm the girl.
Ask her story, add it to the bailiff's charges. That was best.
I pointed to the chair I'd just been sitting in.
"Sit there first. I won't do anything bad, so don't be scared."
"Yes, Young Master..."
She sat on the indicated chair after replying.
"So, what's your name? How old are you?"
"I... I'm Ella. I'm 13."
"I see. I'm Siel von Kroitel, heir to the Kroitel barony. Are your mom and dad gone?"
Ella suddenly started sniffling at my words.
I hurriedly patted her back to soothe her.
After quite a while, she calmed and stopped sobbing.
"They passed last winter from lack of food. Then, by Bailiff's order, I had to pay a death tax, so he took our house and the remaining cow..."
What? Even blinded by greed and power, this was insane.
Unlike nobles like us, he needed at least minimal village support—yet he ignored it, stripping an orphan's last assets under "death tax"?
Right after her parents died, while she grieved?
This defied common sense, ethics, morality—it was "just kill me" levels of madness.
Regardless of my inner thoughts, her story continued.
"Right after the priest's mass, the bailiff brought my brother and me here to work."
"Work? What kind?"
"I cooked as the lady ordered, cleaned, laundered, spun thread. Sewed clothes too, but got beaten a lot for mistakes. And my brother Zack worked the bailiff's fields with other serf men, day and night without rest, until he collapsed from exhaustion."
Ella sobbed again, recalling the horror.
She hadn't finished, but... he must have died.
That damned Bailiff Mars wouldn't care if a worthless serf boy died—he'd just work him to death.
"He died, huh..."
"Yes, a few days ago I went to the stable straw where he lay, and he was weakly breathing hard. I held his hand, and he said, 'Sis, sis... I want the porridge full of wheat Mom made.' Then he passed shortly after. When I tearfully told the bailiff Zack died, he beat me, saying not to cry over a rice-waster dying."
Even in that old salt flat slave scandal, they didn't kill like this—just worked them like slaves. This was beyond words.
He overworked an 11-12-year-old worse than adults, intentionally killing the boy, but kept Ella alive for her looks' "value."
Or maybe to use her as a connection to real nobles like me, living in the clouds.
By then, she approached, crying before me.
"Young Master, why... Why did this happen to Zack and me? We always thanked the lord and bailiff... Why? Why... Zack, Zack, Dad, Mom..."
My heart grew heavy.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't "my tragedy," so I could dodge responsibility with "not my fault."
But Siel von Kroitel couldn't escape it.
Because he ruled this land.
The next lord sworn to protect them in exchange for their taxes and his wealth/glory.
Tears began falling from my eyes, one, two drops.
Ella panicked at the sight and dabbed them with her dress sleeve.
Up close, her nicely shaped breasts came into view, but...
No arousal, no lewd thoughts.
Just the urge to smash that damned bailiff.
Even in this lawless feudal world, how could he illegally seize an orphan's last assets?
And more outrageously, openly kill her little brother.
I'd tried to hold back, but this was unbearable.
Sending this girl expecting me to say "Thanks for the tribute, Bailiff"—that bastard needed to die ASAP, every minute, every second.
After gently wiping my tears, she returned to her seat and said.
"Thank you, Young Master... Thank you."
"For what?"
Ella smiled dazzlingly bright, her voice full of pathos.
"It's the first time since Mom and Dad died that someone's listened to my heart. I always tried to be strong for Zack, never showed weakness. Thank you, Young Master."
Then, before me, she reached for her dress strap, loosening it over her right breast to undress.
I quickly grabbed her hand to stop her, saying—foolish words perhaps in her world where protecting "love" never worked.
"That's for someone you truly love. Someone you want to spend life with, overcome illness together, share laughs in joy. So, not now. It's okay."
Ella's teary eyes sparkled.
"Really?"
I placed a hand on her head, stroked gently with a wry smile.
"Yes. Rest easy. Want to stay in my room till morning?"
"Yes..."
Ella's expression shed its prior sorrow and resentment.
Relieved, serene—like someone who'd suffered lifelong agony grasping a moment's peace.
I stayed up all night, reassuring her.
Not that we had that relation, but I wanted to.
Eventually, we both drifted off—she on the bed, me in the chair, no telling who first.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The next day, I left the castle amid the bailiff's farewell.
A day later, I returned to his house.
To punish that dog in human skin.