Chapter 165
Chapter 165
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 165
Chapter Title: Xiaoshi
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“Lady Melania. That is excessively rude.”
Never mind the informal speech—calling him Ian, of all things.
Even if she was the lady of House Haiman, the most powerful among the nobility, Ian ruled the nation. And among his roles, the most crucial was Minister of the Magic Department. Though a low-ranking noble, he could not be compared to someone treated preciously merely for their bloodline. Not to mention, even the princes were currently relying on his aid.
“Iaaan?”
But Lady Melania called his name once more, as if unconcerned. This time, she raised the end of her words into a question.
As his vision adjusted to the darkness, her expression came into view. She looked puzzled, yet strangely frowning.
“Lady Melania. You appear quite intoxicated.”
“…I suppose so.”
Lady Melania smiled brightly and released Ian’s arm. Yet her gaze remained sticky, scrutinizing his features closely.
“Could it be we’ve met before?”
“If you attended the New Year’s banquet, then yes.”
“Besides that. When we were young.”
“No.”
“I see. My apologies, then. I was wondering for a moment. The name Ian is common enough, but more than that, I couldn’t believe someone as impressive as you could be the same person I knew.”
“I’ll gladly accept the praise, but please be more careful in the future, my lady. It could have been troublesome if others were present.”
High society could turn the slightest breeze into a storm. Never mind her unseemly behavior becoming gossip fodder; worse, it could entangle Ian in some unsavory rumor. Her status as Gail’s woman was public knowledge, after all. That would lead to nothing but headaches.
“I’m sorry.”
Lady Melania smiled brightly and nodded her head. Yet it was true that a sense of familiarity washed over her every time she looked at him. Was it from the New Year’s banquet or elsewhere? But at some point, recalling ‘that boy’ from her memories made it feel as if Ian were wearing a shell.
“Then, take care.”
“Lady Melania.”
“Yes. Minister Ian Hielo.”
Somehow, calling him familiarly felt as if it would reveal the face she knew. Like a spell to lift a curse. She must be drunk, indeed, to entertain such absurd thoughts. Lady Melania stood straight and faced Ian squarely.
“Do you know of Second Prince Gail’s curse?”
“…Of course.”
Beyond the public knowledge, Gail’s personal hardship that he kept hidden. Lady Melania paused briefly before smiling widely.
“As it concerns the rise and fall of Bariel, I shall assist with all my heart.”
It seemed Lady Melania knew the true nature of Gail’s curse. But that was it. After a perfunctory courtesy of deeper involvement, she departed. Ian, too, left the palace without hesitation.
* * *
“Is this the place?”
“Indeed. It’s a job with room and board provided, so I’ve entrusted the slaves’ management here for now.”
Soon after, Ian arrived at a small slaughterhouse in the commercial district. The main work involved cutting up chunks of meat, disposing of rotten entrails, and draining blood. Starting with the stench, the labor itself was so grueling that hardly any imperial citizens sought it out.
“Come on! Next batch of meat’s here! Cut it quick before the ice melts—move it!”
Most were slaves or of slave origin. The pay was decent enough for the hardship, so it was common for owners to send them. Ian frowned slightly, and Romandro called over the factory overseer.
“Hey, where are our kids?”
“They’re packaging inside.”
“Bring them out for a moment.”
At Romandro’s words, the overseer bowed his head. Even among slaves, lifestyles varied vastly by owner. Those sent here to die or be punished had to toil covered in blood, while others could handle indoor packaging work in relative comfort.
Creak.
Romandro opened the thick iron door and guided Ian inside. Faint chatter echoed from afar—slaves conversing to alleviate boredom during work.
“How far has the investigation into that Pakenus fellow gone?”
There had been no word since the report of illegal slave trading and smuggled goods. Smuggled goods likely included loot from bandits, like Berik’s black sword.
“He’ll be brought to trial soon enough. Then he’ll be executed without ever showing his face.”
“And nothing on the necromancer we know of?”
“The guards investigated, but he says nothing specific about him. I’ll apply a bit more pressure.”
Romandro rubbed his thumb and middle finger in a money-counting gesture. Nothing motivated the slum guards like coin.
Ian nodded and entered the packaging area. It was markedly cleaner and more pleasant than other sections. The absence of a whip in the overseer’s hand said it all.
“Oh, hello.”
“Lord Romandro. Over there.”
“Lord Ian’s here too. Hello.”
The slaves set down their packaging and prostrated themselves in greeting. Ian walked slowly, inspecting the backs of their heads.
“Life treating you well enough?”
“Yes, yes! It feels like paradise, just like the rumors.”
“Living outside iron bars is bliss enough. Th-thank you again. You’ve shown us the joy of work.”
“No need for thanks. Think of it as earning your own ransom.”
It was more accurate to say they were covering the costs of those brought from Pakenus’s group with interest. Once paid off, next they’d work to buy freedom. Managing them was already a hassle, so outsourcing to the slaughterhouse. For Ian, simply paying to free them was gainful.
“B-but what brings you here…?”
Ian ignored the question, surveying only the slaves. Too old or too young were out; frail ones out; overly burly ones out. He needed someone perfect for assassination, plain to see.
“Any among you handy with physical work?”
“Physical work? Xiaoshi’s the best worker here. It’s a shame to have him on packaging—he gets called for slaughter sometimes.”
“He was summoned earlier, so he’s probably at it.”
“You’re spoiled to complain, but the foreman overworks Xiaoshi. He came with us, yet gets dragged off because packaging’s ‘beneath him.’ Can’t be helped as slaves, but isn’t it defying Lord Ian’s orders in the end?”
“Exactly!”
Romandro shouted heatedly at the slave’s words. They had explicitly ordered no slaughter work for their slaves! Ian calmed the raging Romandro, who wanted to summon the overseer, and ordered guidance.
“This way.”
A barefoot slave led the way. Splash, splash—the dry floor grew wet, his footsteps prominent. Ian realized it wasn’t water, but livestock blood.
“This one’s up.”
“Xiaoshi! Get to work!”
“…….”
The overseer pointed his coiled whip at the sleeping beast. Xiaoshi’s profile appeared, standing blankly.
Ash-gray hair and eyes. His jaw clenched rigidly as if refusing the order, staring only at the ground. His vacant gaze was utterly hollow.
“Xiaoshi!”
Crack!
The whip finally lashed his left arm. Xiaoshi gripped his knife firmly and turned his head.
“His eye color’s different.”
Left eye gray, right a pale brown. That must have boosted his price at the slave market.
Xiaoshi swallowed a sigh and groped the cow’s neck. Searching for the vital spot.
Grip.
His trembling hand steadied the knife. Minimizing pain with a single strike was key. Incompetents always drew agonized bellows. Not once since Xiaoshi started.
Swoosh!
“Wait! Hey!”
“Huh, Lord Romandro.”
“You know this breaches the contract? We entrusted them for packaging only.”
“Oh no, it’s not that. We were short-handed today, so I had to pull him.”
“Hey now! I know all about it!”
Xiaoshi’s knife halted mid-air. With the overseer flustered, it was clear his owner had arrived. Xiaoshi’s heterochromatic eyes met Ian’s squarely.
‘Good build, yet lithe. Perfect assassin material. Above all, his demeanor is serious—such men quietly fulfill their duties.’
“No, really! It’s the first time! Right, Xiaoshi?”
The overseer subtly pressured him. Owners came and went, but the overseer was there all day. Playing smart eased life.
“…The seventeenth time.”
But Xiaoshi quietly spoke the truth. Whether out of loyalty to Ian as owner or innate nature, Ian didn’t know. Either way, a satisfying answer.
“Slaves are property in the end. What if this harms their stamina or health?”
“No, that’s not—my apologies.”
“Breaches demand accountability. Romandro.”
At Ian’s call, Romandro bared his front teeth in a grimace from behind. Meaning: overseer, come out. As the overseer scurried after Romandro, silence fell. Only the low breaths of sleeping beasts remained.
“Xiaoshi, was it?”
“…Yes.”
“Where are you from?”
“I don’t know. Born in a slave trader’s jail.”
Born a slave from the start. Ian nodded, glancing at the sleeping beast.
“Good physique. Have you fought before?”
“…Yes.”
“Any talent?”
“Decent enough, it seems. I’m still alive.”
A slave who’d fought meant gladiatorial entertainment, nine times out of ten. Surviving intact proved talent.
“Didn’t enjoy it?”
“…Yes.”
Calm, unlike Berik’s wild energy. As if he knew the weight of words.
“Why?”
“Seeing blood isn’t pleasant.”
Ian smiled at Xiaoshi’s reply. Perfect. Ideal for a performative assassin. Strictly external use—any real blood on guards would give Gail leverage.
“Must be grueling work here.”
“…….”
“Then, how about I assign different work? Think you can handle it?”
At Ian’s question, Xiaoshi raised his head. A man with strangely compelling eyes. Born behind bars, his twisted fate was imaginable.
“Not sure if well, but if ordered, I will.”
“Like the answer.”
Perhaps because he was a slave to the bone. Treating the owner as the world’s center. Ian handed him a handkerchief and added casually.
“You’ll go kill a precious person.”
“…….”
He couldn’t even kill livestock, yet a human? Bewilderment flickered across Xiaoshi’s face. But Ian’s following command.
“But don’t kill. Just walk up on two legs and get captured as is. No need to draw a sword from its sheath. It’s all arranged, so I’ll ensure your safety as much as possible. Well? Will you?”
Suspicious contents aside, an owner asking a slave if they would? Odd, wasn’t it? He bowed his head.
“I will. If it’s my master’s command.”