Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Blasphemous Idea
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The slaves who had finished their dispatch duties during the harvest season returned loaded onto wagons, just as they had been when they left.
They were still being treated like luggage.
But the slaves on the wagons could hardly feel like 'objects' anymore.
They had seen with their own eyes what real objects were subjected to.
Even slaves who had momentarily forgotten their old memories in the joy of happiness,
and slaves who hadn't experienced how 'real' slaves were treated because it hadn't been long since they lost their freedom,
all of them had witnessed that misery.
So how could the slaves think of themselves as 'objects'?
Bound in the rattling wagon alongside the luggage,
the slaves fell into a strange sentiment.
"......"
And the wagon paid no mind to such sentiments from the slaves.
It simply unloaded its cargo in the designated area,
swapped horses at the stables,
sometimes loaded new cargo again,
and transported the slaves to the castle where they were supposed to be kept.
"Welcome back."
And so, the slaves came face-to-face with their master.
Not the overseer,
but the master himself had come out of the mansion to greet the slaves.
It was bizarre.
For the first time, it struck them that Karl Riddle, the Golden Ear, was truly an eccentric master.
"......Yes."
"I heard you showed great results at the Chase Count's estate. There were no losses of hay during the harvest, and you were praised for dividing roles to move it immediately to dry land for drying. The Chase Count raved that it was quality good enough to supply to the army right away. Excellent. With such a fine first result, nobles and wealthy merchants requesting 'dispatch slaves' will increase from now on."
"......Thank you."
"Since you showed good results, additional Talants will be paid."
The master removed his pure white gloves and extended his bare hand forward.
A hand so white and soft it seemed it had never been touched by sunlight.
Their master always grasped the slaves' hands with that hand,
and told them the stories they most wanted to hear.
Sometimes, stories they had never even dared to imagine.
"Extend your hands."
The slaves extended their hands one by one.
The master grasped each hand one by one,
closing his eyes for a moment.
Warmth was felt.
The slaves' hands were rough like sandpaper,
the master's hand soft like silk,
but the warmth was not so different.
If they felt from that, 'the master is also a person like us,'
would that be irreverent?
"You must have worked hard harvesting. Your back hurts, making it hard to bend over, so you had to bend your legs more. From now on, tell me in advance before dispatch. If I send slaves in poor condition and problems arise, it causes losses to the entire business."
"You must have worked hard drying the hay. When spreading the dry hay, you raked it and prepared divided sections in advance to bundle exactly the set amount right away. Excellent. If harvesting is laborious, drying and bundling is meticulous work. That's what truly makes money."
"You sprained your ankle. Prepare for immediate treatment. If left alone and it worsens, it's a bigger loss."
How could this be called the words of a master handling slaves?
Even a merchant dealing in precious metals wouldn't be this attentive to their own goods.
The master's mouth spoke of profits and losses,
but the master's eyes,
the warmth of the hand grasping the slave's hand,
the sadly downturned corners of his mouth,
expressed concern and sorrow toward people.
"......Ah."
Only then did the slaves suddenly realize.
Just as the master didn't see slaves as people,
the slaves had never tried to see the master as a person either.
To slaves, a master was just a whip.
A demon holding their souls.
A shackle on the ankle, handcuffs on the wrist.
"......Thank you. Master."
For the first time in their lives,
the slaves sincerely thanked their master.
"No need to thank me. Your rest time and treatment costs will all be deducted from the Talants you earn."
"......Pardon?"
"This is necessary for your productivity, so I'll collect it forcibly."
The master said so with the cold, ruthless attitude of the world.
Forcing them to spend the Talants they earned,
it was such an outrageously wicked act that
the slaves couldn't suppress the smiles unconsciously spilling out.
"......Take good care of your bodies with the Talants you earned. Understood?"
"Yes!"
Perhaps their master had a somewhat cute side.
.
.
.
"The slaves' performance has dramatically increased. Especially at construction sites, they're showing high results. It seems the main reason is that the slaves' physiques have improved thanks to nutritional enhancements and the recovery room operations."
"That's a relief."
"And some slaves have requested permission to access the chapel within the manor."
"Chapel?"
"Yes."
"......Did we have one of those in our manor?"
"We do. It's not a grand cathedral or bishop's residence, but a place to pray is necessary. I believe it's operated by one priest from the Theocracy."
Such a thing existed.
Even searching Karl's memories, he had no recollection of going to church, so he hadn't known.
Of course, the slaves' memories didn't have it either.
"I don't think I've ever been to such a place."
"House Riddle considers going to church a sin. 'It's harder for a rich man to enter heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle,' and those types throw fits that you'll go to hell if you don't donate."
"Harsh."
"No reason not to be harsh toward parasites. Right now, the support funds the domain takes from that small chapel's operations aren't insignificant. They take at least one gold coin a month. Sometimes more."
"......Aren't priests supposed to live ascetic lives?"
"No word mismatches 'priest' and 'ascetic' more. Monks, maybe."
Was there that much pent-up resentment?
Torsso poured out all sorts of complaints and grudges against the church organization.
For the first time, it struck him that...
for a world where divine power truly exists, religion is operated awfully secularly.
"You can badmouth them like that? Aren't you afraid of God?"
"A god that can't strike you with a bolt of money won't strike with a real bolt, will it?"
"Oh......"
"Creating the world doesn't mean you can run it, and being able to save people doesn't mean you can save everyone. I don't know if heaven really exists, but what's fun about a heaven where you can't gamble? Better to play dice in hell."
"You acknowledge God's existence but not His absoluteness?"
"......Existence? No real need to deny or affirm it, is there? If God made this world, then we exist."
"Ah. True."
Torsso's argument was quite reasonable.
Not denying God's existence or the hard-to-prove fact that 'God created this world,'
while denying the necessity of worship.
Even by 21st-century South Korean standards,
or this era's intellectuals' standards,
it was hard to find fault.
If anything, the moral angle of 'If God made this world, you're God's children, so badmouthing God is unfilial, right?'
"When they rake in that much donation with one miracle, it's laughable calling House Riddle money ghosts."
"Donations......"
"They're the real 'great merchants' selling miracles for money."
Perhaps because God truly exists, religion has no choice but to be more secular.
If visible goods and services exist,
you can sell them for money.
Humans' instinct is to trade anything that can be sold.
Be it people, honor, human rights,
the moment it can be traded, a 'market' emerges.
Markets birth merchants,
merchants bury morals and honor under profit.
"So the church makes that much money......"
"Yes. Indeed."
In his previous life's history,
when the church started issuing indulgences (or cash equivalents) as major events,
those indulgences turned into a sort of insurance product against 'sin debt,'
and consequently led to criticism like 'God isn't a pimp selling heaven for money'—not so strange a story.
"Torsso."
"Yes."
And at that moment, some bizarre idea popped into my head.
It was an irrational idea.
By this world's common sense,
by his previous life's common sense,
no matter how you thought about it, an idea that couldn't possibly be common sense.
No one would accept it,
and if this idea were implemented,
this world's order would be shaken from its roots.
"How much would it cost to buy a church?"
"......Pardon?"
"And how much money is needed to raise one priest?"
"......Well. It's more about connections than money, and even if you bribe a bishop, they wouldn't tolerate threatening their vested interests...... It would take more money than you can imagine. Even putting someone through seminary, if they don't receive divine power from God, they'd be stuck as a mere servant forever."
"What if, just what if......"
To put it plainly, it was a truly violent and blasphemous idea.
"If I made a slave into a priest, would the slave's 'right to administer sacraments' belong to the master?"
"......Pardon?"