Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Benevolent Survivalism
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"Is it okay if you don't meet the other family members?"
"Yes. With Mother in that state, I can guess what Father would say without seeing him, and for my siblings... I don't want to burden them unnecessarily."
"I heard you used up all the talants you had for going out. Must be a shame now that it's come to this."
"It's fine. I can earn more talants, and honestly, it feels like a relief now. I won't waste any on writing letters anymore. Ah."
Mophin pulled a few coins from his pocket.
Before heading out, he had exchanged all his talants into coins.
In other words, this was Mophin's entire fortune.
It was just enough to maybe borrow some straw to sleep on.
"Come to think of it, these are left."
"...Coins?"
"Money from exchanging talants. I originally meant to give it to my family, but..."
Mophin stared blankly at the coins.
His expression showed deep thought.
And after a moment, he held them out to Crouch.
"Since I borrowed your bed, I'd like to give these to you, Sir Crouch."
"...What am I supposed to do with pocket change like that? It's barely enough for a piss-tainted fake beer."
"Real piss?"
"...It's just filthy, watery, thick swill."
"Aha."
"Haa..."
Crouch sighed and grimaced.
Then, he snapped irritably.
"Damn it. If you're awake, get up."
"Yes?"
"Don't dirty my bed anymore."
"Ah. Yes! Sorry!"
Mophin jumped out of bed in a hurry.
"You have to get up after 12 hours anyway, so use that money and figure out the rest yourself."
"Yes! Got it!"
"And forget everything you heard about my past today."
"Got it! I'll keep it secret that you're a former slave, Sir Crouch!"
"...Forget it."
"Yes!"
Crouch's head throbbed.
.
.
.
"Your Excellency. The slave who went out has returned."
"Ah, good."
The first outing was over.
A memorable first outing.
I wanted to check directly what had happened outside.
But verifying a slave's outing personally
could interfere with slaves freely buying outing rights.
So I called the watcher instead.
"Your Excellency. You called?"
"Yes. Uchiya."
"...Yes?"
"It's a nickname. Nickname."
Soldier Crouch.
This man was chosen directly by the 'original' I possessed.
True to being picked by trash, he was trash.
No hesitation in killing people,
and he trampled the dignity of those beneath him without a second thought.
Honestly, it creeped me out.
The first time I saw this soldier's past, I nearly vomited.
But,
even so, I sent this man as the watcher.
Because there was something I wanted to confirm.
"Hold out your hand."
"Yes."
I didn't need to hear a report.
I removed the glove from my right hand and grabbed Crouch's.
A full day's memories flowed into me.
"...Fuck."
And the moment I read those memories,
I slightly regretted creating the outing rights.
This world was still brutally
far more horrific than my vague imaginings.
"...Don't answer. Just listen."
"..."
"Mophin was a devoted slave to his family. He sold himself to a slave trader to support them."
Crouch didn't know Mophin's past.
He had heard some stories from Mophin during their talk,
and guessed some circumstances from watching,
but he had no idea how devoted Mophin truly was to his family.
He only understood vaguely.
On the other hand,
I had already read Mophin's past before he went out.
I knew how much talant he wrote about in his letters.
"After getting talants, the first thing he bought besides bread was the right to write letters to his family. Once a month, sometimes every two weeks, even without replies. He could have doubted if his letters even arrived since there were no responses, but he kept spending talants anyway."
I didn't know Mophin's heart.
My ability read past circumstances,
not current feelings with some convenient mind-reading.
I could guess the person from their past,
but I couldn't truly communicate properly with anyone.
I only anticipated vaguely.
On the other hand,
Crouch had an honest conversation with Mophin while lending him his bed.
He knew how pure-hearted Mophin was.
"The faint hope that his letters 'might' reach his family. He spent enough talants for that hope to eat white bread freely."
What I do is balance that knowledge.
Not me,
but this soldier Crouch needed to know.
Intentionally or not,
it was Crouch who comforted Mophin's heart.
He opened up honestly about his own past,
cautiously unlocked his heart's door,
and awakened new value in Mophin, who had lost his family.
This soldier did that.
"In his childhood, family was all he could rely on. To keep his younger siblings from chimney sweeping, he begged, did hard labor, and stole from a young age without discrimination. That's the kind of person he was. And that's what he lost on this outing."
"..."
"...The city's bridges have no nets to prevent slave suicides."
The city has a small river running through its center.
Polluted with all sorts of waste and filth, it's more like thick jelly than water.
The current is slow, and the stench is awful.
But it was rough enough to swallow human lives.
If Mophin, having lost everything,
glanced down at that pitch-black river while crossing a bridge,
what happened next was easy to imagine.
The monumental first outing right
would have become a ticket to 'suicide without a net.'
"You became that slave's safety net."
"..."
"You saved Mophin. You protected my property. You did well."
This soldier's petty whim and pity saved Mophin.
I was grateful.
Truly, endlessly grateful.
"I only did my duty as Your Excellency's soldier."
"Carrying a collapsed slave on your back, bringing him home, and laying him in bed wasn't your duty."
"..."
"Crouch. You're a good man."
"...Thank you."
"But flattery isn't what you expect, is it."
And,
House Riddle's way of showing gratitude is set.
"Name your reward. Anything short of a slave's price, I'll grant."
Money.
I couldn't give enough for a slave,
but half of half would still be substantial.
That alone would be a fine reward.
"I..."
The soldier pondered.
Gold? Goods? Cash?
Maybe rights.
Ambition for higher status as a soldier.
And the soldier's answer was something I never expected.
"I'd like to be the watcher for the next slave's outing too."
"...Hm?"
"That's it. I only did my job, so I don't want more reward. I'm paid to protect Your Excellency's property; taking bonus pay for doing my job would shame me."
"That's truly all you want?"
"Yes."
"..."
Something incomprehensible happened.
.
.
.
"...This is weird."
"Pardon?"
"Weird. The 'Crouch' I knew... wasn't that kind of man."
"Do you know that soldier personally?"
"Yeah."
"Ah. Well, he was a soldier you hired directly."
Not for that reason.
The Crouch I knew... was one of the villains killed by the protagonist.
Precisely, a minor extra not even labeled a villain.
Appearing as a subordinate of Golden Ear 'Karl Riddle',
treating human lives like bugs. Trash.
Third-rate villain.
That was Soldier Crouch's role.
"Crouch is trash. He knows no honor, cherishes his own life, but treats others' like flies."
"...Then why send him as watcher?"
"Felt a bit of shared sympathy."
"Pardon?"
"His last line stuck with me too."
Crouch is a third-rate villain.
Even his final line in the novel was pathetically third-rate.
["I just... loyally served Count Riddle, who gave me my role..."]
Serving evil makes one evil.
Crouch, who killed and oppressed without hesitation those begging for life, is surely a villain.
I don't deny that.
I just wanted to check.
"Crouch faithfully followed my orders for murder and persecution."
"..."
"So I wondered if he'd faithfully follow good orders too. If he's truly 'ordinary evil' or just a 'wicked man' satisfying bloodlust under orders. That's why I ordered him to protect the slave."
When Mophin's mother started beating him,
Crouch could have killed her.
To protect noble property.
A mere beggar nearly damaged a noble's asset.
Killing her on the spot would raise no issue.
"But he was more ordinary than I thought."
Yet Crouch didn't kill Mophin's mother.
He showed more ordinary altruism than I imagined.
Prioritizing lifting a fallen slave
over killing.
He's no murderer at heart.
Just an ordinary soldier with no aversion to killing.
"...Why check that?"
"To survive."
A lord is responsible for his soldiers' misdeeds.
A master for his slaves'.
Surviving the protagonist
won't happen just by me being good.
So,
I want my soldiers good too.
When the protagonist comes,
I want them able to beg:
'I've lived so diligently,'
'As hard as I killed, I protected just as hard,'
'So spare me.'
"If possible, surviving together would be even better..."