Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Proof
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Aerial acrobatics are dangerous.
But not as dangerous as losing your freedom and having your wings clipped.
Your wings might not break... your neck might.
If you don't risk your life on an adventure, you can't call yourself truly free.
"The Count of Goldenwood will have a fit if he finds out about this."
"If he's bitter about it, he shouldn't have sold his daughter for money."
"A lady from a central noble house performing in a circus herself... that would stir up quite the fuss. Even treating his fiancée like an asset, teaching her circus tricks, and putting her on stage—I'm impressed by that ruthlessness."
"What."
"Good promotion is worth dozens of times the value of the product itself. Heh heh."
Thanks to that, I've earned some strange misunderstanding... but it's not a bad thing.
Each little misunderstanding like this will add justification to my actions.
'It's hard to call this a truly bad deed.'
My ultimate goal is survival.
So I have to be careful—if my 'infamy' gets too high, the protagonist might kill me...
But for this incident, at least,
there's no real risk of my infamy rising.
It's purely a matter involving 'noble honor.'
'The protagonist isn't a noble. He won't see tarnishing noble honor as an 'evil act.' That's to my advantage.'
Putting a noble in a circus is an insult to noble dignity.
From the perspective of conservative nobles, they'd naturally think, 'That crazy bastard Golden Ear.'
But the protagonist isn't a noble.
This won't draw his aggro.
"Torsso."
"It's Torsso."
And just as my thoughts reached that point,
a new idea suddenly struck me.
"What are things nobles absolutely can't do?"
"Pardon?"
"Like the circus—things they can't do if they care about their noble face. Things that mean abandoning their dignity as nobles. Dishonorable acts. What could those be?"
I taught the slaves 'noble etiquette' and 'propriety.'
So the circus slaves wouldn't end as mere clowns for laughs,
but as stars to be envied—I prepared a lot for that.
And if a slave can learn a noble's role,
then the reverse should be possible too.
"Torsso."
"Yes."
"Among nobles from families with long histories, find ones who've lost their estates, whose houses have fallen into ruin, and who might sell their dignity for money."
"Understood."
There was definitely something like that in the original story.
The heir of a fallen noble house entering the Academy to revive his family—a cliché character called a miser noble.
Such characters aren't limited to the Academy, of course.
It's a turbulent era, after all.
The traditional wealthy landowners lose their property to land reforms, new entrepreneurs and capitalists rise, and one era fades away.
There are plenty of nobles who've suddenly fallen.
And plenty of scoundrels willing to sell their dignity cheap.
So.
I'll buy their dignity at a high price.
"Put a price tag on tradition and honor. The deeper the history, the greater the fame, the more illustrious the name in history—the higher the price I pay."
"Understood."
"I don't need people who refuse money for their flimsy pride. Find nobles who fit House Riddle."
"Are you planning to increase your vassal houses?"
Vassal houses.
Houses subordinate to a lord house, a kind of 'retainer' family.
The Gont House, which has served House Riddle for generations, is one such vassal house.
Torsso's house.
In Gont's case, it's more than a simple vassal house due to blood ties from an ancestor's generation.
"Indeed, now is a fine time to expand vassals. With the success of the tofu business and the circus, our prestige is higher than ever. The house's wealth has grown substantially too, so spending a bit to support new vassals won't be an issue."
Torsso nodded in agreement.
But I shook my head, denying his assumption.
"No. I have no intention of creating vassals."
"Pardon?"
"Lords have a duty to protect their vassals. A vassal's prestige and dignity directly tie to the lord's. It's essentially a contract of mutual dependence. That's just cumbersome, isn't it?"
"......"
What I'd thought of
wasn't a relationship where we protected each other's prestige.
I don't need a noble shield for my endeavors.
I need people who move purely by money, who can outright reject outdated noble customs.
"I'll hire nobles purely with money."
"That will require quite a sum."
"But they'll be far more convenient to use."
"......Understood."
Torsso's expression twisted oddly.
Brows furrowed, corners of his mouth upturned—
that strange smile he makes sometimes.
"As expected... Your Excellency is aiming far higher than I could."
"Huh?"
"I will do my utmost to achieve your goals."
"Yeah, yeah. I trust you, Torsso."
"Yes."
.
.
.
After entrusting the task to Torsso,
I visited the slave dormitory alone.
Torsso is both my valet and my bodyguard.
So I usually moved with him to dangerous places... but
the slave dormitory isn't 'dangerous' to me.
On the contrary, it's a place that allows me to survive.
"You've come, Your Excellency."
"Yes. The slaves are doing well?"
"Yes. They've finished today's work and are resting. A few slaves are diligently studying in the classroom to raise their own value."
"They're doing well."
"Thank you."
After the overseer's greeting, I went inside.
And then,
passing the creaking hallway, I stood before the now-familiar door 'with the lock on the outside.'
A slave is inside.
Suddenly, I recalled the first time I passed this door.
"I don't know. Born into a noble house, receiving meticulous education, I only pondered how to seize power, how to make more money—I couldn't understand your suffering."
The ordinary reader born in a 21st-century greenhouse doesn't know a slave's pain.
Back then, I knew nothing.
I didn't understand what a slave's existence entailed.
So it shocked me quite a bit.
Honestly, I don't even know what mindset I had when I said those words.
I just felt like I had to say them.
"So, I promise."
But I won't remain ignorant from now on.
So I promised.
I swore.
I declared that I wouldn't stay ignorant.
"I will understand you."
Things will change.
I said I would understand.
"You can think of this as a trash noble's nasty prank. Think of it as this guy spouting nonsense because he's high on drugs. You don't have to believe me. You can forget what happened today."
When the protagonist comes to kill me someday, I will become good enough to proudly say I was such a good person, and that you have no right to kill me.
At that moment, becoming a 'good person' became a matter of survival for me.
"I will prove it."
I will survive.
Have I proven I'm qualified to survive?
I'm not sure yet.
I closed my eyes for a moment and recalled everything I'd done so far.
I improved slave treatment, changed perceptions of slaves, made preparations for their future emancipation,
but some of it might have just been self-satisfaction.
So.
I'll ask directly.
"......"
I opened the door.
The slaves who had been laughing and chatting fell silent the moment they saw me and bowed neatly.
It was different from the first time I saw them.
Vitality shone in their eyes. Their bodies pulsed with the vigor of the living, not the trembling of the dying.
I turned my head and met each one's eyes.
And then,
I approached one slave.
"Mophin."
"Yes, Master."
Mophin. The slave who sold himself for his family.
The first one I bought outing rights for,
and through it, realized he'd been abandoned by his family.
My act of goodwill
became a horrific nightmare for this slave.
Some truths
are better left unknown.
If I'd just left him as an ignorant slave,
blindfolded,
gagged,
feet chained,
keeping him from knowing anything,
he never would have felt that miserable sense of abandonment by his family.
So.
I want to ask this slave.
"Come to think of it, the first slave I held hands with that day was you."
"......"
No need to specify which 'day' it was.
All the slaves here would recall the same one.
"This time, I won't remove my gloves. No need to offer your hand. I'm not asking about your past, but about you, standing here now."
"......Yes."
"Have I proven it?"
A cowardly question.
A slave wouldn't dare shake his head at his master.
"Yes. You have understood us, Master."
But even so,
I felt a bit of relief at that answer.
Because the slave giving it was so confident—no one could believe it was a lie.
"......I'm glad."
"Thank you for giving us this chance, Master."
"No need to thank me. In the end, I just saw understanding you as profitable. How could a craftsman who doesn't properly understand the tools he uses sell his wares and make money?"
"It's an honor to be of use to you, Master."
Yes.
This is enough for now.
"......"
As I turned to leave,
I recalled my future plans.
From now on,
it was time for not just me, but other nobles too, to understand slaves.