Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Life is the Gaze
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Overseer.
He had once been called by that title. It was a job that involved watching slaves, whipping them, coaxing and soothing them into labor.
He loved his job.
The desire to stand above others was a fairly common one,
but his was particularly strong.
He enjoyed the sight of slaves trembling at a single lash of the whip, glancing nervously at him. Watching them scurry about at his every word gave him a pleasure that cleansed his mind.
He loved power. He loved authority. He loved coercion. He loved giving orders.
Being a slave overseer suited him perfectly.
But.
Not every day can be as warm as spring,
so suddenly,
without any just cause, he was fired from his position as overseer.
And by none other than the lowly slaves who had been under his command, beaten savagely at that.
It was humiliating.
To be subjected to violence by mere slaves who should have submitted to his rule and brutality.
The overseer—no, now just an "ordinary man"—felt deeply wronged.
It was the kind of offense that could warrant the death penalty for tarnishing a great noble's honor,
but if he could think so "rationally," he wouldn't have kicked away such a fine job with his own two feet in the first place.
The man was excessively self-centered,
and thus struggled to accept this abrupt change in his circumstances.
'So what if I took a slave's belongings... what's the big deal?'
Even the phrase "a slave's belongings" felt utterly absurd to him from the start.
Slaves were mere property—how could property own anything?
Of course, high-grade slaves used in government offices received treatment befitting their price,
but a mere farm slave had no need for possessions.
Farm slaves were consumables, to be used up and discarded upon death anyway.
To humiliate and cast him out over something so trivial as a consumable—it infuriated him.
"You must never show yourself in His Excellency's sight again."
"Th-thank you for sparing me... I will live the rest of my life grateful for His Excellency's mercy..."
But he wasn't foolish enough to voice such thoughts.
To Torsso, the adjutant dragging him away alongside burly slaves, the man bowed his head obsequiously, feigning gratitude.
But.
Torsso's gaze upon him was ice-cold.
It was the look one might give a bug.
"Mercy? You speak strangely."
"Pardon?"
"His Excellency said he never wants to see you again. All of House Riddle is His Excellency's eyes. He oversees every part of the house. Did you think vanishing from this spot would be enough?"
"What do you...?"
No. The man truly was a bug.
A bug that gnawed at the Riddle family's assets, nothing more.
How could sparing a filthy bug from being crushed by hand be called mercy?
It was disgust.
If the bug ever crossed his sight again, it wouldn't end with merely spraying insecticide.
"Live like a dead rat."
"......"
"From now on, you will never be allowed to use any business bearing the Riddle family name. You won't buy anything from our trading companies, use any facilities we operate, or work at any of our enterprises. You must never enter His Excellency's gaze."
"......"
"Don't think of this as a threat. It's a declaration. If you fail to properly carry out His Excellency's command and defile his sight again, no amount of tearing you apart would suffice as retribution."
House Riddle was a merchant house.
They commanded distribution networks spanning the entire empire, operated countless farms and businesses, and never hesitated to dip into anything profitable.
In other words, this was a death sentence.
At the very least, it meant to live like the dead.
"That's..."
"If you have any complaints about this measure, speak up. Then I'll send you to a place where you can 'never' defile His Excellency's sight again."
"Living quietly like a dead rat in the countryside has been my lifelong dream."
But dying later was better than dying now.
They couldn't monitor him 'for life' forever anyway,
so he could just live quietly in the countryside for a while, then slip away to some decent city.
Life was precious.
Surviving in any way possible was what mattered most.
"We'll be watching."
"Yes."
.
.
.
After that, the man lived as quietly as possible, avoiding any ties to House Riddle.
He used the money he'd earned, saved, and siphoned as an overseer to buy a small farm,
and did his best to survive in some fashion.
But innate nature can't be changed,
and in the end, he committed an irredeemable mistake.
It started when a slave he'd bought to run the farm accidentally brushed against him while transporting goods under his watch.
"Hah. What's this? Insulting me?"
"S-sorry!"
"A slave... talking back?"
"Pardon?"
The man beat the slave mercilessly for daring to bump shoulders without immediately dropping to his knees and bowing his head.
He lashed with a whip and kicked the stomach.
As if repaying the humiliation he'd suffered from slaves at House Riddle,
he abused the slave until he was out of breath.
"Hoo... That feels better now..."
"Ugh..."
There was one minor issue:
The slave, who hadn't even been fed properly, wasn't healthy enough to survive a beating like the man's.
The slave died.
"Damn it. Dead from just that? What a waste of money."
For a small farm that didn't use many slaves,
losing one was a critical blow.
He needed to buy a replacement.
He couldn't very well till the fields and harvest crops with his own hands.
Better to sell the farm, blow all the money, and bite his tongue off in death than do hard labor.
But.
The market showed him no mercy.
In other words,
it was telling him to bite his tongue and die.
"Why... are slaves so expensive?"
"Lately, House Riddle has been buying up every slave on the market. Even the Parkinson family, our biggest supplier, has a direct contract with House Riddle to sell slaves."
"......"
Slave prices had skyrocketed.
And the few available were mostly sickly, low-quality ones.
The man, who had planned to buy a cheap one and train it, now regretted beating the slave to death in his rage.
"If you need slaves for the farm anyway, why not just rent from House Riddle? It's cheaper than buying outright."
"...Ah. No, that's fine."
"I get wanting outright ownership, but these days everyone rents. No upfront costs, return them in the off-season—no upkeep. The downside is compensating if they die, but pay a bit for insurance when renting, and it's covered. Think about it."
"...Yes."
Another farm owner gave him that advice,
but it was meaningless to the man.
Because the owner renting out those slaves was none other than Karl Riddle.
"......"
Only then did the man notice the changing times.
While he'd been ousted from his overseer post and fled to an obscure countryside corner,
House Riddle had voraciously devoured businesses across the empire.
They produced meat for Golden Day to build religious prestige,
suppressed rebels and reported them to the imperial court for secular renown,
and effectively monopolized the empire's slave trade, cultural ventures, and food production, endlessly swelling their wealth.
And.
The financiers who had replaced the Vaultkeeper house and were expanding their influence were said to be under Karl Riddle's command.
"What in the world..."
Could he borrow money from a bank to buy slaves?
The banks that had absorbed the "Vaultkeepers" in the empire were little more than insane loan sharks.
Borrow to run the farm,
and he'd lose the farm, end up penniless on the streets.
And.
The few "conscionable" banks
belonged to House Riddle, which he couldn't use.
The moment he registered his name and opened an account,
for daring to defile His Excellency's sight,
that adjutant Torsso would erase him from the world.
"......"
Only then did the man finally understand His Excellency's parting words.
["You have no idea what it means to survive. You don't grasp that struggling to survive isn't just about saving your neck this instant—that someone like you could never understand. I almost envy your inability to distinguish between a beast's survival and a human's."]
Surviving.
Not merely escaping death in the moment, but truly living life.
That meant
living within His Excellency's gaze.