Opportunity
In front of a warehouse in the slum village scarred by traces of slaughter, Cael kicked aside the shattered door and stepped inside. In the dark, damp interior, dozens of villagers trembled in terror, bound with ropes. They were lives discarded like luggage, toys for the bandits to sell into slavery.
Oliver darted forward nimbly, beginning to untie their bonds.
"Woof!!"
"Hah... clever pup... reading my mind now, are you?"
But the joy of liberation was overshadowed by the warehouse's horrors. Some lay cold as corpses on the floor, while in the corners, women stared blankly into space, their eyes unfocused after unspeakable torments. The survivors clutched their dead families, weeping silently.
Cael leaned against the warehouse wall, silently gazing at the hellish scene.
The Shipman Mountain Range from his past life as the Heavenly Demon, Cheon Woo-jin. His Heavenly Demon Cult had strictly forbidden such meaningless, disgusting violations. Though the Demonic Cult was ruled by the law of strength and brutality by nature, Woo-jin's modern sensibilities couldn't tolerate such barbarism. He had straightened the crumbling doctrines through bloody purges, prioritizing the people's livelihood, forming merchant caravans instead of pillaging, and striving to make the cult a place worth living in—with a human touch.
It wasn't easy crushing and reforming those who went mad with slaughter, but most followers ultimately embraced his new path. Of course, he met a futile end to betrayal by power-hungry subordinates, but his legacy in the cult wasn't in vain. Disguised in shabby commoner clothes, wandering the streets where low-ranking devotees lived, he'd felt pride in the lively human scent.
But this scene before him crossed a line Cael couldn't allow. Even in a forsaken slum on the outskirts, this was too wretched for something happening in a duke's territory.
"Weger, Roben. Come here if you've kept any alive."
At Cael's call, the two approached after finishing first aid on Cardor. Cael pulled a pouch of gold coins from his bosom and placed it in Roben's hand. Though bedridden for years, as the Restis duke's heir, he lacked for nothing in portable wealth.
"These villagers don't even have proper food. You two, mount up now, ride to the nearest intact village, and buy plenty of rations, blankets, clean water, and medicines."
"Yes, Young Master! We'll be right back!"
Roben and Weger grabbed the pouch and spurred their horses out of the clearing. Cael and Ella led the remaining people out to the open space, tending to them with care—boiling warm water, cleaning wounds, soothing shattered nerves.
And at last.
"Ma, Mars! Lia!!"
A middle-aged woman came running wildly from the village edge, covered in dust. It was Mari the nursemaid, who had hurried back without rest, fearing she might be late after meeting the young master. Her eyes caught sight of her husband and daughter resting safely beside Cael.
"Darling...!"
"Mommy!"
Mari burst into tears, rushing to embrace her family. The fact that they breathed, alive and whole—the tears shed confirming each other's warmth—were heartbreakingly beautiful. Ella, too, sniffled, wiping endless tears at the touching reunion.
Cael merely watched with arms crossed, silent.
But the fortunate atmosphere in the slum clearing didn't last.
"Th-that bitch...! What right does that bitch have crawling back here!"
A man weeping over his family's corpses in the corner glared at Mari with bloodshot eyes and shouted. His cry drew all eyes—crushed by grief and fear—to her.
"Right! It's all her fault!"
"You! If you hadn't lived here, my husband wouldn't have suffered like this!"
Sharp blame and curses poured from the villagers' mouths. It was human frailty, desperate to pin their catastrophe on someone. Knowing the bandits had targeted Mari's family as bait, they heaped all misfortune on her, fists clenching stones in rage.
Mari bowed her head like a criminal, clutching her family, tears streaming endlessly.
Then, Cael's cool voice cut through the uproar.
"Quiet."
The modest volume carried heavy, resonant inner power and presence, silencing the clamor instantly. Cael stepped slowly in front of Mari, looking down at the villagers.
"Think the bandits wouldn't have come without Mari? That's delusion, you fools."
No one dared speak to the duke's son.
"Someone else would have raided this hamlet anyway. Can you deny it?"
Cael was utterly right. Slum villages were prime spots for slavers and bandits to hunt slaves.
The villagers fell mute as clamped bees.
"Be grateful Mari was here to save your necks at least. Don't think you're the only ones wronged by disaster. The world is unfair by nature. You're the lucky ones."
At Cael's firm rebuke, a grief-maddened boy of about ten pounded the ground, wailing.
"You, born to a high duke's house, feasting lavishly, can speak so easily before us worms' deaths!! Do you know our injustice, Young Master?! My sister was raped and killed by those bastards!! Sob... How do I bear this grudge!!"
Cael's eyes darkened deeply at the plea.
"First, no words of comfort. Nothing would soothe you... But..."
Cael met the boy's gaze squarely.
"Do you truly think that?"
Cael stepped closer.
"Before your age, I was poisoned. Until months ago, I wandered death's edge."
The boy's eyes widened.
"I didn't even know my poisoner's face, writhing nightly in agony. Too young for a sword or resistance, trapped in a tiny room, gasping pain with every breath, awaiting death."
The villagers' eyes bulged at Cael's calm confession.
"That misery came not from sin, but solely for being born a Restis. Without Mari and Ella beside me, I'd be dead."
Cael's voice weighed heavy on the clearing.
"Not just me. An honest merchant falls to a bandit's blade by ill luck; a young soldier dies to an unseen arrow on the battlefield. Some perish unjustly in the womb, never seeing light. And the terminally ill?"
Cael's gaze swept the resentful faces.
"Death visits all equally, but its time and place never do. Mari's fault? No. Without her, it was inevitable tragedy for powerless folk like you."
The crowd held its breath.
"Count your luck. I happened to come save you."
Truth be told, Cael hadn't wanted to say so much. But the original Cael's lingering grudge cried out for the self-blaming Mari.
'Not your fault, nursemaid.'
Cael drove the wedge home to the seated people.
"To some, your starving gasps now are the tomorrow they desperately dream of. Instead of blaming others, stand on your legs. I'll help you walk. Don't waste your short lives whining in the gutter."
The Heavenly Demon's commanding weight who ruled the martial world. The overwhelming dignity from the duke's great heir. Before that immense presence, the slum folk bowed, gradually swayed.
Cael extended a hand to the fallen.
"I'll give you a choice. Men: chance to live honorably as duke's servants or guards. Women: work as maids, free from hunger. Well? Still wallow in filth, blaming others like beasts till death?"
Not mere words—a real offer. Flickers of hope kindled amid the slum folk's wavering eyes.
Thus, the flames of blame against Mari died, the village uproar resolved—for now.
Hours later, with Weger and Roben returned laden with food and supplies, relief efforts wrapped up. Cael's group bound the still-unconscious Cardor tightly with thick ropes, slinging him like baggage over a horse's rear.
Mari and her family had no reason to stay in this nightmare slum. Cael decided to take them back to the ducal residence, keeping them by his side.
As the party slowly rode toward Vollex Castle, Ella, leading her horse, asked cautiously.
"Young Master, about what you said at the warehouse... You really plan to hire those villagers if they come to the estate?"
"Of course—words from my mouth are real. You'll oversee the maid hiring exams, Ella."
"Whaaat!?"
Ella's eyes widened like saucers; Weger walking beside guffawed, clutching his belly.
"Puhahaha! You as maid recruiter? This'll be a show!"
As Ella bristled at the teasing, Cael's chill voice pierced Weger's ear.
"Not funny. You're on guard hiring duty."
"Whaaat!?"
Suddenly interviewers, the two panicked, calling to Cael.
"Y-Young Master! If fifty-plus from that village swarm the estate gate, how do we handle it!?"
Cael smirked at his flustered subordinates.
"Haha, who knows. I guarantee: if even one or two show, that's a crowd. No worries."
"Huh?"
Ella tilted her head, puzzled. Cael gazed ahead, explaining flatly.
"Harsh to say, but those with grit to escape the gutter on their own would've left long ago. The ones still there lack will or guts—or have inescapable reasons."
"Ah..."
"Even when opportunity knocks, few overcome fear to seize it."
Ella and Weger nodded silently at Cael's cold, sharp insight.
"Don't fret. You two snatched the chance I offered amid the annex hell—and proved my judgment right."
Cael's gentle praise drew an irrepressible grin from Ella.
"Yes, Young Master!!"
Weger scratched his head sheepishly, chuckling.
Amid the warm exchange, peace reigned briefly on the road.
"Groan..."
The massive baggage slung upside-down behind the saddle writhed, groaning in pain. Cardor, mortally wounded but clinging to life with Expert vitality, regained consciousness.
His hazy eyes spotted Cael leisurely riding ahead; he stiffened.
Cael turned, looking down with a wicked smile.
"Oh, awake at last. Slept like a baby. My crew missed their shot at questions thanks to you."
Sweat beaded down Cardor's spine at Cael's grinning eyes. Cael whispered low.
"Now... I have questions myself. I get it—won't talk even dying. Change your mind, speak up. Got it?"
Cael's menacing aura loomed, fist clenched overhead. Realizing the monster he'd provoked, Cardor yelled desperately.
"...W-Wait!! I'll answer everything! No fists first!!"
Cael blinked wide, feigning regret.
"Hm? Where's the fun in that...?"