Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Protagonist is a Villain
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Although I personally beat the wife to death, the tenant farmer Valpa was beheaded by the soldiers. From the way he refused to leave her side, it seemed their marriage was a happy one. May that fine harmony continue well into the afterlife.
The daughters were to remain locked in the basement prison until the slave trader arrived. Of course, since I'd need some company, I assigned Aira to the cell next door.
Right now, Aira's acting skills were at their absolute peak, perfectly embodying the essence of a madwoman. I wondered if she only did it when I came to check her status. The daughters, oblivious to the fact that I'd turned their parents into chunks of meat and planned to sell them into slavery, were pleading to be moved to a different room.
"Um, what's with that woman? She's too scary! Please move us to another room. Anywhere but next to her!"
Even as the daughters wailed like this, Aira, thrilled at my arrival, ramped up her deranged performance.
"KEEK! KIIIIIEEK! KYAAAH!"
If I didn't have the ability to open her status window, I'd have been convinced she was insane and sold her off to a brothel. Her stats were still functioning normally, though—Aira was simply deep in her madwoman act.
A few days later, the slave trader arrived and appraised the daughters. Robin wasn't involved in the process, and the trader was an outsider. Confirming no one else was in the basement prison but us, I asked quietly,
"Does cutting their tendons lower the price?"
"Well, female slaves mostly end up in brothels anyway, so it won't drop too much. Their faces are decent, and their figures are usable—might even fetch a higher price."
"Perfect, then. Cut 'em."
I didn't want them escaping, eating well, and living it up—that would piss me off. Better to thoroughly ruin their lives for good. Who cared where the trader sold them? Robin and Sieri would be satisfied they were gone and wouldn't give a damn what happened after.
I didn't need to track every criminal's fate anyway—if they were found in a brothel later, I could just play dumb.
Using the technician the slave trader brought, the tenant farmer's daughters became crippled with every tendon in their limbs severed. He assured me measures were taken to prevent natural healing, so escape was impossible now.
"How about cutting out their tongues so they can't spout nonsense?"
"Slaves who can't speak fetch less."
"I'll sell 'em cheap. Just do it."
Money wasn't the point anyway. The daughters, already limp in their limbs, went into full-blown hysterics as the tongs and scissors approached. Gagged, their words were muffled, but they were probably cursing me out.
Aira, in the next cell, watched the scene, dropped her madwoman act, and gaped in shock. The technician struggled with their resistance, so I stepped up and slapped one across the face. Her jaw wrenched open with a single blow.
The slave trader grimaced.
"Jaw's dislocated."
"You can reset it, right?"
"Sure, but once it's popped once, it'll happen often. Slaves with conditions like that get discounted."
I grabbed the hair of the one whose jaw was still intact and whispered,
"See that? Resist sloppily, and I'll rip out every tooth."
The remaining one opened her mouth on her own and squeezed her eyes shut.
Another round of screams echoed. Aira clutched the iron bars, trembling.
The slave trader stuffed hemostatics into the daughters' mouths—now slaves—and pointed at Aira.
"Selling that one too? I'll give you double their combined original price."
Aira shook her head furiously and fled to the corner. Dropped the act entirely? I shook my head.
"No. Still need her for something."
"Understood. Keen eye you've got."
The slave trader nodded, bound the daughters with the technician. The two, drained of energy, just panted with unfocused eyes. I told the trader,
"Sell them outside the southern region if possible."
"Got it. We're off, then."
With that, the slave trader left the basement. Now it was just me and Aira. The moment he was gone, she started screeching again.
"KEEK... KIIIIIEEK!"
How do I break that habit?
They say the whip is the best medicine. After grabbing one tenant farmer, beating him, and confiscating his wealth, the next day another showed up with four cartloads of taxes. After that, every farmer who came brought the same amount, as if they'd coordinated.
They were definitely communicating.
Compared to the first one who'd tried to fleece me, it was several times more.
I stood before them, twirling my mace. The tenant farmers stared at it spinning in my hand like they were hypnotized. They knew—one swing of that mace had ended the other couple. And if I got pissed off right here, they'd all suffer the same fate.
"Good work, everyone. You may or may not have heard the sad news about... uh, Valpa trying to deceive me last time. I have no intention of monitoring your yields. That would betray the trust between us, wouldn't it?"
"Y-Yes! Exactly!"
"That's right!"
They shouted back in unison, voices laced with the certain knowledge that screwing up now meant real doom. The bloodstains from Valpa's execution were still there. I casually stepped over and ground my heel into one.
"So, I hope you'll keep paying your taxes honestly from now on. No hassle for either side. You know if I just do my job, I won't bother you."
This wasn't me imitating the bailiff. Lucius's territory had run smoothly, save for these tax-dodging bastards. The people weren't crushed by heavy taxes, and security was solid.
The only downside was bandit groups at the borders, but even they feared Lucius enough not to mess around.
There's a saying: Xiao Gui Cao Sui. After Chancellor Xiao He of the Han Dynasty died, Cao Shen took over. But Cao just drank and slacked off. When subordinates asked why, he said,
"Xiao He's already set everything up perfectly. Why would I mess with it?"
True to his word, things ran fine without him lifting a finger. Cao died without doing much, yet earned fame as a great chancellor. If something works fine untouched, no need to interfere.
Except for these tax-evading worms.
"Got it!"
"We'll keep it in mind!"
And right now, these worms were trembling under me. Replacing a dead tenant farmer meant new contracts—and new ones would likely get greedy too.
These guys were already living well, so one warning was enough to keep them in line. Once they've tasted the sweet life, they'll fight to hold onto it. Plus, with years farming this land, they knew efficient routines. Letting them live and just collect taxes was good for my image and kept my workload light.
"Off you go, then."
I dismissed them without inspecting. Even a rough glance showed enough sacks to fill the warehouse, lined up from the courtyard to the main road. I had servants and soldiers haul them in. Seeing the warehouse full warmed my heart. I smiled contentedly at it.
Now the dilemma: what to do with Aira. She kept up the madwoman shrieking, and if I ignored her much longer, she'd escalate to worse antics. Time to take action.
Why urgently?
⚔ STATUS ⚔ 📛 Name: Aira 💼 Job: Con Artist ❤️ Favorability: 0 ⭐ Level: 6 ⚡ Strength: 3 💨 Agility: 7 🧠 Intelligence: 4 🍀 Luck: 0 Traits: Acting
> Can impersonate other jobs.
> Currently impersonating: Madwoman
Method Acting
> She is fully immersed in her performance.
> Struggles to distinguish acting from reality; occasionally exhibits unintended abnormal behavior.
> Original job trait deactivated. Intelligence reduced.
Imprisoned
> Currently restrained and confined. Penalties applied to stats.
She was going mad in real time. A few days ago, she still had some spark in her eyes despite the shrieking, but now they were truly glazed over. She'd grin insanely, then scream in shock at herself. If she fully lost it, I couldn't even sell her to a brothel for full price—no one wants to fuck a real lunatic.
It'd be a waste to let all the time invested in her go down the drain like that. I needed to fix this fast.
I took Sieri down to the basement first. She clung tightly to me, unnerved by the damp, eerie atmosphere. The fragrance from her body soothed my mind.
"L-Lord? Where is this place?"
"This is a hellish spot where sinners are locked away. They come here to reflect on their crimes."
Aira seemed to think I'd brought Sieri to mock her. She bellowed more hysterically than usual, pounding the bars like a caged chimp on a rampage. I grimaced at the sight. Sieri recoiled in fright, and I steadied her back while pointing at Aira.
"See that? That sinner's imprisoned here for trying to rob the territory's warehouses."
"Ahh, my lord... it's too scary."
"KIIIIIEEK! KYAAAAH!"
Sieri plastered herself against me at the noise, which set Aira off into an even wilder frenzy. People get ugly when consumed by rage. That screech was no act—it was genuine fury. I stroked Sieri's hair as she asked,
"My lord, that person seems too far gone to even understand her crimes. Couldn't we just release her?"
"You're still too innocent to the world, Sieri. She's only pretending to be mad to escape her sins."
"KYAAAAAHH! KYAAAAAHH!"