Chapter 165
“Miss Melania, your rudeness has gone too far.”
Putting aside the casual tone, how dare she call him Ian?
Melania was indeed the daughter of the Haiman family, the most powerful noble house, but Ian was a ruler of the nation. More importantly, he was the Minister of Magic—the highest-ranking official in that department. Though a lower-ranking noble, he was incomparable to someone who was merely treated well because of their bloodline. Besides, even the princes were currently relying on his assistance.
“Iaaan?”
Yet Miss Melania called his name again, unfazed. This time, her voice rose slightly at the end, turning it into a question.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ian caught sight of her expression—curious, yet oddly furrowed in thought.
“Miss Melania, you seem quite drunk.”
“…I suppose I am.”
Melania smiled faintly and released Ian’s arm, but her gaze remained steady, carefully studying his features.
“Have we met before, by any chance?”
“If you came to the New Year’s gathering, then yes, we would have met.”
“Not that. When we were children.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“I see. I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t sure. The name Ian is common enough, but above all, I couldn’t believe that someone as remarkable as you could be the same person I know.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but please be careful next time, Miss. If others had been present, it could have caused trouble.”
The social scene was a place where even the smallest breeze could stir up a storm. It was one thing for her reckless behavior to become gossip, but if any unsavory rumors involving Ian spread—especially since it was common knowledge he was Gale’s man—it would be a real headache.
“I’m sorry.”
Melania smiled again and nodded. Still, every time she looked at Ian, a strange sense of déjà vu lingered. Was it because she had seen him at the New Year’s gathering or elsewhere? But then, at some point, recalling ‘that child’ from her memories, she felt as if Ian was wearing a mask.
“Well then, take care.”
“Miss Melania.”
“Yes, Minister Ian Hielo.”
Calling him by his name so familiarly almost felt like it would summon the version of him she knew—like a magic spell to lift a curse. She must be quite drunk to think such nonsense. Straightening up, Melania faced Ian squarely.
“Are you aware of His Highness Gale’s curse?”
“…Of course.”
Beyond the public knowledge, the personal hardships Gale was hiding. Melania paused briefly, then smiled brightly.
“Since it concerns Bariel’s fate, I will do my utmost to help.”
It was clear Melania knew what Gale’s true curse was. But that was as far as she would go. She bowed politely and left. Ian, without hesitation, exited the palace as well.
“Is this the place?”
“Yes. Since it provides room and board, we entrusted it to manage the slaves for now.”
Not long after, Ian arrived at a small slaughterhouse in the commercial district. The main work here involved cutting meat, removing rotten innards, and draining blood. The stench alone made it a grueling job, so hardly any ordinary citizens of the empire could be found here.
“Alright! Next batch of meat coming in! Hurry up and cut it before the ice melts—move quickly!”
Most of the workers were slaves or former slaves. The pay was decent for such hard labor, so owners typically sent their slaves here. When Ian frowned slightly, Romandro called over the factory manager.
“Hey, where are our people?”
“They’re inside, packaging.”
“Bring them out for a moment.”
The manager bowed his head. Though they were all slaves, their lives varied greatly depending on their owners. Those sent here as punishment or near death had to work drenched in blood, while others could stay indoors, packaging quietly and living somewhat comfortably.
Creak.
Romandro opened the heavy iron door and led Ian inside. From afar, quiet voices could be heard—slaves chatting to pass the time.
“How’s the investigation on that Pakens fellow going?”
The last report mentioned illegal slave activity and smuggled goods, but nothing since. The smuggled items likely included stolen loot connected to bandits, like Beric’s black sword.
“He’ll be brought to trial soon. Once that happens, he’ll be executed without even seeing his face.”
“No word on the necromancer he knows?”
“The guards investigated but said nothing about him. I’ll try to push a little harder.”
Romandro rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, mimicking counting money. Nothing motivates the slum guards like a little bribery.
Ian nodded and stepped into the packaging area. Unlike the other sections, it was clean and well-maintained. The absence of a whip in the manager’s hand spoke volumes about the atmosphere.
“Ah, hello.”
“Romandro, over here.”
“Ian’s here too. Hello.”
The slaves dropped their work and bowed deeply in greeting. Ian slowly walked past, observing their backs.
“Is life here bearable?”
“Yes, yes, sir! It feels like the paradise I’ve only heard about.”
“Just being outside the cage is a blessing. Thank you again for showing us what it means to enjoy work.”
“No need to thank me. Think of it as earning your own worth.”
The cost of bringing the debtors from Pakens was being covered. Beyond that, they worked to buy their freedom. Since managing them was difficult, they were entrusted to the slaughterhouse. It was actually better for Ian to pay and free them.
“So, what brings you here…?”
Someone asked, but Ian didn’t answer, focusing instead on the slaves. Those too old or too young were excluded, as were the frail and the excessively bulky. They needed someone perfect for assassination.
“Is there anyone among you who’s physically capable?”
“Physically capable? Xiaosi is the best worker among us. It’s a shame to have him packaging, so sometimes he’s called to the slaughter.”
“He was called earlier, so he should be working now.”
“Forgive me for saying this, but the foreman overworks Xiaosi. He came with us, and they say it’s a waste to have him packaging, so they take him away often. We’re slaves, so we can’t do much, but isn’t that disobeying Ian’s orders?”
“That’s right!”
Romandro shouted fiercely at the slave’s words. They had clearly instructed that their slaves be exempt from slaughter work! Ian calmed Romandro down and ordered the manager to come.
“This way.”
A barefoot slave led the way. The sound of his footsteps echoed on the dry floor, which gradually grew wet. Ian realized it wasn’t water, but animal blood.
“This is the one.”
“Xiaosi! Get to work!”
“…”
The manager, whip coiled, pointed to a sleeping animal. Xiaosi stood silently beside it, jaw clenched, staring at the ground. His empty gaze was haunting.
“Xiaosi!”
Snap!
The whip cracked against his left arm. Xiaosi gripped his knife and turned his head.
“Your eyes are different colors.”
His left eye was gray, but the right was a pale brown. That must have increased his value at the slave market.
Xiaosi sighed and ran his hand along the cow’s neck, searching for the vital spot.
His hands trembled as he gripped the knife. The goal was to end the animal’s pain quickly with a single strike. When amateurs held the knife, the animals’ agonized cries were common. Since Xiaosi started, there hadn’t been a single incident.
“Wait! Hey!”
“Ah, Romandro.”
“Now, now, you know this is a breach of contract, right? We were told to handle packaging only, yet you’re pulling slaves for slaughter.”
“Oh no, it’s just that we’re short-handed today, so we had no choice.”
“Ha! I knew all along!”
Xiaosi’s knife froze mid-air. Judging by the manager’s flustered expression, his owner had arrived. Xiaosi’s odd-eyed gaze met Ian’s directly.
‘Strong build and agile. Perfect for an assassin. Above all, he looks serious—those types quietly get the job done.’
“This is the first time, really! Right, Xiaosi?”
The manager pressed him subtly. The owner was the end of the line, but the manager was with them all day. Acting with some discretion made life easier.
“…Seventeenth time.”
But Xiaosi quietly confessed the truth. Whether out of loyalty to Ian or simply his nature, Ian found the answer satisfactory.
“A slave is property. What will you do if their health or strength fails?”
“No, it’s not that. I’m sorry.”
“Breach of contract comes with consequences. Romandro.”
Ian called, and Romandro grimaced, baring his teeth. The manager was to follow him out. As the manager trailed behind Romandro, the room fell silent, save for the soft breathing of the sleeping animals.
“You’re Xiaosi, right?”
“…Yes.”
“Where are you from?”
“I don’t know. I was born in the slave trader’s prison.”
“So, you were born a slave,” Ian said, nodding as he glanced at the sleeping captive.
“You’re well-built. Have you ever fought before?”
“…Yes.”
“And your skill?”
“Not bad, I suppose. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
When a slave says they’ve fought, it usually means they’ve been thrown into some kind of gladiatorial pit for sport. Surviving unscathed is proof enough of talent.
“You don’t enjoy it, though?”
“…No.”
Unlike the wild, barking Barrick, this one was calm—like someone who understood the weight of their words.
“Why not?”
“Seeing blood isn’t pleasant.”
Ian smiled at Xiaoshi’s answer. Perfect. There was no better choice for a showy assassin. Since this was a public role, if even one guard shed blood, Gale would find a reason to accuse them.
“Working here must have been tough.”
“……”
“Well then, I want to assign you a different task. Think you can handle it?”
Xiaoshi lifted his head at Ian’s question. There was something strange in his eyes. Born behind bars, the depth of his tragic fate was easy to imagine.
“I’m not sure, but if you order it, I will.”
Ian liked the answer.
Perhaps it was because he was a slave to the bone, but he treated his master as if he were the center of the world. Ian handed him a handkerchief and added quietly,
“You’re going to kill someone important.”
“……”
He was struggling just to kill livestock, and now he was being told to kill a person? A flicker of hesitation crossed Xiaoshi’s face. But then Ian continued.
“But you mustn’t actually kill them. Just walk up on your own two feet and get caught. No need to draw your sword. Everything’s been arranged, and I’ll do my best to guarantee your safety. So, will you do it?”
Putting aside the strange nature of the order, wasn’t it odd that a master would ask a slave if he was willing? Xiaoshi bowed his head and answered,
“I will. If it is my master’s command.”