Side Story 1.11
It wasn’t a lie to save face. He genuinely hadn’t. Not out of some lofty morality, but simply because immature bodies held no appeal for him. What desire could one even have for unripe flesh? Even among nobles, such tastes were considered perverse and contemptible.
“Believe me, Your Highness! I prefer adult women!”
The crown prince studied him in silence, as if dissecting every word for falsehood. The nobles shuddered. This was no seventeen-year-old’s gaze—it was the scrutiny of a seasoned emperor, one who’d ruled for a decade.
“Bring the slaves—no. I’ll see them myself.”
At the remark from the Crown Prince’s lips, the eyes of Baron Palga widened in shock. The other nobles were no different.
“Your Highness, how could you possibly visit such a place in person?”
“Please reconsider, Your Highness.”
“I’m curious about how the slaves outside the palace live.”
The Crown Prince responded gently to the nobles, who were feigning loyalty as they tried to dissuade him. At that, the nobles stepped back, as if embarrassed. Having outwardly displayed their devotion, they considered their duty done. Only Baron Palga, the one directly involved, fidgeted nervously, as if fearing some fault might be found with him.
The Crown Prince no longer suspected that Baron Palga had laid hands on the young slave. He had enough discernment to distinguish such things. He simply wanted to see with his own eyes—how that slave girl, no, that slave child named Jaha was living. Of course, as a mere slave, she couldn’t possibly be living in luxury, but still.
Guided by the trembling Baron Palga toward the slave quarters, he felt his heart beating at an unusual rhythm—an unfamiliar speed and intensity. Yet, he skillfully feigned indifference.
He merely wondered what this emotion dominating him could be. What did this churning in his stomach, so intense it felt like it had turned upside down, signify? He did not recognize it as nervousness. Then, was it excitement?
‘Getting excited over meeting a mere slave?’
He scoffed and dismissed that possibility. That left only nervousness.
Had a single slave taught him an emotion he had never felt before, not even in war—one he had never known in his entire life?
‘Getting nervous over meeting a mere slave?’
This conclusion didn’t sit well with him either.
Unsatisfied with either option, he decided to choose neither. Meanwhile, Baron Palga’s steps came to a halt.
“H-Here… this is where my household’s slaves reside.”
Snapped out of his thoughts by the pitifully trembling voice, he returned to reality and took in the sight before him.
The first sentence that flashed through his mind was: ‘Humans live in a place like this?’
The seventeen-year-old Crown Prince had lived surrounded by the finest things since the day he was born. Anything less never even entered his sight. Though he logically understood that slaves couldn’t possibly enjoy the same wealth and luxury as he did, he had never witnessed it firsthand. Just because something was part of daily life didn’t mean he had to know every detail of it.
Just as one doesn’t need to understand the inner mechanisms of a pocket watch to check the time, there was no need for him to comprehend the structure and principles behind it. This was no different.
Even the Emperor was no different. The future version of him, too, had never paid much attention to how the slaves within the palace lived. So, this was the first time—across both his vanished future and his present life—that he had witnessed the true reality of slaves.
When his vague imaginings—no, even calling them “imaginings” was too generous—his hazy, feeble awareness took concrete form and crashed into him, he was left speechless.
In a place this wretched… that woman…
“Is the financial state of your household in poor condition?”
“Pardon?”
“It seems you lack even the funds to afford proper beds.”
At the Crown Prince’s sudden sarcasm, Baron Palga was stunned. Beds for slaves? What an absurd notion. Might as well ask him to put horses in beds! But he couldn’t voice his objections, so he chose silence instead. What does a teenage Crown Prince know of the ways of the world?
The other nobles, too, silently sided with Baron Palga on this matter. How well are we expected to treat slaves, anyway? A tacit understanding passed between them, and the Crown Prince keenly noticed.
‘So it’s not that Baron Palga is unusually cruel—this is just how things are…’
He quickly drew his conclusion. This wasn’t something he could change alone. Philosophers would have to emerge, and people’s consciousness would need to rise to a level where they could embrace such ideas. That would take an immense amount of time. No matter how much he was the ruler of the empire—or even a mage who could turn back time—he couldn’t control the tide of an era. Nor was there any reason for him, standing at the pinnacle of the caste system, to willingly undermine his own position.
Tapping the doorframe with his gloved hand, the Crown Prince made a calm declaration.
“I will provide beds fit for slaves.”
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