Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 165

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 165. Xiaoxi
“Princess Melania. Your rudeness has crossed the line.”
Never mind the casual speech—calling me Ian like that.
Though Princess Melania was the daughter of House Haiman, known to wield the greatest power among the nobility, Ian was the one who governed the nation. More specifically, he was the Minister of Magic, the most crucial position in the realm. Despite being of lower noble birth, he could not be compared to someone who merely received respect through bloodline. Especially now, when even the Princes themselves sought his assistance.
“Ian?”
Yet Princess Melania called his name again without concern, this time with a questioning lilt at the end.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, her expression became visible. She looked puzzled, yet her face was twisted in a peculiar way.
“Princess Melania. You’ve had quite a bit to drink.”
“…I suppose so.”
Melania smiled and released Ian’s arm, though her gaze remained fixed, studying his features carefully.
“Have we perhaps met before?”
“If you attended the New Year’s reception, we would have.”
“No, I mean when we were children.”
“We have not.”
“I see. I truly apologize for my rudeness. The truth is, I wasn’t certain. The name Ian is common enough, and above all, I couldn’t believe that someone as remarkable as you could be the same person I once knew.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but do be more careful next time, Princess. It would have been quite troublesome if others had witnessed this.”
High society was a place where the smallest breeze could create a tempest. It was one thing for the Princess’s unseemly behavior to become the subject of gossip, but if she became entangled in unsavory rumors with Ian, it would become truly bothersome. Especially given that her connection to Prince Gail was already public knowledge.
“I apologize.”
Melania smiled and nodded. Yet it was true that whenever she saw Ian, a sense of déjà vu washed over her. Perhaps from seeing him at the New Year’s reception or elsewhere? But at some point, when she recalled ‘that boy’ from her memories, she felt as though Ian were wearing a mask.
“Then, please take care.”
“Princess Melania.”
“Yes. Minister Ian Hielo.”
If she called him by his familiar name, perhaps the person she knew would emerge. Like a magic incantation breaking a curse. Though she was certainly drunk. What an absurd thought to entertain. Melania straightened and faced Ian directly.
“Do you know of Prince Gail’s curse?”
“…Of course.”
Beyond what was public knowledge, there was a personal hardship that Gail concealed. Melania paused for a moment before breaking into a wide smile.
“Since it concerns the existence of Bariel, I shall assist you with utmost sincerity.”
Melania clearly knew what Prince Gail’s true curse was. But that was all. She bid him farewell and left. Ian, too, did not hesitate to slip out of the palace.
* * *
“Is this the place?”
“Indeed. Since it provides lodging and meals, I’ve arranged for slaves to be managed here.”
Not long after, Ian found a small slaughterhouse in the commercial district. The main work involved cutting meat, disposing of rotten organs, and pushing away blood. The stench alone was overwhelming, and the work itself was grueling, so ordinary citizens were rarely seen here.
“Come now! The next batch of meat is arriving! We must cut it before the ice melts, so move quickly!”
Most were former slaves or current slaves. The wages were decent for such arduous work, so it was common for owners to send them here. When Ian’s expression darkened slightly, Romandro called for the factory supervisor.
“Where are our people?”
“They’re packaging inside.”
“Bring them out for a moment.”
At Romandro’s words, the supervisor bowed his head. Though they were all slaves, their lives differed vastly depending on who owned them. Those sent here to die or be punished had to labor while covered in blood, while others could work comfortably indoors doing packaging tasks.
Creak.
Romandro opened the heavy iron door and guided Ian inside. From afar, the sound of quiet chatter could be heard—slaves passing time with conversation as they worked.
“How far has the investigation into Parkens progressed?”
After the last report of illegal slavery and smuggled goods being seized, I heard nothing more. When it came to smuggled goods, it likely included plundered treasures connected to bandits, much like Berik’s black sword.
“Soon it will go to trial. Once that happens, there’s no need for pleasantries—immediate execution.”
“And regarding the acquainted sorcerer?”
“The guards investigated, but they say they won’t speak about him specifically. I’ll apply a bit more pressure myself.”
Romandro rubbed his middle and index fingers together in a money-counting gesture. There was no better incentive to move the slum guards than that.
Ian nodded and stepped into the packing district. It was noticeably cleaner and more pleasant than other areas. The fact that the supervisor overseeing it carried no whip spoke volumes about the atmosphere.
“Ah, hello.”
“It’s Romandro. Over there.”
“Ian is here too. Hello.”
The slaves abandoned their packing work and prostrated themselves to greet them. Ian walked slowly, observing the backs of their heads.
“Are you managing well?”
“Yes, yes indeed! Is this place truly the heaven we’ve only heard about?”
“Simply living outside iron bars is wonderful. We thank you again, truly. You’ve shown us what the joy of labor means.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. Think of it as earning your own price.”
It was a matter of recouping the cost of bringing these people from Parkens. Once that was paid, the next phase was working to purchase their freedom. Since managing them was already difficult and I was delegating to the slaughterhouse anyway, it was more profitable for me to pay for their release.
“Um, but what brings you here…?”
At someone’s question, Ian didn’t answer—only observed the slaves. Those too old or too young were disqualified, the frail were disqualified, and those excessively overweight were disqualified. I needed someone who looked perfect for assassination.
“Is there anyone among you with some physical capability?”
“Physical capability? Xiaoxi is the best worker among us. The factory manager says it’s a waste for him to be packing, so he’s often called away for slaughter work.”
“He was called away earlier, so he’s probably working now.”
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but the factory manager works Xiaoxi too hard. He came with us, but saying it’s a waste for packing, he keeps taking him away. Since he’s a slave, there’s nothing we can do, but ultimately isn’t that going against your orders?”
“That’s right!”
At the slave’s words, Romandro shouted vehemently. I had clearly instructed that our slaves be exempted from slaughter work! I calmed the raging Romandro and ordered him to guide me.
“This way.”
The barefoot slave led the way. Splat, splat—the dry floor gradually grew wet, and his footsteps became more pronounced. Ian realized it wasn’t water, but livestock blood.
“This one’s next.”
“Xiaoxi! Get to work!”
“…”
The supervisor rolled up his whip and pointed at the sleeping livestock. I could see Xiaoxi standing at a distance in profile.
Ash-gray hair and eyes. He clenched his jaw as if refusing the order, staring only at the ground. His gaze seemed peculiarly hollow and vacant.
“Xiaoxi!”
Crack!
The whip finally lashed his left arm. Then Xiaoxi gripped the knife and turned his head.
“The eye color is different.”
His left eye is ash-gray, but his right is a pale brown. That must have increased his value at the slave market.
Xiaoxi swallowed a sigh and felt along the cow’s neck. Searching for the vital point.
Moo—
Then, with trembling hands, he gripped the knife. The important thing was to minimize suffering and finish it in one stroke. When incompetent people wielded the blade, the livestock’s agonized cries always echoed. But since Xiaoxi had been put to work, it had never happened once.
Shhhhk!
“Wait! You there!”
“Oh, Romandro.”
“This is a breach of contract, you understand? We entrusted you with slaves on the condition that you’d only handle packaging work.”
“Ah, well, you see, we were just short-handed today, so we had no choice but to requisition them.”
“Hmph! I know everything already!”
Xiaoxi’s blade froze mid-air. From the way the supervisor was stammering, it was clear his master had arrived. Xiaoxi’s heterochromatic eyes met Ian’s directly.
‘Good build, yet moves with precision. Perfect material for an assassin. More than that, there’s a gravity to him—the type who quietly accomplishes whatever task is given.’
“No, truly, it’s not like that! Really! This is the first time! Isn’t it, Xiaoxi?”
The supervisor subtly pressured him, urging compliance. The master would leave soon enough, but the supervisor was here all day. It was better to read the situation carefully and act accordingly to make life easier.
“…This is the seventeenth time.”
But Xiaoxi quietly spoke the truth. Whether he was loyal because Ian was his master, or whether it was simply his nature, I couldn’t say. Either way, it was a satisfying answer for Ian.
“Slaves are ultimately property. What happens if they suffer physical damage or health problems?”
“No, that’s not—I apologize, truly.”
“A breach of contract demands accountability. Romandro.”
At Ian’s call, Romandro stepped forward from behind, baring his front teeth in a menacing grin. A signal for the supervisor to follow. As the supervisor hesitantly trailed after Romandro, silence fell over the place. Only the soft breathing of sleeping livestock could be heard.
“So you’re called Xiaoxi.”
“…Yes.”
“Where are you from?”
“I don’t know. I was born in a slave trader’s prison.”
Born a slave from the start, then. Ian nodded and glanced at the sleeping livestock.
“You have good build. Have you ever engaged in combat?”
“…Yes.”
“Your talent?”
“It seems adequate. I’m alive, after all.”
When a slave spoke of combat, it almost always meant the fighting pits for entertainment. Simply surviving with all limbs intact was proof enough of talent.
“Do you enjoy it?”
“…No.”
Unlike Berik, who thrashed about wildly, he was composed. As if he understood the weight of words.
“Why?”
“Seeing blood is not pleasant.”
At Xiaoxi’s answer, Ian smiled. Perfect. There was no better choice for an assassin sent for show. Literally a tool for external use—if even a single guard saw blood spilled, it could give Gail ammunition to use against him.
“This work must have been grueling.”
“….”
“So I’d like to assign you different work. Could you handle that?”
At Ian’s question, Xiaoxi lifted his head. A man with truly peculiar eyes. Born in an iron cage, I could only imagine how profound the cruelty of his fate must be.
“I’m not certain, but I will do as ordered.”
“I like that answer.”
Perhaps it was because he was a slave to his very bones. The way he treated his master as if he were the center of the world. Ian handed him a handkerchief and added casually:
“You’ll be going to kill someone of importance.”
“….”
I can’t even kill livestock, and now you’re asking me to kill a person? A flicker of bewilderment crossed Xiaoxi’s face. But then came Ian’s next command.
“However, you must not kill them. Simply walk on two feet, and if you are caught as is, that will suffice. There will be no need to draw your sword from its sheath. Since everything has already been arranged, I will guarantee your safety to the fullest extent. Will you do it?”
Setting aside the suspicious nature of the command itself, the master was asking his slave if he would do it. Was that not strange? He lowered his head and answered.
“I will do as you command, Master.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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