Chapter 3: The Institution of Slavery

Trying to climb in… that could only be Ester, right?

Marlon thought to himself as he approached the door.

When he opened it, sure enough, he saw the sight he had half-expected: a young Minotaur boy, his face etched with misery, bundled up like an enormous, awkward dumpling in the thick ivy that Master Conchita Bowden, the druid, had animated with natural magic. The ivy wriggled and twisted around him like living snakes, holding him fast in its green, unyielding grip.

Marlon quickly explained to Master Conchita Bowden that this was not some clumsy, thieving Minotaur intruder—but indeed his good friend, Ester.

Once Marlon confirmed Ester’s identity, the druid’s animated ivy relaxed its grip. The poor Minotaur boy sagged in relief as the ivy slowly slithered back, curling serpent-like, up the walls of the small villa.

“Ester, if you want to come play, just come! Why go crawling through a window when there’s a perfectly good door?”

Marlon asked with a bemused smile.

“I… just wanted to relive old times!” Ester said, still wearing that forlorn expression. “It’s so embarrassing—I completely forgot that there’s now a druid master guarding the place.”

After speaking, Ester cast a wary glance at the walls, now draped with writhing, wind-tossed ivy. Being tangled in those animated vines before had been far from a pleasant memory, and thinking about it still made him shudder.

Marlon chuckled, recalling now that before Ester had left for other places, he had a habit of bypassing doors entirely, often climbing straight to the loft of Marlon—or rather, Lister’s—house.

“Well, this isn’t Master Conchita’s fault,” Marlon said, glancing at the still-frustrated Ester. “There’ve been quite a few night-time thieves around here the last couple of days, trying to break into this house.” He then smiled and changed the subject: “Anyway, let me introduce you to—”

Luckily, aside from Adela and Master Conchita Bowden, Marlon didn’t need to bother introducing Ester to anyone else in the small villa.

After taking a little time to familiarize Ester with the people he didn’t know, Marlon gently ushered him into the living room.

Coincidentally, it was just about mealtime. Marlon sent Adela to the troll deli around the corner to buy a heap of cooked meats—Ester’s favorite treats.

The only minor disappointment for Marlon was that his current body was still too young to buy beer from the dwarf tavern next to the troll deli.

That tavern was new, and during the Great War, grain had been a strategic resource. Brewing precious grain into alcohol had been a severe crime, punishable, in extreme cases, by being sent to the firing squad under the Prohibition Act. But now the war was over…

Marlon was genuinely curious about the taste of dwarf beer, and this tavern, seeking to make a name for itself, surely wouldn’t skimp on quality.

With a hint of wistfulness, Marlon casually asked Ester why it had taken him so long to come visit.

The moment he asked, Ester’s face contorted with indignation. “Brother! I’ve been slogging away doing hard labor for six whole days! I only just escaped from my father’s sweatshop today! This is all your fault!”

“My fault? What are you blaming me for?” Marlon asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Don’t you remember? My dad’s factory is a paper mill…” Ester’s voice quivered, almost on the verge of tears. “Emerald Crest Publishing, the White Sand Morning News, and the White Sand Evening News—they’re all his major clients!”

Ah, now Marlon understood. Ester being forced into grueling labor in his father’s sweatshop was indeed connected to him in some significant way.

Ester went on, venting his frustrations. “The workers there are all dwarven slaves. If no one’s watching, they slack off. But you can’t push them too hard, or they’ll sneak things into the pulp and sabotage production.”

“That’s the biggest flaw of a slave-run factory,” Marlon said lightly, shaking his head.

“Exactly! That’s what I think too! But my father doesn’t care. He wishes all the workers in the factory were unpaid slaves,” Ester said, nodding vigorously. He grabbed an entire sausage and stuffed it into his mouth, swallowing it whole without even chewing.

“That’s not good. Problems will arise sooner or later,” Marlon said, speaking from his perspective as someone from Earth. “Actually, if you paid the slaves a small wage, gave bonuses based on labor, and even restored their freedom to those who worked well, all the issues would be solved. If the factory even had a few shops where the workers could spend their wages, the factory could make even more profit. And you wouldn’t have to be dragged into hard labor by your father anymore.”

“Pay the slaves wages? Bonus based on work? Restore their freedom for good performance? And open shops in the factory?!” Ester froze mid-reach for food. His cow-like eyes blinked rapidly as he exclaimed, “Brother, you’re a genius! This is brilliant!”

He jumped to his feet, running toward the door. “I have to go talk to my father! I bet if I tell him this idea came from you—the one who’s been making him so much money lately—he’ll seriously consider it!”

“Oh—almost forgot! Mr. Bernard, Miss Amy, thank you for your hospitality!”

By the time he said this, Ester’s entire body had crossed the threshold, leaving only the back of his twisted Minotaur head inside the villa.

Then came the chugging roar of the departing steam locomotive.

Well, Marlon could only smile wryly at the situation.

But deep down, he was quietly excited. He understood the power of a chain reaction—if Ester could convince his sweatshop-owning father to pay wages, other factory owners would surely follow suit soon.

This hopeful thought made Marlon selectively forget the similar situation back on Earth, where a nearly identical problem had almost split the superpower into two separate nations.

Master Conchita Bowden the druid suddenly spoke, his calm voice cutting through the room: “Using slaves violates the natural order. Such a wretched system will be overturned, sooner or later.”

Marlon instinctively nodded, sensing the truth in the druid’s words.

Satisfied by Marlon’s attitude, Master Conchita Bowden continued: “The glory of the gods of light will be revealed. All living beings shall witness it. Marlon, my friend, you will soon see your dream’s dawn in the newspapers.”

This time, Marlon understood clearly.

Master Conchita Bowden was subtly hinting at him!

Marlon looked at the druid in astonishment. He sympathized with the slaves, but he had no desire to see another war erupt in this world.

Marlon was just an ordinary man. He had absolutely no interest in becoming a revolutionary martyr in this strange world

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