Sometimes, it’s better to be unemployed than to work in a place where you’re not treated as a person.

For instance, there are jobs with a pre-tax starting salary of 2,060,000 won, where you work every other Saturday or every three weeks until 8 or 9 PM, with a maximum salary of less than 2,500,000 won after ten years of service.

For someone in urgent need of making a living, such a job might seem like a blessing.

After all, it’s not a crime, and by working, they can live under a roof and avoid starvation.

Moreover, the poor of this era would do anything to get something to eat, including pickpocketing, stealing, extorting, using violence, or even murder.

“Even forcing someone into a job like this is a humanitarian measure.”

Lost in such thoughts, I soon arrived in the slums.

The assistant head shouted in a loud, piercing voice that could hurt my ears.

“His Majesty has granted you filthy poor people a chance to live as humans! Therefore, you must take advantage of His Majesty's grace and be reborn immediately!”

The common folk of this era, especially the impoverished, tremble at the mere mention of the “grace of the state.”

This is because, under the guise of reformation, they are often subjected to long hours of grueling labor, earning nothing more than a bowl of thin oatmeal in return.

It’s common for them to be conscripted into the army, essentially turned into cannon fodder.

Thus, the poor have learned to make use of the wisdom of survival they’ve gained through life.

“Damn it, run! If I get caught, I’ll be dragged off to battle!”

Even if it’s called cleaning, it’s not as if the empire is holding a “massacre” in the process.

They are simply given the opportunity to voluntarily enlist in the army and are made to toil until they’re exhausted.

The chances of returning alive are slim, and since military service is an obligation of the citizens, even surviving a discharge results in nothing more than a few silver coins.

Feeling that being caught would lead to a bad end, they chose to flee.

Even those poor souls who haven’t grasped the emperor's love began to escape.

“Ugh, I knew tonight would be unlucky!”

“If I get caught, I’ll die! I really will!”

“Which idiot touched someone important and got caught?!”@@novelbin@@

Seeing this, Captain Marine, who had followed us, wore a suspicious smile and said,

“Is it really right for me to request that you ensure my performance evaluation goes well if we catch those scoundrels?”

Captain Marine is also someone whose promotion has been slow compared to his status, age, and performance evaluations, so I thought he would take my request earnestly.

Perhaps blinded by the prospect of promotion, he was licking his lips.

Marine, by the way, means “marine,” and upon closer inspection, he seemed unusually tanned.

He’s truly an ideal candidate for gathering people to voluntarily enlist, improve hygiene in Florence, and boost gunpowder production.

The soldiers behind him were also wearing suspicious smiles.

“Captain, you know you said you’d treat us to dinner if we catch those rascals?”

“Will we be treated to beef?”

“That depends on how much you can satisfy Baron Medici over there.”

For some reason, I feel like I need to buy them all red eight-pointed hats.

Even if I don't care about other companies, I need to maintain a good relationship with Marine’s company.

“Just bring back 200, no, 400 people. Don’t kill anyone or break any bones in the process.”

“Our soldiers will handle everything neatly. Please wait just a moment.”

Captain Marine and the soldiers, still wearing suspicious smiles, raised wooden clubs that resembled baseball bats.

I cast a spell of motivation on these soldiers, or rather, marines.

“If you capture 400 of them by the end of today, I will treat this company to unlimited beef and beer. And there will also be a small bonus.”

Even if I usually save money, there are times when you have to spend it.

And it seems this is one of those times.

With meat, alcohol, and money at stake, Captain Marine's company and others charged toward the poor, blowing their trumpets.

“If we catch those guys, we’ll get paid! Just beat them up a little and take them along!”

If they had voluntarily enlisted, they wouldn’t have had to be forcibly conscripted.

The poor are truly pitiable.

Still, to survive in this slum, these people are often criminals who have committed petty theft or even murder, so I don’t need to feel too sympathetic...

A local named Leo from the Florence slums was desperately fleeing.

“Help! Someone save me!”

The reason for his escape was quite simple.

If he got caught by the soldiers chasing him, he would be dragged off to some battlefield, where he was sure to die.

Though his current life isn’t great, he at least didn’t want to die a senseless death.

“It’s better to roll in the mud than to die like that.”

Regardless, the soldiers were diligently pursuing him with their wooden clubs raised.

“If you stop now, you’ll only feel a little pain before getting dragged away, but if you don’t, you’ll die today!”

“Make a wise choice! You poor wretch!”

“Refusing His Majesty's grace is a capital offense!”

He wished he could shout back,

“Accepting that damn emperor's grace will surely make me a corpse with holes in it within a few months!”

However, due to the indoctrination from the Deus religion about respecting the emperor and the class system, he couldn’t bring himself to say those words.

“Come forward voluntarily and receive His Majesty's grace! You’ll be happy!”

Becoming happy is nonsense; they’d be dead and on their way to heaven.

Leo ran for his life, but the soldiers, trained through all sorts of drills and menial tasks, finally caught up to him.

“You fool, running is useless. Instead of struggling, you should have just knelt down voluntarily. Why make this harder on yourself?”

One of the senior soldiers gave the signal and raised his club high.

“Let’s inject this fool with His Majesty’s grace.”

At those words, someone kicked Leo, sending him sprawling.

“It’s time to teach you the spirit needed to live as an imperial soldier—or rather, as a subject of the empire.”

They proceeded to pummel him, careful to avoid hitting vital areas, treating him like ground meat.

Given how they struck him, they must be masters of beatings.

If Fabio had seen this, he might have seriously considered hiring a few of them as his personal guards after their discharge.

One soldier lifted Leo’s chin and taunted him.

“Why did you run away and make things difficult? It would’ve been much better to enlist voluntarily!”

To Leo, the phrase “voluntary enlistment” sounded like this:

“Go die in battle on your own accord when the emperor orders you to!”

Though these soldiers might be in a better position than him, they are mere serfs, likely to be trampled as well.

However, having been hardened by the violence and murder of the slums, Leo wisely kept his mouth shut.

If he had spoken up, he could have faced a tragic end.

“Um, excuse me, soldiers. What’s going to happen to me now? Am I really going to be dragged off to the battlefield and die like a dog?”

Though Leo claimed that serfs and the poor are equally exploited, there is a vast difference between the two.

The poor, who lack even a household registration and are essentially considered “less than human,” can be kidnapped and killed by nobles for fun without anyone caring.

As long as no other noble or someone steps on their tail, of course.

Conversely, if a serf gets murdered, the guards or the soldiers from the estate would show a reluctance to investigate while they would still do some minimal investigation, and the church might even take their side.

There’s a significant difference between those who are not considered people and those who are seen as the lowest of society...

The soldiers, who came from serf backgrounds, laughed at Leo, the poor man.

“You won’t be dragged off to the battlefield. Instead, you’ll be tasked with cleaning up the city’s waste. It’s a lowly job, but they’ll provide you food and a place to live.”

Leo couldn’t believe those words.

Was the country actually going to do something for them?

He had spent his life getting exploited by the country and suffering under the whims of noble lords.

“Am I really going to escape this damn life in the slums?”

“And to think it’s simply cleaning up the filth of the poor. Isn’t it just a form of cleaning when His Majesty kills the dirty poor on the battlefield? I learned while serving in the Florence garrison that 70% of all crimes happening in the city arise because of you poor people. You may not have been caught, but how can we know if you’ve killed someone, pickpocketed, or raped a woman?”

According to imperial law, the penalties for the poor are extremely harsh.

If they meet the wrong judge, it’s not uncommon for someone to be sentenced to death for stealing a single loaf of bread.

And the reason behind such judgments is simple.

As the socially weak, the poor must turn to any form of crime to survive; thus, when they’re caught, it’s assumed they’ve accumulated crimes.

“So be thankful that, through His Majesty's grace, you’re able to do this lowly job that pays you food. Will you still refuse His Majesty's grace?”

Even the job of cleaning up excrement is better than petty theft.

“No! I’ll go with you!”

With that, Leo, covered in bruises except for his face, forced a smile as he followed the soldiers.

That day, more than 400 men received what could be called salvation.