Ingrad? Is That Something You Eat? A Noble… Me?! (3)

My first impression upon arriving in the Ingrad Domain was… barren.

“Was this never meant for humans to live in?”

From the fifth floor of the lord’s manor, the view below was welcome to the jungle. There were no ordinary buildings at all—just the manor itself and, far off, what looked like a ruined curtain wall marking the domain’s edge.

The steward—acting lord until now—spoke to me.

“More than a hundred nobles have been appointed here. But all of them hurried to abandon the domain. In the end, no one tried to manage anything, and the lands nearby turned to forest.”

So only the grounds inside the manor’s wall had been tended.

‘What kind of place is this?’

The domain was a mess, but I was here; I wanted to look around. Simply giving up didn’t suit a Korean temperament.

There was talk it could be a jackpot fief if managed well. With that in mind, I asked the steward:

“Do beastkin live near the manor?”

“They do. They tend to build houses in trees or dig into the earth and live underground.”

So—an unusual people. I asked another question.

“Is the Forest of the Demon Dragon close to here?”

“Mm. Straight ahead—beyond that wall you see—that’s the Forest of the Demon Dragon. As it’s a border zone, there are some domain troops stationed there.”

It was surprising that even a domain this neglected had troops. I looked at the steward to continue, and he cleared his throat.

“By ‘troops,’ I mean beastkin. They pay imperial taxes; in return, some serve as border guards. They do not take separate orders.”

In other words, there was an armed group in my domain I could not command. A shambles. I had no idea how I was supposed to run such a place.

There were no humans—only beastkin. They dug out the earth or lived in treetop homes; would I even get to see their faces?

I scratched my head, then asked the steward:

“If I go out, they won’t attack me on sight, will they?”

“They dislike humans, but they are not hostile. If they attacked their lord, the beastkin’s future would go up in flames—they know to be cautious.”

Ah, because I was an imperial noble. If they affronted imperial dignity, the Empire would burn everything down. I suspected such incidents had happened, given the hundred-odd appointees before me.

“The nobles’ graveyard indeed…”

Exile, one might say. Still, in such harsh conditions, if I considered what I could do, perhaps I couldn’t rule as a lord—but I might live alongside them as a neighbor.

And they were said to be pure.

Beastkin could instinctively sense whether someone was hostile or friendly. I just had to go out and see.

Unlike natives of this world, I had almost no preconceptions about beastkin, and my feelings toward them were simply… normal.

When I said I’d go outside, everyone panicked and tried to stop me, but I held firm and walked alone out the manor gate.

Crossing the boundary, I saw many figures moving through the forest—and found it… interesting.

‘Are those beastkin…?’

They looked almost human. Where human ears should have been there was nothing; instead, ears sat atop their heads.

Their bodies differed from humans in several ways, but aside from such details they were much the same. Also, as was typical in this world, the contrast between female and male builds was striking.

Then, at some point, the lively street fell silent.

I felt the stares flying at me. I strolled on as if nothing were amiss, gazing at the “beastkin,” the natives here, simply as people, and looked around.

‘I thought it’d just be forest, but the zoning’s quite developed. Have they advanced on their own?’

Some dug burrows under great trees; some had set up stalls, bartering or calling out what they wanted to trade for; some held a child’s hand and strolled—ordinary life.

It seemed humans of this world had long discriminated against beastkin simply for being “beastkin.” A pity.

Then—

“You—human, right?”

A bold-looking young lady marched up and pointed at me.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“…Why are you in our quarter?”

Her eyes held curiosity more than hostility. To be honest, she was adorable—drooping puppy ears and a body covered in soft-looking, fluffy brown fur.

‘Cute…’

Instead of answering, I entertained the thought; I tilted my head and asked her:

“First, I’m Jin-woo. May I know your name?”

“…Weird human. I’m Bella. So why are you here—when you’re human?”

“Are humans not allowed?”

“…N-no. Not allowed.”

Quite a firm answer. I tried a different tack.

“I’m just walking around here as a person. You’re people as well, aren’t you?”

“Peo…ple?”

“Yes. Those who think, use language, live together, develop together—we call them people, don’t we?”

My notion of “people” wasn’t limited to “humans”—it was broader, meant to include any who did the things I’d listed.

‘Just approach them sincerely.’

So I thought. Catching my intent, Bella stared as if she couldn’t believe it. Her big, clear eyes sparkled.

Sunlight filtered between the trees and made them shine in a mysterious way.

“Your fur looks… soft.”

“…Weird. A weird human showed up!!”

She flapped and hopped back. Her cry drew some curious beastkin nearer.

A tiger-like, hulking beastkin strode up and offered a hand.

“I am Gamung of the Ho-in tribe. An amusing human. Why do you feel goodwill toward beastkin?”

I looked at his hand. It was as big as my head.

“Wow—hands can be that big? Fascinating! And just because I’m human doesn’t mean I have to be full of prejudice. Let’s say I’m a slightly unusual fellow.”

“Kh, amusing.”

I shook that huge hand up and down.

He was heavy, surely over two meters tall—Gamung of the tigerfolk looked incredibly strong. He peered down at me and asked:

“Are you not afraid of us?”

“Mm… from what I see, you seem more afraid of humans.”

“That is true. We fear humans. Their ideas, doctrines, and power bring us harm.”

The words bore the weight of long years of enmity.

“I’m only an apothecary who wants to be your neighbor. To be frank, I was forcibly appointed as ‘lord’ here, but I have no intention of ruling over you.”

At the word “lord,” some beastkin flinched and fell back. The stares sharpened. I looked around and said:

“I don’t expect you to trust me right away. But here is one thing I can tell you for certain.”

All eyes fixed on me. I continued:

“I intend to do business with you. I’ll sell medicine, and I’ll take custom orders. I want us to continue as good neighbors. Unjust profit? I don’t do that. Discrimination? Exploitation? I honestly dislike such things. I want our relationship to be person-to-person—nothing more, nothing less.”

That was all I could say. Seeing no lie in my words, the beastkin murmured among themselves; I went on strolling as before.

More beastkin began to watch me with interest. They didn’t approach to talk yet, but curiosity was enough. I looked around and spotted a ground stall spread with what looked like herbs, and headed over.

“…How is a human here?”

The stall owner must not have seen me arrive. I crouched and asked:

“Are these for sale?”

“…Who are you?”

He was bear-like—and massive. Perhaps because of his size, he hadn’t noticed a relatively small human like me. He looked thoroughly flustered.

But he didn’t give off a sense of rejection. Beastkin seemed to “see” something with their senses; perhaps that was why he could listen without repulsion.

“I’m an apothecary. I’m interested in herbs—especially those from the Forest of the Demon Dragon; I heard they’re far more potent. Is that true?”

“…Before that—why is a human here?”

“Is being here not allowed? Honestly, I’m not that interested in race.”
“Haha, a funny human. Anyway, yes—I dug these to sell. But can you even pay? You don’t seem to have anything.”

“Is it strictly barter?”

“…To us beastkin, human coin has no value. We barter—do you have anything?”

I had items to trade in the extra-dimensional pouch the Empress had given me with those two thousand gold coins.

‘So the gold is for trading with humans later. What do I need right now…?’

I pondered, then asked a question from sudden curiosity:

“Are beastkin also under the Demon God’s curse?”

“The Demon God… Of course we suffer that fiend’s curse. All living things on the continent do.”

So it wasn’t a humans-only curse. That made trade simple. An idea flashed, and I asked the bear beastkin:

“Heh heh… May I set up a stall next to you?”

“Do as you please… but what will you sell?”

He looked intrigued.

“I’m an apothecary. What else but medicine?”

“…An apothecary… Not sure human medicine will work on us.”

“It’ll be worth trying. And once you get hooked on my medicine… heh, you might never get free.”

To be honest, scar-removal jelly wasn’t suited to beastkin; with all that fur, a peel-off salve would be a hassle.

So the main product here would be pills.

It was a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I thought I might actually be able to run this domain with ease.

‘Winning hearts is what matters most.’

That was my creed.