"Welcome to the Self-Reformation House, Miss Matilda, Mr. Malin, please come in." The Saint Warrior from the Church of Justice smiled and welcomed Malin as he pushed open the gate.
Entering the building, Malin felt a bit puzzled because it didn’t have the heavily guarded atmosphere he had imagined. There were Proxies in white clothing in the hall, patrolling Saint Warriors, but most of all... workers seated at tables facing each other?
"What are they doing?" Malin asked Matilda, unable to figure it out because they were facing away from him and the door.
"They’re making buttons. Twenty metal buttons fitted onto a board earns one work credit. Each person needs to make 200 boards a day," Matilda answered.
This must be purgatory.
The first thing that came to Malin’s mind was the handicraft classes from his own school days. They worked similarly, those schools and teachers righteously exploited the surplus value of the children.
What an absurd era... No, it’s not right to say that era was absurd. Since the beginning of history, regardless of wherein, or in which era, there has hardly been much time when human history was within the bounds of normalcy. Absurdity has run through human history. People of every era looking back would feel the same.
Consider this world, where the village sheriff has the right to hang a petty thief, yet there exists such warmhearted prisons.
Malin too marveled at the absurdity of the world while also glancing at Matilda’s kin who had come along as companions.
Although Malin said he didn’t want to come, he couldn’t resist Matilda’s small fangs showing when she smiled, nor the anticipation in her eyes - a child-like display of showing off something beloved that left him with no choice but to agree.
Of course, now Malin could only seek answers from one of her kind: "Miss Pharaoh, what type of criminals are they?"
"Robbers, thieves, and traffickers. The more severe criminals are in the prison outside the Capital, while the inner prison holds those with shorter sentences and those yet to receive their final judgment," she replied.
"You deal with traffickers too?" Malin paused for a moment. After all, even today, some nations in this world still had slavery.
"Yes, those who steal children and sell them to others are that sort," Miss Pharaoh, with her light brown fur, replied as she looked at Malin: "I think I know what you are getting at, you’re referring to the slave traders in our neighboring territories, aren’t you?"
"They are banned from entering, and we are not welcome there either. Although we’d like to rescue those slaves, my Lord has said that if a slave wishes for freedom, they must learn to save themselves, otherwise we may save them today and perhaps, by tomorrow, they’ll simply become the very type of person they loathe most," the Big-Eared Fox said as she moved over to a convict: "Carmille, you are behind again. You won’t complete your work by dinner."
"How can I possibly finish 200 boards!" the woman shrieked.
"No matter, she will go without dinner," the Big-Eared Fox turned to the Saint Warrior in charge: "Toil earns food, sloth earns punishment. She’ll have food when her job is done - that’s the price for her actions."
"I only took their children to sell to wealthy people so those kids could have a better life! They can always have more children!" The woman howled her grievances.
Miss Pharaoh did not respond to the woman’s complaints but instead approached Malin: "Mr. Malin, what do you think?"
After pondering for a moment and glancing at the door through which he had come, where the gallows outside seemed to have been vacant upon his arrival, Malin said, "Might I request her to be put on the gallows?"
Both Miss Pharaoh and Matilda pricked up their ears in response.
"I thought you were a kind gentleman," Miss Pharaoh said with a smile, looking at the Saint Warrior beside her who seemed eager to proceed, "Why?"
"As she said, she took the children and sold them to well-off families who couldn’t have children for various reasons, allowing the children to live happily - she’s not wrong there. But she forgot the pain she caused to the children’s parents, their child just disappearing from their life, not due to an invasion of Chaos or famine but for a few hundred, or even a handful of gold... Parents who have lost a child may spend their lives in anguish and self-blame. Some may remember that moment for life, dying in regret and sorrow... Since this lady believes the value of a life amounts to this much, why then can’t I ask for her to be taken to the gallows today?" Malin looked at the woman as he spoke, pulling out his wallet and removing three Mowish bills: "Is she worth three hundred Mowish? If that’s not enough, I can add more, but I believe she’s worth no more than five hundred at most."
Miss Pharaoh turned as if seeking support, and from behind the curtain, an elderly person emerged. She took the money from Malin’s hand and tossed it into a donation box nearby: "That’s enough. Mrs. Carmille has lived for forty-five years; her value is far less than the sum you offered, and her crimes far exceed your account."