Poverty is the same everywhere

The girl’s body hung limp in my grip, her fiery red hair spilling over my armored forearm like spilled ink. The townspeople murmured around us, their anger still simmering, but none dared step closer—not with Sebas standing beside me, his presence alone enough to command respect.

"Sebas," I said quietly, adjusting my hold on the unconscious girl. "We should take her somewhere safe."

He gave a small nod. "Understood, my lord. The guard station would be the most appropriate place."

I hesitated. The way the crowd had looked at her—like they wanted to tear her apart—made my instincts scream that handing her over to the authorities might not end well. But what else could I do? Leave her here?

As if sensing my hesitation, Sebas added, "If you wish, we could also bring her back to the mansion for questioning."

That… actually sounded better. At least then, I could ensure she wasn’t immediately punished without reason.

"Let’s do that," I decided.

Sebas didn’t question my choice. Instead, he turned to the crowd and raised a hand. "This matter will be dealt with by Lord Xertia personally. You may return to your business."

His tone left no room for argument. The townsfolk exchanged glances, some still glaring at the unconscious thief, but they slowly dispersed, muttering among themselves.

I adjusted the girl in my arms, noting how light she was—too light. Her clothes were ragged, her frame thin beneath the oversized cloak. Had she been stealing out of desperation?

"Let’s head back," I said, turning toward the mansion.

Sebas fell into step beside me. "Are you certain, my lord? You wished to inspect the town."

I glanced down at the girl. "This feels more important."

***

The girl lay unconscious on the couch in the mansion’s sitting room, her ragged cloak stained with dirt and dried blood. Sebas had cleaned her wounds with practiced efficiency, his movements precise despite the lack of servants to assist. The mansion was empty, save for us. No maids, no guards. Just the two of us—and now, an unexpected guest.

As I watched Sebas bandage the shallow cut on Lina’s arm (self-inflicted in her desperate attempt to escape), I finally asked the question gnawing at me.

"Why is the town like this?"

Sebas paused, then straightened. "This region has always been poor, my lord. While the town hosts a dungeon—one of considerable danger—few who enter return alive, and fewer still bring back relics worth selling. The dungeon’s presence should have brought wealth, but without skilled adventurers or proper management, it has only brought death."

I frowned. "And the absence of a lord?"

Sebas’s expression darkened slightly. "In your… previous rule, you maintained order through strength and presence. But after your long absence, corruption festered. Local officials took bribes, merchants hoarded supplies, and guards turned a blind eye—so long as they were paid. The people suffer for it."

I glanced at the child, her thin frame barely filling the couch. "So, she stole to survive."

"Most likely," Sebas agreed. "Theft has become common. The desperate turn to crime, and the town’s enforcers punish them brutally to set an example."

A bitter taste filled my mouth. "And no one stops it?"

Sebas met my gaze. "No one with the authority to do so has cared to intervene."

Until now.

The unspoken words hung between us.

I sat in a chair nearby, staring at my gauntleted hands.

Poverty.

Even in my old world, it had been an unsolvable problem. Governments, charities, revolutions, none had ever truly erased it. There were always those who slipped through the cracks, those who starved while others feasted. And now, in this world, it was the same. Worse, maybe, because here, I was supposed to be the one in charge. A lord. A ruler.

And yet, my own people didn’t even recognize me.

Clang.

I knocked my fist against my helmet, the dull metallic echo reverberating through my skull. It was a stupid habit, one I’d had back on Earth—tapping my head when I was frustrated, like I could jostle my thoughts into place.

Clang. Clang.

Sebas glanced over from where he was preparing a simple meal. "My lord?"

"Just thinking," I muttered.

How do I fix this?

The town was poor. The dungeon—supposedly a source of wealth—was a death trap. Corruption had taken root in my absence. And now, a starving girl had resorted to theft, to the point where she’d rather maim herself than face whatever punishment awaited her.

Clang.

I could leave things as they were. Lock her up, let the town’s "justice" run its course. But the thought made my nonexistent stomach twist.

Or… I could do something stupid.

I looked at the girl again. She was young. Too young to be this desperate.

"...Sebas," I said slowly. "If I wanted to change things in this town—really change them—where would I even start?"

Sebas set down the knife he was using to slice bread. "You would need to reestablish your authority, my lord. Root out the corruption. And, most importantly, provide a means for the people to prosper."

"The dungeon," I said.

"Yes. If it could be cleared safely, its relics could bring wealth. But as it stands, it is too dangerous."

I exhaled. So, step one: make the dungeon profitable. Step two: dismantle the corruption. Step three: ensure no more kids like Lina have to steal to eat.

Simple in theory. Impossible in practice.

Clang.

She stirred, her fingers twitching.

I braced myself.

She was going to wake up soon.