Chapter 43 - Django Montague: $10,000

Duels occurred frequently among gunslingers in the West.

Those who didn't know the details sometimes compared duel-loving gunslingers to medieval knights, but this was actually an incorrect description.

Gunslingers had no honor or nobility.

They only drew their guns for their own interests, fun, stubbornness, and to protect what they must.

But the duel between these two gunslingers, who could have dominated an era if they had lived long, was a bit different...

The stranger from another world, to protect his beliefs.

The negro born a slave, to protect his lady.

Different, but drawing their guns for their own precious things, how was their appearance different from knights?

Not on the sprawling plains symbolizing the West.

Not at high noon with the sun beating down symbolizing gunslingers.

The duel of the century, using a ship's horn as a signal on a moonlit beach, began like that.

Whoooo—

Django's hand drawing the gun was familiar after handling it several times today.

Django, a born gunslinger, drew his gun at a speed untraceable to the ordinary eye.

A truly God-given quick draw... that ordinary gunslingers couldn't even match.

Click.

Gunslingers' duels, especially those between skilled gunslingers, were decided in an instant.

Django captured his firing points in a time so short one couldn't even blink.

The target was the head. A total of 5 points including the chest, neck, and predicted points where Noah might dodge.

Unless he suddenly disappears into thin air, it couldn't be blocked.

Of course, Noah's bullet would also hit Django's body in that time.

But it didn't matter.

From the beginning... what Django wanted was mutual destruction.

Bang bang bang bang bang!

Django fired 5 shots in fanning without a shred of fear.

It was perfect aiming and firing.

With this... it's done.

Django's bullets flew toward Noah's vital points as he wanted.

Bang bang bang bang bang—!

Against this, Noah also fired 5 bullets.

Django closed his eyes watching Noah's bullets fly.

Just before death.

His life flashed before his eyes.

***

"From today, I'll teach you how to harvest tobacco leaves. Leave the young leaves alone and..."

From birth, Django was a slave.

When a new black slave was born, white masters educated them from childhood, teaching them how to work and not to defy them.

The content of the education was roughly this:

White was noble and pure.

Black was vulgar and dirty.

Black was a creature God mistakenly created wrong.

So for black people to go to heaven after death, they must live obeying white people.

Django, who received such education from childhood, grew up thoroughly to the white people's taste.

He never refused white people's orders, and...

Black is an unclean color.

He lived with the belief that his skin color was unclean.

No, it wasn't just Django's skin that was unclean.

Unlike others, Django who couldn't see colors saw the world only in black.

To Django's eyes, the whole world looked unclean, and he firmly believed that his very existence seeing the world like that was wrong.

In fact, whether white or black, people feared Django and ostracized him.

This was because of Django's father, George.

George was a master killer who brutally murdered white people and a slave catcher who caught runaway black slaves.

Whether white or black, they considered Django, George's son, the same as George and didn't approach him.

So he was always alone.

Django worked his bones off at the tobacco plantation, never mingling with anyone... and considered the world that looked black and his black skin unclean.

To summarize Django's life briefly, it was labor, solitude, and self-loathing.

It was virtually no different from hell.

And...

That hellish life began to change after meeting a girl.

"Hello?"

"Ah, hello... miss..."

When they first met, Josephine and Django were still in the positions of young lady and slave.

A slave has no business staring at a white person's face, especially a family member of the master.

Django knew this well, but...

"..."

He couldn't stop looking at Josephine's face.

"Boy?"

"...Ah, s-sorry, miss. I was rude...!"

"Hehe, it's okay."

How can that be a human smile?

Isn't it an angel's?

There's still no color in Django's world.

Josephine too, though lighter, was the same unclean black as others.

Nevertheless, Josephine was beautiful as if possessing all the light in this world.

Django, still a young child, nurtured a small crush on Josephine from that day.

And the next day.

For some reason, Django became Josephine's personal servant.

***

"Django, I'm back."

"Welcome back, miss."

"You're not a slave anymore, just call me Josephine, I said."

"Even if I'm not a slave, I'm still your servant, how could I?"

Times suddenly changed.

Django, who had been a slave since birth, was no longer a slave.

Of course, even so, Django remained as Josephine's personal servant and stayed by her side for over a decade.

The boy and girl Django and Josephine grew into adults.

Especially Josephine, who grew into a beautiful tomboy, had no end of suitors.

Even now... Josephine was on her way back from meeting one of her suitors.

For Django, who still had a crush on Josephine, it wasn't a pleasant thing, but it couldn't be helped.

As mentioned earlier, even if Django wasn't a slave, he was still a servant and black.

"This person I met this time... our father particularly likes him. Unless something changes, I'll probably marry him."

"Is that so."

"But that person is 30 years older than me? He's even bald. Ugh..."

"Still, if the master likes him, there must be a reason."

"..."

When Django just smiled and answered, Josephine looked at him intently and asked, "...Are you okay with it?"

"...Pardon?"

"I'm asking if it's okay for me to marry that bald old man."

"..."

In fact, Django knew too.

That Josephine had been showing him affection for the past decade or so.

But Django shook his head, pretending not to know this time too.

"What does the opinion of a mere servant like me matter?"

"..."

At Django's answer, Josephine looked at the blue sky and spoke.

There wasn't a trace of a smile on her expression.

"...Django, you know what my dream is, right?"

Josephine's dream...

Of course, he knew.

Josephine's father William treated her like an expensive ornament and confined her.

In rebellion against this, Josephine's dream was to go somewhere where no one knew her and live freely.

"...Next week, I'm going to run away from here to San Francisco."

"...Miss."

"And I plan to take a ship from San Francisco to Hawaii."

"...What do you mean."

Leaving America entirely.

Django quickly gauged Josephine's expression.

...She was serious.

Josephine was seriously thinking of running away from here and leaving America.

"Let's go together, Django."

"..."

"We're leaving this place together."

This was essentially a confession.

At her words to leave together, Django felt as if his whole body was paralyzed.

The woman he liked... the miss he had served his whole life was asking him to leave together.

It was heart-pounding just to imagine.

But...

"I'm... sorry."

"..."

Django had a reason he had to refuse her words.

"...Why? Because you're my servant?"

"...It's not just that."

Not just because of the master-servant relationship.

"I'm a black person with black skin, aren't I? How could someone like me be with you, miss?"

Because Django was a black person with an unclean color.

To Django, who had grown up educated on William's plantation for over 20 years, he with his unclean black color couldn't dare to be with white-skinned Josephine.

But...

"Pfft... Django, you're making a big misunderstanding."

"...?"

Hearing Django's words, Josephine smiled as if it was funny and answered, "I fell for you because I like your black skin."

"...Pardon?"

At these incomprehensible words, Django gauged her expression once again.

...It was the truth.

"Django, your black color is beautiful. So if that's the reason you can't be with me..."

"..."

"I like you, let's leave this place together."

The one he had liked in his heart his whole life said black was beautiful.

Black is beautiful...?

With just that one phrase, Django's world crumbled.

The black world that had only looked unclean started to look a bit different.

His skin which he had resented so much started to feel a bit okay.

Josephine's face, which looked black though faint, started to become more lovely.

The deliberation wasn't long.

A few days later, Django ran away from William's plantation with Josephine.

As they ran and ran, the two's love blossomed.

The few weeks running away with Josephine were very taxing, but they were the most unforgettable moments in Django's life.

So he vowed.

To protect Josephine no matter what.

To protect her freedom no matter what.

Even if it meant risking his life.

So Django should have died here now.

Sending Josephine away and mutual destruction here with Noah chasing her.

That was the death Django had chosen.

That was how it should have been... he should have died...

"..."

Now he was alive.

Django wasn't happy at all about the fact that he was alive.

Because it wasn't just Django who was alive here now.

Whoosh—

"...How."

Django, finishing his life flashing before his eyes, opened his eyes and assessed the situation with a blank face.

Django had clearly fired 5 shots at Noah.

Clearly on a trajectory where Noah would die no matter where he dodged.

But Noah dodged the bullets without moving a single step.

How on earth is this possible...

"...!"

Then Django's eyes caught a glimpse of bullet fragments scattered on the ground.

"...Ah."

Noah hadn't dodged the bullets.

He had hit all 5 bullets Django fired in mid-air.

"...Haha, what kind of monster."

Django laughed emptily at the unbelievable situation.

Click.

Noah raised the muzzle of his revolver with one bullet left towards Django.

***

[Best Gunslinger in the West].

It wasn't just an effect that made dodging opponent's bullets easier.

Increased accuracy and firing correction effect.

Besides that, the [Weapon Master] trait effect and [Superhuman Senses] trait effect.

On top of that, my experience as a gunslinger built up over the past 17 years.

Sorry to Django, but he had no chance from the moment I grasped a gun.

Django was an NPC with excellent skills, but that was it.

The match was already decided.

My revolver still has one bullet left.

Django, as if everything was meaningless, didn't even think of reloading and just stood blankly.

Click.

I pointed my gun at Django.

And in that aiming state, I took out a cigarette and put it in my mouth.

I didn't usually smoke often.

But every time I finished an important task, I craved a cigarette.

Now was exactly like that.

Hiss.

As I lit it, the strong smoke of this era's cigarettes filled my lungs.

With a hazy mind, the excitement and anger that had dominated my body calmly subsided.

"...Phew."

I blew out the smoke once and threw a cigarette and matches to Django in front of me.

Django hesitated but soon picked up the cigarette and awkwardly lit it and inhaled the smoke.

"...Puhah."

Soon another empty laugh appeared on his face.

"I worked on a tobacco plantation my whole life, but this is the first time I'm smoking it!"

"...So how's the taste of your first and last cigarette?"

"It's shit."

Django seemed very awkward, as if it was his first time swearing too.

Feeling that he had already finished his mental preparation, I asked one last time, "Any last words you want to leave?"

"...I heard there's $10,000 on my head. I hope you'll be satisfied with just my head and let the young lady go."

$10,000 for bringing Josephine to William, and another $10,000 for killing Django and cutting off a body part.

The same amount, but the main goal of the request was obviously to bring Josephine back.

If I miss Josephine and only cut off Django's body part, would William pay properly?

...No, I'd be lucky not to get kicked out.

For the success of the request, I had to bring Josephine back.

Nevertheless...

"Alright."

I nodded as if I would grant Django's request.

It was meant to let him die peacefully since he was going to die soon anyway.

"..."

As soon as he heard my answer, Django closed his eyes.

I looked at his face and pulled the hammer of the revolver.

"Django Montague… $10,000."

Bang!

Soon after, a single gunshot rang out.