My head's pounding.
Not because I actually have a headache, but because my brain can't properly process this insane reality.
As I stared blankly at the calendar, the young Black man I assumed was a slave asked carefully.
"Does the calendar displease you? Should I replace it with a different one?"
"...No, I mean... the date... it's correct, right?"
"Sir? May 21st... yes, that's correct. Weren't you supposed to plan the New York trip with Miss Kate?"
"...Kate?"
Again, that feeling of unfamiliarity mixed with familiarity washed over my whole body.
At the same time, like something dormant awakening, memories that weren't mine started flooding into my brain.
Rather than being overwritten, it was more like suddenly remembering things I'd forgotten all at once.
Like a dam breaking, James Sargent's memories came rushing into 'my' sense of self.
Recalling twenty years of life in just a few seconds made my whole body tremble and break out in cold sweat.
James Sargent.
Born in 1836, just last year when his father passed away, he inherited several hundred slaves jointly with his older sister Kate, who was two years his senior.
After also purchasing his uncle Francis Sargent's plantation and slaves, the number of slaves James controlled swelled to nearly five hundred.
Combined with his sister's, their slave count approached a thousand—making them practically one of the rulers of Mississippi's slave kingdom.
Right now in Mississippi, the only individual who owned more slaves than James was Stephen Duncan, and even looking across the entire South, there were maybe only about ten such people.
In other words, he was a terrifyingly powerful slave owner in the top 0.003% even in the 19th century American South.
"Ugh... damn."
"Um, Master? Miss Kate will be arriving soon, shouldn't we prepare?"
"...Prepare?"
"Yes. I'll trim your beard and help you dress."
Right, yeah. The memory's definitely coming back.
A 21st century person like Logan might not get it, but for James Sargent who controlled hundreds of slaves below him, this was a completely normal daily routine.
I naturally remembered this guy's name too.
Leo, I think.
An unusual name for a slave, but like most big plantation owners, it was deliberately given to stand out.
I sat down and quietly organized my thoughts while Leo attended to me.
No matter how I looked at it, this wasn't a dream but reality, and I'd become James Sargent, owner of a large plantation in Mississippi in 1856.
An owner of 500 slaves would have an annual income that couldn't quite match an English duke but could slap around most nobles.
Of course, the social treatment would never measure up to that, but still, you couldn't deny being born with an absolutely massive silver spoon.
But... naturally, I wasn't particularly happy about it.
Damn it, I said I wanted to live an independent life, but when did I say I wanted to live like the founder of some totalitarian ideology?!
Whatever sent me here definitely wasn't a god but some devil playing a cruel joke.
But hey, shouldn't a modern-day dirt-poor guy be happy becoming a mega-rich person who controls hundreds of slaves?
If I'd become a noble with similar wealth, I'd be on my knees thanking God and celebrating for days.
But a slave owner? And in 1856?
I'm not being difficult—there's a very good reason I have to be this sensitive about the year.
I might not look it, but ever since I was young, even after joining a big corporation, I'd studied diligently and built up my general knowledge whenever I had time.
I knew damn well that 19th century America would split into two countries and fight a civil war over whether to continue slavery.
The Civil War, also famously known as just that.
If I remember right, the last war in Anglo-America and the war that killed the most Americans in history would start in 1861.
Yeah. Not more, not less—exactly five years from now.
At this point, did that sadistic force deliberately reincarnate me with malicious intent?
The silver lining, if there is one, is that I know about this worst-case future and have at least some time to prepare.
Let me think.
There's definitely got to be some way to escape this nightmare future.
For now...
"Master, I'm finished."
While I was lost in thought for a moment, Leo had neatly trimmed my beard and sideburns and stepped back.
Hmm, looking closely, pretty ruggedly handsome.
With this kind of wealth and looks, marriage proposals must be lining up in the South.
Though eventually I'll probably be immortalized as a villainous plantation owner who oppressed Black slaves.
"Yeah, looks good. Thanks."
"...Sir?"
I looked away from the mirror and habitually said thanks, which made Leo's eyes go wide as saucers.
And then.
Thud.
"Master! If I've done something wrong, please scold me severely! I beg you! Please! Just please don't sell me somewhere else...!"
"...Huh? Wait, what?"
"Pl-please! Just give me one more chance! If you tell me what I did wrong, I, Leo, will never disappoint you again. It's me, Leo. The loyal slave you personally named."
What's he talking about?
I'm pretty sure I just said thanks, so why's he reacting like I told him I was going to kill him?
"Wait. Just calm down, why are you suddenly acting like this?"
"Well, you said thank you... doesn't that mean my days in this mansion are over?"
"No, no, no, how does that interpretation even make sense..."
My words, unable to hide my bewilderment, stopped as a memory suddenly surfaced.
Back in the day, saying a little thanks to a slave close to you wouldn't have been that weird.
But right now, the conflict between the South and North over slavery had reached its peak.
The South thoroughly defended slavery and oppressed Black slaves more than ever before to maintain the existing order, treating them as tools.
Because if Black people were human, that would make them villains who enslaved fellow humans, and the justification for slavery would be greatly undermined.
So slave owners thoroughly treated slaves as tools and couldn't show them any personal respect.
Naturally, James Sargent had also gone along with this atmosphere, strictly managing slaves and cracking down on even the smallest mistakes.
So when someone like that suddenly says thanks, of course he'd react that way.
'Man... fuck, this place is seriously crazy.'
After reflexively saying thanks once, I got this kind of begging—I didn't know what to tell him.
In the end, I could only calm Leo down after making an excuse that wasn't really an excuse—that I'd been thinking about what to say to my sister Kate and it just slipped out unconsciously.
The American South of 1856 where I'd woken up.
The atmosphere at the Mississippi cotton plantation was just that warm and fucking awful.
******
"Oh my, James. You came down a bit late today?"
"...I slept in a little."
By the time I came downstairs after wasting time calming Leo down, the eldest daughter of the Sargent family, two years older than me.
Kate Sargent was elegantly drinking tea.
To be precise, she should be called Kate Minor now—she was a married woman.
"Then come sit here. I haven't been back in a while, but this mansion always makes me feel at ease whenever I visit."
"...Good to hear."
Kate had married the second son of the Minor family just last year, who owned vast plantations in Louisiana and Mississippi.
If I remember correctly, my brother-in-law John Minor was extremely gentlemanly while being a peculiar Southerner who was sympathetic to the North.
But maybe because of that, his reputation in the South wasn't great, and Kate also tended to distance herself from her husband in public matters.
The reason she came here alone was probably related to that.
"But James, did you think about what I mentioned last time?"
"Huh? What did you say?"
"This boy... always letting my words go in one ear and out the other. I asked if you'd like to stop by Bloomington before we go up to New York and show your face at the gathering."
"Oh, right. I remember now."
James Sargent was planning to go to New York with his sister Kate to claim another uncle's massive fortune.
His uncle Jacob Sargent was in poor health and had left a will bequeathing his vast wealth to me, his nephew.
Once I inherited uncle's fortune too, wouldn't the number of slaves under me exceed nearly 700?
At twenty years old, not many Southerners had this kind of wealth, so I'd attract attention whether I liked it or not.
The Democratic Party supporting slavery kept asking for sponsorship, and other slave owners were asking us to stand in solidarity with them.
Up till now I'd gotten away with 'I just inherited this wealth, I'm a baby who knows nothing. Boo hoo hoo,' but I couldn't keep dodging like that forever.
The reason Kate agreed to the gathering this time was because we couldn't keep ignoring the requests directed at our family.
"You know that's the day the Republican Party's founding event is happening in Bloomington, right? Nearby slave owners and pro-slavery figures are having a separate meeting, so if you just show your face there, we should be fine for a while."
"Uh..."
So she's basically asking me to go to an event that's all about 'slavery is great, we absolutely can't lose slavery, slavery rocks' and shake some hands?
This is insane, absolutely insane.
Yeah, when in Rome do as the Romans do, but right now this South is the only place in the Western world still maintaining slavery.
Even by this era's universal ethical standards, we're clearly the ones doing barbaric shit here.
I wanted to avoid getting involved with anyone in the South as much as possible, but considering my social position, that was apparently impossible.
"...Would it be a big problem if I didn't go?"
"Honestly, it's a bit of a headache for me too. There's already talk that my husband is too sympathetic to the North. If you and I just sit still here, people might misunderstand that our family is leaning toward the North."
Definitely an irrefutable argument.
As one of the families with the most slaves in the South, the Sargent family had to support slavery.
The moment we clumsily tried to back out, we'd become traitors to the entire South and be the first to get beaten down and ruined.
But if I went around shouting fierce support for slavery, my name would be immortalized in history... this is driving me crazy.
"So we just go, say hello, throw some money at them, and then we're busy because we have to get to New York so we leave, right?"
"Yeah, actually they've already booked rooms at the biggest hotel in Bloomington, the Pike House. Let's just stay there one day and head straight to New York. But you'll probably have to meet not just Democrats but Republican figures too, so you should be prepared. We're bound to get involved somehow."
"Republicans... Republicans. If it's the Republican Party, they must be fiercely opposed to slavery."
In the 21st century they're a mainstream party dominating American politics, but right now they're just a newly founded political party.
Hmm? But if it's the Republican Party of this period, surely.
"It's a party created by people vehemently opposed to slavery banding together in the first place. You can tell just from who's participating that day, right? John Palmer, William Bissell, and... oh, that guy's there too. The one who keeps running even though he's lost every election except once."
Kate chuckled as if she couldn't understand, saying his name.
"Abraham Lincoln."