Duels are as common as tumbleweeds among the gunslingers of the West.
Those who don’t know the details often compare gunslingers to medieval knights, but that’s a load of hogwash.
Gunslingers have no honor or nobility.
They draw their guns only for their own gain, amusement, stubbornness, or to protect what’s theirs.
But the duel between these two gunslingers, who could’ve ruled an era if they’d lived longer, was a bit different…
One, a stranger from another world, drew his gun to uphold his beliefs.
The other, born a slave, drew his to protect his lady.
Though their reasons were different, they both drew for something precious, making them not so different from knights.
It wasn’t the endless wilderness symbolizing the West.
Nor was it the blazing noon sun symbolizing gunslingers.
The duel of the century began under the moonlight by the sea, signaled by the sound of a ship’s horn.
*Boooooo-*
Django’s hand, having drawn his gun countless times that day, moved with practiced ease.
A natural-born gunslinger, Django drew his gun faster than the eye could follow.
Ordinary gunslingers stood no chance… it was a God-given quick draw.
*Click*
Duels between gunslingers, especially skilled ones, are decided in an instant.
In that blink of an eye, Django locked onto his targets.
Five spots: the head, chest, neck, and where he predicted Noah would dodge.
Unless Noah vanished into thin air, there was no escaping.
Of course, Noah’s bullets would also find Django.
But it didn’t matter.
From the start… Django wanted mutual destruction.
*Bang bang bang bang bang-*
Without a hint of fear, Django fired five shots in rapid succession.
Perfect aim, perfect trigger pull.
‘This… is it.’
Django’s bullets flew true to Noah’s vital points.
*Bang bang bang bang bang-*
Noah, in turn, fired five shots of his own.
Django closed his eyes as Noah’s bullets flew toward him.
On the brink of death.
His life flashed before his eyes.
—
“Starting today, I’ll teach you how to harvest tobacco leaves. Leave the young ones alone…”
Django had been a slave since birth.
White masters taught young black slaves early on to obey and never defy them.
The lessons went something like this:
Whites are noble and pure.
Blacks are vulgar and dirty.
Blacks are God’s mistakes.
So, to reach heaven, blacks must live in submission to whites.
Raised under such teachings, Django grew up molded by white expectations.
He never refused a white man’s order…
‘Black is unclean.’
He carried the belief that his skin was filthy.
But it wasn’t just his skin.
Unlike others, Django saw the world in shades of black.
To him, the entire world was unclean, and he believed his very existence was wrong.
Both whites and blacks feared and avoided him.
That was because of his father, George.
George was a runaway slave hunter who brutally killed white masters.
Whites and blacks alike saw Django as no different from George.
So, he was always alone.
Django worked tirelessly on the tobacco farm, never mingling with others… hating the black world and his own black skin.
His life was summed up in three words: labor, loneliness, and loathing.
It was practically hell.
And then…
That hellish life began to change when he met a girl.
“Hi?”
“Ah, hello… miss…”
When they first met, Josephine and Django were still mistress and slave.
A slave shouldn’t stare at a white person, especially a member of the master’s family.
Django knew that well, but…
“……”
He couldn’t stop looking at Josephine’s face.
“Hey?”
“…Ah, sorry, miss. My apologies…!”
“Hehe, it’s fine.”
Could that smile belong to a human?
It must be an angel’s.
Django’s world was still devoid of color.
Josephine, though young, was just as “uncleanly” black as everyone else.
Yet, she seemed to hold all the light in the world, radiating beauty.
That day, young Django began to nurture a small crush on Josephine.
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, so just call me Josephine.”
“Even if I’m not a slave, I’m still your servant. How could I?”
Times had suddenly changed.
Django, born a slave, was no longer one.
Still, he remained Josephine’s personal servant, staying by her side for over a decade.
The boy and girl grew into adults.
Josephine, in particular, had grown into a beautiful, spirited woman, with no shortage of suitors.
Even now… she was returning from meeting one of them.
For Django, who still harbored feelings for her, it wasn’t pleasant, but what could he do?
As mentioned, even if he wasn’t a slave, he was still a servant and a black man.
“The man I met this time… my father really likes him. Unless something changes, I’ll probably marry him.”
“I see.”
“But he’s 30 years older than me? And he’s bald. Ugh…”
“If the master approves, there must be a reason.”
“……”
As Django smiled and replied, Josephine stared at him and asked,
“…Are you okay with this?”
“…Huh?”
“Are you okay with me marrying that bald old man?”
“……”
Truth be told, Django knew.
Over the past decade, Josephine had shown him affection.
But once again, Django pretended not to notice and shook his head.
“What does the opinion of a mere servant matter?”
“……”
At his answer, Josephine looked up at the blue sky.
Her expression was devoid of any smile.
“…Django, do you know what my dream is?”
Josephine’s dream…
Of course, he knew.
Her father, William, treated her like an expensive ornament, binding her.
In rebellion, her dream was to escape to a place where no one knew her and live freely.
“…Next week, I’m running away to San Francisco.”
“…Miss.”
“From there, I’ll take a ship to Hawaii.”
“…What?”
Leaving America entirely.
Django quickly gauged Josephine’s expression.
…She was serious.
Josephine truly intended to flee and leave America behind.
He was in the middle of it.
“Let’s go together, Django.”
“……”
“You’re leaving this place with me.”
This was practically a confession.
At her words asking him to leave with her, Django felt as if his entire body had gone numb.
The woman he liked… no, the lady he had served his entire life was asking him to run away with her.
Just imagining it made his heart race.
But…
“I’m… sorry.”
“……”
Django had no choice but to reject her.
“…Why? Because you’re my servant?”
“…It’s not just that.”
It wasn’t just because of their master-servant relationship.
“I’m a black man with dark skin, aren’t I? How could someone like me ever be with you, my lady?”
Django was a black man with what was considered “dirty” skin.
Having grown up on William’s farm for over 20 years, he couldn’t dare to imagine being with Josephine, who had fair skin.
But…
“Pfft… Django, you’re really mistaken.”
“……?”
Hearing Django’s words, Josephine smiled as if amused.
“I fell for you because I love your dark skin.”
“…Huh?”
Unable to comprehend her words, Django studied her expression again.
…She was serious.
“Django, your black skin is beautiful. So if that’s the reason you think we can’t be together…”
“……”
“I love you. Let’s leave this place together.”
The woman he had loved in his heart for so long had called his black skin beautiful.
‘Black is beautiful…?’
That one sentence shattered Django’s world.
The world that had always seemed dirty and dark began to look a little different.
The skin he had resented so much started to feel a little more acceptable.
Even Josephine’s face, which had always seemed pale, began to look even more lovely.
He didn’t hesitate for long.
A few days later, Django ran away from William’s farm with Josephine.
As they ran and ran, their love blossomed.
The weeks they spent on the run were exhausting, but they were the most unforgettable moments of Django’s life.
And so, he made a vow.
No matter what, he would protect Josephine.
No matter what, he would protect her freedom.
Even if it cost him his life.
And so, Django should have died here.
Letting Josephine go and perishing here with Noah, who was chasing her.
That was the death Django had chosen.
That’s how it should have been… He should have died…
“……”
But now, he was alive.
Django wasn’t happy about being alive.
Because he wasn’t the only one alive in this place.
Whoosh.
“…How?”
After reliving his memories, Django opened his eyes and tried to make sense of the situation.
Django had clearly fired five shots at Noah.
He was sure that no matter where Noah moved, he would have been hit.
But Noah hadn’t moved an inch and had dodged the bullets.
How was that even possible…
“……!”
Then, Django noticed the bullet fragments scattered on the ground.
“…Ah.”
Noah hadn’t dodged the bullets.
He had shot all five of Django’s bullets out of the air.
“…Haha, what kind of monster are you?”
In disbelief, Django let out a hollow laugh.
Click.
Noah pointed the barrel of his revolver, which still had one bullet left, at Django.
[The best gunslinger in the West.]
It wasn’t just about dodging bullets.
Increased accuracy, shooting correction effects.
On top of that, the effects of [Weapon Mastery] and [Superhuman Senses].
And 17 years of experience as a gunslinger.
Sorry, Django, but from the moment I picked up a gun, you never stood a chance.
Django was an NPC with exceptional skills, but that was all.
The outcome was already decided.
My revolver still had one bullet left.
Django, feeling utterly defeated, didn’t even think about reloading and just stood there dumbfounded.
Click.
I pointed the barrel at Django.
Then, I took out a cigarette and lit it.
I don’t usually smoke much.
But whenever I finish an important job, I feel the urge to smoke.
This was one of those moments.
Sizzle.
As I lit the cigarette, the harsh smoke of this era filled my lungs.
The excitement and anger that had dominated my body began to settle, leaving me in a daze.
“…Phew.”
I exhaled a puff of smoke and tossed a cigarette and matches to Django.
Hesitating for a moment, Django picked them up and awkwardly lit the cigarette, taking a drag.
“…Pfft.”
A hollow laugh escaped his lips again.
“After working on a tobacco farm my whole life, this is the first time I’ve ever smoked!”
“…So, how’s your first and last cigarette?”
“Tastes like shit.”
Django seemed awkward even while cursing, as if it were his first time.
Sensing that he had already made peace with his fate, I asked one last question.
“Any last words?”
“…I heard there’s a $10,000 bounty on my head. Please let the lady go and just take my life.”
Bringing Josephine back to William would earn $10,000, and killing Django and bringing back his body parts would earn another $10,000.
The same amount, but the main goal of the job was obviously to bring Josephine back.
If I let Josephine go and only brought back Django’s body parts, would William even pay me properly?
…Well, as long as I wasn’t kicked out, it would be fine.
To complete the job, I had to bring Josephine back.
But still…
“Alright.”
I nodded as if I would grant Django’s request.
It was just to let him go in peace, since he was about to die anyway.
“……”
As soon as he heard my answer, Django closed his eyes.
I looked at his face as I pulled back the hammer of the revolver.
“Django Montague… $10,000.”
Bang!
A single gunshot rang out.
