I'm the King Of Technology

Ivo was very tempted to run up against the wall and bash his head to death. 

Get out! Get out! 

He wanted those memories out of his head. 

That wasn't it. It was all a dream. 

How could he be a poop cleaner? 

Though they gave him gloves, he was still disgusted by it all. 

He had to take the time and clean the sponges, making them look new. 

He recalled that in the past, he had beheaded a few sponge cleaners because he saw a spec of doo-doo.

But now, he realized how hard it was to keep it clean. 

Of course, he changed sponges monthly. 

And during that time, he expected his sponges to look heavenly. 

As for why he and many portals around the world preferred sponges, many believed that using a strip of clothing wouldn't do the job well. 

Anything that scrubbed harder should remove more dirt, no? 

Typically, they combined the 2. 

First, they used the sponges to take most out before using a piece of fabric to do the finishing touches. 

Both went hand in hand. 

And though some people used reusable cloths, as nobles, they could afford to throw away their pieces of fabric every time. 

But for sponges, the reason they preferred to re-use was that it was believed that the perfect pique phase for cleaning was when it had been used for quite some time. 

It was like getting a new shoe.

You know, the more you wear the shoe, the more you open it up and later make it comfortable for your feet. 

Famous philosophers had depicted this to be valid with sponges. 

However, too much use will make the sponges too soft, like cloth to the body. 

There will be a time when the doing will be deemed weak or good enough. 

And that's when they threw it away. 

There were a lot of words and appraised books from famous teachers, philosophers, and renowned people that showed that this was the essence of proper hygiene. 

.

The only times they let Ivo out was for him to clean up all sponges and take out doo-doo buckets for the times that he and his wife felt the need to behead and punish others for something so inhumane.

Finally, it was in December that he decided to give him a break from it all.

Oh~... But it looked like he celebrated too quickly because whenever he had to remove himself, they would make him dig a while on the ground and do his business like a wild animal or a dog. 

He would then be given water and something they called soap to wash off his tushie. 

They said it was good manure to the ground. But who the hell cares about that? 

It was winter... Freezing times. 

And they had to tushie open. How can he not want to kill them? 

What was even sad was that when the crazy hurling winds and storms came on, he would be to time his moments of relief.

This was Romain.

The weather was brutal. And the winds would make a person fly.

He would stand by the door, escorted by many, peeking out to determine when the last minute or second intervals from one tornado wind to another. 

He had just a limited time frame to poop and cover the hole, or else he would fly up with his tushie exposed. 

Of course, he wouldn't be able to go far seeing the chain they always had him on. 

That's right.

Even when letting him out, they still treated him like a dog on a leash.

So if the tornado tried to hurl him away, they would yank him back. 

The only downside might be that he could fracture his bone or even have his foot cut off because of the shackles and the dangerous strength of the winds. 

.

Like so, Ivo had been living in hell, sometimes cleaning the guest wing under supervision.

At least he was not alone.

In the 2nd guest room above the stairs just next to his was Cerberus and 5 of his most trusted men.

They too, went through hell.

And many a time, he had wanted to do the cleaning job for Ivo. But how could the Baymardians allow them?

The Grand Guest wing was enormous! 

And apart from scrubbing the floors using the smallest brushes, they also washed their beddings, the curtains, cleaned their very empty rooms alongside the stairway and balcony overlooking the hall. 

Yes... They cleaned every 3 days. 

Sigh... 

In the past, they would get frantic if they saw a speck of dust.

Now, they didn't mind at all.

But did they learn their lessons?

No! They only wanted revenge!

"Damn you, Bastards! You let me out! Do you hear me? I said, let me out!~"

Lieutenant James looked up from ground floor, staring at Ivo's balcony with a slight buckle across his lips. 

My, my, my... The guy had talent.

Very swiftly, he drew his attention to the men around him. 

"Robert. Thanks for all your work." 

"Not a problem, sir..." A 39-year-old man said, nodding vigorously. 

 .

Robert, an ordinary farmer, nodded, feeling a little released with the situation at hand. 

You know, one of his sons and a few others became a cripple because they didn't do a 'good' job cleaning the Grand Dining Hall in the main building. 

Ivo was called a Tyrant for a reason. 

And the people here feared him so much, with many not wanting to work here no matter the pay. 

However, what can they do when they get taken from their times and forcefully thrown in here to work? 

How can they, ordinary people, fight back? 

Even the slaves had it worst than him, a townfolk born here.

He had been working here for 16 years, always wanting to leave but never able to. 

However, how would've known that a miracle would come?

At first, he and many of them were afraid to work with these strangers, lest Ivo's forces head over and behead them all. 

However, a lot of time had passed, and many started to believe that nothing would happen to them.

These strangers were kind-natured, not belittling or bullying them like others.

With time, many couldn't help wishing they would stay forever. 

How can people who risk their lives to treat the curse be bad?

Well, it wasn't a curse since they now knew it was just a disease.

All this just made them like these strangers even more.

However, many were still worried for them... Especially Robert. 

If word got out to the young master in the Capital, will they all survive in the end?

Master Ivo might be a Tyrant, but his son, the young master, was far beyond that title.

The boy was something else.