Chapter 119 - Where the heart belongs to
I never believed in patriotism.
To be honest, I never really understood patriotism. Maybe it’s the fact that I was always a foreigner in every place I lived in, and even within my own country I was always seen as a foreigner. Or maybe the fact that my dad was an anarchist.
Probably both.
In any case, nations make sense only if you see them as accidents from history.
This city here is only part of country A, and the other on the other side of the river is part of country B because when both fought their independence wars, the first lost while the second won.
And it’s only because of that that my passport had the Brazilian stamp on it. Otherwise, it would’ve been a completely different country.
That’s why the idea of having an attachment to a country feels so outlandish to me. Almost alien.
So I have no attachment to this country, and I honestly feel like an alien here. Probably because I actually am, in the strict sense, even though I’m indwelling a native body.
It would be something different if I had vibed with the people and the place, but that’s not what happened. The average Wesgothian is racist, pro-slavery, and misogynistic. I have no reason to fight for them.
It seems that whoever decided where I would reincarnate decided to pull a prank on me. Born a slave, turned into a princess. What a joke.
But I got attached to my grandparents. That’s what’s tearing me apart inside.
I don’t want to lift a single finger to help these people survive without a System, because I know that they will, in the end, turn that power to enslave beastkin and fae folk.