Chapter 13
As soon as I returned to the Orphanage, I holed myself up in the Warehouse and began to formulate a plan.
First, let's assess my hand. I am an orphan.
My capital... it's practically zero compared to my goal.
I'm 10 years old, too young even for manual labor.
*No, I really don't have any cards to play.*
Begging might be my best bet.
*Hmm... even if I manage the initial part...*
The first part of the textbook was mostly a review of what I'd already learned, so if I could just get my hands on it, keeping up with the lessons wouldn't be a problem.
The problem was what came after. I needed to get the textbook and join the classes within at least two weeks to avoid falling behind.
And within that time, I needed at least 599 silver...
It was impossible through normal means.
But even abnormal methods didn't seem promising.
*No, but what is the deal with Nobles?*
Of course, I know they're rich. But 599 silver for *one* book?
From what I saw, it didn't even seem to be treated as particularly important.
What's more, they had to keep buying new ones as they advanced through the grades.
I think I understand why the Library restricts entry to non-Nobles. Even if Magic is a Noble's exclusive domain, is this really fair?
As I pondered, I felt the flow of the Current again and furrowed my brow.
*It must be Linmel.*
I didn't have time to play right now. If I got caught, I'd definitely lose at least two hours, so I crawled into the nearby straw.
Now I could even measure time. Exactly five seconds after I counted in my head, the Warehouse door burst open with a bang.
Why does she always kick it open? Linmel appeared, shouting with sparkling eyes, then tilted her head.
Jereun!! I found a golden beetle... huh?
What are you doing in the Warehouse? There's no one here.
Huh? That's weird... I smelled something...
What on earth are you talking about...?
As the puzzled Linmel left the Warehouse with the other children, I emerged from the straw and brushed off the bits clinging to me.
Even after they closed the door and left, I could see the group of children heading into the forest.
Not just coming, but going too...
*How fascinating.*
The more I used it, the more I felt like a bat.
If I had to be precise, becoming a Mage and using Magic was even more wondrous, but at least the common Magic everyone else used wasn't incomprehensible.
Of course, the metaphysical phrase “paint the Deep Realm onto reality” still made no sense to me.
However, if I simply accepted it as a place in my body where I could store 'mana,' and then used that stored power to pull what was in my mind into reality, it was reasonably understandable. I could even follow the lessons.
But I had no idea how the Magic related to the Deep Sea worked. It didn't use any mana, so it literally felt like I'd grown new limbs.
*What should I call it?*
At the very least, creating a Current and sensing it were completely different abilities, so I felt the need to name them.
No need for a fancy name; perhaps I'll just call it Magical Perception.
Playing around with my Magical Perception ability, I learned a few things.
First, it was impossible to use in a crowded marketplace. The subtle vibrations were already hard to detect, and when mixed with everything else, I couldn't discern what was happening.
However—I would focus on something close by in a slightly quieter spot.
If I focused on sensing and observing just one thing, my accuracy increased to an absurd degree.
*Could I use this?*
I put a wooden die, the kind used for board games, into a broken brass bowl and shook it vigorously.
Let's see if I can guess.
Six.
The result was one.
I scratched my head, then rolled it slowly this time.
I could feel the die bouncing inside the brass bowl. It hit the side, the top, then the side again and bounced...
Three.
I opened the bowl and saw a three. I got it right this time.
*Useless.*
But I clicked my tongue.
Taking this ability into a real-life situation, like a gambling table, would be meaningless.
There would be too many people around for Magical Perception to work properly, and the dice would be rolled much faster than this. I might instantly know if someone cheated, but what good would that do?
*Wait a minute...*
*What if I changed the game?*
For example, Roulette.
I dug a few holes in the ground with my foot and threw the die.
Then, as it fell, I pulled it back.
*Roll, roll...*
No matter how many times I threw it, the die landed in a different hole than the one I aimed for.
It was the spot the Current aimed for.
At this point, it was worth serious consideration. I rested my chin in my hand and examined various possibilities.
Of course, no matter how many times I thought about it, it was clearly not something a sane person would do.
First and foremost, I couldn't even enter a Gambling Den with this young body.
And I knew how hard it was to win money at a Gambling Den.
I'd never done it myself, but I knew a few people who'd been ruined by it. If you start winning even a little, they'll definitely pull some tricks. They say every dog is a lion in its own yard, but I wouldn't be confident of winning if the gambler at the Gambling Den was cheating.
Even if I somehow managed to earn money, I was skeptical about whether I could take it without repercussions. Did I have the power to protect it? Not at all. If they used force, there was nothing I could do.
Overall, it was, by any calculation, an abnormal method that should not be chosen.
*Well, does it matter?*
Yet, it was the most normal among abnormal methods.
After about an hour of deliberation, I managed to devise solutions for most of the problems.
*Shall I go out and get some money tainted with despair?*
I left the Warehouse without hesitation.
***
Really, can't you make an exception just this once?
I'm sorry, Sir. Any more than this is difficult.
The bank employee, looking at Albus, the Orphanage Director, with pity, slid a document across the desk.
As I've said, with this amount of existing loans, it's possible for any additional... unless you put the building up as collateral.
That is not an option.
Albus shook his head firmly.
He could never, ever, put the Orphanage up as collateral.
That would be selling the children's future just to survive the present. He had no intention of compromising, nor should he.
The employee sighed, as if he'd expected it, and took back the documents.
Personally, I wish I could help you more, but it's regrettable.
...No, it's all right. Thank you for your time.
It wasn't all right, but he bowed and left the bank.
He shuffled out with a hollow expression, then suddenly looked up at the clear sky and thought.
It was too much, after all...
It was a good thing that the Princess's welfare policies had created more breathing room.
Thanks to her, fewer children were marginalized. Albus genuinely felt he could kiss her feet.
However, where there is light, there is also darkness.
Orphanages sprang up like mushrooms, created solely for profit. They would somehow bring in orphans, sometimes even 'creating' them to fill their quotas.
Makeshift buildings that existed only on paper. Children treated worse than animals.
Albus, then a promising Scribe, burned with a sense of justice and eradicated all those Orphanages.
But the children remained.
There was no place to house the children who had simply been gathered. The Capital City was temporarily overflowing with parentless children.
Albus hadn't known the details. He handled everything from his desk, and the reports he received indicated that everything was running smoothly.
One rainy day, as Albus drove his carriage to the Imperial Palace to receive an award for handling the most fraudulent welfare claims, he saw two children dead in an alley, embracing each other.
Looking at the corpses of children whose milk teeth hadn't even fallen out yet, he realized.
Surely, those who committed welfare fraud locked the children behind bars and scattered soup, not even fit for dogs, like feed.
But.
He was the one who had taken even that soup away.
Albus stepped down from the career path everyone envied and used his remaining fortune to establish an orphanage.
Perhaps it was an act of atonement. He dedicated his entire youth from age twenty, doing his utmost until he reached his current age of fifty.
Even after being warned that subsidies would no longer be provided, he used his own money to expand the building and paid utmost attention to the children's diet.
Other Teachers had warned him numerous times that continuing this way would make operations difficult. Yet, Albus still accepted Orphanage Students.
*My greed was too great...*
*Was this punishment for that day?*
If it were punishment, he wished it would fall only on him. As he returned to the Orphanage with heavy steps, several Orphanage Students, seeing Albus, ran up to him with aggrieved expressions.
Director!! Yandil stole my candy!
What are you talking about? You gave it to me!
I told you to just taste it! What do you mean you swallowed it?! No, but why did you *actually* swallow it...? That defeats the purpose of eating candy!
Anyway, I only took one bite, so what, what!
Now, now... don't fight, everyone. And if you share candy, you might get sick. Also, if you swallow it whole, it could block your throat and you won't be able to breathe. You don't want that, do you?
Nooo...
Good, if you make up and promise not to fight, I'll give each of you a candy. How about that?
We'll make up!!
He had worried his emotions might show in front of the children, but thankfully, only a heartfelt smile emerged.
After tending to each child, he returned to the Director's Office, where Teacher Katley, who managed the Orphanage's overall affairs, asked a question with a worried expression.
Director, how did the loan go?
Well... it seems it's difficult.
Haa...
She sighed, placing the documents down.
If one were to pinpoint the cause, it was Albus's excessive intake of children. But Katley couldn't bring herself to say anything.
If Albus hadn't been so soft-hearted, several of the Orphanage Students he knew and loved would surely not be in this world.
What do we do now? With the remaining money, it'll be hard to last even two months. If we cut food costs, maybe three months.
Hmm. I'll keep looking into it for now. And...
Albus smiled, taking off his coat as if it were nothing.
You know I'm a landowner, don't you? If it comes down to it, it's fine to sell the land.
No, Director. That's...
Katley shook her head.
The phrase 'landowner' was half right and half wrong.
Indeed, the land Albus owned in the Northern Great Plains, though small, produced such high-quality tea that it commanded a considerable price. It was also the largest source of income for maintaining the Orphanage.
If they sold the land, invested the money, and slowly downsized, the children could be settled without suffering.
However, that land was also a Cemetery, passed down through Albus's family for generations.
In fact, his parents were buried in an area a little distance from the tea fields, so selling it would mean...
It's only a last resort. And don't the remaining children deserve to live? My mother, if she were alive, would tell me to do this.
...You're truly *amazing*.
It's nothing. *Phew*, more than that, I'm worried about Linmel. What did that Knight see in such a small child...?
Linmel is a small child, you say? She catches bears.
Pardon? What kind of analogy is that?
Oh dear, you've been so busy running around for loans lately that you wouldn't know. The other day, Linmel went up the mountain and...
-*Knock, knock, knock.*
Just as Katley was shaking her head and about to begin her explanation, someone knocked on the Director's Office door.
Ah, just a moment, dear.
Hello.
Oh, Jereun? What brings you here?
Black hair, short stature. Skin so pale it seemed to have barely seen sunlight.
And a boy with eyes so deep and dark they were unbelievable for his age bowed politely.
I'd like to consult with the Director for a moment. Do you happen to have time?
Ah, of course. Teacher Katley. Could you tell me the rest of that story in detail later?
Yes. Jereun, the Director has been out for a long time and is tired, so don't keep him long.
Yes. I'll be quick.
Katley left the Director's Office, and Jereun sat on a nearby sofa.
Director.
Oh, yes. What is it?
Could you lend me some money?
...Oh, money, you say?
Yes.
Albus tilted his head, meeting Jereun's gaze.
He knew Jereun was a good child, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he was thinking.
But the important thing was that he *was* a good child.
Right, he's probably been eavesdropping on classes at the Academy recently... He must need money to buy supplies.
Albus, reasonably convinced, opened the safe door and asked.
How much do you need?
599 silver.
...?
He froze.
Uh, well...
Ah, I apologize. I'm not asking for the money you have right now.
Jereun smiled gently and pushed with his finger.
Then, *clunk*—
The safe door closed, as if pushed by an invisible force.
It didn't stop there. *Click, click*—the handle moved on its own, locking the safe door.
Albus was silently astonished by this rapid progress.
I knew he went to learn, but...
Even though he didn't know much about Magic, he knew it was difficult to perform it so naturally without an Incantation.
Could this really be possible just from eavesdropping, without proper lessons?
Jereun met Albus's troubled gaze and replied.
Let's do some work together, Director.
...Work?
"Yes."
It was a thought he shouldn't be having about an orphanage student, but...
I'll make you money.
It was like the whisper of a demon.