Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: 2. Orphan Gacha Probability Up Event
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**Bam!**
“That can’t be right!? You incompetent fool! What do you think I spent my own money to keep you holed up in that village for!?”
“Argh! It hurts, Boss!”
“Not boss—Director!”
“S-Sorry! Director!”
“Tch.”
The scowling man, Carlson, desperately hunched over. He was a back-alley knife-for-hire in his own right, but even so, he had to bow his head before *that* man without fail.
The boss of the Smile Family—and director of the Happy Orphanage.
Victor looked down at the profusely apologizing Carlson with utter disdain.
“Carlson, you know damn well why we left the capital to come to this backwater town, don’t you?”
“O-Of course, Boss! So we could build up cash here without rival gangs breathing down our necks and head back to the capital...”
*Thwack!*
“You *know* that, and you just sit there watching another orphanage pull that crap!? You, the guy who bragged about blending right into the village!”
“Sorry, Boss! But I had no choice! That punk had the lord’s permit!”
“...What?”
“On top of Lord Luton’s permit, he’s even tied to the Beril Count Family! It hurts, Boss!”
“Hah.”
Victor let out a hollow laugh at Carlson’s desperate excuses.
Then he snatched a whip from nearby and lashed Carlson with it.
“Argh!”
“You idiot! You swallow that obvious lie hook, line, and sinker!? A permit from Luton’s lord? Fine, that could happen—bribes work wonders. But the Beril Count Family? Does that even make sense!?”
“B-Boss! Aaaagh!!”
“The Beril Count Family—they’re the northern margrave! You think a dump like this orphanage has ties to them!? You moron!”
“B-But the documents...”
“Forgery’s easy! In a nowhere town like this, who’s gonna spot a faked crest from a count or even a duke family!?”
*Crack!*
“Boss! It hurts! It hurts too much!”
“Useless bastard. Hah... Fine. Round up the kids.”
“Boss? You mean...?”
“The other orphanages were too stupid to worry about, but that young punk seems to have a brain. If his place wins over the villagers’ goodwill and settles in, that’s trouble for us.”
“Th-Then we threaten the villagers? They’ve been getting on my nerves anyway...”
“You idiot. Do that, and Lord Luton wipes us out! We just quietly take out the competition. Oh, and grab some kids from his orphanage while we’re at it.”
“Got it, Boss! But uh, Boss, didn’t a few of our kids go over there?”
“...Ah, that Tricksy girl or whatever.”
She’d promised to spy, steal info and kids from the other orphanage, in exchange for their freedom.
Victor smirked, recalling the girl who’d hidden her fear and spoken so boldly.
“Well, business as usual. You know what to do, right?”
“Kill ’em off quietly?”
“Yeah. And since this is the last run, there was that promise or whatever... But promises to livestock? Please. If they come back yapping about it, it’ll just stir up trouble at the orphanage. Five kids ain’t much—we’ll recruit more in no time.”
“Heh heh, understood, Boss! I’ll contact the kid right away!”
“Third time—Director.”
“Y-Yes, of course, Director!”
Victor narrowed his eyes pityingly at Carlson, who scampered off rubbing his hands.
But even a guy like that was a key subordinate for now. After the capital’s back-alley purge, Victor’s Smile gang had shrunk too. Otherwise, they’d never have come to a podunk town like this.
*‘Damn princess.’*
It was just their usual “business”—what was the big deal? Victor’s quick instincts had let him flee early, saving him from that merciless blade dance.
But Victor had no intention of calling it quits. The princess swinging at back-alley gangs meant a temporary power vacuum in the capital’s underworld.
Lesser groups would squabble until a real outfit moved in.
*‘Stockpile as much cash as possible here...’*
Then return to the capital. And become its kingpin.
For that dream, Victor would keep grinding today.
“Get to work, you worthless freeloaders!”
*Crack!*
“Argh!”
The whip sliced the air, striking one trembling orphan.
As the other children shook in terror at the brutality, Victor bellowed.
“No whining—work! You insolent brats, quota’s triple today! Anyone who doesn’t finish it gets no food *or* sleep!”
In the business called an orphanage, whipping livestock called orphans to squeeze out cash.
And today, he’d kill that cocky young punk and bring back more livestock.
*‘Beril Count Family? What a joke.’*
Victor had no doubt about that.
*
*Whoosh!*
“A bit more. Hold it steady.”
“......”
“The flame’s flickering. I told you to aim for maximum stability, right? Add ten minutes.”
“...Ugh.”
“It’s shaking even more now? Steady your breathing. Keep the flame going. Until you collapse from exhaustion. Until you can’t even breathe.”
“Ugh... *Cough!* *Cough!*”
“...32 minutes, 53 seconds. Better than yesterday. Still not good enough.”
“Thank... you.”
Karen collapsed, having wrung out every last drop of mana in her body. But only for a moment—she struggled to rise on trembling limbs.
Hella’s training allowed no breaks outside scheduled times. Not even in mana exhaustion.
Seeing Karen try to stand, Hella gave a small nod.
“Your resolve is solid. Rest for now. Fifth exhaustion today—push more, and you might die. Could even drain mana needed for basic life functions.”
“Then... today...”
“Training’s over. How’s it feel? Anything clicking?”
“...Not really.”
“Figured. This is beyond raw talent.”
Hella dragged a chair over and sat before the collapsed Karen, crossing her legs.
She popped a sweet cookie into Karen’s mouth, took one herself, and continued.
“You absorb my lessons fast. Kids like you are rare even in the Mage Tower. Scout spotted a genius, sure... but finding your affinity? It’s like picking your life’s calling. That’s why it’s separate from talent.”
“Life’s... calling?”
“You’re puzzled, right? You already have a purpose, so why can’t you find an affinity?”
“......”
Karen shut her mouth at Hella’s knowing words. They hit too close.
Karen already had a purpose. She wanted to hear it straight from her so-called father—why he’d abandoned her and her mother, why he’d treated her so cruelly when she went to him alone after Mom died.
And revenge. Wasn’t that purpose enough?
“I get it. I was the same.”
“Pardon...?”
“Think of it like this: You just ate a cookie, right? Thirsty now, huh? Naturally crave tea or water. Is *that* your life’s purpose?”
“...No.”
“Exactly. What you call purpose now? Just a milestone. Not the true destination.”
“No way...!!”
“One question: After achieving that ‘purpose,’ what then? Ever thought about it?”
“Huh? Well...”
Revenge done, rage vented at her father. After that?
Of course not... She’d never considered it. Revenge felt impossibly distant. Before discovering magic, she’d given up and just lived.
After that? Never crossed her mind.
“Never have, have you? Doesn’t even come up.”
“......”
“That’s it. Right now, it feels like your whole life. But true meaning might hit you somewhere unexpected. That’s why I became an adventurer.”
“...Master?”
“Hm?”
“What was... your purpose?”
“Didn’t I show you my affinity? ‘Protection.’ All about shielding and defending.”
Hella glanced at her hands.
A wistful, reminiscing look crossed her face.
“...Thanks to my scout, too.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing big. Talked too much—throat’s sore. Training’s done, so I’m off. Anything else before I go?”
Hella probably expected questions on magic principles, theory, or affinities Karen hadn’t grasped.
But after hesitating, Karen voiced the question brewing since yesterday.
“Father...”
“What?”
“What is... a father?”
So abstract, so broad, so unforeseen.
Hella blinked blankly for a moment, then shrugged.
“Oh, from yesterday? Yujin ripping into you?”
“...Something like that.”
“You were in the wrong. If you perfectly control magic, fine—but you couldn’t even then, right? Reckless use when you’re still green? Mistake.”
“Director... told me plenty.”
“Anyway, ‘what’s a father’? Biologically, the male parent... Nah, exceptions like adoptees. Ignore genetics, hmm.”
“Master?”
“Yeah. Closest adult male you don’t mind being around?”
“Huh?”
“And one who showers you with love and care—above all, willing to sacrifice for you. Yeah, sacrifice nails it.”
“Sacrifice...?”
“Only possible between parent and child. Would you cut off an arm for me?”
“......”
“No, right? Same here. But parents? They’d do it for their kid. That’s love, sacrifice—a father. Least, that’s my take.”
“......”
“Help at all? Good. See you tomorrow.”
Karen sank into thought, but Hella—answering only the question—vanished via teleport in an instant. An application of protection affinity, apparently, though Karen didn’t get it yet.
Alone in the room, collapsed in exhaustion, Karen mulled Hella’s words.
*‘Sacrifice...’*
Taking on another’s pain. Suffering in their place.
Pain... If it’s pain...
*Whoosh.*
Squeezing out her remaining mana, Karen conjured a tiny flame and slowly brought it to her palm.
Magic normally didn’t harm the caster, but with safeties off, heat seared her skin.
“...!!”
It barely touched—grazed, even—but the agony and burn made her snuff it out.
A tiny blister remained on Karen’s hand.
*‘Just this little burn hurts this much... Then the Director’s...’*
Karen recalled the Director’s hand, scarred far worse. The sight was seared into her brain—unforgettable.
Pain. And sacrifice.
Those two words lingered.