Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: 1. To Start a Business, You Need Products
In fact, the orphans right now weren’t products.
They were closer to raw materials.
To sell a product, raw materials had to be refined, smelted, and assembled.
Washing the orphans was part of that process.
Keeping products clean was the basic duty of a merchant.
“Wash your hair too. Pick out the eye gunk. Scrub every nook and cranny, then come out.”
“L-Look at this! It’s really hot water!”
“This is a bath…? It’s huge.”
“U-Uncle, can we really go in here?”
“Of course.”
Among the 1-Star Orphans, there were three boys and two girls. I personally led the boys to wash up.
After all, children raised in the slums had no idea how to clean themselves properly.
Their idea of bathing was getting soaked in the rain or splashing their faces while doing laundry in a creek. To get them scrubbing every part of their bodies with the right tools, I had to go in and show them myself.
And needless to say, the girls were no different.
“D-Don’t come in! Get out!”
“You’re Laila, right? Do you even know how to use these toiletries?”
“…I can just listen.”
“It’s better to show you once properly. Are you planning to stay at a standoff like this?”
“S-Sis, let’s just learn from the Director. I want to wash up quickly…”
“…If you try anything weird, I’ll kill you.”
What a fuss.
Beyond merchant and product, Laila was still just a child. Naturally, I wasn’t some deviant who got aroused by children—or products.
The other girl showed no such embarrassment. Laila, being a little older, was simply more aware of herself and others.
Regardless of her shame, they washed thoroughly. Teaching mechanically and strictly worked best. It reassured them there were no ulterior motives.
My only motive was to sell these products at a good price.
“All clean now? You’ll be doing this every day from now on. You must be hungry—let’s eat.”
“F-Food!”
“Hot bread… for real…!!”
“It’s delicious! So this is meat!”
“Eat as much as you want.”
Freshly baked bread and smoked meat. Nothing fancy, yet the orphans devoured it.
“This is…”
Even the initially wary Laila burst into tears after a single bite, shoving more food into her mouth desperately.
Watching them eat like they were possessed, I smiled.
Filling their bellies with cheap bread and meat is a profitable deal.
I could have served something more luxurious, but considering remaining funds and future products, this was the most efficient choice.
Seeing them react so emotionally almost made me chuckle.
“…Di-Director, aren’t you eating?”
“Watching you kids eat is enough for me. There’s plenty, so go ahead.”
“Yes!”
With the budget and future intake in mind, I couldn’t overspend. A handful of nuts would suffice for me.
Naturally, I didn’t skimp on food for the products. Better nutrition meant higher quality—and higher prices.
“Time to sleep. Everyone, lie down in your beds.”
“I-It’s not straw… it’s so fluffy!”
“But we’re sleeping already? I heard other orphanages make you do piecework sewing…”
“You need proper sleep to grow and stay healthy. I won’t let you waste away from overwork.”
“Director…!!”
“Good night.”
Putting products to work immediately? That earned pocket change at best.
Driving them to exhaustion was what fools in this industry did.
No—what I needed was something else entirely.
The core of this business.
Shing.
I drew a well-sharpened kitchen knife, smiling faintly at its gleaming blade.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
To Laila, life was a filthy, stinking sewer.
She had believed she could never escape it.
That shining place is a different world. I’ll never reach it.
With thoughts like that, she found comfort in the sewer—in her little siblings.
They weren’t blood-related, but children who survived together formed bonds thicker than blood.
As the eldest, Laila protected them. She endured threats, intimidation, and even swung a knife when necessary.
Every day was disgusting and miserable.
But seeing her siblings gave her strength.
That was why she had sworn to pull them out of the sewer—no matter what.
“…This is suspicious.”
When the opportunity finally came, doubt and anxiety crushed her.
The alleys were hell—but orphanages were worse.
They offered food and shelter, but in exchange came abuse, exploitation, violence, trafficking, and unspeakable acts.
The alleys at least had balance. Rules. A code.
Orphanages were kingdoms ruled by demon directors.
That was why starving children avoided them.
I was just going to steal some food and run…
This place was new. Fewer guards. The director was young, with an innocent face.
She planned to feed everyone—then escape.
But—
“Sis! Look! It’s super fluffy!”
“This is a blanket! Way warmer than straw!”
“…Yeah.”
From the moment they were led to the bath, she suspected something vile.
Yet he taught them mechanically, then left.
There was even soap.
Then the food.
Then the beds.
Why go this far?
What was the goal?
If he were openly malicious, it would be easier. Not knowing terrified her more.
She wanted to relax like her sibling—but couldn’t.
“Sis, I’m sleepy…”
“…Don’t sleep too deeply. When I give the signal, we run.”
“Do we have to?”
“This is just a trick. Orphanages are all the same.”
“Sis…”
“You trust me, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then sleep. Get some rest.”
Watching her sibling drift off, Laila slipped out of bed.
This place is different…
No.
Hope was dangerous.
She trusted her hard-earned common sense.
She would find proof.
Whips. Chains. A punishment room.
Anything.
Quietly, she crept through the orphanage.
“…What is this for?”
“That’s right.”
“…?”
A light still shone from one room.
Director’s Office
Her breath caught.
The door was slightly ajar.
“Breathe slowly. Don’t tense up. It’ll be over quick.”
“I-I’m scared.”
“It’s okay. Really. Very quick.”
Inside stood the director.
And Eric.
The most timid of her little brothers.
The director approached him—holding a kitchen knife.
“…!!”
Her mind went blank.
Creeeak.
“Hmm? Laila, was it? Wandering around this late?”
“Perfect timing. Two is better than one.”
Her legs gave out.
She collapsed.
“Here. Touch this.”
“…Huh?”
He offered her something.
Dough.
Plain flour dough.
She accepted it, stunned.
“Hmm. Not much baking talent. Don’t worry—I prepared plenty.”
“…?”
“What about this? A pencil? Or needle and thread?”
“…???”
Laila could no longer comprehend what was happening.