The Orphans Like Me Too Much (5)
Since we're on the topic of gear, maybe I should take a closer look at what I usually carry around.
Thief outfit that's too embarrassing to even call clothes. A hooded robe that practically replaces actual clothing. One longsword. Two daggers. That's it. At this rate, it might not even qualify as thief gear.
As the saying goes, the foundation of stealth is lightness. Lugging around a bunch of random junk just weighs you down and makes it hard to move quietly. But the Rogue Master apparently crafted all sorts of gear and put it to good use. The moment I got my personal forge, it tried to turn me into a blacksmith.
'Not that it's a bad thing if I can make my own gear.'
I bought some iron ingots from a nearby workshop and whipped up a few throwing weapons. Then, an unexpected bonus popped up.
Blacksmith Lv. 1
Throwing weapons
Throw Lv. 1
My first passive skills. "Understanding increased"—how does that even work?
'This memory?'
Suddenly, memories from the Rogue Master flooded in through the skill. Crafting tools in the legendary Star Cluster Workshop. Throwing darts at straw dummies. They seeped into my head.
I felt like I could make weapons better and throw them more accurately now.
"Rogue Master, you were a woman?"
The figure in the memories was unmistakably female. So this outfit was her original style? I'd assumed it was some perverted guy's taste.
Guess I had a small misunderstanding.
Keep crafting tools to raise your gear-making proficiency.
Reward: Blacksmith Lv. 2
A new quest. I melted down the tools I'd made. I hadn't planned to before crafting them myself, but once I did, this urge to make them better kicked in. They felt kinda sloppy for actual use—greedy for more.
So I melted them down, remade them, melted again, remade again. Repeat.
Blacksmith Lv. 2
Throw Lv. 2
Leveling passives feels great. Like building a solid foundation. Your inner self gets all sturdy and reassuring?
"Boss, how many hours have you been down in the basement...? And what the hell is that outfit?"
"It's hot as balls down here. You want me to bundle up like a nun and steam myself to death?"
The underground forge had magic gear to absorb smoke and heat from the furnace, but it wasn't enough—it felt like a clay kiln. No choice but to ditch the robe. Hence the skimpy look.
Jack, the orphanage director who'd come to report from outside, freaked out at the sight.
"Whatever. Why're you here?"
"Some woman dumped a baby at the mansion entrance and ran."
"Good job. Means we're officially seen as an orphanage."
Outwardly, our Blanc Orphanage was run by a priest of the empire's main god, Rabita. Jack was a wanted man, but he'd been a real priest once, so faking it was easy. We bought legit identities from the church with cash. Orphanages naturally get abandoned kids dumped. So a baby at our doorstep meant the plan was working perfectly.
"Teacher! I like you the best!"
"Teacher Garden! You're so pretty!"
"Teacher, teacher, why do you always wear the same clothes?"
Unfortunately, no compulsory education in this world. No elementary school to take the kids during the day.
So who teaches orphanage kids? Naturally, it fell to me.
Jack, ex-priest, had some knowledge. But no one was better suited than me—an Earthling reincarnated as a marquess's educated daughter—to teach general common sense.
"Teacher! I did my homework super hard!"
"Don't sneak into the kids' group like that."
Most thieves were peasant stock—barely scraping by with basic arithmetic on their fingers. Couldn't even read well.
So while teaching the kids, I taught the adults too. My classes often had ten kids and twenty grown thieves sitting side by side, studying—a sight impossible on Earth.
'Me, playing teacher? Not in my fate.'
I just didn't want to throw Flor into hell. Even knowing she'd overcome it for a happy ending someday.
Koreans really are the nosiest ethnic group. Guess my soul's soaked in kimchi juice.
"Teacher! Leo got dragged off by some weird uncles!"
"Where?"
"Alley behind the market!"
"Haa..."
Having weak family members around is such a pain. Gotta make sure the city knows not to pull this again.
"Hey, Jack."
"Yes!"
"Gonna step out for a bit. Guard the orphanage tight."
I left without waiting for a reply and headed to the market to track the bastards.
"Didn't see a kid get kidnapped here?"
I grabbed a merchant. He looked like he knew but hesitated to spill.
Guess the other side's the kind you don't wanna tangle with.
"Spit it out if you did."
Sometimes threats work better than kindness.
Intimidate Lv. 1
"Black Rat Gang! Buncha thugs based in a warehouse on the village outskirts!"
"Thanks for the tip. Don't worry—they're all getting wrecked."
I repeated the process a few times and reached the Black Rat Gang's hideout.
"Whaddya want, pretty miss? Need quick cash?"
The sleazy guards greeted me.
"Where's the kid you snatched?"
"Lost sister? Mom missing her baby? If he's gone, give up and make a new one with me."
Vulgar sexual harassment. I grabbed the time-waster's hand and crushed his fingers.
"Gaaaaaaaah!"
Chucked the fainted guy aside and asked the next one.
"Where's the kid you snatched?"
"Three warehouses that way, go inside, fifth one."
"If he's not there, I'm coming back for your tongue."
The spacious warehouse—left empty on purpose?—had Leo tied up tight, surrounded by five adults beating one kid.
"Cut the crap. What're you doing to my orphanage kid?"
"Who's this bitch?"
"How'd she get in?"
"How? Walked."
I hurled darts, stabbing their forearms. Not crippling them. Yet. That'd heal with treatment.
"Grab that bitch!"
Over twenty Black Rat goons swarmed from outside. They'd noticed the commotion after I wrecked the guards.
"Face like top-shelf goods. Cut her tendons and sell her to a whorehouse."
They kidnapped kids for begging and pickpocketing. Loan sharking—unpaid men to slavery, women to brothels. Did every dirty deed in the back alleys.
That was the Black Rat Gang. And they had eyes for my looks.
"You have no idea who you're messing with."
Before the twenty could close in, I charged. To avoid hassle, I snapped a leg or arm on each—clean breaks.
After five down, the rest realized it was me and tried fleeing. No chance.
Smash 'em thorough so they don't even think revenge. Keeps things quiet.
"You know how much protection money we pay the city? No matter how strong you are, you can't fight the empire!"
"Sorry, but I pay more."
A guy who looked like an officer got loud, so I broke both arms and legs—turned him into land-bound jellyfish trash. Not the free-swimming sea kind.
"So why'd you snatch my kid?"
"Orphanage brat wearing nice clothes, fat and healthy—we wanted to check what was up..."
"If you wanted to know, come tour the orphanage. No need to kidnap and beat a healthy kid for that lame excuse."
"There was that option..."
Tears streamed from the man's eyes. I almost bought it for a sec.
No way he hadn't thought of touring, right?
The ruckus drew the city guards quick. Naturally on my side—they took bigger bribes. So despite getting one-sidedly wrecked, the Black Rat goons got hauled off.
The problem? The kids. Boys and girls around ten the gang had trained in pickpocketing and begging.
"Built an orphanage, but didn't plan on raising this many."
Twenty more orphans added. Hardened ones taught theft over letters and numbers.
"Now it's a reform school too."
Luckily, I didn't have to personally rehab them one by one. Flor—the ultimate mental purifier who reformed a whole thief gang just by existing—was with us at Blanc Orphanage.
The future saintess Flor had this effect: living near her dulled malice and poison, made the world look beautiful.
"Gimme!"
"Sure, take it if you need it."
Kids with nothing but starvation memories tried snatching even in our well-stocked orphanage. Flor always gave freely—food, clothes, whatever.
Newbies thought her monk-like generosity weird at first, but soon envied it.
"Why don't you get mad when we do bad stuff to you?"
"You're not bad. The situation that made you do bad things is."
I don't buy innate human goodness crap. Kids are pure evil, little beasts. Need education bad.
So Flor's a freak mutation.