The Orphans Like Me Too Much (2)
The most dangerous part of a fire isn't the flames—it's the toxic smoke and the asphyxiation from oxygen depletion. Time was running out, making me even more frantic. There was no way to save the kids unscathed.
That's when a soap-bubble-like membrane formed around one of the children. A finely woven mana shield. She'd instinctively conjured it in her moment of crisis.
"You... a mage...?"
Mages, in simple terms, are like having an extra limb. Can you freely move a sixth finger? A third eye? Wings sprouting from your back? You'd say no, right? But there are humans who can. Born with the ability to manipulate external mana as if commanding non-existent organs. That's a mage—the gift for magic.
And conveniently, this place was stocked with mana extracted from the kids. Plus, we had a mage right here.
So... then...
I immediately sketched a magic circle on the floor. I couldn't cast spells myself—limited to five fingers and all—but I'd picked this one up from dungeon hauls and flipping through mages' tomes. Gotta appraise if a grimoire's real or fake before fencing it, y'know? Thanks to that, I ended up a walking idiot savant with useless magic theory and circles memorized.
"Kid! Gather the ambient mana! Dump it all right here!"
I smashed a glass vial brimming with mana, grabbed the girl with the talent for interference, and shoved her into the circle.
"Wanna save your friends or not!?"
Kwaaaaaah!
The circle lit up, unleashing a massive jet of water straight toward the basement entrance. If the volume had been off, it could've turned into a steam explosion and made things worse. But the output was perfect—enough to block backflow.
The colossal water stream raced down the basement passage and erupted outside. Bet the shack looked like a volcano blowing—magma swapped for hot spring water.
"Push that water all the way out! Unless you wanna drown in the basement!"
I yelled and dove into the magical torrent. Swimming wasn't my forte, but this short distance? Body enhancement got me through.
"Gahhh!"
The perps had figured the intruder was toast once they torched the basement. They freaked when I burst out with the water.
One-shot takedown.
Five against one? No issue. I didn't train eleven years to struggle with third-rate mooks like these. Without the kids, this wouldn't even qualify as a crisis.
"No rope? Guess I'll dislocate your joints instead."
"Open that cabinet over there—rope's inside!"
These scumbags who'd tortured kids were suddenly whimpering at the thought of their own joints popping.
"Yeah, right. Open it and it'll probably explode. Trap magic circle."
"No! Just rope, I swear!"
"Pull any tricks, and I skip joints—straight to tendons."
I kicked the pervert begging to be tied in the ass, making him fetch the rope. Then I bound all five criminals tight.
Now what?
Let's list my tasks:
1. Keep the kids safe.
2. Haul these guys to jail.
3. Stop the mansion's accomplices from fleeing.
2 and 3 were easy solo. But syncing with 1? Problem. One body, no backup—limits hit quick.
Backup?
I recalled the one kid from the underground cell. The mana prodigy who'd fired that water cannon just from my circle. Teaming with her might work.
I dragged the perps back downstairs.
"Don't go near these guys. Don't even listen if they talk."
I shoved them in a corner, warned the kids, and found the prodigy. Sky-blue hair, blue eyes. Sharp-faced kid, even under the grime—future heartbreaker.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Allen."
I knew that name. Youngest magic tower lord at fifteen. Sub-male lead from the romance novel I'd read.
What a wild coincidence.
Ten years old now, maybe? Normally, you'd never rely on a brat this young. But future tower lord...
"Think you can turn this basement into a fortress? You handle defense, I'll do offense. I'll teach you the circles you need."
I handed the extracted mana back to Allen. Fortified the basement, then bolted for the city. Had to nab the mansion owner before he rabbited—he was a key accomplice.
"Spare me! I know nothing!"
"Haven't even asked yet."
Luckily, the owner was clueless about the stolen map. My stealth was that good.
I trussed him up, wrapped him like a parcel, then stormed the mayor's mansion next.
"Call the imperial knights and magic tower now! Major incident!"
"Who the hell are you?"
"Erika of House Confeld."
"Gasp!"
I hated name-dropping Dad, but no choice. "Random passerby A" wouldn't fly.
"So the rumors were true."
"What rumors?"
"That Lady Confeld's so stunning, she'd shatter the empire's social scene—hence the seclusion."
"What?"
I'd skipped society balls 'cause I was ugly, not hot. How'd it flip? Mom's looks, maybe.
"Enough chit-chat. Report it: mages kidnapping, imprisoning, abusing, draining kids!"
"Right away!"
They bought it sans house seal. Convenient? Sketchy? Whatever.
I kept the owner and mayor pinned till knights and mages arrived.
Thirty minutes later, tower mages showed first. I sent some to the mansion, took others to the shack and basement.
"Barrier's rock-solid. High-caliber mage work."
"Kid! It's me! Open up!"
The barrier dropped at my call. The mages gawked inside.
"Just kids? Then who cast this?"
Who else? Future tower lord.
A ten-year-old outdueling the tower's mages to claim the seat. Romance novels hype the leads so hard, power balance goes to hell.
And way too grimdark.
Amelia, now Allen—both child trafficking victims. Romance fantasy or dark fantasy?
Male leads always pack tragic backstories for heroine bonding. But this edginess was overkill.
Captured perps and prime suspects. Rescued the kids. Hero play outta nowhere.
Leave the investigation to tower mages and imperial knights. Not thief turf.
"Is it true this child formed a master-disciple bond with you, milady?"
That evening, an imperial knight brought Allen over, looking awkward.
"What're you on about?"
"You taught me circles. Makes you my master."
That was a temp team-up. Why my disciple?
"Clueless."
"Then it was the child's whim. Understood."
"You saw my talent! Train me to be the greatest mage!"
Allen yelled, eyes like a lamb to slaughter. Already kidnapped from an orphanage once—scared to go back?
"What happens if I don't take him?"
"Other kids go to orphanages if no parents found. But this one's a mana prodigy—the tower lord's claiming him personally."
Future tower lord indeed. Wooed the current one already.
"I like this lady better than the tower!"
Ten-year-old calling me "lady"?
"Kid, the tower lord knows magic a hundred times better than me. Hell, I'm not even a mage—just a hack who knows a few circles."
"But that old guy's got nothing to do with me."
"And we do?"
"You saved me."
Allen: future tower lord. Emperor-mouthing arrogant genius. The buds were sprouting early.
His bright blue eyes locked on mine.
"Next time, I'll protect you."
"Pipsqueak. You're a decade younger."
Lie. Past life included? Ancient.
"I'm not some weakling needing protection."
Can't take swordmasters yet.
"Fine. But don't forget the debt. Repay double when we meet again."
Amelia fits the marquessate fine. Allen belongs at the tower. I'm no orphan collector—no reason to force it.
So we parted clean.
That night, I slipped out of the city under cover of dark. With the mess this big, Confeld folks would come. My new face? Instant chaos.
But back then, I had no clue.
One of those orphans I'd saved was the future heroine—the saintess.