The Orphans Like Me Too Much (4)

Honestly, everything I'd done up until now was just playing thief. Hadn't I returned every stolen item to its owner? But from here on out, I was going to become a real thief.

The first thing I planned to steal was a bandit gang slated for execution.

'Is there a real curse on that name or something?'

At the adventurer guild, I'd been living under the alias Gil-dong Hong. I figured if any folks from my hometown recognized me, we could at least form an alumni club or something. But I never imagined I'd end up inheriting the Rogue Master's Legacy and assembling my own righteous thief band.

Someone impersonating Hong Gil-dong ends up becoming Hong Gil-dong. Was that the idea?

"A refugee group this massive? Way too suspicious..."

My first order of business: find a corrupt, rotten city. Second: buy off the city hall and church there.

"Does this level of sincerity suffice?"

Clink, clink. The sound of the man opening the gold coin pouch I'd handed him.

Forging identities for shady folks was something you weren't supposed to do. But in this cesspool of a city, money made anything possible.

The mayor and the priest. In the Empire, bribe those two, and creating someone out of thin air—or erasing someone who existed—was child's play.

"A splendid transaction."

And so I bought a rundown mansion in a corner of the city. An old man with no heirs had died, leaving it to the city, and I snagged it for below market price. To turn a profit, first bribe the bureaucrats—something like that.

"I never dreamed I'd live in a house this big!"

"It's not just you living alone—it's communal living."

"Then it'll be even more fun!"

Little Flor, who was destined to become a saintess in the future, shouted with a bright smile. I was originally dark-attribute, twisted personality, distrustful of laws and systems, and now a Rogue Master, so dealing with a pure light-attribute saintess like her was a bit intimidating.

'I kinda wanna test how far I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can push her before she falls.'

A few days of good feeding had given her golden hair a healthy sheen, and her green eyes sparkled elegantly. Seeing that smiling face made me want to mess with her. Like that contradictory urge to smash a beautifully crafted ornament just because it's too pretty.

'Stuff these gloomy desires away.'

This world wasn't a game.

"Thank you so much! Garden sis!"

Flor bowed deeply in gratitude. I'd chosen the alias Garden for this place. Garden to raise Flor. Thieves can't reveal their real names, and we have to invent new ones everywhere we go—such a hassle.

"You're amazing, Boss!"

"What incredible shoveling!"

I immediately started construction on the basement in the mansion. What would take normal people years required me, the blacksmith, to pitch in directly.

"Shut up and haul the dirt faster. No slacking."

I put the men on dirt-hauling duty and the women on cleaning. The bandit gang numbered a whopping 40—two-thirds men, the rest women and kids. I sent the small fry home and only brought back the wanted criminals who'd be executed if caught, plus their families. And this was the size of it.

'At this rate, I'm less a boss and more a village chief.'

If I married off the single guys, the group would nearly double in size. Being a village chief didn't sound easy either.

I'd taken over the bandit gang without killing them, and still got the Clone Technique skill. This Rogue Master's Legacy had some decent quest logic to it.

I tested using the newly acquired clone technique, splitting into two to work on the basement. At Lv1, the duration was a measly 10 seconds. Cooldown: 4 hours. Ugh. Even rabbits mate longer than that.

And then trouble hit. Bandit gangs are like beggars. Gluttonous ones at that. I'd been covering all expenses with savings from my adventurer days, but feeding 40 mouths—er, subordinates—drained my funds in a flash.

'Gotta do something profitable.'

How does a thief make money? The job was already decided.

'Where to hit?'

Ranking Empire regions by wealth: central-west-south-east-north. The center was where the emperor and core nobles lived—the heart of all logistics and finance, regardless of production. The west was the Empire's key granary, a trade hub with neighboring western nations. The south thrived on maritime trade and fishing. Those three were relatively rich; the east and north were poor, rural backwaters.

The north was harsh winters limiting crops, endless monster hordes beyond the Great Wall, constant fighting, residents living in fear. The east bordered the great fairy forest, rich in ores but underdeveloped outside key areas.

'Central nobles would net the most, but high chance of running into real powerhouses.'

The spot where I'd set up with the bandit gang was in the Empire's southeast. Committing crimes nearby would tighten the noose, so I planned to leverage the Rogue Master's mobility for hits far away.

'Start with the west's corrupt nobles.'

Sorry, Dad. Since I ran away from home, I'll crank ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up the filial impiety a notch.

Robbing western nobles would give him headaches one way or another. After weighing options, I concluded that was the place to start.

That's when I approached a castle to rob a lord with a seriously shady reputation in the west.

Suddenly, I got an inventory. Probably because my actions matched the ring's tastes.

Stealing from hundreds of passersby and infiltrating dozens ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of mansions had barely gotten those skills to Lv1 each. Now, one baron's vault bumps them to Lv3? It was like the Rogue Master's Legacy asking why it hadn't robbed corrupt nobles before.

'Because playing righteous thief is embarrassing.'

Like some overgrown college sophomore with a swollen head.

True to a low-rank noble, Bern Baron's castle was modestly sized, with lackluster guards. Magic traps? Security devices? After rolling in grand archmages' dungeons for a year, those wouldn't faze me.

But his obsession with money was impressive—his vault was piled with solid gold ingots. For a low noble to have this much? God knows how much he'd squeezed from the peasants.

Probably undervalued healthy crops at the granary as lowest grade, shoved peasants full of toxic contract clauses, claimed poor harvests up top to get tax breaks while double-booking to fill his own coffers. Definitely a wicked lord. Sucked the peasants' blood dry with corruption! What else could it be? Otherwise, it'd just be disappointing.

'Processed into ingots for easy stealing. Thanks, thanks.'

This haul could feed the gang for 10 years.

With the stolen ingots, I headed north next. Blackfall's black market—the Empire's farthest from the law, where anything sold. There, I swapped the traceable ingots for hard-to-track gold coins. Selling western ingots in the north would scramble any investigators' heads.

"Boss! You're back!"

"Garden sis. Hello."

Three days later, back at the bandit hideout, Flor and the jingling uncles welcomed me. Why am I footing the bill to raise grown adults? Wanna dump 'em all.

"How's the basement expansion?"

"Well, we're hungry, so we don't have much energy."

Despite the whining, the basement showed decent progress. Not compared to me, the human excavator, but still.

"Go to market and buy lots of meat. Enough for 40 to eat heartily."

I handed a few gold coins to Jack, the former bandit leader and fallen priest.

"Embezzle, and you're dead."

"As if!"

"Finish this basement quick, or I won't relax."

Couldn't hire pro builders for one simple reason: this was a secret underground room no one could know about.

It'd house a workshop. For processing stolen goods. Selling raw ingots on the black market meant massive discounts. But craft them into gold necklaces, rings, frog figurines? We'd get fair value—or more.

For that, I'd sent a few gang members to apprentice at the blacksmith guild. Redirect to artisan path.

Basement took 2 months; adding a secret furnace took another. With the workshop complete, the Rogue Master's Legacy tossed another unexpected ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quest.

I had no plans to switch to blacksmithing, you know? This place was just a fence for stolen goods.