Investing Is for Professionals
I dug through the director's office for information on Katejina—her personal details, her usual temperament, any acquaintances worth remembering.
What I found instead was her catastrophically barren social life.
An old certificate tucked among the orphanage's operating papers confirmed that she currently had no living relatives.
Wow. This woman doesn't even have a family.
And no friends either, apparently—the only correspondence in the place was a stack of notices. Even her sparse schedule had nothing penciled in but big block letters marking "deals." No one else she met with privately, as far as I could tell.
Well, fair enough. With a personality that vicious, how would she ever make friends? A lover was obviously out of the question. Even if she'd had one, he'd have run for the hills long ago.
Rotten personality, greedy for money, and knee-deep in crime to boot.
The one silver lining was that her greed had paid off—she'd amassed quite a fortune.
Selling children out of an orphanage guaranteed short-term profit, at least. It only made sense, after all—people dragged into illegal enterprises weren't shopping around for bargain prices.
The luxury goods she'd owned were probably bought with exactly that kind of blood money. Which meant every last piece was getting liquidated. Sold so thoroughly that not even a speck of dust would remain, so that if the authorities ever came kicking down the door, I could walk out with my head held high, clean as a whistle.
Of course, that would mean nothing if they caught me through the buyers. But that was the worst-case scenario. Besides, the more powerful organizations in the underworld always seemed to have a few friendly ears inside the investigative agencies anyway.
This is why you network, people. Keep a few "friends" in the right places, and even a "one-time mistake" can be smoothed over nicely. What a wonderful world we live in.
But nothing says the worst case can't happen, so I needed a plausible excuse ready just in case. To that end, I pored over Katejina's transaction ledger—and the deeper I dug, the more impressed I became, in the worst way.
Good lord, she sold those children with real thrift. Was she cursed by the god of money in a past life?
She'd already offloaded them not only to the Andelo Family and the Castro Family, but to a mafia organization competing with the Castros as well. And to hide all of it, she'd kept a separate ledger of perfectly legitimate-looking adoptions. Reading through that one, it seemed she did handle genuine adoptions on the side, entirely apart from her deals.
Either way, associating with the likes of them never ends well. Just look at the previous me. I treated my subordinates so well, and those ungrateful bastards repaid me by putting a knife in my back.
Underworld types simply can't be trusted. They'll wax poetic about loyalty and honor and the rules, then toss all of it out the window the moment it's their turn to stab someone from behind.
Far better to raise the children into upstanding young people, send them off to good families, and secure steady patronage through them. Hook a few soft-hearted fat cats, place some fine adopted sons and daughters with them, and the money flows in on schedule.
And with that, this new body of mine will never want for retirement funds!
Katejina Jinsky—this woman was so drunk on quick profits that she never once thought about the road ahead.
Wait, no. From now on, I am Katejina, so I'm just insulting myself here. Which means what's called for is penance.
Katejina, let's not take any more dangerous gambles this time around. Let's aim for stable, long-term returns. In a world like this one, investment is everything—and all this time, we've been letting such golden opportunities slip by.
"Let's do better from here on out, Katejina!"
I, Katejina Jinsky, hereby resolve to turn over a new leaf and become a splendid investor—no, a splendid orphanage director.
Just then, someone opened the door and came in.
"Why are you yelling? Are you angry about something?"
It was Rina. She was leaning on the doorknob, poking just her face through the gap.
"No, of course not. I was just... doing a bit of vocal warm-up."
"Vocal warm-up?"
"That's right. Anyway, Rina—what is it, sweetheart?"
I slid the documents out of sight and greeted her as warmly as I could manage. But Rina looked me over, then glanced around the room before asking:
"Where's the director?"
A bizarre question, but the newly reborn Katejina had pledged not to lose her temper. Instead, I answered kindly.
"Right here, aren't I?"
Even at that, Rina shook her head hard.
"You're a mister."
Well, well. Look at this kid.
How did she know?
It was true that Katejina's difference showed on my face, but that hardly meant anyone could leap straight to it's someone else entirely.
The normal conclusion would be "Katejina's acting strange." Even short of that, very few people could speak with such certainty that the person himself had been replaced.
Which meant, I was certain, that this was something on an entirely different level from mere perception.
The realm of the senses. Specifically, a sense for perceiving the mystical—one that had to be exceptional. Apparently she was born with it.
Still, what does a little kid actually understand? Just brush it off and move on.
"Mm. From now on, I've decided I'll be the director too."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Waa—!"
Watching Rina cheer, it seemed that the original director's disappearance wasn't much of a loss to her either.
"I have to go tell the others!"
I barely managed to stop Rina, who was ready to bolt that very second and spread the news.
"Not so fast, young lady."
"Why not?"
"I made a promise with the director. That I'd take her place. And in exchange, she asked me to keep it a secret from you children that I'm not the original director."
"Why?"
The constant needling was starting to wear on my patience. I pushed the irritation down and explained calmly.
"Because it would worry you all."
"Hm. But I wouldn't worry."
To hear that from sweet, innocent Rina—Katejina, you really did live a wretched life. No, wait. Maybe she genuinely meant she wouldn't worry at all. I decided it was kinder to take it that way.
"The other children might worry, though, don't you think?"
"I guess?"
"Exactly. So it's our secret."
I held out my pinky finger to Rina.
"Now, pinky promise."
"Promise!"
Rina beamed and hooked her finger around mine. I gave her hair a little ruffle, then took her hand in mine.
"Since you promised, you'll call me Director from now on."
"Okay~"
"Shall we go see the other children, then?"
Rina and I stepped out of the director's office together.
The children, seeing me smile brightly, exchanged wary glances with one another. Only Rina came up to me cheerfully.
"Mis... Director, is this our dinner?"
"It is. Why do you ask?"
"It looks yummy! Different from usual!"
Good grief—what had she been feeding them, plain gruel every night? This actually looks tasty to them?
I'd done nothing special. The pantry was nearly bare, so I'd just thrown together a stew from whatever was on hand and baked some bread. And this was the reaction.
"It'll be ready in a moment, so wait just a little."
As I said it sweetly, I could see several of the children flinch. I set the finished stew and bread down on the table.
The moment the first plate touched down, Rina darted over and claimed her seat.
"All of you, come and sit down too."
At my words, the other children began to sidle over, one cautious step at a time.
There were ten children in residence now, Rina included. Mercifully, that was a number I could manage on my own.
Before everyone had even sat down, Rina—apparently unable to wait a second longer—dug in first.
"Eat as much as you like, all of you."
Even said as kindly as I could manage, the children only stole nervous glances at me.
"It's delicious!"
But children will be children. Watching Rina eat with such gusto, appetite was bound to win out.
One by one, little hands reached for the plates in front of them. One spoonful, two spoonfuls, three...
The pace steadily quickened. Watching the children devour their food like they were simply breathing, the corners of my mouth lifted on their own.
"There's plenty, so take your time. There's a lot more where that came from."
These were my future revenue streams—no, my precious charges. They deserved nothing less. I'd have to teach them some manners along the way, too.
After a few days of settling into life as Katejina, I turned my eye to the orphanage itself. It wasn't large, and it was dreadfully run-down.
The stairwell the children climbed every day had rotten boards actually broken through; the doorknobs on their bedroom doors had long since fallen off; the bathroom was in a state of criminal neglect—the list of defects went on and on.
The old Katejina, it seemed, had never felt any pressing need to improve the place. But the current Katejina was different. To show the world a reformed Katejina Jinsky, the facade had to change first.
Now, where could I find a contractor to fix the place up?
It would cost a fair amount, but it was an investment more than worth absorbing. Factoring in recent prices, the cash from liquidating Katejina's luxuries would cover it comfortably.
That didn't mean I could hand the job to just anyone, though. I'd need a reputable outfit at a reasonable price.
I was still turning over how to go about tracking down such a contractor when there came a knock at the front door.
Who on earth—?
Before any of the children could get there first, I headed straight for the entrance.
"Who is it?"
"......"
I asked as I approached the door, but no answer came.
Hm. Ominous, isn't it?
Still, ignoring the door just because it felt ominous wasn't an option either. With that thought, I opened it slowly. What met my eyes were three men in angular coats.
The man in the middle took off his hat the moment he saw me.
"Ah, Madam Director. It's been a while."
The man greeting me so warmly, with a smile plastered across his face, had a distinctly receding hairline.
This one's "bare patch" is only going to grow, isn't it. I'll be sure to say a prayer for him.
"Ah, you've come. Please, come in."
"Then we'll trouble you for a moment."
Yes, you certainly are troubling me.
"Shall we continue this in the director's office?"
"Ha ha, of course."
Unlike the smiling man up front, whose warmth matched his balding head, the two behind him were men of few words. I was about to lead the three of them to the office when the floorboards creaked.
"Huh? Who are they?"
It was Rina, come running out.
"They're guests, sweetheart. Run along and go play with Opindel."
Opindel was the eldest of the children currently at the orphanage. A calm, quiet boy—but unlike the others, he kept a marked distance from me.
Well, being older than the rest, I suppose his old wounds run deeper. That one was going to take time.
"Opindel's no fun, though."
If you said that to his face, kid, he'd probably cry.
"Be a good girl and listen to the Director, now."
the balding man said, all smiles.
"Okay~"
At his words, Rina turned and trudged back. The two men behind the balding one gave her a light wave as she went.
Hm. So they're not entirely stiff even around children. Noted.
I left Rina behind and stepped into the director's office, and the three men followed me in.
"Now then—what brings you all here today?"
I poured the tea I'd set brewing earlier into cups and handed one to each of the three men.
They had come for a reason, clearly and unmistakably. And of course they had—these bastards were mafia.