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~Chapter 9~
After a weekend that could only be described as disappointing, I returned to my post at the general store, once again entertaining the kind of customers who made me want to say, “Would you like to die today?”
It was mid-afternoon, and I had just unwrapped a sandwich for lunch when the shop doorbell chimed.
Ding—
In walked an old man dressed head to toe in crumpled newspaper—a hat, a coat, even shoes. His bent frame and kind, weathered eyes tugged at one’s sympathy. I smiled warmly.
“Grandpa Jean, it’s been a while.”
At the counter, he straightened his back, removed his makeshift hat, and nodded with solemn dignity.
“Ah… I was abroad for business, you see. Give me twenty bags of candy. I’m off to the almshouse.”
“You’re bringing treats for the children again?”
“Indeed. I intend to lecture those little pickpockets about the virtue of honest begging.”
Jean de Pansu, a proud member of the Beggar Guild—one of the few who actually paid for what he took—handed over rusted coins with a generous smile.
“Here, this is for you, our honorary beggar. I picked it from the wishing fountain in the Royal Capital—one that supposedly grants desires. It was gifted to me during the Beggar Alliance Summit and the signing of the Vagrancy Zone Expansion Treaty.”
He spoke like an executive returning from an international conference. Somehow, I had become an honorary member of the Beggar Guild. Maybe because I often gave them small favors, they’d even listed my store as an official partner. Which, honestly, was great—no one tried to panhandle here anymore.
The Beggar Guild, though mocked by society, was one of the Empire’s most efficient information networks. Its members—wandering mendicants, scavengers, and drifters—traveled everywhere, knowing everything.
“Thank you. Heard any interesting stories lately?”
He rubbed his chin, eyes brightening.
“Ah, yes. Calamity has struck the Spirit Territory once again.”
“The Marquisate of Belmour? I heard the Spirit King was enraged.”
“Just so. According to the beggars fleeing from there, the marquis’s eldest daughter was blamed for the disaster and cast out. But even after her exile, the wrath only worsened. Perhaps the Spirit King’s anger was not so easily soothed.”
I listened silently as he went on.
“Now the surrounding lords demand exorbitant payment for sending their mages and knights to aid them. And the cost of cleansing the land poisoned by miasma is bleeding the treasury dry. A once-thriving realm brought low by its own pride.”
I sighed faintly, resting my chin in my palm.
“Do you think the marquis’s daughter truly caused the calamity?”
“Hmph. Word is she wasn’t even his blood. A bastard born of the marchioness’s affair. The Spirit King, they say, was enraged that a cuckoo’s chick dared to sit as heir to his temple.”
Jean shrugged, fiddling with the brim of his paper hat.
“Oh, and be careful. Thieves have been plaguing shops around here. Even the nearby stalls were hit. Wretched scoundrels—if only they’d learn the beggar’s creed: beg, never steal.”
I nodded calmly. In Yudes, robberies were as common as breathing. That’s why no sane shopkeeper left goods openly displayed.
“Don’t worry. The defensive wards are strong. My boss paid a fortune for them.”
I slipped him a few extra candies on the house. He noticed Edell quietly working at the table before looking back to me.
“Bring the child to District 7 sometime, honorary beggar.”
“Uh… sure.”
When he left, I turned to Edell.
“How’s the homework? Not too hard?”
“It’s boring.”
He didn’t even look up. Pencil in hand, he worked through the pages of problems I’d made myself.
Though he carried fragments of knowledge from his former life as a villain, he was still just a child now—and a child needed education. Since Yudes had no schools and outsiders wouldn’t accept him, I’d asked Keia for textbooks and built my own homemade curriculum. A humble attempt at homeschooling, villain-rehabilitation edition.
“Boring? I made those math problems myself. They’re fun!”
“What’s fun about a bunch of bombs drawn in a notebook?”
“They’re apples, not bombs.”
He raised one brow in dry disbelief.
“The difficulty’s too low.”
Ugh, this little genius. I should discipline him with Calculus for the Gifted.
“Fine. I’ll study harder and make them tougher next time.”
He had infinite potential now—reborn with a clean slate. Even a future villain must have had childhood dreams once.
“Edell, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“An adult.”
A simple answer, yet oddly profound.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement.
“What about you?”
“Me? I already am an adult. If you mean dreams…”
My words trailed off.
How could I tell him I’d once had a future predetermined from birth, only to watch it crumble like sand in the wind?
Before I could reply, the shop door slammed open. A group of men stormed in—faces covered, weapons drawn.
One pointed his sword straight at me.
“Good afternoon. We’re robbers.”
Robbers?!
Did he really just introduce himself like a salesman? Right after Grandpa Jean warned me? Talk about immediate foreshadowing.
I grabbed Edell’s hand.
“Edell, get behind me.”
To my surprise, he showed not an ounce of fear. If anything, I was the one trembling.
He squeezed my hand lightly.
“You’re protecting me?”
His violet eyes shimmered with something strange—something like delight.
“Of course. Trust me.”
I trusted the warding barrier, at least.
It had held through countless attacks. Impenetrable, unbreakable—my very own fortress.
“Why?”
“Because you’re still a child. It’s my job to protect you.”
“And if I were an adult?”
“Then… you’d handle yourself.”
Feeling oddly heroic, I pushed him gently behind me and faced the robbers.
“Leave before you regret it.”
I tried to keep my voice steady, wearing my best I’m not scared at all expression. (Spoiler: I was terrified.)
“Hand over what we want, and we’ll go quietly,” said one, flicking his fingers.
I glanced at today’s sales—two copper coins from candy, one strange fruit a kid traded for caramel, and some empty bottles for the beggars. Not exactly loot.
“We have no money. No one ever buys anything here anyway.”
“Then how does this shop stay open?”
“Beats me. I’m just the clerk.”
The leader tilted his head.
“Rumor has it a powerful technique is hidden here. A drifter poet spoke of a girl who possesses a secret manual.”
Ah, the wind mage I once beat at cards. Of course.
“That rumor’s fake. Someone who lost money to me must’ve started it out of spite.”
Another robber snickered.
“Then we’ll check for ourselves.”
They exchanged glances, and the biggest of them stepped forward—raising a spiked mace.
CRASH!
The weapon struck the invisible barrier with a thunderous boom. I staggered but held my ground.
“Ha! Nice try. You’ll never—”
Crack.
A hairline fracture split the air in front of me, running down the ward like lightning.
…Did that just happen?
“No. No, no, no. That’s not supposed to happen.”
My fortress—my unbreakable barrier—was breaking.
