KWB 9

Chapter 9: The Weight of a Provider

The owner of the magic shop that made us furious… was that kid?

“…….”

“…….”

The flustered residents exchanged glances.

There was a handsome boy standing behind the girl, but he looked like some young thug she’d hired, and there was a middle-aged woman, but at a glance, she was just an employed staff member.

As for the owner.

“Are you residents of Maple Street?”

This kid right in front of them.

“…….”

“…….”

The residents looking at each other let out a dry laugh.

The fighting spirit that had driven them to storm all the way here since the morning vanished cleanly.

They simply asked:

“Hey, little one.”

Where are your parents?

There are many magicians who make good magical potions, and many cafe owners who brew delicious coffee.

But people who can do both at the same time are rare.

Among them, those with the discernment to pick high-quality herbs and crops to use as ingredients are even fewer.

‘And the person who can do all three is me.’

Only I.

Can avoid the unpalatable potions of this world.

Earn money by doing what I’m good at.

Earn money using my past-life knowledge.

I’m not trying to become super rich, just earn enough to survive for exactly one year.

I was confident.

The original scenario planned by confident me went like this:

Bang!

The door flies open as furious neighboring residents and shop owners… my prospective customers rush in.

‘Hey!’

‘A magic shop on this street! Whose permission did you get?’

‘That’s right! For an industry with a heavy stench like magic potions, shouldn’t you ask for the neighbors’ understanding first? That’s not how decency works!’

‘And it’s not even just a regular potion! You’re saying you sell fertilizer?!’

Murmur, murmur. Chatter, chatter.

The residents protest fiercely.

And listening to those protests with furrowed brows, a wrinkled glabella, and a ‘That’s deeply relatable and unfortunate’ expression, I speak.

‘However.’

Our precious prospective customers of this shop.

‘Is there any foul odor coming from potions or fertilizers right here and now?’

At my words, the residents hesitate.

‘Th… that is.’

‘It’s not smelling right now, though…….’

‘Right?’

How can that be?

To the puzzled residents, I reveal it.

A deodorizing potpourri made from the discarded herbs I received yesterday from the Pamy Farm, tied with a cute light purple ribbon in a yellow pouch.

Herbs that were thrown away because the soil acidification made their quality poor, yet still retained their fragrance. Mixing those herbs with leftover oyster shells.

‘Certain smells are acidic like sour soil, so if you mix in oyster shells… blah, blah. Time to show off my past-life knowledge.’

‘Gasp!’

‘No way!’

‘For a smell to be removed so completely!’

‘This is truly amazing!’

I wrap up by handing a pouch of potpourri to each of the astonished residents.

Taking advantage of the momentum, I treat each of them to a cup of ade potion.

‘Well, having a magic shop nearby that sells all sorts of things is pretty convenient.’

‘As long as there’s no smell, well….’

‘Does this potion get delivered right in front of my house every morning?’

‘Oh my, you plan to introduce even more diverse products in the future, so look forward to it?’

‘I’m really looking forward to it!’

Satisfied, the residents return home as my prospective customers.

That was my scenario up to this point.

However, the actual situation was:

“Hey, where are your parents?”

“…….”

“I want to talk to an adult, not you. Where are your parents, huh?”

“That’s right, Mom or Dad, hurry and call them over. You must have a guardian, right?”

“…….”

I have no guardian.

Both of them cannot come.

“…….”

Actually, it’s not like I hadn’t anticipated this kind of situation at all.

‘Because I’m still sixteen.’

The rule that you can open a magic shop starting in the 6th year of the academy is just like the school rule that ‘you can legally marry from age 18 and older,’ since practically almost no one operates a shop at this age.

Naturally, those people would assume there’s an adult next to me…….

I expected all of that.

I even prepared all my lines to answer and strategies to persuade them.

I am a veteran survivor of the ‘Life is Hard’ CEO era. This level of conflict doesn’t even tickle.

Yet, at a single remark asking where my parents were—

“Seriously, why aren’t you answering? Hey, do you not have parents?”

Yes. They aren’t here.

They passed away.

The words admitting that Mom and Dad no longer exist in this world just wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

As I stood there blankly, having lost my voice, the residents clicked their tongues.

“The kid is completely frozen.”

“Good grief, what are we supposed to talk about with a kid like this…?”

“Hey, we didn’t come here to scold you. Still, wrong is wrong, so when your parents come back, talk it over well and tell them to drop by our place.”

“Let’s get going.”

The tongue-clicking residents poured out of the shop in a flock.

The last person left behind was a retired judge.

An elderly man wearing a badge engraved with the Kingdom Court’s crest on his lapel spoke.

“I don’t know where you got the money to open a shop, but running a store isn’t a child’s playhouse. Everyone else is working fiercely with their livelihoods on the line.”

“…….”

“Anyway, why on earth did the academy make a rule like that… tsk tsk.”

“…….”

“I am someone who opposes reducing sentences for minors. Whether you opened a shop with a mindset of playing house or whatever, now that you’ve entered society, you should receive treatment equal to an adult, right?”

“…….”

“In three days, coinciding with the opening day of this magic shop, I plan to run a column in the