Chapter 45 : Life in a Medieval Fantasy Orphanage (3)

“Well then, I’ll be going.”
“…Yes.”
“Ah, no need to see me out. I’ll say goodbye to the children myself and head back.”
“May the Sky God watch over you.”

Their conversation had just ended. Pener, second-in-command of George’s Crew, rose from his seat. As Sonia hastily shut the door and stepped back, he stepped outside.
“Sonia, have you been well?”
“…Yes, Mister.”

Sonia and Pener knew each other, exchanging greetings—but their expressions clashed. Pener smiled warmly; Sonia looked wary, hiding behind Lena.
“Your greeting lacks energy. Am I still unfamiliar? You can treat me like an uncle.”
“Hehe, sorry.”
“It’s alright—I suppose I should try harder. Is this a new friend? I haven’t seen her before.”

Pener extended his hand for a shake. “My name’s Neve. What’s my friend’s name?”
“Neve?”
“You might’ve heard it—I’m quite famous around here.”

Lena tilted her head. How could I have heard it? She’d just arrived at Carvalon Castle. But there was another reason she questioned him.
“Neve—that’s an alias, isn’t it?”
“Haha, did you mistake me for someone similar? My name really is Neve.”
“Not Pener?”
“…That’s a name I’ve never heard.”

Pener’s face stiffened briefly, smoothing out in a blink—but it didn’t escape Lena’s keen eye. He’s lying. The status window might mix up professions, but not names. Hiding his real name? With “George’s Crew Second-in-Command” attached, it reeked of suspicion. The subordinate’s mistake is the superior’s. Should she demand compensation for the bandits’ mental distress? Nah, let’s not. They might’ve acted alone—last she remembered, their profession was “bandit.” Claiming George’s Crew could be like name-dropping a prestigious ex-employer for clout. She didn’t want to accuse the wrong guy, especially since she was here to apologize for badmouthing Mother Isolde.

…Rationally, that’s what she thought.
“Hah, hah, you’ve got quite a grip for someone your size. I know you’re happy to see me, but could you let go?”
[Survival Instinct (Lv. Max) is activated!]
[Battlefield Pledge – The Scales discern Evil!]

Her ever-right intuition screamed: Don’t worry about the aftermath—just beat him up. She felt an urge to plant her fist in his face—letting him go would spell trouble later. It’d be easy—squeeze now, crush his hand, rip his arm off. Consequences be damned, her gut said do it. If I beat him up first, an excuse’ll come up later, right? Her pupils nearly narrowed to lizard slits—
“Miss Lena, Miss Sonia. Did you have something to say? Please come inside.”

Mother Isolde called out.
“Ahem, yes, nice meeting you. I’ll be going—let’s see each other later.”
Ow, it stings. Pener muttered awkwardly and escaped.
“Please come in.”
“Let’s go, Lena.”

Too bad, but there’ll be another chance. Sonia led her into the director’s office.

Permission for Badugi was granted easily.
“A puppy? Hmm, a friend who came with Miss Lena. Does he bite people? Ah, he likes them. The children used to ask for animals—this could be a good opportunity. I permit it.”

Mother Isolde pictured a guard dog. Who’d think a monstrous wolf bigger than a man was a “puppy”? Sonia mumbled, wanting to spill the truth, but Lena nudged her silent. Forgiveness is easier than permission, sages say. Once Badugi charmed the kids, how could the director split them up? Did I lie? No—just didn’t explain fully. Lena felt justified.

“And you wish to confess? Ah… Miss Lena felt that way. If it were up to me, I’d feed you only good things, let you enjoy only good things… but it doesn’t always work out. I forgive your wrongdoings. If you have complaints or questions later, let’s talk directly. My office is always open—don’t hesitate. Discussing solutions together, we’ll find a good compromise.”

Mother Isolde was so kind, Lena felt guilty for misjudging her. Soothing a child’s feelings with calm comfort choked her up. Mother Isolde… Verdict: Real nun, not cult nun. People can worship multiple gods—if a god can’t forgive that, is it a god? She’s such a good person.
“Is that all? Let’s return—the next schedule starts soon.”
“Ah, one last question.”
“What is it?”
“That Mister Pener—Neve—whatever. What were you talking about earlier?”
“Ah…”

Mother Isolde looked troubled. What? Why? Why would this benevolent Mother hesitate? Privacy? Countryside folk don’t care about that. Ah, she’s just considerate—a saint born in the wrong era.
“Lena, let’s go.” Sonia tugged her arm. “I’ll tell you outside.” She whispered in Lena’s ear.

What do you know? Lena nearly retorted but stood. Right, eavesdropping on the director’s office is their culture. What good is privacy when others snoop and spread it? In a village of the one-eyed, the two-eyed is the odd one. Having been the lone civilized soul among Great Forest beasts, Lena empathized with Isolde.

Sonia checked an empty room far from the office, confirmed it was clear, and gestured inside. Once Lena entered, she locked the door and spoke in a hushed tone, like sharing a secret.
“Mister Neve is a sponsor of our orphanage.”
“Sponsor?”
“Yes, the Sister tells us to thank him when he visits. He brings gifts too—check the living room, you’ll find toys or snacks.”
“If that’s it, why hide it?”
“Well, he probably came to press the Sister about a debt.”
“?”

What’s this? A sponsor donates freely for a good cause—how could debt collection factor in?
“I overheard secretly—he said he can’t keep donating, so it’d be nice if we helped with manpower till his situation improves.”
Like a social field trip? The kids would work after graduating anyway—this could lead to jobs. A win-win, right?
“Then it’s not debt collection?”
“…Just my feeling. He smiled, but his tone felt threatening, scary. The Sister looked troubled too.”

If Isolde urged gratitude, Pener’s donations must’ve been big. The orphanage’s budget was tight, balancing two religious orders. Losing a major donor would hurt—his “proposal” would feel like a threat. It probably was. George’s Crew was organized crime—can a leopard change its spots? Even in a suit, a gangster’s a gangster. “Lack of money” was likely an excuse—those “jobs” might not even be legit.
“So that’s why you dislike Pener.”
“Pener? Mister Neve? Hehe, was it obvious? The other kids like him, but I don’t.”

Sonia disliked him, and Lena’s gut agreed. Then I’ll just get rid of him. A decision lighter than picking lunch.
“I need to step outside for a bit.”
“Huh? Why so sudden?”
“Remembered something I need to do.”

Contrary to the carefree naturalist stereotype, survival demanded diligence. Strike while the iron’s hot. Lena didn’t delay today’s tasks.
“Ah, I need permission to go out.”

An unexpected hurdle—dorm life, especially in an orphanage. Free roaming risked trouble.
“Hmm.” Lena imagined:
Victory! Orphanage resident Lena reporting to Mother Isolde!
What is it?
Requesting permission to go out!
Go out? Why?
To crush George’s Crew!
Miss Lena, what are you talking about?
…Probably wouldn’t work.

Should I sneak out? I’d get caught quick, and the kids would work harder with me gone. Sonia, sensing her predicament, asked, “Are you thinking of sneaking out?”
“Yes.”
“Then ask Malcom and his friends—they’re experts at that.”
“Oh.”

Medicine from the pharmacist, diagnosis from the doctor. Delinquents were pros at bad deeds.
“But who’s Malcom?”
“You know, the kids who tried to initiate you.”
“Ah, them.”

Lena recalled. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen them since, right?

And so—
“Come here!”
“!”
Horrifying terror, living disaster, the source of their trauma descended upon Malcom’s gang!