Dawn came too quickly, and with it, the uncomfortable realization that I'd somehow become responsible for six other people's futures.
I stood outside the orphanage in the pre-dawn gray, watching my "recruits" assemble. Thomas arrived first, his glasses already smudged, clutching a small bag that probably contained everything he owned. Lifan bounced up moments later, far too energetic for this ungodly hour. Penny shuffled in quietly, keeping close to Lifan like a shadow.
Then Marcus appeared with his two cronies—a hulking boy named Garrett and a wiry one called Finn. Marcus's emotions were a careful blank, but I caught hints of nervousness beneath the aggressive facade.
Seven orphans, standing in the street like the world's most pathetic militia.
"You all know why we're here?" I asked.
"To not screw up," Marcus said flatly.
"More specifically," I corrected, "to prove we're worth the investment. The Ashworth Company doesn't owe us anything. Clara gave us this chance because I asked. Don't make me regret it."
"Big words from the scrawny kid," Garrett muttered.
"Big consequences if you fail," I shot back. My Detect Intentions skill picked up his immediate spike of resentment, but also fear. Good. Fear was useful. "The warehouse is in the merchant district. We walk together, we arrive together, and nobody—" I stared directly at Marcus, "—causes problems. Clear?"
Grudging nods all around.
[Quest Updated: "The Warehouse Test"]
[Lead your group through their trial employment without incident.]
[Reward: 75 Virtue Points]
[Bonus Objective: Ensure all seven candidates pass their evaluation.]
[Bonus Reward: 50 Virtue Points]
[Failure Penalty: -200 Virtue Points, loss of credibility, disappointed children.]
That last part felt particularly vicious.
The merchant district was already stirring when we arrived—shopkeepers opening shutters, early morning deliveries rumbling past on carts, the smell of fresh bread mixing with horse manure. The Ashworth Company warehouse loomed ahead, a solid three-story building with the company seal emblazoned above the entrance.
A guard stood at the door, looking supremely unimpressed with our ragged group.
I held up Clara's token. "We're expected."
He examined it, grunted, and jerked his thumb inside. "Loading dock. Follow the noise."
The warehouse interior was organized chaos—workers moving crates, someone shouting orders about inventory, the creak of a pulley system hoisting cargo to the upper floors. The scale of the operation was impressive. I'd commanded larger logistics during my campaigns, but for a civilian merchant operation, this showed real competence.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
I turned to find Clara approaching, dressed practically now in work clothes rather than yesterday's finery. Behind her walked a man who could only be her father—same sharp eyes, same confident bearing, but aged by decades and hardened by business.
"Father, these are the children I mentioned."
Lord Ashworth—because that's definitely what he was, minor nobility at minimum—studied us with the calculating gaze of someone who assessed value for a living. His eyes lingered on each face, and I felt my Detect Intentions skill pick up his emotions: skepticism, curiosity, and buried deep, a hint of respect for his daughter's judgment.
"Seven?" he asked.
"Kai negotiated for seven," Clara explained. "Including himself."
"Did he now?" Lord Ashworth turned his full attention to me. "Most children in your position would have taken the money and run. Why ask for jobs instead?"
Because I'm a three-hundred-year-old Demon King stuck in a child's body with a sadistic System forcing me to accumulate virtue points.
"Money runs out," I said instead. "Skills and connections last."
His lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "Wise beyond your years." He turned to address all of us. "Here's how this works. Today is your trial. Each of you will be assigned a task appropriate to your capabilities. Complete it satisfactorily, and we'll discuss permanent positions. Fail, and you go back to the orphanage with no hard feelings. Questions?"
Thomas raised his hand tentatively. "What kind of tasks?"
"Depends on what you can do." Lord Ashworth gestured to a severe-looking woman with a ledger. "Mavis will assess your abilities and assign accordingly. Don't lie about your skills—I'd rather know your limitations now than discover them when a mistake costs me money."
Mavis herded us to different areas of the warehouse like a sheepdog managing particularly stupid sheep. I watched as my group was divided up—Thomas sent to the inventory room with his reading skills, Lifan to help in what looked like a packaging area, Penny to assist the cleaning staff.
Marcus, Garrett, and Finn were directed to the loading dock for heavy lifting. Physical labor for physical boys. Made sense.
"And you," Mavis fixed me with a sharp look. "Clara says you can talk. Let's see if you can count too. You're with me in the office. We're behind on accounts receivable."
[Task Assigned: Accounts Receivable Management]
[Use your intelligence to help resolve the company's outstanding debts.]
The office was a cramped room on the second floor, filled with ledgers, papers, and the distinct smell of ink and frustration. Mavis dropped a stack of documents on a desk that looked like it hadn't been cleared in weeks.
"These are accounts more than thirty days overdue," she explained. "Some are legitimate delays—ships late, goods damaged. Others are excuses. Your job is to sort them, categorize by likelihood of payment, and draft collection letters for the ones that need pressure."
I stared at the stack. In my previous life, I'd managed the logistics of armies, coordinated supply lines across conquered territories, negotiated treaties with kingdom representatives. Accounts receivable was... actually not that different, just smaller scale and less likely to end in bloodshed.
"Paper and ink?" I asked.
She pointed to a supply cabinet and left me to it.
[New Skill Acquired: Basic Accounting (Lv. 1)]
[Your demonic strategic mind adapts to mortal bookkeeping!]
I dove into the work with the same focus I'd once applied to battle plans. Each account told a story—legitimate merchants with cash flow problems, opportunists trying to delay payment, a few who'd probably gone bankrupt and were hoping to be forgotten.
Three hours passed. My hand cramped from writing, and this child's eyes strained from reading faded ledger entries. But the work was... not unpleasant. There was a logic to it, patterns to identify, solutions to implement.
I'd sorted the accounts into four categories and drafted appropriate correspondence for each when Mavis returned.
She looked at my work in silence, flipping through pages, checking my categorizations against her own knowledge of the clients.
"This is... good," she finally said, and her surprise was evident. "Very good. How old are you again?"
"Twelve."
"You write like someone three times that age." She studied me with renewed interest. "Where did you learn accounting?"
Nowhere, I wanted to say. I'd just applied centuries of strategic thinking to a civilian problem.
"Books," I lied. "I read a lot."
[Warning: Lying detected. -2 Virtue Points.]
[Current Points: 177]
I felt the now-familiar sting of the System's disapproval but didn't react. Some questions couldn't be answered truthfully.
"Well," Mavis said, "you've done more in three hours than our regular clerk does in a day. Wait here."
She disappeared, leaving me alone with the ledgers and the growing suspicion that I'd somehow impressed someone important.
A commotion from below drew my attention. Raised voices, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, then—
CRASH
I moved to the window overlooking the loading dock. Marcus and his group were supposed to be down there. What I saw made my stomach drop.
A massive crate had fallen, its contents—what looked like expensive ceramics—scattered across the floor in shattered pieces. Garrett was on the ground, clutching his leg. Marcus stood over him, face pale, while other workers gathered around shouting accusations.
[Alert: Group member in distress!]
[Crisis situation developing!]
[Your response will significantly impact quest outcome!]
I was running before I finished reading the notification.
The scene was worse up close. Garrett's leg was bent at an unnatural angle—broken, definitely. The shattered ceramics represented what was probably months of an orphan's wages in damages. And the dock supervisor—a massive man with a face like a clenched fist—was looming over Marcus.
"You idiots dropped premium Celestian porcelain!" he roared. "That's three hundred gold in damages! Who's responsible?"
"It was an accident," Marcus said, but his voice lacked its usual aggression. "The rope was frayed—"
"I don't care about excuses! Someone's paying for this!"
My Detect Intentions skill was screaming warnings. The supervisor's anger was genuine, but underneath it was something else—opportunity. He saw poor orphan boys with no power, no protection. Easy targets to blame.
"Stop," I said, pushing through the gathered crowd.
The supervisor turned his glare on me. "And who the hell are you?"
"Kai. I brought this group here." I knelt beside Garrett, checking his leg. Definitely broken. The boy was trying not to cry, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Someone get a healer. Now."
"A healer?" The supervisor laughed. "For a street rat? We'll bind it and send him back to the orphanage. After we settle the damages, of course."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," Lord Ashworth's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
Everyone froze. The merchant pushed through the crowd, Clara behind him, both of them taking in the scene with sharp eyes.
"Boss, I can explain—" the supervisor started.
"You can explain," Lord Ashworth interrupted, "why premium cargo was being moved by untrained children without proper supervision. You can explain why that rope—" he pointed to the frayed pulley line, "—hasn't been replaced despite being clearly unsafe. And you can explain why you're threatening orphans instead of calling for medical assistance."
The supervisor's face went from red to white. "Sir, I—"
"You're dismissed. See Mavis for your final wages." Lord Ashworth's voice was ice. "Clara, get a healer. You," he pointed at me, "explain what happened."
I straightened, choosing my words carefully. "Garrett was securing the crate when the rope snapped. Marcus tried to catch it, but the weight was too much. The crate fell, Garrett was injured trying to get clear. No one was negligent—the equipment failed."
It was mostly speculation based on what I could see, but my Detect Intentions skill confirmed Marcus's nod of agreement.
Lord Ashworth examined the frayed rope himself, then turned to his daughter. "Get the healer. And have someone audit all our lifting equipment—I want a report by end of day on what else needs replacing."
"Yes, Father."
He turned back to our group, his expression softening marginally. "This isn't how I wanted your trial to go. But—" he looked directly at Marcus, "—you tried to catch falling cargo to protect the asset. That shows good instincts. And you—" now looking at me, "—you diagnosed the situation quickly and correctly. Both valuable traits."
[Crisis Management: Successful!]
[+25 Virtue Points earned!]
[Current Points: 202]
A healer arrived—some kind of local priest with minor divine magic. He worked on Garrett's leg while we all watched, the boy's screams of pain eventually fading to whimpers as the bone set and began to heal.
"He'll need rest," the healer announced. "No heavy lifting for two weeks."
"He'll have it," Lord Ashworth said. "Along with full wages for the trial period, regardless of his inability to work. This was our equipment failure, not his."
Garrett stared at the merchant with something like worship in his eyes.
[Reputation gain: +15 with Garrett]
[Reputation gain: +10 with Marcus]
[Reputation gain: +20 with Lord Ashworth]
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Thomas had apparently memorized half the inventory system. Lifan's cheerful personality had charmed the packaging staff. Even Penny, quiet as she was, had proven diligent and thorough in her work.
As the sun set, Lord Ashworth gathered us all in the main warehouse floor.
"Today was supposed to be a simple trial," he began. "Instead, it revealed critical safety issues and cost me a supervisor I should have fired months ago. But it also showed me something valuable—you seven have potential."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"I'm offering all of you positions. Part-time for now, working around your other obligations. One silver per week each, plus meals during work hours. As you grow and learn, those positions can become full-time with appropriate raises. Questions?"
"Why?" Marcus asked, suspicious. "We broke three hundred gold worth of merchandise."
"My equipment broke it," Lord Ashworth corrected. "You tried to save it. There's a difference." He smiled slightly. "Besides, my daughter has assured me that Kai here is worth the investment. And if he's vouching for you six, I'm inclined to trust that judgment."
[Quest Complete: "The Warehouse Test"]
[All candidates passed evaluation!]
[+75 Virtue Points earned!]
[Bonus Objective Achieved!]
[+50 Virtue Points earned!]
[Current Virtue Points: 327]
[Achievement Unlocked: "The Unexpected Leader"]
[Effect: People under your guidance receive +10% to learning speed]
[The System is genuinely impressed! You're turning exploitation into opportunity! ♡]
We left the warehouse as the street lamps were being lit. Seven orphans, now with jobs, futures, and something I hadn't expected them to have by the end of the day—hope.
"You did this," Lifan said, walking beside me. "You changed everything for us."
"I made a deal," I corrected. "You all earned your positions yourselves."
"But you got us the chance." Thomas was practically glowing despite his exhaustion. "Nobody ever gives orphans chances."
Marcus walked on my other side, silent until we were out of earshot of the others. "I still don't trust you."
"Good," I said. "Trust is earned, not given."
"But..." he hesitated, clearly struggling with the words. "Thank you. For today. For standing up to that supervisor. For... all of it."
[Reputation gain: +15 with Marcus]
[Marcus's hostility has decreased significantly!]
"Don't thank me yet," I muttered. "We still have to actually do the jobs."
But even as I said it, I felt that uncomfortable warmth in this body's chest again. Pride? Satisfaction? Whatever it was, it was becoming distressingly familiar.
[Character Development Detected!]
[You're genuinely caring about these people's wellbeing!]
[The System is so proud! ♡]
Back at the orphanage, Matron Griselda actually smiled when we told her about the jobs. "Seven employed orphans? That's practically a miracle. And all thanks to young Kai here."
The other children looked at me with a mixture of envy and admiration. I'd gone from invisible to... whatever this was. Notable. Important.
I hated it and craved it in equal measure.
[New Title Acquired: "Orphanage Hero"]
[Effect: Children and caregivers trust you more readily]
That night, lying in my narrow bed, I stared at the clay hero figure Lifan had made. Beside it now sat a small flower Penny had left as thanks, and a folded note from Thomas that just said "Thank you for everything."
Three hundred and twenty-seven points. Ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, six hundred and seventy-three to go.
"This is still just a game," I told the darkness. "I'm still playing the System. Still working toward my own goals."
[If you say so, Host! ♡]
"I am."
[The System believes you! Totally! Completely! ♡]
I closed my eyes, ignoring the sarcasm.
End of Chapter 4
[Current Stats:]
[Virtue Points: 327/100,000,000]
[Days as Reformed Villain: 3]
[Allies Gained: 7 (All employed!)]
[Reputation: Notable (Thornhaven Orphanage), Positive (Ashworth Company)]
[Jobs Secured: 7]
[System's Satisfaction Level: Genuinely Delighted]
[Malachar's Existential Crisis Level: Severe but Suppressed]
Next chapter: "The Side Effects of Kindness"