"Who are you?"
"What are you doing here?"
As Septimus sat at the bakery desk doing the monthly accounts, he frowned. Through one of his clones, he saw the father of this body causing a scene in the bakery windows.
"Who are you, slave? Where is Gryllus?" said Publius, Septimus' father, somewhat angrily.
He was a heavy drinker who spent his days in taverns and brothels, coming to the bakery every few days to ask for money. He had taken advantage of a widow, so he disappeared for days without noticing the change in staff at the bakery.
"Sir, I am the new sales manager of the bakery," replied Septimus' clone, frowning at the commotion caused by this foolish father.
Publius, a little irritated, replied, "I don't care, slave, call Septimus right now, I need money."
Upon hearing that statement, Septimus became a little upset. He had barely 2,200 denarii from the sale of the three slaves plus the profits from the bakery in recent days. If his foolish father knew about that money, he would waste it.
"The young master is coming, sir," replied the clone.
Septimus directed his main body to the entrance of the bakery.
Seeing Septimus, Publius, already impatient, said, "You brat, who told you that you can buy new slaves? Do you want me to beat you up?"
Septimus became a little irritated. He had originally forgotten about this father, but now that he was here, it was time to settle old and new scores.
This father was a heavy drinker. Septimus's mother had died three years ago, which was why Septimus was introverted, added to the abuse he suffered from his drunk father. When he transmigrated into this body, this drunk father frequented brothels and taverns. He did not notice the changes in his son's personality, which is why he was unaware of and had little interest in the replacement of the slaves.
Now that you are here, don't think about leaving, Septimus thought coldly.
Although he resisted the idea of killing, he knew that sooner or later he would have to do it.
"Father, I have prepared 500 denarii for you. They are inside the house,"
said Septimus, plucking up his courage with a fake smile.
"500 denarii? Hahaha, I warn you, brat, if you cheat me, I'll break your arms," said Publius with a smile as he followed Septimus into the house.
What he didn't realize was that he was being followed by two clones with cold smiles and ropes in their hands.
When Septimus and Publius reached the innermost part of the house, one of the clones approached with the rope, gripping his neck tightly while the other clone held his arms behind his back.
Panicked citizens began to struggle, looking anxiously at Septimus for help, only to see him with a cold smile on his face.
Septimus, watching as this foolish father stopped struggling, wiped the smile from his face and looked at the body seriously. In his previous life, he would have had moral qualms about killing a person, but in this era of lax or non-existent laws and with his abilities, those moral qualms were not a problem.
"There is no right or wrong. With the abilities I have, it is only a matter of time before I form a large family in Rome or a great empire in this era," Septimus said to himself.
That night, a strangled corpse was discreetly thrown into the sewers. In a matter of days, it would swell and become unrecognizable, to be buried in a mass grave by a corpse collector.
While Septimus solved the problem, he focused on the three clones in the ludus. He realized that, as a modern person, he had little talent with bladed weapons. Fortunately, with his cloning ability, he could multiply his learning by three, compensating for his deficiencies.
Septimus sighed and thought to himself that if, with 30 clones and his experience and learning multiplied by that amount, he did not manage to become a legendary gladiator, he would increase the number until he did.
Another week passed.
This week, Septimus delivered two more clones to the ludus. He also discovered that he could pause the mitosis of the ludus clones. He had originally planned to take them there to prevent his clones from being treated like monsters if they underwent mitosis within the ludus, but when he saw that he could pause their ability, he avoided any inconvenience.
Although having many clones would increase his workforce, self-preservation was his current goal. If he could get all his clones to have the fighting skills of legendary gladiators, his current and future survival would be guaranteed.
With that thought in mind, Septimus had eight clones in the bakery and five clones in the Ludus.
Now he had to make money; the meager income from a bakery was barely enough to support him.
He couldn't be too extravagant in using modern methods to make money; he was just a Roman citizen, and if he had a lot of money, any noble or elite would use their influence to plunder his wealth.
Septimus thought of several modern methods that could generate money but discarded them because he could not protect them from the ambitions of Roman nobles or elites.
"It seems that the only business I can currently operate without causing too much of a stir and taking advantage of my clones and future knowledge is blacksmithing," Septimus said to himself.
Septimus wasted no time the next day. Four of his clones went to Capua to find a place for the smithy and buy the necessary tools.
After two days of work, Septimus set up his small blacksmith shop, spending a total of 1,100 denarii. Although he had not been a blacksmith in his previous life, he still retained enough basic knowledge to operate the shop.
Blacksmithing is physical and technical work, so Septimus assigned three of his clones to the smithy, planning to gain experience and make weapons and armor for self-defense.
As Septimus concentrated on the smithy, he suddenly frowned.
An obese middle-aged man stood at the door of the smithy with a friendly smile on his fat face.
"I am the tax collector. Call your master," said the fat man.
"The young master is on his way," replied the clone.
Twenty minutes passed, and Septimus approached with a smile.
"Mr. Titus, it is an honor to have you in my humble bakery," said Septimus with a smile.
"Young Septimus, I see you are doing well. You have bought a new slave to serve as a salesman," said Titus.
"Mr. Titus, you misunderstand me. He is just a vagabond whom I give work in exchange for food," said Septimus.
"You must work hard, young man. If you manage this bakery well, you can leave a legacy for your future children," said Titus with a smile.
Septimus nodded.
"Young Septimus, I have come to collect taxes this month. It is 20 denarii. I have also heard that you have opened a blacksmith's shop?" said Titus with interest.
"It's just a ramshackle smithy that I've just opened," replied Septimus.
"All right, I'll only charge you 10 denarii for that smithy, which would make a total of 30 denarii," said Titus.
"All right, I'll bring you the money now," said Septimus.
Although he knows he is paying double the tax, it is normal practice in Rome at this time. In the more remote areas controlled by Rome, taxes are often 10 times higher.
As he watched the tax collector walk away, Septimus began to plan to look for a small farm outside Rome to buy. With his cloning ability, he had free labor to build a small fort and manufacture sugar in small quantities.