[Warning: Reputation threshold reached]
[You are now a "Notable Figure" in Thornhaven]
[Consequence: Increased scrutiny, higher expectations, potential enemies]
[The System reminds you: With great power comes great responsibility! ♡]
"Did you just quote a superhero at me?" I muttered at the golden text floating in my vision.
[The System has no idea what you're talking about! ♡]
"Sure you don't."
It had been three days since I'd accepted Lord Ashworth's recruiting position. Three days of evaluating orphans, visiting merchants, and trying to match desperate children with skeptical employers. The results were... mixed.
Out of thirty candidates, I'd successfully placed five. A baker needed someone to wake before dawn and prep ovens—I'd sent the early-riser girl who'd claimed she never slept well anyway. A stable master wanted help mucking stalls—the boy who'd said he was good with animals got that position. Three more similar matches, each carefully negotiated.
Five successes. Twenty-five failures. And the weight of those twenty-five disappointed faces pressed on me like physical force.
"You're brooding again," Thomas said, adjusting his glasses as he shelved inventory beside me. We were both on morning shift at the warehouse, though I was increasingly distracted by my recruiting obligations.
"I'm thinking."
"Same thing." He marked something in his ledger. "You can't save everyone, you know."
"I'm not trying to save anyone. I'm trying to place qualified candidates in appropriate positions."
"Right. That's why you spent two hours yesterday arguing with that tavern owner about giving Sara a chance even though she has no experience."
I had done that. Sara was sixteen, aged out of most orphanage support, and desperately needed work before she ended up in one of the city's more dangerous professions. The tavern owner had eventually agreed to a trial period, mostly because I'd worn him down with persistence.
"That was strategic negotiation."
"That was you caring." Thomas smiled slightly. "It's not a bad thing, Kai."
[Thomas's Friendship Level: Increased]
[He sees through your facade but supports you anyway]
Before I could respond, Mavis appeared at the inventory room door, her expression grim.
"Kai. My office. Now."
That tone promised nothing good.
Mavis's office was even more cramped than usual, with Lord Ashworth standing beside her desk. Both of them wore expressions I'd learned to recognize from centuries of dealing with subordinates bearing bad news.
"Close the door," Lord Ashworth said.
I did, my mind already running through possibilities. Had I overstepped? Offended a merchant? Made a placement that went badly?
"We have a problem," Mavis began without preamble. "Three of the children you placed have been terminated."
The words hit like ice water. "What? Why?"
"The baker claims his new assistant stole from the till. The stable master says his boy was caught sleeping in the stalls when he should have been working. And the seamstress reports her girl never showed up after the second day."
My Detect Intentions skill picked up their emotions—disappointment, frustration, and beneath it, doubt. Not in the children. In me.
"Those placements were carefully vetted," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I evaluated their skills, matched them to appropriate positions—"
"You vouched for them," Lord Ashworth interrupted. "Your reputation was the guarantee. And now that reputation is damaged."
[Reputation: Decreased (-30 with merchant community)]
[Consequence: Future placements will be harder to negotiate]
[The System sympathizes with your situation! ♡]
"I need to investigate," I said. "Something doesn't add up."
"Investigate what?" Mavis's tone was sharp. "The baker has a witness to the theft. The stable master documented the sleeping. And the seamstress has nothing to document because the girl never returned."
"Nevertheless." I met Lord Ashworth's gaze. "I made those placements based on thorough evaluation. If I was wrong about all three simultaneously, then I'm completely incompetent and you should fire me. But if I was right, then something else is happening."
Lord Ashworth studied me for a long moment. "You have two days. Find evidence that clears these children, or accept that you made poor judgment calls. Either way, there will be consequences."
"Understood."
I started with the baker.
The girl I'd placed there—Lily, ten years old, small for her age but sharp-eyed and honest in my evaluation—had supposedly stolen fifteen silver from the till. A significant amount, but not impossible for a child to conceal.
The bakery was in the market district, its morning rush already underway. The baker, a portly man named Hendricks, scowled when he saw me.
"You've got nerve showing your face here."
"I need to understand what happened." I kept my tone respectful. "You said there was a witness?"
"My son. Saw her clear as day, stuffing coins in her pocket." He jerked his thumb toward the back. "Jakob! Get out here!"
A boy emerged from the back room—maybe fourteen, with his father's build and a smugness that immediately activated my Detect Intentions skill.
Deception. Malicious satisfaction. And underneath it, fear of being discovered.
Interesting.
"Tell him what you saw," Hendricks ordered.
"The orphan girl, she waited until Father stepped out, then grabbed coins from the till. I saw her do it." Jakob's words were practiced, too smooth.
"And where were you when this happened?" I asked.
"Sweeping the front area."
"Where's your broom now?"
Jakob blinked. "What?"
"Your broom. If you were sweeping, where's the broom?" I glanced around the front area. "I don't see one."
"I put it away after—"
"Before or after you saw the theft?" I pressed. "Because if you were sweeping, you'd have needed to put the broom down to accuse her. Which means it should have been somewhere nearby when your father returned. So where was it?"
Jakob's emotions spiked—panic, anger at being questioned. "What does it matter where—"
"It matters because you're lying." I turned to Hendricks. "Did you actually see the theft yourself?"
"My son doesn't lie—"
"Your son is standing there sweating despite it being a cool morning. His hands are shaking. And his story has a logical inconsistency that a ten-year-old orphan wouldn't have missed." I looked back at Jakob. "Want to tell your father the truth, or should I?"
"You don't know anything!" Jakob's voice cracked.
"I know that fifteen silver is exactly the amount your father probably noticed missing. I know that you had access to the till. And I know—" I activated my Detect Intentions skill fully, reading his emotions like a map, "—that you've been skimming from the till for weeks, and when Lily started working here, you saw an opportunity to blame someone else."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hendricks turned slowly to his son. "Jakob. Is this true?"
The boy's face crumbled. "I... I needed the money. For... things. And she was just an orphan, nobody would believe her over me—"
The slap echoed through the bakery.
"Get upstairs," Hendricks said, his voice trembling with rage. "We'll discuss this later."
Jakob fled.
The baker turned to me, his earlier hostility replaced by shame. "I... I owe you an apology. And that girl. Where is she now?"
"Probably back at the orphanage, believing she's a failure." I kept my tone neutral. "She needs her job back. With an apology. And maybe an explanation that not all adults are quick to blame orphans for their own children's mistakes."
Hendricks nodded heavily. "I'll send for her this afternoon. And... thank you. For investigating. For not letting this stand."
[Quest Complete: "Clear the False Accusation"]
[+30 Virtue Points]
[Reputation Restored: +15 with Hendricks]
[Current Virtue Points: 472]
One down. Two to go.
The stable master's case was trickier.
The boy I'd placed—Marcus's friend Garrett, still recovering from his broken leg—had allegedly been caught sleeping in the stalls during work hours. But when I arrived at the stables, the master's story didn't quite hold together.
"He's supposed to be mucking stalls," the stable master explained. "Found him passed out in the hay twice in three days."
"His leg was broken less than a week ago," I pointed out. "The healer cleared him for light duty, not heavy labor."
"Mucking stalls isn't heavy labor."
"It is when you're limping." I examined the stables, noting their size. "How many stalls are you having him clean per day?"
"Twenty, same as my other assistants."
"Your other assistants who have two functioning legs and several years of experience." I turned to face him. "You're overworking an injured child and then complaining when his body gives out. That's not him being lazy. That's you being unreasonable."
The stable master's face reddened. "I paid for a worker, not an invalid—"
"You paid nothing. I negotiated a trial position, which you agreed to, knowing his situation." My voice dropped. "Reduce his workload to ten stalls per day until he's fully recovered, or I'll report to Lord Ashworth that you're exploiting injured minors. Your choice."
The threat worked. The stable master agreed to modified duties, though his resentment was palpable.
[Quest Complete: "Defend the Worker's Rights"]
[+25 Virtue Points]
[Reputation: +10 with labor advocates, -5 with exploitative employers]
[Current Virtue Points: 497]
[Achievement Unlocked: "The Advocate"]
[Effect: Workers trust you more readily]
Two down. But the third case was different.
The seamstress's apprentice—a quiet girl named Ruth—hadn't stolen anything or been found sleeping. She'd simply vanished after two days of work.
When I returned to the orphanage to investigate, I found Ruth in her usual corner, staring at nothing.
"You didn't go back to work," I said, sitting beside her.
She didn't respond.
My Detect Intentions skill picked up a complex storm of emotions—fear, shame, anger, and beneath it all, pain. Not physical pain. Emotional trauma.
"What happened?" I asked more gently.
Silence stretched. Then, barely audible: "He touched me."
The words were quiet, but they hit like thunder.
"The seamstress's husband?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully controlled.
A tiny nod.
"Where did he touch you?"
"My... my shoulder. My back." Her voice cracked. "He said it was to check my posture. For sewing. But his hands... the way he looked at me..."
[Warning: Sensitive situation detected]
[Response will significantly impact outcome]
[Choose carefully]
In my old life, I would have burned the establishment to the ground with both occupants inside. In this life, I had fewer options but no less rage.
"You're not going back there," I said firmly. "Ever. That wasn't your fault, and you did nothing wrong by leaving."
"But I failed. You got me that job and I—"
"You survived. That's not failure." I stood, helping her up. "Stay here. I'm going to handle this."
"Handle what?"
"Making sure he never touches another child again."
The seamstress shop was in a respectable part of the merchant district. The woman who ran it—Mistress Hale—was apparently well-regarded. Her husband worked as her assistant and bookkeeper.
I arrived during their evening closing, when the shop was empty of customers.
"You're the orphan boy recruiter," Mistress Hale said when I entered. "If you're here about that girl, she already quit. Not my fault she couldn't handle the work."
"Your husband touched her inappropriately."
The color drained from her face. Behind her, a man emerged from the back room—middle-aged, soft-handed, with the kind of smile that probably fooled most people.
"That's a serious accusation," he said smoothly. "From a child who abandoned her position without notice."
"From a child who felt unsafe in your presence." I turned to Mistress Hale. "How many apprentices have you hired in the past two years?"
"I... several. Why?"
"And how many quit within the first week?"
Her silence was answer enough.
"I'm going to make this simple," I said, looking directly at the husband. "You have two options. Option one: I report this to Lord Ashworth, who sits on the merchant guild board and has considerable influence. The guild investigates, other former apprentices are questioned, and your reputation is destroyed. Option two: You confess to your wife, leave this business voluntarily, and never work with children again."
"You have no proof," he said, but his voice wavered.
"I have a pattern of apprentices quitting after brief periods. I have a victim willing to testify. And I have—" I pulled out a small notebook I'd started carrying, "—names of every other girl you've hired in the past three years. I'm very good at finding people. Should I start interviewing them?"
The threat hung in the air.
Mistress Hale was staring at her husband with dawning horror. "Philip... tell me this isn't true."
His face crumbled. Not with guilt. With the fury of someone caught.
"They're just orphans," he spat. "Nobody cares what happens to—"
The slap from his wife interrupted him.
"Get out," she said, her voice shaking. "Get out of my shop. Get out of my life."
He left, and I suspected he'd leave the city too, once word spread. Which it would. I'd make certain of it.
Mistress Hale turned to me, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."
"But you wondered," I said quietly. "When the apprentices kept leaving."
She nodded miserably.
"Ruth won't come back here. But you can help prevent this from happening elsewhere. When the guild asks—and they will ask—you tell them everything."
Another nod.
[Quest Complete: "Protect the Vulnerable"]
[+50 Virtue Points]
[+25 Bonus for preventing future harm]
[Reputation: +40 with protective organizations, -10 with Mistress Hale (guilt by association)]
[Current Virtue Points: 572]
[Achievement Unlocked: "The Guardian"]
[Effect: Abusers instinctively fear you. Victims instinctively trust you.]
[Warning: You have made a dangerous enemy. Philip Hale will remember this.]
I left the shop as the sun set, feeling the weight of the day pressing on my shoulders. Three cases investigated. Three children's reputations cleared. And one predator exposed.
[The System notes: You could have simply accepted the failures and moved on. Instead, you fought for justice. This is significant growth! ♡]
"I protected my reputation," I muttered.
[You protected children. Admit it. ♡]
I couldn't.
Lord Ashworth's reaction the next morning was... unexpected.
"You investigated all three cases overnight?" He set down my written report, impressed. "And found that two were mismanaged and one involved criminal behavior?"
"Yes, sir."
"The merchants are already talking. Word spreads fast in this district." He leaned back in his chair. "You've made enemies, Kai. Powerful people don't like being exposed as incompetent or worse."
"I know."
"But you've also made allies. Hendricks is telling everyone about his son's confession. The stable workers union wants to meet you. And Mistress Hale's testimony to the guild will likely result in formal charges against her husband." He studied me. "You have a talent for uncovering rot."
[Reputation: +50 with Lord Ashworth]
[Reputation: +30 with merchant community (honest merchants)]
[Reputation: -40 with merchant community (dishonest merchants)]
[You are now "Polarizing" - people either love you or hate you]
"I just followed the evidence," I said.
"No. You fought for children everyone else had written off." He stood, coming around the desk. "My daughter was right about you. You're something special. Which is why I'm increasing your recruitment budget and giving you formal authority to investigate workplace complaints."
[New Title Acquired: "Junior Labor Inspector"]
[Effect: Official authority to investigate worker treatment]
[New Responsibility: You are now responsible for worker welfare]
More responsibility. More expectations. More weight on shoulders that were already struggling under the burden.
But also more ability to help. More power to protect. More opportunities to...
To what? Accumulate points? Or genuinely make this city better for the children nobody else cared about?
"Thank you," I said, and meant it.
[Character Development: Critical Threshold Reached]
[Your alignment is shifting from "Lawful Evil" to "Lawful Good"]
[The System celebrates this transformation! ♡]
"I'm not good," I muttered as I left the office.
[Not yet. But you're getting there. ♡]
That evening, Ruth found me in the orphanage courtyard.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For believing me. For... for making him leave."
"You did nothing wrong," I told her. "Remember that."
She hugged me suddenly, briefly, then ran off before I could react.
[New Quest Chain Unlocked: "The Children's Champion"]
[You've begun building something larger than yourself]
[Future quests will involve systemic change, not just individual cases]
[Reward: Massive point bonuses. Risk: Powerful enemies.]
[Are you ready to become a real hero, Host? ♡]
I looked at the notification for a long time.
Then, quietly, I whispered: "I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?"
[You always have a choice. You're just finally making the right ones. ♡]
For the first time since reincarnation, I allowed myself a genuine smile.
Maybe reformation wasn't such torture after all.
I mean just maybe...
End of Chapter 6
[Current Stats:]
[Virtue Points: 572/100,000,000]
[Days as Reformed Villain: 7]
[Orphans Employed: 8 (with restored positions)]
[Predators Exposed: 1]
[Workers' Rights Protected: Multiple]
[Titles: Former Demon King, Novice Do-Gooder, The Unexpected Leader, Orphanage Hero, The Lord's Interest, The Fixer, The Advocate, The Guardian, Junior Labor Inspector]
[Alignment: Shifting toward Lawful Good]
[Reputation: Polarizing (loved by victims, hated by abusers)]
[New Enemy: Philip Hale (dangerous)]
Next chapter: "The Price of Justice"