I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, leaning against the doorframe as my gaze settled cold and analytical on Aisha.
My reason for housing her here… rather than letting her wander off into the city with James, Keane, and Keith… was purely practical. The three men were battle-hardened adults with previous work experience, fully capable of navigating the city's rougher edges to secure their own food and lodging. Aisha was just a teenage student from the Sisiphon Magic Academy. With both of her parents lying dead in the ruins of Lulu City, she was entirely orphaned, without a single family connection or safety net to adopt her.
In my mind, she wasn't a child to be pitied; she was a volatile variable, a potential obstacle, and a chess piece.
My only genuine priority and liability in this realm was protecting my son, Cliff. I had no desire to allow extra living souls inside my sanctuary, but leaving a gifted, unstable young mage to wander Caria's streets unchecked was a waste of potential leverage. God hands out miracles to some, but to others, He deals constant curses. Fated, unlucky individuals like Aisha were simply caught in that web, and it was entirely her own burden to carry. If she starved or perished tomorrow, it would not weigh on my soul… her parents' deaths were decided by fate, not by my hand.
You speak of God's decree and the whimsical nature of luck, yet you fail to see that fate is merely a spiderweb woven to trap the weak. To be a black cat crossing your own path… bringing disaster upon yourself by placing your destiny in the hands of an unseen deity… is the ultimate tragedy.
She had latent value. A firm, agile physical build like hers could be turned into anything… from a low-end prostitute on the docks to a high-tier battle mage on the frontlines. Her flame manipulation was raw, but exceptionally dense. Ditching that was bad management.
"So, Aisha, what are you planning to do now?" I said, my deadpan voice cutting through the quiet room.
Aisha looked down at her hands, her fingers tightly gripping her knees.
"Um... I don't know. Find a casual job in the lower district, I suppose. Just... try to survive."
"Aisha, you are far too young for that, your fire magic possesses immense potential. Throwing that talent away on mundane labor in a factory or tavern is a complete waste." I replied plainly, stepping closer.
She looked up, her dark eyes flashing with confusion.
"Well... what else am I supposed to do?"
I paused, calculating the numbers and memories in my head. A year ago, I had taken in Zenni… one of Aisha's former classmates… and poured an entire high-rank bounty payout directly into her tuition at Caria Mastery Academy.
Back on Earth, fools often gushed over the sentimentality of the "ripple effect of kindness"... the childish idea that a single, selfless act of goodwill spreads outward, inspiring a chain reaction of warmth and generosity.
To a cold-blooded hunter like me, the ripple effect is nothing more than basic cause and effect.
I never perform favors out of genuine altruism. If I saved a girl in the past, it was either because the action cost me nothing at the moment, elevated my standing, or because I foresaw her future tactical utility. Sentimental fools view "paying kindness forward" as a virtue; I view it as a predictable psychological weakness inherent to the vulnerable. Because I rescued her, she feels an overwhelming debt of gratitude; because she feels indebted, she becomes effortlessly easy to manipulate and command.
To me, education is simply resource modification. I didn't send Zenni… or now Aisha… to an academy for their personal enlightenment or personal happiness. I fund their training to force them to acquire specific combat skills, institutional rank, and status necessary to execute my long-term objectives.
A severe emotional debt maximizes absolute compliance. By positioning myself as her sole savior and benefactor, I secure her total loyalty. This psychological leverage ensures she will willingly march into a warzone on my command, drastically reducing the risk of betrayal. The rescue was merely the initial capital investment; her entire life is the accruing profit. Since I chose not to let her perish in the ashes of Lulu City, her existence logically belongs to me. Using her up to achieve my goals is simply reclaiming what I already own.
Emotions have zero place in logistics. I felt no malice toward Aisha, nor did I feel pride in my own foresight. I simply executed the plan because it was the most efficient path forward.
Saving her from the dirt and paying her entry into the academy was never an act of mercy, it was the deliberate planting of a seed. The academy is merely the furnace where she will be forged into the exact tool I require, and when the time comes, her sacrifice will be the natural return on my investment.
"Do you want to transfer schools? Since your fire magic is aggressive and raw, how would you feel about studying at Caria Mastery Academy?" I asked her directly.
Aisha blinked in shock, leaning back slightly.
"Wait... Caria Mastery Academy?! Isn't that place heavily focused on physical combat, military drills, and weapons?"
"Yes, and that is precisely where your talent will shine. At Sisiphon Magic Academy, they teach you how to sit in an open pavilion and recite spells from text books. At Caria, under former Bureau Secretary Nautilus's leadership, they will teach you physical dominance, combat drills, marksmanship, and tactical survival. Once you graduate with battle experience, you can enlist directly into the Bureau as a rare magic swordsman. Do not worry about the expense. I will cover your full tuition." I confirmed, nodding slowly.
Aisha gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
"Really?! You would... you would pay for all of that?!"
"I am certain," I said flatly.
Even with only three gold coins remaining in my leather pouch, my tavern on Lot 42 was bringing in steady revenue from the factory workers and academy patrons. Funding her transfer would drain a significant portion of my immediate liquid cash and cut my planned "early retirement" short by half a year, but the investment was sound. A loyal, battle-hardened elemental vanguard produced under my thumb was worth tenfold her weight in gold.
Tears welled up in Aisha's eyes as she threw her arms around my waist, burying her face into my kirtle.
"Oh, gods... Thank you, Eirene! Thank you so much! You are my true savior and benefactor!"
***
The bright morning hours dissolved into the sweltering heat of midday. Inside the residence, the heavy velvet curtains remained tightly sealed and latched against the windows, keeping out every stray beam of sunlight that threatened to scorch my flesh.
A quiet, rhythmic knock echoed against my bedroom door.
"Miss Eirene? Are you ready?" Aisha's soft voice filtered through the thick wood.
"Give me a moment," I called back, my voice flat and practical.
I scrambled to get dressed, smoothing down a forest-green kirtle before securing the laces. On the edge of the mattress, Cliff was sitting up, fully awake and babbling to himself as he chewed on his fingers. I gathered a thick, dark cloak, draping it heavy over my shoulders to ensure no sunlight could touch my skin once we stepped outside, then carefully scooped Cliff into my left arm.
The door clicked open, and Aisha stepped into the room. She was wearing a simple traveling outfit paired with a stiff linen corset, holding the loose dangling laces behind her back with a flustered expression.
"Miss Eirene... can you help me tie this corset tightly?" she asked, turning her back toward me.
"Sure."
Setting Cliff down on the mattress for a brief second, I grabbed the double leather cords and yanked them backward with a firm, practiced pull. The heavy fabric cinched tight, compressing her waist into a sharp hourglass silhouette.
"Gah...! Not that tight!" Aisha gasped, her hands flying to her ribcage as she took a sharp breath. "I can barely expand my lungs!"
"A tight core keeps your posture rigid and your focus sharp in a crowd," I deadpan-replied, knotting the cord with a swift flick of my wrist. "You'll survive."
After finishing up, we headed down to the kitchen. We shared a quick, quiet meal of dried salted meat and hardtack, followed by a thorough mouth scrubbing using frayed birch sticks to clean our teeth.
Once we tidied the kitchen, the primary issue remained: Cliff. Leaving my son alone in the house without that maid I had dismissed to Lot 42 was out of the question. A child left unattended in an empty sanctuary was an open invitation to disaster.
"You're coming with us," I murmured to the little boy, scooping him back up against my hip. He cooed softly in response, his small fingers tugging at the edge of my collar.
For an added layer of deterrence, I tapped the gem on my spatial inventory ring. A heavy ripple of black mana distorted the air for a fraction of a second before my long-barreled Death Chant shotgun materialized into my grip. I slung the weapon diagonally across my back over the cloak, letting the wide steel barrel rest plainly in sight. Out in the streets of Caria, clear visual threats saved you from having to waste ammunition on petty thieves.
"We're heading out, Aisha," I said, adjusting my hood over my brow.
"Right behind you, Miss Eirene!" Aisha replied, grabbing her traveling satchel and falling into step beside me as we made our way to the front door.