Radiant Dragon’s Otherworldly Reincarnation

Chapter 23. My Mom Was Crossing the Line. (3)

“Hehehe. Well, that changes things. Aigoo, get up, get up. You got dirt on your pants. Hey.”

The coldness in Patrick's voice vanished, replaced by a generous amount of affection.

As he watched Patrick personally help him up and even brush the dirt off his knees as if dealing with a close friend, Billy couldn't help but have one thought.

It was the thought that everyone, friend or foe, had when facing the Radiant Dragon Great Master Jin Cheon….

‘What kind of bastard is this?’

Yes. That was the normal reaction.

“Uhehehe….”

“Uhehehehehe….”

“Mwahahahahahaha!”

‘What kind of bastard is that?’

‘What kind of bastard is that?’

I'll say it again.

This is normal.

The fortune Billy had accumulated over the years was quite immense.

Cash and jewels, as well as various treasures and artworks that he didn't know much about but were probably expensive, made Patrick dance with joy.

And it was perfectly natural for Red and his subordinates, who were watching Patrick, to stare at the man laughing maniacally with dumbfounded expressions.

“Money~♪ Money~♪ This is all money~♪”

Red cautiously approached Patrick, who looked like a madman—no, thinking about it calmly, was definitely mad.

“Um, Young Master.”

“Hm? Why? Surely you're not trying to demand a share of this money? Right? You shouldn't be, right?”

As Patrick put both hands on the swords at his waist, applying pressure, Red hastily said.

“No, sir. This can all be yours, Young Master.”

“Mm. Right. That's right. If you have a conscience, that's what you should say.”

“……”

Conscience? Did this bastard just say the word conscience with his own mouth?

Red was now, in name and reality, the master of the Thieves' Guild that ruled the underworld of Parmas, but the moment the word conscience came out of Patrick's mouth, he felt genuinely wronged.

“So? What is it?”

“Yes. It's nothing else, but what are you going to do with that bastard?”

Red pointed to Billy, who was trembling in a corner.

“What do you mean, what am I going to do? I said I'd spare him.”

“Are you really planning on letting him live?”

“I promised.”

“How frustrating!”

Red shouted, his face contorted in anger.

Then he pointed his finger at Billy and said.

“What's the need to keep a promise made to trash like that?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, this is why uneducated thief bastards are…”

“……”

“That bastard may be trash, but I'm not. If I break my promise, what's the difference between me and that trash?”

Grind….

Red ground his teeth.

If he had his way, he wanted to tear Billy to shreds and feed his corpse to the dogs.

But if Patrick came out like this, there was nothing he could do.

Patrick said to Red.

“So, I won't kill that guy.”

“……”

“I won't.”

“...Yes?”

“What… What did you say?”

Red asked back, startled by Patrick's words, and Billy, who was just about to be drenched in relief, also asked back in surprise.

And Patrick said….

“I got the money, so I have to keep my promise. I won't kill him. Me, that is.”

“What you mean is…”

“Well, what other people do is none of my business, right? For example, someone who is trembling with rage because his father was poisoned to death.”

As soon as Patrick's words ended, a cruel smile spread across Red's lips.

And Billy jumped up and shouted.

“Isn't... isn't that breaking the promise? You said you would spare me!”

“I said I won't kill you. Me. But hey, it's not like I'm going to protect you forever, right? After that, you're on your own.”

“Y-y-y… You're worse than a thief!”

Billy screamed in despair, but Patrick paid him no mind and just cleaned his ears.

There was no need to deal with the screams of a man who would soon meet a miserable end.

“Tie him up and lock him in the basement.”

“Yes.”

At Red's command, his subordinates rushed at Billy, gagged his mouth, and tied him up tightly.

“Let go! Let go of me! Mmmph!”

He would probably not die a peaceful death.

* * *

A few days later.

The workers who were staying in Parmas with Patrick were whispering amongst themselves.

“What's wrong with the Young Master?”

“I don't know. I'm not sure, but he's been like that for the past few days.”

“He looks like he just won the lottery or something.”

In their eyes, they saw Patrick sitting at a table, munching on expensive snacks and cakes, and grinning foolishly.

“Ehehehehe…. Kukukuku…. Mwahahaha.”

No matter how they looked at it, it was not the appearance of a sane person.

But Patrick didn't care how he looked.

That's how happy he was.

The matter of the Thieves' Guild had been cleanly resolved.

In just one night, the power struggle that had divided the underworld of Parmas was settled.

It was the result of Patrick's intervention.

As a result, Patrick had earned a huge amount of money.

The payment from selling the monster materials he had prepared in the first place was enormous, but the fortune Billy had accumulated was even greater.

Even better was….

“Hehehe. The money from selling the monster materials is the fief's public funds, but this is my pure, personal slush fund.”

The assets confiscated from Billy were money he had earned purely through his own hard work and sweat (?).

“Ehehehehehehe.”

So how could this man, who was crazy about money, not be happy?

If it were actually possible for a person to die of happiness, Patrick would have died right then.

He had never expected such a windfall for just giving a little help to connect with an informant.

Patrick, who had been laughing his head off for a while, brought his hands together, sent a wistful gaze towards the sky, and said.

“Master, so this is the reason why people must do good deeds. Your unworthy disciple has finally understood your profound meaning.”

That's not it, you bastard!

The sect leader of the Twin Dragon Sect, who would have scolded him thus, was not here now.

However, a slightly cumbersome issue was that a significant portion of the assets seized from Billy took up a lot of space and required careful maintenance.

Like marble sculptures?

Or expensive-looking paintings, things like that.

‘What kind of thief bastard liked art so much? Was he speculating or something?’

In any case, such things were inconvenient to take back to the fief, and if they were improperly stored and damaged, their value would plummet.

So he was planning to dispose of them before leaving….

At that moment, as if he had been waiting, Red stepped forward.

[Hahaha. Don't worry, sir. I will dispose of everything for you.]

[…You will?]

[Yes. Now that we are in the same boat, Young Master, can't I at least provide this much help?]

[Youuuuu?]

Patrick looked at Red with a reluctant expression.

Then Red said with a hurt expression.

[Surely you don't distrust me?]

[Yeah. I don't trust you.]

[Are you saying I would try to rip you off on the price?]

[Yeah. I think you would.]

[No, why don't you trust me? Why?]

To Red, who was throwing a fit claiming it was unfair, Patrick said.

[What's your job?]

[A thief.]

Ah, so that's why.

That makes sense.

But even after that, Red passionately argued that he was the best person for the job.

He repeatedly persuaded Patrick, saying how many artworks he had handled as a thief and that he was the only one who could dispose of this amount of art in such a short time.

[Tsk, well, it is a pain to find another merchant and entrust it to them now.]

[That's right, Young Master.]

[Besides, in a way, this is stolen goods, and a thief would probably be good at disposing of stolen goods.]

[I'm a total expert.]

[And if I entrust it to you, I won't have to pay a commission, right?]

[That's ri... Yes?]

[Ayy, what's a commission between us? Right?]

Patrick's hand once again crept down towards his sword.

And at that sight, Red smiled pleasantly and thought.

‘Son of a bitch.’

* * *

The cunning plan of a certain thief who tried to skim a little off the top was crushed, and now Patrick just had to leisurely wait for the settlement money that would fall into his lap.

‘Heeheehee. He must have gotten a lot, right? He must have. If he doesn't want to die, he better have gotten a lot.’

Just as Patrick was spreading his wings of happiness….

“Young Master, you have a visitor.”

“Hm? Who is it?”

“I'm not sure, but they came with this letter and asked me to deliver it.”

Patrick's expression turned serious as he read the letter Chandler presented respectfully with both hands.

“Tsk, what's this situation now?”

“What is it, sir?”

“No, I have to go check first. Wait a moment.”

“Yes. Understood, Young Master.”

Patrick rose from his seat and headed for the Thieves' Guild headquarters where Red was.

* * *

“You've arrived, Young Master.”

Seeing Patrick, Red bowed his head politely.

“Right. Is the content of the letter true?”

“Yes. That bastard Billy was audaciously running an illegal slave business.”

“He was a madman.”

Patrick clicked his tongue.

Illegal slaves.

In this Kingdom of Atronia, the word ‘slave’ meant only one thing.

A criminal.

In other words, a slave was the temporary status of a person serving time to pay for their sins after committing a crime.

No other form of slavery was recognized.

In fact, even with Brian, on whom Patrick had engraved the slave subjugation magic, the paperwork was done through formal procedures before the magic was engraved.

If one were to proceed with it arbitrarily, it would be treated as a serious crime, and everyone involved could be executed.

“Crazy bastard. If we had just left him alone, he's the type who would have ruined the entire guild someday.”

To the fuming Red, Patrick said.

“So where are the victims you mentioned?”

“They were locked in a hidden shelter in the basement. We've taken them out and are protecting them for now, but…”

“Let me see them.”

Patrick thought he needed to see them with his own eyes.

And the result of his direct confirmation was….

“They're all just kids.”

“There were adults too, but they've already been sold off to foreign countries. Most of the kids here seem to be in poor health, so they couldn't be sold.”

“They were all illegally made into slaves, right?”

“Yes. Some were kidnapped, and they also said they brought in orphans who were wandering the streets after their parents died and forcibly engraved the magic on them.”

“Haaah…. That son of a bitch.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Patrick scratched his head and thought.

It was only natural to free the children who had been unjustly enslaved.

The problem was….

“What happens if we free the kids?”

“Won't they manage to live well on their own?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Something like that.

Red's words sounded heartless, but this was normal.

If you went to the back alleys of the city right now, it wouldn't be difficult to find children living by begging or petty theft.

There was no one who could help them all.

‘Even the state can't solve poverty. Who am I to take responsibility for these kids?’

Just feeding them a hearty meal and giving them a few coins before letting them go would be enough to make Patrick a good person.

So he should just do that.

He should, but….

* * *

[Where did you sell off your clothes again, Master?]

[No, how can you give away your own clothes to help kids? Let's think a little before we act.]

[Do those high and mighty prestigious Orthodox Faction kids respect you for doing that? They just mock you for being a man who can't even maintain his dignity.]

[What on earth do you gain from doing all that, Master?]

The fool of a Master who would try to help any hungry and struggling kid he saw without a second thought.

This wasn't something new, but Jin Cheon was furious and throwing a fit at the fact that he had even given away his clothes.

And his Master smiled gently and said.

[I gained you, didn't I?]

[…….]

This man really knew how to leave him speechless.

It was his Master who had picked him up when he was dying of cold and hunger as a child and fed him a bowl of thin porridge.

It was a porridge so thin it was closer to rice water than porridge, but it was what the Master had given Jin Cheon by giving up his own food.

Jin Cheon never forgot that bowl of porridge for the rest of his life.

Because he never forgot the warmth and grace contained in that one bowl for his entire life, the Radiant Dragon Great Master Jin Cheon could exist.

Therefore….

[Cheon-ah…. Don't you feel pity for the children?]

He could hear his Master's voice in his head.

* * *

“Ah, seriously, this damn brainwashing education!”

The moment it felt like he could hear his Master's voice, Patrick unknowingly shouted out.

“Yes?”

“Aish, I'm not this kind of person.”

“……”

Red had no idea what was going on.

But….

‘Let's not try to find a reason for everything a madman does.’

He decided to think that way.

And Patrick said….

“Feed the kids well, get them clothes to wear and other necessities, and then send them to me.”

“Are you going to take them in, Young Master?”

“Yes. I'm going to take them to our fief.”

“Can you decide something like that on your own, Young Master? Don't you need to ask for Baron Schneider's opinion?”

“My father?”

Patrick smirked.

I've brought back children who were pitifully captured as slaves.

When he said that, would Baron Schneider really refuse?

Would he scold him, asking why he brought useless brats who would only consume food?

“I can't even imagine it.”

“Imagine what?”

“It's a thing. Anyway, don't worry about my father, just feed and clothe the kids well and send them to me.”

“Yes. Understood.”

After giving his instructions to Red, Patrick looked up at the ceiling, frowned, and said.

“This is the right thing to do, isn't it? Right?”

It felt as if he could see someone nodding with a benevolent smile.

Someone he missed dearly….