Chapter 127: The Simple Dreams of Youth

Like those who rescue stray cats and dogs out of kindness but give no thought to the aftermath, Victor found himself in exactly that situation.

Walking home, the ragged boy, Luff, followed behind the Witcher apprentice with a face like a demon, looking timid and cowardly. Victor suddenly recalled an attempt he had once made to save an injured bird. Its left leg was broken; it couldn’t stand, couldn’t push off, and couldn’t take flight. Back then, Victor wasn’t yet an alchemy apprentice, so he could only find a secluded patch of grass with trees and sky, letting it lie there. He wondered if the bird had cinematic memories of its own.

Help or salvation lacking professional support usually serves only to slightly reduce the other party’s pain and make oneself feel a little better. If he abandoned the boy now, he would undoubtedly be absorbed by the "King of Beggars'" forces, becoming reserve stock for the professions of beggar, thief, or thug. Yet, if he brought him home, Bosslair was right: one must be wary of the fable of the farmer and the snake. Even if the boy couldn't cause any real harm, he would certainly make the atmosphere unpleasant.

Therefore, the best approach was to take him in temporarily, provide survival training, and leave him no room for mischief. Saving a human is not like saving an animal; if you aren't going to save them thoroughly, it’s better not to start at all. Perhaps he would be another person whose destiny was changed by his own hand, just like Angouleme? Especially given his interesting name, which reminded Victor of unforgettable memories—he, too, was once a man who dreamed of becoming the "King of Pirates."

Having made up his mind, Victor stopped in front of Hattori’s dumpling shop. "Boss, forty dumplings to start!" With money to burn, Victor decided to begin by feeding himself and the boy following behind.

...

"...And that’s how it happened."

After explaining Luff’s background to Angouleme, Jonna, and Fergus, Victor arranged for him to stay in a corner of the blacksmith shop, creating a simple bed out of planks. He then approached the cowering Luff. "Listen, I don't know what you're thinking, but my arrangement for you is to first serve as an apprentice here, learning smithing from Fergus and developing a trade. Miss Jonna also comes from the Skellige Isles; feel free to ask her if you have any questions. But I must emphasize this: for now, your range of activity is limited strictly to this blacksmith shop. If you dare to cross that second door, I will kick you out immediately. You can imagine for yourself what might happen to you in this city; perhaps then you will wish I had never saved you."

Checking his age while they ate, Victor realized that although the sallow, thin Luff looked small, he was actually eighteen—a full-grown adult, simply suffering from long-term malnutrition, which made his physique appear inferior to Victor's. Regardless, he was lucky so far: he had escaped a precarious life, had a boss who provided food and shelter, and had a busty big sister to teach him smithing. If their roles were reversed, Victor couldn't imagine a better deal. His own actions could truly be called the "Mirror of Humanity."

...

A day passed quickly. After moving the more expensive items from the blacksmith shop into the alchemy workshop, Victor bolted the second lock he had newly installed on the partition door. This was to prevent Luff, in a fit of youthful vigor or excessive curiosity, from spying on his boss’s heroic form or the big sister’s unrestrained sleeping habits.

The alchemy apprentice began blending potions. Batman was going out for a jog tonight and needed a refill of his voice-altering concoction. While stirring the cauldron, Angouleme emerged from the kitchen, handed Victor a glass of warmed milk, and pulled a rocking chair over to sit beside him.

"Is this for growing hair?"

"Of course not. I analyzed it for you last time: there are too many causes for baldness, and several of them are simply fated. If you want to drink a potion until your hair follicles regenerate, that kind of heaven-defying method belongs to a Grandmaster Alchemist, and it usually comes with all sorts of restrictions."

"Oh..."

Holding the stirring rod in one hand, the boy downed the milk in one go. Setting the bowl aside, he asked, "How did the errand I sent you on go?"

"Marabella’s classroom is a good place. She’s a warm, sincere lady. As you requested, I made a donation."

"Don't give too much at once. A massive sum invites trouble. Leave the follow-ups to Jonna and Fergus; let them steadily buy reputation for us. It might come in handy in the future."

"Mhm."

The rhythmic sound of the stirring rod hitting the cauldron was steady.

"...You're going out to beat people up later, aren't you?" Angouleme’s tone was certain, not a question.

"How did you know?"

"Isn't it normal to want to go out and beat people up when something puts you in a bad mood?"

The tapping against the cauldron paused, then resumed. "I suppose so. Do you think this makes me an accomplice to human trafficking?"

"You didn't pay for him, so of course not."

"...Thanks for the comfort."

"Vic, your heart is too soft, which is why you agonize over such trivial matters."

"I don't like human trafficking. My level of disgust is perhaps similar to how you feel about brothels?"

Angouleme tilted her head. "Do you have some kind of misunderstanding? I don't hate brothels."

Seeing how naturally Angouleme spoke the word, Victor curiously countered, "I thought you had psychological trauma from such places?"

Angouleme shook her head. "I have trauma from temples that force prostitution. Brothels are a perfectly normal industry. For a while, my dream was to open a large brothel in Beauclair, the capital of Toussaint. You know? It’s very prosperous there, the market is livelier than in Ellander, and even Vergen doesn't compare. Yet, they only have one hidden brothel in the suburbs. Dandelion and I both agreed that opening a shop there would be a guaranteed profit."

As a rainbow light shimmered, Victor ladled out a dose of "Voice-Changing Potion" and drank it. "I thought you hated all forms of sex work."

"No! What I hate is coercion. If I were the one running the shop, it would obviously all be by mutual consent."

"So, do you still want to open a large brothel now?"

The leader of the gang walked behind a screen to change into the Batman suit.

"Once we make the Phantom Troupe bigger and stronger, and we become the most famous Hanse in the world, perhaps I’ll change my name and give it a try."

"If that is your dream, I will make it come true."

...

Descending from the kitchen to the wine cellar, he pulled the fifth bottle from the third row. With a gentle turn, Batman opened the secret passage leading to the inner city canal.

"Speaking of which, you really won't consider coming out to beat people up with me? You haven't vented your excess energy in a long time."

"If you're talking about the Catwoman suit, I must refuse. And if you’re dead set on wearing the Batman suit, I refuse that as well."

Shaking his head, Victor entered the secret passage. Behind him, Angouleme gave a slight bow. "Fair winds."

...

The sea breeze was salty and damp; the moonlight was like water. He stood at the highest point of the building. After his conversation with Bosslair, he was certain that the Hawthorn gang—the first to bear the brunt—didn't seem to care much about Batman. One could imagine the dismissive attitude other organizations or the Temple Guard held toward the Dark Knight.

Victor decided to correct their negligence. Starting tonight, he would go out for a daily jog, launching a fifteen-day carnival celebration.

With a push of his toes, he leaped into the night.