Rental Business

Question: What should the childhood of a Transmigrator with memories of a past life be like?

Should they be able to act cute as soon as they are weaned, winning over the hearts of their ancestors with a single sweet smile, becoming the pampered pet of the entire family, protected by five older brothers who are obsessed with their younger sibling, and becoming the center of the world wherever they go, loved by everyone and everything?

Or should they be able to speak the moment they are born, compose poetry at three, write essays at five, invent world-changing technologies by seven, possess the aura of an emperor before reaching adulthood, and seem destined to achieve great, eternal deeds?

Angell: Pfft!

In any case, acting cute is impossible; for someone with social anxiety, acting cute is worse than death.

There is no "kingly aura" either. Setting aside the fact that "programmer" was already voted the most useless profession for a Transmigrator, Angell lacks a cheat code. Most infuriating of all, adults completely ignore what children (in their opinion) have to say!

They ignore you for no reason, and they ignore you even more when you have a point. If you try to help them improve their efficiency, and you don't succeed, that's fine, but if you do succeed, the most likely outcome is that they will be so embarrassed and angry that they'll grab you and give you a beating.

However, looking at it from the other side, they are also very tolerant of children.

As long as a child doesn't cause them trouble, they will almost completely ignore anything the child does.

Especially in an era without even compulsory education, children in commoner families are practically raised like wild animals.

Although Angell is considered a young master of an Alchemy Workshop, the Cecilia Family has always practiced commoner-style education. Therefore, Angell wasn't under much restraint; instead, he had the entire workshop warehouse as his backing. Coupled with his actual experience as an adult, he knew how to avoid the adults' triggers, making it easy for him to gain the respect of his peers (on the surface).

Angell went completely wild.

One day he blew up the sewer, the next he captured a Blood Elf, and the day after that, he led all the children on the street to occupy an abandoned Evil Spirit Mansion, establishing his own base.

The worst incident was when Angell tried to observe the pollution effects of Demonic Energy from the Abyss. After using stones, branches, mice, human blood and hair, and Blood Elf blood and hair, he still felt it wasn't enough. While Mithril was sleeping, he shaved off a large patch of fur from its back. Mithril was so enraged that it revealed its true form and gave him a vicious swipe with its claw.

It was only then that Angell realized he had gone too far. After reflecting, he decided to go to the Mage Tower to receive orthodox magical education.

Mithril forgave Angell... as if!

It's just that as the ancestral pet of the Alchemy Workshop, Mithril has had hundreds of owners over the years. If it had to remember every owner's child, relative, friend, and enemy, its little head would explode even if it turned into black mist. Therefore, Mithril usually recalls things based on the owner's genealogy. A Brat like Angell, who didn't inherit the workshop and wasn't worth remembering but couldn't be killed, was naturally cast aside. Who would have thought that after a hundred years, Angell would come back to inherit the Alchemy Workshop?!

And with such a completely different demeanor!

So much so that Mithril didn't even connect him to that Brat.

Mithril's fur stood on end even more; it felt its feelings had been deceived.

Angell reached out to pet the black ball, but it dodged him.

"It's precisely because I know how terrifying a Brat without supervision can be that I'm afraid of children!" Angell defended himself, aggrieved. "Besides, my real childhood wasn't like that..."

Right, childhood in his past life was his true childhood.

Angell remembered that back then, he had only plucked the fur off the neighbor's Cat, occupied the largest Banyan Tree on the street, and fought with kids from other classes alongside his lackeys...

Wait, why doesn't that seem much different?

Angell recalled for half a minute and gave up on thinking.

He coughed lightly twice and put on a serious expression.

"Let's talk about the past later; we should discuss official business!"

Mithril still looked at him with full distrust.

Thornmoon, however, wore a serious expression.

Angell had always liked this about Thornmoon: he was easily led and very easy to coax.

"What is going on with the Adventurer's Guild?" Angell asked Thornmoon sternly.

Is this what you call "official business"?

Mithril thought, glaring, but since it was still angry at Angell, it didn't speak.

Angell, however, genuinely felt that the issue with the Adventurer's Guild was more important; he just hadn't been able to find clues before. "How could the Adventurer's Guild become a nest for Monsters?"

"How did you..." Thornmoon hadn't expected Angell to ask this. He was stunned for a moment before he reacted. "So that's it. I was wondering why the stench of Monsters over there had disappeared. So it was your doing?"

The Blood Elf looked at Mithril again, suddenly enlightened.

"Then the Cats in the workshop are—"

"Sacrificed children." Angell lowered his eyes.

He felt terrible whenever he brought this up. "I don't know how many she ate. The only thing to be thankful for (?) is that the Monster wasn't a flesh-devouring type, but a Demonic Energy erosion type. She is essentially the same as a Slime; she assimilates what she eats into a part of herself, then splits off, and then the group hunts together."

"I could only cut out the parts that hadn't been fully digested, but because they were too heavily polluted, they couldn't be purified back to their original state. I had no choice but to use the Alchemy used to create Mithril to transform them into Cats."

Angell felt this was a depressing story.

In the end, he hadn't actually saved anyone.

The children who were eaten were ultimately eaten; they could no longer be human.

Angell looked at Thornmoon, feeling down. "So, what exactly is going on?! You knew there were Monsters there and you didn't do anything?"

"How was I supposed to do anything?" Thornmoon countered. "That place is an Orphanage designated by The King, and it's tangled up with nobles and merchants. I'm just a Boss of street thugs; if I made a move on that place, others would naturally come to wipe us out!"

"Besides, do you think that place is the only one with Monsters? Once the roaring factories open, they swallow countless souls. Cecilia is already considered one of the better ones, but do you know how many homeless people who have lost their families and orphans who have lost their parents there are in other cities?"

Thornmoon paused here.

As if remembering who he was talking to, his tone softened. "Of course, I was also negligent... I thought that since it was an official Orphanage, they at least wouldn't make things look too ugly on the surface. I didn't expect it to turn out like that..."

Thornmoon's subordinates hurriedly tried to comfort him:

"No, Boss, you've already done enough!"

"Yeah, aren't all the orphans in the city under your protection now?"

Angell, however, had no heart to listen to Thornmoon's self-reflection.

"...True. It isn't technology or the conscience of capitalists that improves the quality of life for the common people..."

Even back on Blue Star, the Industrial Revolution did not bring an improvement in living standards to the lower and middle classes.

Angell whispered, "With them acting like this, why hasn't the Red Ghost appeared yet?" Only when that ghost swept across the entire world would it make those massive, man-eating monsters feel fear and retreat.

"Ghost?" Thornmoon's long ears twitched. He didn't understand Angell's words, only feeling that Angell's thoughts were somewhat strange. "Can't ghosts be dealt with using White Magic? Why would they be afraid of ghosts?"

"...!" Right, that was exactly what was most terrifying!

Angell stood up abruptly.

Angell didn't believe he had the ability to release and control that Red Ghost—honestly, he had already forgotten whatever he had learned in his Introduction to Mao Zedong Thought class—but he would be happy to see it happen.

Since someone had unleashed the monster of industry, then naturally, there should be a Red Ghost to deal with them.

But could that ghost... actually emerge in this world?

Last time he saw the situation at the Adventurer's Guild (the Orphanage), Angell had felt that something was off. Now, Thornmoon's words reminded him:

This world, goddammit, was partially idealistic!

As a good youth who grew up in a materialistic world, Angell had initially considered using scientific methods to analyze magic, but he soon discovered that his scientific background couldn't support such an endeavor. The matter in this world was unstable and could even be influenced by the emotions and thoughts of living beings—the recipe for an Alchemy Potion was a prime example; a certain mood could even turn a deadly poison into medicine.

Under the influence of this idealistic magic, the most obvious manifestation was the Monsters.

When humans fell into negative emotions, they easily attracted Monsters. Some mages even concluded after research that Monsters were merely byproducts of human moods.

Therefore, there was a high probability that before the populace could turn into a Red Ghost, they would first be devoured by the Monsters lured in by their despair and pain.

When it came down to it, industry wasn't something that had developed naturally in this world. Who knew if it would be like the Australian Rabbits, spreading into a disaster even more terrifying than a Magic Disaster?!

Thinking about it this way, the situation at the Adventurer's Guild was practically inevitable.

Judging by Enlise's emotional state that day, even if no one had been stirring up trouble, being targeted by Monsters was only a matter of time.

Therefore, the first priority was to have enough happy emotions to prevent the proliferation of Monsters—

"Let's talk business, shall we?" Angell suddenly lost his energy, shrinking back into his chair, and asked lazily, "Little Blood, do you want to buy a Game Table?"

"Huh?" The Blood Elf didn't react for a moment.

Thornmoon remembered that half a minute ago they were still discussing orphans and Monsters, right? Why the sudden change of topic?

Angell, however, had no intention of continuing that unpleasant discussion. He tapped the table: "You didn't come here just to reminisce with me, did you?"

"No, who would want to reminisce with you!" Thornmoon shouted.

If he had known earlier that the owner of the Workshop was Angell, he definitely would have run as far away as possible.

However, when the subject of the Game Table came up, Thornmoon's eyes darted around: "I do want to buy a Game Table, it's just..."

"Hmm?"

Thornmoon let out a long sigh and said with determination: "It's just that others asked me to buy it; they probably want to mess with you!"

"Who?" Angell asked.

"The second young master of the Peige Family, though that guy is likely just a puppet being egged on," Thornmoon said, spilling the beans without holding anything back. "There were several families eyeing your workshop before, like Augustus of the Magic Crystal Mine, Locke from the Royal Capital, and Hurst from the Trade City. It seems the Royal Family and the Mage Tower are involved too... I know you don't know who these people are, but just understand that the situation is very complicated. We've received commissions several times, and this time is no different. On the fourth day you opened The Gate, someone asked us to come and scout the situation and buy your new product."

...That was way too detailed!

Mithril thought, his eyes widening. He almost felt sympathy for Thornmoon's employers; they had been sold out so thoroughly in an instant.

"Boss?" Thornmoon's underling called out, worried.

They were starting to suspect that their boss had been hit by a Black Mage's charm spell.

But Thornmoon raised a hand, stopping his subordinate from speaking.

Thornmoon's demeanor didn't look like he was under a charm spell; he spoke quite logically: "To be honest, if we had known the opponent was a Black Mage, we would never have taken such a commission for such a small amount of money. It's too risky."

Especially since this Black Mage was Angell.

Thornmoon shivered.

He was actually more afraid of Angell than anyone could imagine.

It was almost at the level of a childhood trauma.

Take Mithril, for instance; even though he had been shaved, his impression was merely that of a "nasty Brat."

But Thornmoon had been Angell's underling back in the day, and as a genuine "fantasy creature," he had been particularly "favored" by Angell. Angell had made Thornmoon his assistant for many things, so Thornmoon knew better than anyone what Angell was like as a child.

Can you imagine a young boy testing the combat power of an Evil Spirit in stages while mobilizing all the children on the street to collect clues about an abandoned old house, and finally, after exorcising the spirit, forging identity documents to quietly transfer the title of the haunted house to himself, only to carry out various evil plans within that house?

Can you imagine a child methodically experimenting on a small Demon by pulling its tendons and bones, recording every single step, then triggering his own Mana, and then cleanly tidying up the scene and destroying the evidence so the adults wouldn't notice? All while acting as if, "My mana awakened so early, I'm just so amazing"?

Thornmoon hadn't thought anything of it when he was a child, only thinking, "Big Brother Angell is so cool."

As he grew up, the more he thought about it, the more he felt something was wrong.

What kind of child from any race had that kind of twisted nature?!

What on earth had he encountered?!

As it turned out, this "what" had actually crawled back out of the Mage Tower! It had even become a Black Robe! And for some inexplicable reason, over a hundred years had passed without it aging a day; it looked even more lively and energetic than he, a member of a Long-lived Race, did!

Thornmoon currently felt as if he were watching a horror movie.

In any case, for many reasons, Thornmoon did not want to become enemies with whatever it was inside that shell.

Thornmoon stated his position: "So, let's just pretend the matter of the Game Table never happened!"

"Hmm," Angell stared at Thornmoon, emitting a strange nasal sound. After a long, intense gaze that made the Blood Elf uneasy, Angell suddenly said, "Little Blood, you're actually quite poor, aren't you?"

"Huh? Ah!" Thornmoon was shocked.

He looked at Angell nervously: "W-what are you talking about? Where do I look poor?"

"Even if you don't intend to be a spy for anyone anymore, haven't you ever thought about buying two Game Tables to take back?" Angell said. "I saw you and your subordinates having a great time playing earlier, and you were even climbing the leaderboard... Speaking of which, who paid for the leaderboard fees?"

"The second young master of the Peige Family said it had to be number one... No! I'm not poor!" Thornmoon struggled. "I just think that Magic Toys and the like don't suit our organization at all!"

Thornmoon's subordinates chimed in:

"That's right, we aren't poor at all!"

"The little ones under us can eat their fill without stealing or robbing, and Old John in the next district even praised us for having plenty of money!"

"We can survive without doing anything shameful, you know!"

"Yeah, why spend money on toys? If we want to play, we'll just come to the Alchemy Workshop."

You lot really are a genuine "Street Volunteer Committee," aren't you!

Angell shook his head with a bitter smile.

However, he was happy to see that after more than a hundred years, the Blood Elf didn't seem to have changed much.

Perhaps that was the benefit of being a Long-lived Race; their changes were always far fewer than those of humans, stubborn in a way that was reassuring.

It was just that such innocence would be very difficult to survive in this era.

"Don't worry! I never intended to sell the Game Tables in the first place," Angell said.

Thornmoon breathed a sigh of relief.

He had truly been afraid that Angell would pressure him into buying one.

Although he claimed not to be poor, Magic Items were truly expensive, especially those crafted so that ordinary people could play with them, which consumed even more Mana. A Game Table like that probably cost dozens of gold coins; it was simply not something ordinary people could treat as a toy.

But after thinking about it, Thornmoon felt it was strange: "If you aren't selling them, how do you make money?"

"The Game Tables aren't for sale, but they can be rented!"

"Rented?"

"That's right! You see, selling them isn't cost-effective!" Angell said without blinking. "The outer shell of a single Game Table requires a professional craftsman, and the design cost me dozens of gold coins (a lie). Now, the tables are made by the Item Shop (the truth), and the Rune Core is even more expensive, requiring a professional Rune Master (a lie)—the monthly salary is probably hundreds of gold coins (a lie). Not to mention that I hired a group of apprentice assistants for it (a lie); those dozens of children also cost dozens of gold coins (the truth)! And the amount of Mana a Game Table consumes is also extremely vast (a lie). With the current foot traffic, it wouldn't last without ten or so Magic Crystals (a lie). If it weren't for the inventory hidden in the deepest part of the workshop's warehouse that only I knew about, it wouldn't be sustainable at all (a lie). The Game Tables produced this way aren't actually durable; look, you reached the end of the leaderboard in just a month. It's not worth it for individuals to buy them for their homes, so placing them in public areas with high foot traffic is more profitable, isn't it (the truth)?"

Mithril listened to Angell speak, his eyes widening until his pupils turned into slits.

Because in Angell's original plan, this speech was supposed to be delivered by Mithril, yet Angell was now bluffing his acquaintance with such practiced ease.

Thornmoon was almost dazed, blankly saying: "Ah, that's true!"

Angell then shifted the topic and stared at Thornmoon: "So, are you interested in being my agent?"

"Agent?" Thornmoon repeated like a broken record.

"Actually, before I saw you, I was worrying about this problem," Angell said. "If we adopt a rental format, it's best to spread them across the entire city, finding suitable locations in shops and public areas on streets with high foot traffic. We also need to periodically replace the Mana devices in the cores. For a mage like me who has been self-isolating in the Mage Tower for over a hundred years, the workload is a bit too much. Besides, without enough influence, I'd probably be harassed by others, right? So, I need an agent."

This was the truth.

Come to think of it, when arcade machines first started spreading, they weren't immediately sold to families, nor were arcade centers built right away. Instead, they were placed in various bars by leasing the space, giving the bar owners a certain amount of rent and a share of the profits. As for the arcade machines themselves, the agents bore the profit and loss—though, of course, some bar owners did purchase the machines directly.

This format was similar to the vending machines in various public places.

However, the Alchemy Workshop had fallen to its current state, its past channels were long gone, and there were no suitable agents, so Angell had put the matter off.

Angell had originally planned to go through the trouble of negotiating individually with customers who wanted to buy Game Tables to provide rental services, but Thornmoon's appearance had solved that problem!

Was there anyone more suitable to be an agent than the "Street Volunteer Committee"? It didn't exist!

This group were the local tyrants of Cecilia, familiar with every street, bar, and other commercial venue. They could judge which places had the highest foot traffic and were suitable for placing Game Tables. They had enough manpower, and most importantly, their combat prowess was sufficient. With them around, there was no need to worry about accidents with the facilities, and they could prevent others from coveting them.

That was why Angell was so pleasantly surprised when he saw Thornmoon.

It truly felt like a pie falling from the sky!

It certainly lived up to the Luck Potion he drank every morning!

Thornmoon felt his skin crawl under Angell's enthusiastic gaze.

He hadn't intended to continue having any involvement with Angell, but after carefully considering Angell's previous explanation and thinking about the recent bustle at the workshop, he felt this was a big business opportunity.

Moreover, if he didn't become enemies with Angell, but instead acted as Angell's partner (X)—or rather, as Angell's subordinate—it would actually be quite comfortable.

After all, this was a powerhouse who could dissect a Demon and peel an Evil Spirit.

Because the Blood Elf bloodline was related to the Demon Race, Thornmoon had suffered from discrimination since he was young, but looking back, the time he spent by Angell's side was the most peaceful, and it was the haunted house Angell left behind that gave him a place to stay.

(But the psychological trauma left behind was also very real.)

Thornmoon did not mind serving Angell.

However...

"Are you really not bothered by the fact that I accepted a commission to take down your Workshop?" Thornmoon asked, worried.

This was also the reason Thornmoon had seen Angell turn and try to run earlier.

Thornmoon considered his friendship to be with Angell, not the Magic Gear, and besides, the former owner of the Workshop was a piece of trash; Thornmoon felt absolutely no psychological burden in targeting him.

Who would have thought that Angell would crawl back?

"If you think I cared, do you really believe you'd still be alive to talk to me?" Angell laughed.

His smile made everyone's skin crawl.

Angell continued, "Besides, I don't think you needed to refuse that commission! It's not your fault if I don't sell, and you could just convince him to be the first client to lease our Game Table—judging by the money he spent on the leaderboard, he's a great client!"

"Are you an idiot?" Thornmoon said. "He wants the Game Table so he can reverse-engineer it and manufacture his own!"

"That's only if he pays to buy the Game Table," Angell said ruthlessly. "But I've already analyzed it for you: do you know how much it costs to develop a Game Table from scratch? Leasing one doesn't cost much at all. Since they can rent, why would they bother building their own? When the time comes, I won't even have to lift a finger; they'll have a falling out all on their own."

Everyone shivered.

This guy really hadn't changed one bit!

"I am willing to become your agent."

Thornmoon took a deep breath, sat up straight, and adopted the posture of a negotiator.

After all, he was no longer just Angell's lackey; he was the leader of an organization, and he had so many subordinates who needed to be fed!

"So, how shall I act as your agent? Big Brother Angell."