Profession, Merchant Volume 5 Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Chapter 6 – The Delinquent Lad and Genius Lass, I

Have you ever had the experience of waking up and still being in a dream?

Me, not often, but sometimes.

This is the case now.

In this case, “I” woke up in the dream, and I was able to see “myself” from a bird’s eye view.

To be precise, I was conscious before this “I” woke up, and since I could see his sleeping face and how this “I” was rubbing his eyes in the morning sunlight in the third person, this was clearly a dream too.

However, this “I” looked older than the “I” of the previous dream.

His skeletal structure peeking out of the yukata had a masculine appearance, his brown dyed hair was slightly wavy, and there was a small pimple on his right cheek.

“Oh, the sun. Ugh.”

And then there was the vulgar tone, along with a hoarse voice in its inflectional phase.

There were notebooks scattered on the tatami mats, indicating which grade “I” was on that “day”.

I somehow wanted to… die when I saw this figure of “I”.

The reason is that this was the phase in my life when I was a bit of a “delinquent”.

Thinking that it was cool to be an outlaw and stuff like that.

It was very embarrassing.

There are two types of delinquents: those who are delinquent just to hang out with their friends, and those who are twisted and pretend to be lone wolves.

I was clearly the latter.

Because I didn’t have many… friends.

I was alone, dressed like a thug in an unbuttoned uniform, suspended from school for getting into trouble.

At first, the upperclassmen looked at me with suspicion, but as legends and anecdotes began to form about my unprecedented behavior, they stopped making fun of me.

In those days I was really reckless, like a weaponized piece of broken glass.

But not in the way you think.

I was arrested for entering the changing room of a public swimming pool dressed as a woman; I slipped and fell when I climbed onto the roof of a public bathhouse to look into the women’s bath; I met a teacher in the waiting room of an adult establishment when I lied about my age; I was caught by a security guard when I snuck into school at midnight to borrow a female student’s recorder and gym clothes; I got down on my knees to ask a classmate for a naughty favor and almost got sued as a result…

As a result of this series of events, people on the street would avert their eyes and say, “If you make eye contact with him, you are sure to get pregnant” when they met me, and it was even rumored that “a crying child would gasp and be silenced” if I happened to pass them.

It wasn’t long before I was known around the school as “the pervert” and became a living legend to be feared.

“Ah, the school… no, aren’t I still suspended?”

Muttering, “I” pushed aside the futon spread out on the floor of the 10-mat room and sat up.

After opening the shoji (paper sliding door) and half-lying down, “I” picked up the breakfast the maid had prepared.

“Ah, crap. I spilled the miso soup.”

I wasn’t really angry. I was just lazy.

Having managed to eat breakfast, “I” went outside with all the morning editions of the national newspaper.

Well, even if a student is suspended, they only have to “not go to school” until the teacher asks for them. Whether or not they stay at home is not part of their policy.

So, unless I am grounded or under house arrest, being banned from going outside is not applicable to this ‘me’.

That early morning, “I” went to a park in the neighborhood.

The park is a small one, but because it was built by the landowner as a tax-saving measure, the swings and slides are now rusting away.

I remember, however, that I had made this my favorite place because of the indescribably nostalgic atmosphere it created.

Sitting on a bench, “I” unfolded the newspaper and began to read.

This “I” is not looking at the first, second or third page, but at the products that appear in the advertising section.

As for the reason? Well, the products advertised in the national newspapers were the products that the companies and merchants wanted to sell.

“Ah, crap.”

Ah, why?

After checking all the advertisements, “I” also skimmed through the articles.

But when the headline “Fake Hero Still Not Defeated” caught his eye, he threw the newspaper in the air with all his might.

“Aah, crap…”

The same words, but in a different tone.

His forehead was deeply furrowed.

The ‘Fake Hero’ referred to in the article was none other than the female ‘Hero’ he had met years ago.

About a year and a half after she was authorized to be a Hero, the Papacy revoked that authorization.

The reason was that a strong candidate for the title of Hero had emerged from the state of Prolesia, a country that had adopted the Messianic Faith as its state religion.

In one era, there were no two heroes.

So the female “Hero” was branded an imposter and targeted for subjugation, while the “New Hero” of Prolesia was given the go-ahead for this mission.

From the point of view of the papacy, it is only natural that they would like to appoint a person of Messianic Faith as a hero, if possible, in order to maintain order and stable continuity in the Messianic sphere.

But the “I” in front of me seemed to think that the papacy was dirty or had done some such stupid and naive thing.

“Damn it, she’s not fake…”

I stared at the crumpled newspaper on the ground.

The park is planted with golden osmanthus trees, which must smell wonderful on an autumn morning.

After a while, “I” picked up the newspaper again and started to read another article.

“What’s this… a magical genius from another country who is visiting our country has gone missing. Possibly kidnapped…this is a dangerous world…”

It seems that this “I” became interested in the article, so he took out his cigarette and continued reading.

“Characteristics are shiny silver hair, piercing eyes, and… Oh, and there’s a picture in the article too. She’s… a few years younger than me. A young lady like that must be very lonely in a foreign country.”

“Not really.”

At the sudden answer, I looked away from the newspaper and looked up, my face tinged with a color of astonishment.

It’s no wonder.

The actual “missing girl” – or rather the little lady mentioned in the newspaper article – was standing right in front of him.

She was in her teens, with silver hair and piercing eyes, but she had a pretty figure and, depending on her upbringing, would grow into a promising adult woman.

Or rather, her clean beige skirt and white blouse already spoke of her good upbringing.

“Hey, wowly pewson. Why aren’t you at school at this hour?”

“What the fuck? What the hell is a wowly pewson?”

I turned my head.

“Are there any other wowly pewson here? I’m talking to you.”

The teenage girl pointed her finger at me.

“You, are you trying to say ‘lowly person’?”

Last Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter