My Disciples Became Scoundrels - Chapter 47

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Cesare fell quiet at those words. The boy must be missing his siblings too. He spoke with a pouty expression.
“Collecting all this—how much do we really get? Master, couldn’t we borrow ten billion from that loan shark from last time, using him as collateral? It’s exactly ten billion, isn’t it?”
Jenia tilted her head at his words.
“That loan shark from last time—where was that?”
I gave her a brief explanation. About the loan shark who had offered to lend ten billion in exchange for Cesare as collateral—Cesare, who had once been the Cockfighting Arena’s champion.
After hearing the whole story, Jenia spoke up.
“Sell him. With ten billion, we can find exactly two more people.”
“……You’re really going to sell me?”
Cesare’s expression fell slightly. It seemed Jenia didn’t quite understand how loan sharks operated.
“We won’t be borrowing from such a place. The interest rates there are abnormally high, and I’ve no intention of sending Cesare to the Cockfighting Arena.”
Cesare’s expression brightened again. He was like a fickle day—rain followed by sunshine, then cloud again.
Jenia nodded after hearing about the interest rates and the Cockfighting Arena.
“I see. Then I won’t sell him. We do need ten billion, though…….”
“Sell me instead. Let me fight at the Cockfighting Arena.”
That might even bring in better earnings. Cesare tilted back awkwardly against a tree stump.
“We’d be in real trouble without Master. Better to sell him instead.”
“So you’re saying I’m expendable?”
“You said you live fine on your own.”
Cesare grinned mischievously. So the boy had a mischievous streak after all.
I finished collecting acorns. The basket had filled up nicely. I spoke to my bickering disciples.
“We’ve gathered enough. Let’s head home.”
“That’s not much for four people. Should I starve?”
“A taste is sufficient, isn’t it? We’ll buy the rest from the Bakery.”
If this group tried to fill their bellies with acorns, every squirrel in Aspenhelm would starve to death.
And so we left the forest with my disciples. There was a simple, warm smell of everyday life about it. Quarreling over trifles, preparing the evening meal—an ordinary life.
Yet something gnawed at me. That gaze directed at us. What was its source? I hadn’t felt it since then.
Keeping alert, I headed toward the city. The Bakery was crowded with customers. It seemed difficult to squeeze in more people.
“I’ll buy bread. You two go pick up some meat and vegetables.”
“Yes, Master. Can we get candy too?”
“Two pieces each, at most.”
Before my words had even finished, Jenia bolted toward the Candy Shop. The others followed in her wake. Watching them go, I felt a quiet warmth.
Three of them had gathered now. I recalled the image of Bella and Hayden among them as well.
Five hundred million per person. A large sum, but not impossible to gather. We’d manage it somehow within a year.
“Welcome!”
As I stepped inside the shop, the Baker’s voice rang out. The crowd was thick enough that I couldn’t see him clearly.
I selected some bread and made my way to the counter. The shopkeeper, who had been attending to the throng of customers, looked up.
“Yes, what can I— Ah, Dane.”
His bright smile faltered the moment he saw me. It was a stark contrast to his usual warm demeanor.
Why that expression? Even as I wondered, he forced a smile back onto his face.
“So that’ll be ten thousand baht.”
Normally he would have exchanged pleasantries with me. Perhaps he was simply focused on the register because of the crowd.
An odd unease hung in the air alongside the savory smell of fresh bread. Maybe the Baker was in poor spirits today.
I decided to find my disciples. They might still be at the Candy Shop. I was glancing around, stepping into the Shopping District, when a sharp voice cut through.
“You people cost me my fortune! I became a pauper because of you!”
“So what? That’s our fault?”
One voice thick with rage and roughness; another calm and familiar.
A middle-aged man was shouting loudly amid the crowded foot traffic. Across from him stood Cesare.
“An apology on bended knee wouldn’t be enough! If you hadn’t been here, Aspenhelm would never have been invaded!”
I grasped the situation quickly. I’d always thought this day would come eventually—just not today. I pushed through the crowd.
“Oh, Master.”
My disciples spotted me. Fortunately, all three seemed relatively unharmed. Whether they’d anticipated this or simply grown accustomed to it, I couldn’t tell.
At the word “Master,” the middle-aged man turned to look at me. His expression shifted to something like confusion, then he pointed an accusatory finger.
“Fifteen years ago, during the invasion, my house and shop were destroyed. Because of you! What nerve do you have to return to Aspenhelm?”
“The attack has nothing to do with Balanus.”
There were no clear witnesses, no evidence. If there had been, the Marquise would have uncovered it years ago. This was merely venting frustration on the weak.
Yet the man showed no sign of backing down. He shouted on.
“Then is it also baseless that this one went to Frosty Prison and came back?”
At the mention of Frosty Prison, Arkel flinched. Where had he heard that?
The invasion fifteen years ago and Frosty Prison had no connection whatsoever. But it was more than enough to plant a poisonous seed in the public mind.
“Frosty Prison? That’s where serious criminals go.”
“By the way, what is Balanus, Mother?”
“It was a faction that existed long ago. Fifteen years ago, there was an invasion…….”
Even those who seemed indifferent to the incident were changing their expressions. Arkel merely stared down at the ground.
I recalled something Arkel had said before—that a renegade mercenary, a demon-blooded hybrid, and a pleasure killer would dishonor Balanus’s name.
So he stays silent. Even if the incident from fifteen years ago is unrelated to us, a label like “Frosty Prison graduate” is enough to stoke resentment.
“Why can’t you speak? You’ve been to Frosty Prison—what else could you say?”
I watched my disciples, unable to respond, then addressed the man.
“Hey.”
“Hey?”
The man looked flustered. I pressed on quickly.
“Let’s say we’re from Frosty Prison. What nerve do you have picking a fight with a violent criminal? You confident?”
“You little brat, talking back to your elders——!”
“You earn respect by acting like an adult.”
The atmosphere froze instantly. I stepped closer to the man.
He flinched backward.
“How old were you fifteen years ago?”
“F-thirty-five.”
“None of us are over thirty-five now. We were all children then.”
People looked at Cesare. He was mature for his age; there were times when he looked older than Arkel, who was thirty-three.
“Orphans scraping to survive, and we’ve barely come together after fifteen years. We’re trying to build something better, and a grown man wants to take out his frustrations?”
At that, Jenia’s eyes darted about, and she made a show of wiping away tears.
“I was only five back then……. My teacher was already gone and everything was so hard……. We survived on bread made from acorn flour…….”
All eyes fixed on the baskets. We were all carrying baskets filled with acorns. Arkel touched the acorns gently, absently.
“……It might not be enough for dinner tonight.”
I’m glad the bread in my shopping basket isn’t visible. Sympathy flickered in their eyes.
Besides, unless Jenia had tentacles we didn’t know about, she was nothing more than a cute, pitiful girl.
The mood softened a little. The man looked around, then raised his voice again.
“But it’s still true you’re from Frosty Prison! And that one’s a renegade—doesn’t everyone in Aspenhelm know?”
Cesare stared at him blankly. In the old days he would have thrown a punch, but now he was unmoved.
“That’s right. Fifteen years as a wandering orphan—it messed me up some. But I’m not an orphan anymore, and I’m not a renegade either.”
“…….”
“These days I try to live right. Haven’t you heard? We’re the ones who found the bodies in Bitan.”
Several people reacted noticeably at that. With a crowd this size, there were bound to be grieving families. We’d recovered dozens of corpses.
Someone spoke up from within the crowd.
“Thanks to these people, we were able to hold funerals. They helped us.”
“That’s right. We don’t know about what happened fifteen years ago, but they really did find the bodies for us.”
“That girl looks so young……. It’s too much to blame her for Aspenhelm being attacked, isn’t it?”
As several voices joined in, the man found himself increasingly cornered.
“Aspenhelm was attacked because of Balanus, Frosty Prison graduates—where exactly did you pick up these rumors…….”
I fixed him with a contemptuous stare, and the man’s jaw clenched.
“Rumors? The Prophet said so!”
“Did you hear it directly from the Prophet?”
The man finally fell silent. As the onlookers sent him looks of distrust, he hesitated and withdrew from the crowd.
Once he’d gone, the others lost interest and drifted away one by one. I watched his retreating figure, then headed home.
“Phew. What a mess this fame is making. Madness blooming everywhere.”
“How does madness bloom?”
Cesare and Jenia chattered as usual. Only Arkel remained silent. He set down the basket and spoke.
“Master. I’m sorry for putting you in a difficult position. Because of me, Balanus’s reputation…….”
“And what loss would we suffer if our reputation gets worse?”
“That would be…….”
Arkel’s words trailed off. He was quiet for a long while.
“Nothing much, really. At worst, we’d be gossiped about over drinks.”
“A bad reputation could mean we don’t receive commissions.”
“People don’t want the righteous and the weak. They’d rather follow strong villains, even moderately wicked ones.”
A little scandal means nothing if you’re overwhelmingly strong.
Arkel spoke to me carefully.
“Still, it seemed quite severe. We could have made do with just sympathy.”
“I deliberately provoked him.”
I’d needlessly used casual speech and picked the fight. Some of it was to relieve my own stress. I looked at Arkel’s puzzled expression.
“The rumors spread faster than our visibility warranted. And it’s decidedly strange that an ordinary person would know anything about the Frosty Prison at all.”
The Baker’s oddly strained expression flickered through my mind. I turned quietly to regard my disciples.
“Someone is spreading information about us.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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