Chapter 1

I Built an Orphanage to Pick Up and Sell Slaves and Orphans — But Apparently, I Was Mass-Producing Saintesses

The protagonist reincarnated into another world as an elf and ran an orphanage on the outskirts of town.

On the surface, it was a shelter for parentless children. In reality, it was a business where he picked up orphans and slaves, raised them, and sold them off.

“I’ve got bills to pay too. Sorry, but I’m collecting my investment.”

That’s what he told himself—he was just a slave trader.

But in truth, his selling prices were a fraction of the market rate. To the church, it was practically a donation.

Moreover, he only sold to reputable convents, churches, and noble houses—places where the children’s futures were guaranteed, with zero shady buyers.

As a result, the kids he sold off kept turning into exceptional saintesses, performing miracles all over the continent.

Finally, for certain reasons, the saintesses he had raised returned to the orphanage.

“Teacher!”

“… Who are you again?”

Worshipped by the grown-up saintesses who kept showing up, the protagonist clutched his head today as well, unable to do proper business.

The Orphanage Business
On the outskirts of the city stood an old brick building—that was the orphanage run by Ale. Few people ever passed by, and even fewer spared the place a glance.

Ale himself didn’t particularly care about how the orphanage looked. It might be shabby, but it kept out the wind and rain, and inside was cleaner than it appeared.

“Well then, guess it’s time to look after the brats again…”

He shrugged as he muttered that. The children of the orphanage weren’t objects of affection to him—they were simply tools of business.

He would pick up orphans or cheap slaves, educate them for a few years, take decent care of them, and then sell them off through legal channels for a small profit. That was all there was to it.

From inside the building came the cheerful voices of children.

Some scrubbed the floor with little rags, some dusted the furniture, and some tended to flowers in the yard.

“Alright, that’s enough cleaning for now. Once you’re done, it’s snack time! Wash your hands and go see Himari, got it?”

“Yeees!”

Their voices answered in unison. Watching them, Ale calmly made his mental calculations.

(Looks like I’ll be able to recover what I invested, at least…)

To him, the orphanage wasn’t a charitable institution—it was a business, a means of survival. The children were his merchandise, his source of income. He rarely let sentiment interfere.

Incidentally, all the children there were girls.

He gave a respectable excuse—that some of them feared boys—but in truth, girls simply sold better.

So whether the children cried or laughed, he didn’t care much. Of course, he provided the minimum care and comfort they needed, but only to keep his operation running smoothly.

At the moment, three of them were ripe for sale—bright, well-behaved, and pleasant-looking. It was about time to send them off. Maybe try a new buyer this round.

A new buyer might treat them harshly, though…

“Whatever happens to them after they’re bought—none of my business, huh…”

Ale murmured quietly, his expression calm. His faint smile held only the bare minimum of warmth required for business.

Behind the orphanage was a small vegetable patch where the children helped out—self-sufficiency, of sorts. The scent of carrots, radishes, and herbs drifted from the garden, softening the air of decay around the building.

When Ale looked back inside, he saw the children squabbling over sweets. After watching them for a moment, he returned to his room, checked the papers on his desk, and began his real work as a merchant.

“… These folks are stingy with their payments. Their conditions seem fine, though…”

On the surface, Ale’s orphanage was “a facility that shelters and raises orphans.” But for him, it was nothing more than a business.

“Now then, who do I sell to next…”

As usual, he reviewed the girls’ progress, checked potential buyers, and weighed market prices and reliability. Charity and future happiness didn’t enter his mind—only profit.

He didn’t sell to criminal groups. His clients were always reputable—monasteries, church branches, and other institutions that could “guarantee” the children’s future.

Even though he dealt in people, Ale wasn’t entirely heartless—at least, not by his own modern standards.

“Hmm? Again…?”

He noticed a letter from a previous buyer and frowned curiously.

It told of a girl who had driven back an army of tens of thousands of monsters threatening a nation.

But such letters weren’t exactly rare.

He recalled the first time—he’d taken a young girl to a monastery. The abbess welcomed her warmly and promised to give her education and training.

Ale had merely signed the papers and received a modest sum for his “goods.”

Yet, sometime later, he heard rumors: that the girl had performed great miracles, healing the sick and repelling monsters through divine power.

Ale tilted his head.

“… Couldn’t even get her to behave properly here, though…”

And then the next girl—and the next—all followed the same pattern.

He hadn’t planned it, but it turned out every one of his buyers was a reputable religious institution. There, the children naturally received good training and awakened their gifts—each becoming a saintess.

Probably, even without him, they would’ve bloomed under such care. But for some reason, every letter he received brimmed with gratitude.

“[Lily has shown great power in healing the sick and saving countless lives.], [Verbena is teaching knowledge and courage to the young orphans under her care.]... huh?”

Reading them, Ale narrowed his eyes slightly.

“… Guess that means I could raise the price, huh? Maybe tack on one more gold coin…”

He wasn’t moved by the praise. He simply calculated—revising prices, scouting new clients.

But the fact remained: his orphanage had somehow become a factory that mass-produced saintesses.

Ale’s business thrived. To the world, it was a miraculous chain of blessings—but to him, just steady profit.

“Nah, getting greedy ain’t good. Maybe add twenty-five silver instead…”

Without knowing it, Ale’s orphanage business was steadily becoming a saintess production line.

Then one day, a letter arrived from the church.

Ale’s eyes widened, and the letter slipped from his hands.

“… Huh? Recognized… as a saint? What… what the hell’s going on…?”

Being canonized as a saint was a tremendous honor, granted only by the Holy Pope himself—to heroes, saviors, or divine envoys.

“But me…?”

Ale was utterly baffled.

But from the church’s perspective, he was the foster parent of many saintesses—the unseen benefactor behind countless miracles.

Indirectly, he had saved millions through them.

Of course, none of that was intentional. It was pure coincidence—the right environment, and the children’s own gifts.

Even so, the church officially recognized him as the “Father of Saintesses.”

His deeds, they said, were worth more than all the gold in the world. And so, he was declared a saint.

Unfortunately, that was where his troubles began.

Being declared a saint brought prestige—and also danger. His “products” now came with a holy premium. Each girl could fetch a hundred gold coins—well over ten million yen in modern value.

Naturally, others would covet that kind of fortune.

“Heh, so this is the orphanage from the job? What a dump.”

“… Huh?”

Bad men always hear such news first. And they waste no time seizing golden opportunities—like this.

The door burst open, and a burly man with the look of a mercenary swaggered in.

“Hey, who the hell’re you? You’re not from arou—whoa!?”

“Shut up. You Ale, or not?”

A massive battle-axe slammed down, splitting the desk in two.

“… Yeah. That’s me.”

Lying would get him killed. The man radiated murderous intent—far beyond anything Ale could handle.

“Oh? For real? Thought this’d be a pain, but you made it easy. Alright then, come with m—”

In that instant, a blinding column of light engulfed the man, erasing him from sight.

“—Wha…?”

“We made it in time, Teacher!”

A voice rang out as a figure leapt through the window—a young woman in a pure white habit, with hair the color of platinum sunlight.

An angel in human form.

What do you think about this chapter?