I walked to a nearby house—that jackass who lives near the orphanage. The one who parks half a car dealership in his driveway and acts like it gives him diplomatic immunity.
This little shit loves yelling at us kids while we're playing in the orphanage playground.
He's called the cops on us twice.
For nothing.
Just to cause problems.
You know the type—"I'm rich, so I'm better than you."
Make a bunch of orphan kids cry, will you?
Don't worry.
I got you.
I headed to the back of his house and approached the rear door.
Slipped on a pair of little leather gloves—thank you, Allie.
Then I pulled out one of the three spells I actually know: Alohomora.
A click.
The lock gave way.
I slowly cracked the door open—just three inches—before the hinge let out a sharp, rusty screeeeech.
I stared at the gap, deeply questioning my life choices.
"...Fuck it. Balls to the wall," I whispered.
I shoved the door open further.
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech.
Seriously, does this guy grease his hinges with sand?
Whatever. I left the door open—closing it would've made more noise anyway.
Inside, I crept through the house until I found the jackass himself—snoring in bed. Peaceful. Undeserved.
I pulled a small bottle out of my inventory.
Popped the cork.
Poured a few drops onto the pillow right next to his face.
Then I waited five minutes, just to be sure.
Smack.
Nothing.
Out cold.
That little bottle? A 10 GP sleep toxin I bought from the shop.
Powerful, odorless, and makes the victim sleep in a deathlike coma for hours. Harmless. Just inconvenient.
Perfect.
After that, I got to work.
I stole everything.
Every car. Every TV. Every stick of furniture. His dishes. His socks.
I even took the damn bed he was sleeping on.
He hit the floor with a soft thud and didn't so much as twitch.
I sold it all to the shop.
Total earnings: 7,300 GP.
I did one last sweep of the house to make sure I got everything—then exited out the back door.
And yes.
I was even nice enough to close it behind me.
As soon as I closed the door and started walking down the street like the tiny, unstoppable menace I am, Allie's voice chimed sweetly in my mind.
"Well, that was something."
I could already hear the smirk in her voice.
"Would you like to tag that as First Successful Heist, or should I go with Neighborhood Menace Lv. 1?"
"I prefer 'Robin Hood: Baby Edition,'" I said smugly.
"Mm. Except Robin Hood didn't keep the money. Or the bed. Or the toaster."
"Details."
She laughed—warm, amused, dangerously supportive.
"I do hope we don't run into magical law enforcement just yet. Though I must say… 7,300 GP for one night of work? That's efficient."
"Farm who? Bread what?" I grinned. "We're in the high-stakes crime business now."
"You're three."
"And thriving."
She let out a soft sigh—the kind that said she was either incredibly proud of me, or emotionally preparing for the next dumb thing I was about to do.
I looked up at the moon, the soft silver light casting long shadows on the street.
"I feel better now," I said quietly.
Allie appeared beside me, gave me a warm smile, and pulled me into a tight hug—right into her large, soft chest.
"We should start going now, dear," she said gently.
I nodded against her shoulder. She shifted me in her arms and started walking down the quiet street.
About twenty minutes later, we reached a more open road lined with tall, old buildings. Allie stepped toward the curb, looked both ways like a perfect citizen, and held out her right hand.
We waited.
Ten minutes passed before a blur of light and sound slammed to a stop in front of us. The distortion faded, revealing a towering, three-story purple bus.
The Knight Bus.
A young man—couldn't be older than nineteen—stepped down with a surprised look.
"Miss, what're you doin' all the way out here?"
Allie stepped up onto the bus, her tone calm and polite.
"Can you take me to the Leaky Cauldron, please?"
The guy looked us over—me snuggled into her arms, looking way too small to be plotting world domination—then nodded.
"That'll be eleven Sickles."
Allie handed him the exact amount without hesitation. He counted the coins quickly, then turned toward the front.
"Leaky Cauldron!"
The bus launched forward like it had somewhere very important to be and zero regard for physics.
I barely had time to scream.
I clung to whatever I could, while Allie just hugged me tighter and... giggled.
She was having fun. I was experiencing magical whiplash trauma.
After twenty minutes of being bounced, tossed, and emotionally violated by public transportation, the bus slammed to a stop.
I was almost launched through the windshield, barely saved by Allie's warm (and fluffy) embrace.
"Leaky Cauldron!" the young man shouted.
I turned shakily to look at Allie, who—of course—was perfectly calm, still smiling like she'd just taken a scenic boat ride.
She stepped off the bus gracefully holding me, gave the driver a polite "Thanks,"
I stared after the bus as it vanished in a loud blur of magic and reckless endangerment.
"…Allie," I finally said, still recovering. "How are you fine after that?"
The sky in the Inner World was always a little too perfect. A soft sunrise glow spilled in through the cottage windows, casting golden light across the kitchen floor like a warm hug.
I sat at a small table near the window, feet dangling a few inches off the chair. Still too short to sit properly. Still too small to be anything close to intimidating.
But the smell coming from the stove?
Divine.
Allie stood barefoot in the kitchen, humming softly, her golden hair tied back in a loose braid. She wore a white apron over her dress—one I didn't remember buying, which probably meant she coded it into existence.
The counter was covered in ingredients: thick-cut bacon from the shop, fresh eggs from our Inner World's mutated chickens (don't ask), sliced fruit, and homemade bread that glowed faintly with mana.
"You didn't have to go all out," I said, watching her flip the eggs with a flick of her wand.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled.
"You just robbed a house, escaped an orphanage, and survived the Knight Bus.
You've earned a real breakfast."
She wasn't wrong.
A few minutes later, she floated the plates over to the table and set one down in front of me.
Fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, mana-glazed toast with butter that shimmered like starlight, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon on top.
"Okay," I admitted. "This might be the best meal I've ever had."
Allie sat down across from me, sipping her tea like this was just another Sunday morning. "You say that every time."
"And I'll keep saying it until I die fat and happy."
She giggled.
I took a bite of the eggs—fluffy, rich, perfectly seasoned. I might've teared up a little.
It wasn't just the food.
It was the peace.
The warmth.
The fact that, for once in my weird, multi-life existence… I wasn't alone.