HTACS 05

Chapter 05

Phil agreed to transfer everything in the grocery store to me, including the deposit, in exchange for my sword and clothes.

If anything, I’m taking a slightly bigger loss. Both the sword and the clothes had been appraised by Maestro and Yggdrasil—they just wouldn’t buy them *from* “Wolfram.” If Phil tried to sell them, they would buy.

Anyway, at that price alone, I could buy this grocery store and still have twenty million rin in change. Phil was actually the one taken aback.

“Hmm. I’m making way too much profit off this.”

“Then leave some behind.”

Anyway, following the former owner’s lead, I looked around the store. It was cleanly swept, and the shelves were neatly arranged. You could tell he’d tried to run it diligently. But the problem was the lack of stock—the fact that black bread had gone stale said it all.

“There are some issues.”

“Hmm…”

Phil nodded. There was simply too little stock. All that was there were about a hundred low-grade healing potions… and various ordinary sundries. Pens, paper, black bread, water—that sort of thing.

As I stared blankly at the goods, Phil chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

“The quality and quantity of the items themselves aren’t bad, but they’ve been sitting here a while…”

“…?”

What the hell is he saying? Is he trying to recover at least some of his principal by talking it up? *This* isn’t bad?

“…Fine. Let’s do this. You probably need some funds for the next order, right? I’ve got five million rin on me. I’ll throw that in too.”

“…Hmm.”

So the actual acquisition cost is about seventy-five million rin. Considering the deposit and prepaid rent on this store, it roughly evens out.

And I’m getting it with items I couldn’t liquidate anyway—plus that ten-times-inflated appraisal certificate.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

I nodded. With this, I think I can make it work. Now begins Wolfram’s glorious revival—

“Oh, right. The building owner said they wanted to be present for the contract.”

“?”

No.

Can I please just get started?

—

The building owner?

Usually, for a small shop contract like this, the owner doesn’t personally attend. Is Phil some major bigshot? No—I don’t recall anyone like that. So why would they come to a small shop contract like this…

“When I mentioned your name, they said they’d come right away. Seems like a pretty friendly person.”

…I see.

Someone who’s interested in the start of Wolfram von Lohengrin, and friendly at that. A face flashed through my mind, but I shook my head. She’s someone who has money flowing in on its own, someone who never lacks funds because of the power she holds.

“Who is it?”

“You’ll find out when you see them. Anyway, I’m off to cash in. Take care.”

Hey—tell me, you bastard.

I glared, but Phil said he was going to liquidate the goods and left.

And he never came back.

…

…No way.

If it’s someone like Eve—obsessed with justice—what if they tell me to get out of the building? Am I really done for?

I was in that state of “just you wait” with my life all-in on this one chance, and now it’s falling apart like this?

And then—the moment the building owner, the one above the creator who would preside over this transaction, walked into the grocery store, my eyes went wide.

“I’m a little late.”

“Uh—”

I carefully examined her face.

No doubt about it.

“……”

A dry yet unmistakably beautiful voice. Long black hair flowing down to her waist, and eyes like dark amethysts, cold and still. A face that looked perpetually unenthusiastic—or expressionless. A perfect poker face. Eyes that betrayed no emotion.

Aila Trista.

The second daughter of the Count Trista family, and the vice-president of the Magic Department’s third year.

A named character I know.

In my mind, her detailed specs, stats, and skills scrolled by—I could even read parts of the setting book.

A monster with a natural magic power of 19. The second daughter of a mercantile house that controls 20% of the Lohengrin Empire’s commercial districts. A brilliant mind. Power enough to already wield third-tier magic.

And past all that, as I scrolled down the scroll of my memory, one faint sentence glowed in the furthest corner.

“You’ve really hit rock bottom, Wolfram.”

Act 3, mid-boss of the Merchant Route.

“Do you still have use for me?”

“Aila.”

And—Wolfram’s fiancée.

—

When people encounter the unimaginable, their thinking stops and they forget how to speak.

In just two days of becoming Wolfram von Lohengrin, I’d faced a crisis that made me want to lose my mind. From academy refugee to unemployed—

But I can say with certainty—this is the most shocking yet.

Wouldn’t you be surprised if a fiancée you don’t even remember suddenly shows up?

“Say something, at least. Wolfram.”

“……”

I stared at her intently.

So—the owner of this rundown building in the corner that I’ve just moved into is my fiancée and also a mid-boss of the story? Wow, this is insane. What’s with this difficulty level? Fighting the final boss with my bare hands would be easier.

“…I heard the story.”

“What story?”

“That you got fired. Student Council President.”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

A well-placed fastball to the gut would hurt less than this.

“So when I first heard that the new lessee was you, I was quite surprised.”

“……”

“You’re still hanging around the Academy. If it were the Wolfram I knew, he would have fled, unable to bear the humiliation.”

“……”

“Or are you too afraid of revenge from the pawns you discarded, so you won’t leave?”

Wow—she really is his fiancée. How well she knows Wolfram.

“Answer me, Wolfram. Why are you staying? And why did you come to me?”

“…Came to you?”

“Hmph. Buying this grocery store is a signal to me, isn’t it? A plea to save you? Or an order?”

“……”

“A man whose only redeemable quality was his ambition—stripped of his position by his little sister, and now crawling to his fiancée at the very end? How far do you plan to fall, Wolfram von Lohengrin?”

Stop. Stop. Wait. Hey, just hold on a second. Let me think.

I don’t know how many grudges you have against Wolfram, but take that up with him.

“Anyway, this deal is off. Please disappear on your own before you get any more pathetic.”

“……”

No—that’s not acceptable. I can’t do that.

If I leave—stab-ending. Zombie revival. Dying as a matchmaker for my little sister.

“Aila Trista.”

“What?”

Aila is the mid-boss of Act 3. Her specialties are black magic and crystallization magic. Quite a formidable opponent by Act 3 standards. Her combat power likely isn’t much different now than then—if she goes all out, I die on the spot.

But I have a weapon called “thinking.”

With no endurance, no magic power, and threats of death everywhere—for Wolfram to survive, I must use thought as my weapon and make the right decisions.

Don’t stop thinking.

Zeppelin is filled with vivid life in every single character. And fortunately, I know the personalities of most of them.

In my mind, dialogue scripts with characters scrolled by.

[Act 3, Chapter 2: The Witch of Rebellion. The Lady of Ambition.]

What was Aila’s character like?

Ambition. And a chuunibyou streak.

A conclusion came.

Immediately after, I leaned back in my chair, interlaced my fingers, and wore a relaxed smile as I spoke.

“Ridiculous.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Is this building yours? Investing in a place like this isn’t wise.”

“Hah! Nonsense!”

Yes—this is the kind of dialogue that suits Aila. Aila is ambition incarnate—the villainous lady with a touch of chuunibyou. She often says things that sound grand and actually are impressive, but from the side, she’s so serious it’s cringey. And she’s full of ambition.

So if I play along and act like I’m someone extraordinary, conversation becomes possible to some extent.

“What’s nonsense?”

“A shallow lie. You couldn’t have been unaware. You approached me knowing full well this building is mine, didn’t you?”

“Would I, Wolfram von Lohengrin, bother to remember such a trivial building?”

“……”

“Listen carefully, Aila. Until just now, I had no idea who owned this building. If that sounds like a lie, then your vaunted eyes are blind and your ears are deaf. I am Wolfram—a prince of this empire.”

“Fine. I’ll believe that much. Then why are you trying to acquire this grocery store?”

This is the critical point.

A single breath. A flick of my finger. A smile on my lips. Arrogance—loaded and ready.

“For my ambition.”

“Ambition…?”

Start with words Aila loves. The chapter title wasn’t “The Witch of Rebellion. The Lady of Ambition” for nothing.

Her characteristic as a boss was her countless subordinates—and every single one was a talented person.

“I’ve lost nothing.”

“Nothing—not a single thing…?”

“Yes. My ambition starts now. That’s why I sought this grocery store.”

“…What’s so special about this grocery store?”

“A shadow must hide in the most secret place.”

“Hah! Empty talk with no plan…!”

Even as she says that, why are her eyes gleaming and her hands trembling? You’re curious too, aren’t you? This is a pretty hype atmosphere, right?

All I need to do is land a pinpoint strike here.

“I have a plan.”

Next, I’ll spout some plausible plan—and Aila will eat it up.

“…O-okay. Tell me. Go on. Hurry. Let’s hear your method.”

“No—I cannot say.”

“What? So it really was empty—”

“Because you are not on my side yet.”

“…Ghhh!”

As I said that, Aila clenched her fist. She really loves this kind of thing.

“There’s no reason to leak information to one who isn’t my ally. Leave.”

“…D-do you realize I’m the building owner and can kick you out anytime?”

“A third-rate threat.”

“Ugh! F-fine. If I become your ally, will you tell me?”

Yeah? That works for me.

Let’s see—if Aila becomes my ally, I transform from a tenant at odds with the owner to one on good terms. I don’t actually need to do anything grand. What Aila expects of me is “Wolfram who hasn’t lost his ambition.”

Wolfram’s ambition would naturally be restoration—returning to his position as Student Council President.

Let’s see.

“I will gather talented people.”

“…Talented people would come to you? Do you even know who the talented ones are?”

“Of course. Starting with that druid girl you hold so dear—there’s a freshman in the Magic Department with a gift for flame magic. In the Knight Department, there’s a kid showing potential as a future Sword Saint.”

“…How do you know that?”

“Aila. Aila Trista. Who am I?”

“Wolfram… Wolfram von Lohengrin. The deposed Student Council President.”

“Yes. I was Student Council President—the former president. But do you think I was simply thrown out?”

“…What do you mean?”

“My eyes are everywhere in the Academy. Rather, now that Eve has usurped my throne, I’ve gained the opportunity to rule this Academy from the shadows.”

“…You think that’s possible? Eve von Lohengrin has legitimacy. Against her, with her frame of ‘the just Student Council President,’ can rebellion succeed?”

“Rebellion—in the most secret place, in the quietest manner, most grandly.”

“……!!!”

At my words, Aila’s expression visibly hardened.

This was the conclusion I reached by not stopping my thinking.

“Rebellion.”

“Yes.”

She spoke the words she loved most—*rebellion*—her very identity as a boss.

[Oh my, rebellion is carried out in the most secret place, in the quietest manner, and brings about the grandest results.]

That line was her signature quote in Act 3. I used it first. Sorry—but I need to survive too.

“You—you… still…”

Aila bit her finger and glared at me with frustration. Her face was flushed—she must have been quite indignant.

Now then.

From what I can see, Aila both hates Wolfram and knows him *very well*. In her mind, Wolfram is an obnoxious, arrogant man who never bends his pride. Right now, she thinks Wolfram—after being ousted by his sister—came to her seeking salvation. That’s why she scorned him.

At the same time, there was another hint in her words: “At least his ambition was worth acknowledging.”

If that’s the case—to survive now, I need to show her: “Wolfram the man isn’t dead yet! Hah!”

“…I can’t believe this.”

“I never asked you to believe.”

“What—what do you mean?”

“Belief is nothing but hollow words. It’s the most trivial thing that follows when results come first.”

“……”

“I won’t ask for your help. Just don’t interfere. If you do, I’ll eliminate even you.”

“……”

Aila stared into my eyes for a long moment, then rose from her seat. Without dropping her contempt, she shot me a glare.

“That arrogant attitude of yours—even thrown into a gutter, it never changes. I’ll be watching to see when you finally crumble, Wolfram.”

I waved my hand with arrogance to the very end.

Gritting her teeth at the sight, she strode toward the door—and I called out to stop her.

“Before you go—what about this grocery store?”

“…If you pay a fair price, there’s nothing I won’t sell. That’s the Trista family way.”

“I see. A price it is. Take it.”

Afterward, Aila left, and I stared at the spot where she’d been for a long time before finally letting out a deep sigh and slumping back.

“Wow—I thought I was screwed.”

I covered my face with both hands and exhaled deeply.

“I managed to talk my way out and dress it up convincingly.”

Me, an apostle of rebellion? Are you insane?

Sorry to Aila, but I’m a person who loves safety, comfort, peace, and tranquility. My plan is to build capital with this grocery store, earn my diploma, learn a trade, and live quietly in the countryside.

“…Ah. I’m exhausted.”

I’ve earned the displeasure of the newly inaugurated Student Council President.

Every other race is filtering me out completely.

I need to figure out how to revive this dilapidated grocery store.

I played the role of a grand rebel in front of my mid-boss fiancée, and I’ll have to keep up that persona in front of her from now on.

And yet—

Right now, I’m alive.

Even if it’s just “discard” items, I have food to eat right away. Even if it’s cramped, there’s a staff room where I can sleep.

I checked the clock—it was past midnight.

The tomorrow I thought wouldn’t come had already become today.

So then—

“Tomorrow—let’s survive again tomorrow.”

In this convenience store, let’s survive again, and keep living.

With that thought, I shut down my overworked mind and fell asleep.