HTACS 09

Chapter 09

Generally speaking, if you’ve become a character in a game, there’s one thing you’re supposed to do.

After a couple of deep breaths, I spoke the words.

“Status window.”

【Wolfram von Lohengrin】

【?T】

【Status:

Strength: 4

Dexterity: 6

Endurance: 2

Magic: 3

Willpower: 4】

【Acquired Skills:

Imperial Bloodline.】

As expected of a game character—a status window is standard.

I slowly examined my status. Considering that the average “normal person” stat is 5, Wolfram is truly… truly a fantastically trash-tier stat holder. How did this guy even get into Zeppelin?

No matter how much of a prince he is, the Zeppelin faculty must be blind. What was the Imperial family thinking, putting this bastard in the student council president’s seat? There have to be limits.

Looking down at my skills, it’s another headache. It’s not a bad skill per se—but with just this one, you can’t do anything.

【Imperial Bloodline (1T): The owner of this skill cannot utter words beneath their station when conversing with others. At the same time, it calculates the “bloodline dignity” between the user and the target—if the target has lower dignity, it triggers the status effect “Intimidation” with a high probability.】

Most rank divisions in Zeppelin are divided by tiers. Tier 9 is garbage, Tier 1 is god.

This skill is a whopping Tier 1 skill—but there’s absolutely nowhere to use it.

So—now I’m going to try using my last resort.

The fact that I’ve entered this game must be for a reason. And usually, in situations like this, there’s bound to be my true status, an editor tool, or a cheat tool.

Otherwise, it just doesn’t make sense, right?

To give me these garbage stats and throw me into this game—how could anyone do that to a person?

“If there’s a god, they must have given me some kind of amazing tip.”

So—

There must be something. My own personal tip. My own amazing cheat.

I clenched my fist and spoke the magical words.

“…Source code open.”

And—

Astonishingly, absolutely nothing happened.

“Hidden status open. Editor tool activate. Create mode open.”

Nothing—at all—happened.

God was dead.

—

I may be a veteran of this game, but I’m not crazy enough to fight monsters with my bare hands.

Yeah—monsters. Surprisingly, Zeppelin has monsters. Quite a lot, actually—no, an enormous amount.

As I mentioned before—aside from the “Academy District” where students come to learn, there’s vast nature. Volcanoes, deserts, oceans, jungles.

Why does an artificial island—an academy built by the first Emperor—have monsters? Apparently, he brought them in to establish an ecosystem. There’s a story that the first Chancellor dropped a meteor on the Emperor for that.

But the Emperor said that children studying in Zeppelin would be thrown straight into the field afterward. When they return to their homelands, they wouldn’t know if it would be a canyon, a forest, or a volcanic zone—so he sought to replicate those environments as closely as possible and provide practical training.

To give you an idea—if you go to the desert zone over there, there’s even a blue dragon. For real.

Anyway, the Academy District is protected by a barrier laid down by the first Chancellor—a great archmage—and the Emperor, who was called a Demon God.

So if you don’t take the monster-combat curriculum, you’ll never encounter a monster while attending the Academy. But there are weirdos everywhere. Students venture outside the Academy District to meet monsters or gain combat experience—and as a result, a few “unfortunate disappearances” happen every year.

And now—I, Wolfram von Lohengrin, have also reached the time to face the great nature beyond Zeppelin.

But if I go out with my bare body and those garbage stats, by this time tomorrow, goblins will be making bags out of my skin and using my skull as a helmet.

So I need to hire a guard.

Thus, I went to the Knight Department and called for the staff member.

“…Wolfram von Lohengrin-nim. What is your request?”

“I’ve come in the name of the grocery store owner of Magic Zone 8. I’m looking for a Knight Department student to escort me through the early part of the eastern forest.”

“…I see.”

The staff member looked at me like they’d bitten into a lemon. They were going to refuse if I came under Wolfram’s name, weren’t they? Nyeh nyeh—if you don’t like it, take it up with the school regulations.

“You know the rates, right?”

“Meals covered on this side, and 8,720 rin per hour. Correct.”

“…Correct. Are you aware of the hazard fee?”

“I’ll cover it by providing low-grade healing potions from this side.”

“…G-ghhhh. Understood.”

Oh my, look at them grinding their teeth—they’ll wear them down and need implants. I grinned and extended my hand—meaning “hand over what you need to hand over.” The staff member tossed the documents in front of me.

“…Then, these are the Knight Department students available for request.”

“Good. I’ll check and note down the name. Go back to your work.”

I elegantly reviewed the list. I didn’t forget to send the staff member a silent “nyeh nyeh—if you don’t like it, go stab someone” greeting.

Now—who will be my guard?

The “Knight Department” requires enormous expenses—not quite to the Magic Department’s level, but still. Weapons aren’t free—what about repair costs? The wooden swords ruined during training? Torn training uniforms? All money. Of course, if you have a trading company or noble house backing you, that burden is lighter—but there are more commoners in the Knight Department than in the Magic Department, kids who ran around in the mountains and fields from a young age, realized their martial talent, and somehow stumbled into Zeppelin.

So I plan to find, among them, a particularly trustworthy and capable servant—I mean, Knight Department member.

The list only has basic info next to each name—year, what they can do, what sword they use—but I’m a veteran of this game, and soon I found the name I was looking for.

“This one’s here?”

If I hire an unreliable student as a guard, I’ll get stabbed and end up as an “unfortunate disappearance” in the forest—but this name. No—this name, at least, I could trust.

“Nephti.”

In the main story, she’s one of the top-ranked knights in terms of defensive ability alone. And at the same time—the queen of the dirt-poor, found everywhere in Zeppelin. Her name caught my eye.

—

Nepterian—Nephti for short.

Her defining traits: dirt-poor. And ordinary. Swordsmanship—average. Shield skills—mediocre. And lastly—dirt-poor.

When I named her as my guard, the staff member’s expression grew peculiar—a smirk that said “You’re really picking this one? This clueless bastard.” It was oddly infuriating.

Well—whatever. I’m the clueless one, and they’re not.

Soon, the interview room door opened, and a girl in light gear with a sword at her waist looked at me.

“Hello. I’m Nepterian. You can call me Nephti.”

“Good. Come sit.”

“No. You are to be my employer. I prefer to stand and receive instructions.”

Her conviction-filled eyes made me smile without realizing it.

In the setting, she has a lot of family debt. Her mother raises two younger siblings alone. And since she came to Zeppelin, debt was inevitable. I heard her mother invested with the mindset “I’m going all-in on our daughter’s moonshot!” But debt is inevitable—in Zeppelin, even sleeping and waking costs money.

But with her upright personality and refusal to turn a blind eye to anything dirty, she tries to pay off that debt and cover her Zeppelin living expenses purely through mercenary work. As a result, she’s barely managing to pay the interest.

Anyway—this knight among knights looked at me and pressed for orders, and I nodded.

“I plan to explore the early part of the eastern forest. Hourly wage is 8,720 rin.”

“Minimum wage, then.”

“Any complaints?”

“No.”

“Instead, if you’re injured, I’ll cover up to two low-grade healing potions.”

“Understood.”

…She doesn’t seem thrilled.

“Meals are covered on this side. You won’t get bad food.”

“Good. That’s excellent. I swear by chivalry—I will fully complete this escort.”

“……”

Come to think of it—I recall a rumor that if she has no food, she tears up grass and eats it with resin dressing.

Nah—no way.

“How would you like to handle Count and Run?”

Just as I was lost in thought, Nephti recited an important setting, cutting through my distraction.

Count and Run.

This was also a fairly important setting in the game. When hiring a mercenary, you set a number of encounters—and once you’ve encountered that many monsters, the mercenary says “I’ll pull out here” and goes home. I’m surprised this setting exists in reality too—it’s game-like yet realistic.

“Five. After five monster encounters, we retreat. Instead, I’ll pay 5,000 rin per extra encounter as a handling fee.”

“Yes, understood. However, I also have one request.”

“What?”

“If the exploration violates chivalry, I will not hesitate to turn my back and return.”

As if she couldn’t compromise on this, she looked at me, and I nodded. She must have wondered if I—Wolfram, a third-rate villain—was going to do something bad.

“Hmph. If you have time for nonsense, let’s depart immediately. Time is precious.”

“Yes.”

—

We leisurely headed toward the eastern forest, and Nephti’s steps were light.

The eastern forest is a tutorial zone—a beginner hunting ground you can explore from Level 1. Mainly squirrels and rabbits roam around, and even the strongest enemies are just slimes or mini-goblins at best. There is a boss monster, but we won’t run into it—so skip.

Honestly, it’s a pretty safe place.

But I mustn’t forget—Wolfram is the kind of guy who could die from a squirrel Zeppelin threw at him.

So our first encounter was a slime—a weak creature that even Wolfram with his Endurance-2 could kill by stabbing it with a dagger.

A translucent slime trembling before us. It has a core in the center—even a twig could kill it.

“…If I kill that, does it count toward the count?”

“Yes. Per the regulations.”

Hmm—can’t be helped then.

“Instead, I’ll take the corpse. That’s fine, right?”

“…Huh? Yes. Go ahead. That’s also per the regulations.”

With that, Nephti stabbed the slime with her dagger, and the slime went limp. I collected it and put it in the prepared pouch.

After that, we leisurely walked further into Zeppelin. Wolfram has no endurance, and Nephti has no money—taking our time walking benefits both sides.

Of course, my money drains proportionally, but if I run out, I can just strong-arm Eve into buying candy. Eve would smile “hehe,” and that smile is genuinely unpleasant and I don’t want to see it—but suppressing the hatred for my sister engraved in my genes, I’ll sell it to her somehow.

Thus, at a pace less than a stroll—more like rehabilitation training—we finally reached our destination.

“…This is?”

“Bean’s Garden. Don’t you know?”

“…Ah, no. I know it. But why here of all places?”

“Can’t you see? I came to harvest beans.”

“Huh? A member of the Imperial family—personally?”

Bean’s Garden.

Literally, a garden where all sorts of colorful beans grow. But these aren’t the kidney beans, peas, or soybeans we know—these are mysterious beans with unique properties.

For example—Pop Beans. Beans that pop and fizz in your mouth. If you coat them in edible slime mixed with sugar, they become a snack called Jelly Pop Beans.

There are also beans with various effects, making this a handy early-game farming spot.

As I harvested beans, Nephti stared at me from behind with an expression of utter shock. If whales flew through the sky, they’d be less surprised than her.

“What are you staring at? Focus on escorting.”

“Huh? Yes!”

Even so—monsters don’t appear in Bean’s Garden. Even Zeppelin freshmen know that.

“If you have nothing to do, help harvest beans.”

“That’s not my job.”

“I’ll bump your wage to 10,000 rin per hour.”

“It seems my job has just expanded. I’m grateful.”

Look at that attitude shift.

Anyway—we spent quite a while harvesting beans.

“Hey.”

“Y-yes?”

“Aqua Beans lose significant quality if damaged during harvest. Be more careful.”

“Y-yes…”

At my words, Nephti nodded nervously, and her harvesting grew increasingly meticulous.

When we had filled two baskets entirely—I let out a deep breath.

It’s not like I was lifting anything heavy—just picking beans growing in nature—and I’m this exhausted. Honestly, I’m worried about my future.

But I’d roughly accomplished my goal.

“Time for a meal.”

“Huh? Yes!”

We moved to a corner of the garden and began the lunch I’d prepared.

“…Black bread.”

“Any complaints?”

“…No.”

Hey—you came along happily because I said it wouldn’t be bad food, and now you’re glaring at me for giving you black bread? I saw you glance at your dagger and look at me, you brat.

“Hmm. In that case, let me show you something special. Be grateful.”

“……?”

With that, I rinsed the beans I’d just picked in water, pushed three beans into the canteen I’d brought, and crushed them—as the beans mixed, the liquid thickened.

“Vanilla Beans, Milk Beans, and Bubble Beans—mixed and crushed in the right ratio—do you know what that makes?”

“Huh? Huh?”

What came out of the canteen after the three beans mixed was—by anyone’s standards—a splendid whipped cream. I scooped a generous amount with a spoon and placed it on Nephti’s black bread.

“Try it.”

“…Yes.”

Following my order, Nephti shoved the bread into her mouth—and made an expression I’d never seen before. I daresay Helen Keller, when she first understood the word “water,” wasn’t as shocked as this. Eyes wide open. A look as if the entire concept of the world had flipped. Tears streamed down her face.

Is it that good?

I also placed cream on my bread and took a bite—and nodded.

Ah.

This is it.

The bread’s a bit different, but this tastes exactly like a private-school crescent cream bread. That convenience store cream bread with the rabbit on it.

It’s the kind that often gets discarded due to its short shelf life—I didn’t eat it often. Just that kind of taste.

But in this world, it seems to be an absurdly luxurious flavor. Or maybe she’s just weird.

“Eaten like this, even black bread becomes quite palatable.”

“…Sniff… huuuh.”

Nephti sobbed as she forced the bread into her mouth. I handed her the canteen with the remaining cream and the spoon—and she hugged it like it was precious.

After finishing the meal, Nephti looked at me, hesitated, and asked a question.

“How… how did you know this combination?”

“Life’s wisdom. Even tasteless bread, when combined with nature’s gifts and wisdom, can become a splendid meal.”

“…Ah, sob. Huhh. I see. Such wisdom. Such happiness, right before my eyes. And I—I…!”

Nephti, as if frustrated, clenched her fist, pounded the ground, and wailed.

“Huuh… instead of grass-and-resin salad, I could’ve been eating this… I…!”

“……”

So that rumor was true.