HTACS 35

Chapter 35

D/Z SAGA.

Having played that game almost to death—just checking the facts—I know almost all of Kelterus’s adventures by heart.

And even now, I review those developments in my head several times a day.

Because no matter how much I try to avoid intervening, there are episodes I inevitably get drawn into.

Whether Eve is at the center of the incident, whether Aila is, whether the entire academy is caught up, or even if the 8th Magic Department explodes.

So to avoid those disastrous calamities, I need to dodge like crazy while simultaneously milking every possible opportunity—so that by this time next year at graduation, I can hold my diploma, learn some specialized skills, and graduate—or even stay in Zephrin and be the convenience store owner for a thousand, ten thousand years.

That’s why I’ve already memorized the information on the main characters, villains, and heroines. Fortunately, Wolfram’s head is decent—once I see something, I don’t forget it. Thank goodness my brain is at least healthy.

Setting aside future countermeasures for a moment, let’s think about the Zephrin Student Competition.

This competition broadly awards prizes in five categories.

The Divine Sword Tournament—where Knight Department students clash. The Divine Magic Tournament—where Magic Department students fight. But it doesn’t end there—Maestro and Yggdrasil also have competitions for crafting weapons and garments.

And then there’s the somewhat unique category: Magic Craft.

A competition where you create accessories or artifacts imbued with magical energy. Honestly, getting second place is relatively easy. Magic Craft is already a high-level skill, but first place is so overwhelmingly dominant that most contestants give up after entering.

That’s the Grand Magic Merchant—Regina Ciella. The third-year top student.

Her mana is 21—higher than Aila’s, lower than Eve’s. A genius among geniuses.

She’s not one of the two main routes—Isolde from the Knight Department or Eve from the Magic Department—but a side route heroine. A sub-heroine.

If you end up with her and graduate, it’s a Magic Department-targeted ending.

What I’m about to face is a genius—and a witch.

But there’s a chance.

“If this game borrows Zephrin’s system faithfully, there’s an opportunity for a come-from-behind victory.”

So what I need to do is turn that opportunity for a come-from-behind victory into reality.

It might be difficult for Wolfram alone.

But with friendship, I can put in the effort—and if those two combine, victory can be grasped.

“Fortunately, I’m not alone. I have comrades I’ve shared friendship with.”

Looking up at the sky, I clenched my fist.

Wolfram is not alone.

—

“I don’t want to.”

Eve refused.

“I’m sorry. My lady is currently out on a commission.”

Rudika was gone.

“Of course I’ll help! The pay is…”

“Hey, you! Shut your mouth and work!”

Nephti was busy.

“…I’m entering the Divine Magic Tournament too. Well then.”

Aila ran away.

“……”

Wolfram von Lohengrin was left alone.

—

Sitting at the table in front of the convenience store, I looked up at the sky.

What friendship? What conviction?

The world had left me alone.

The stars in the night sky may appear close together from Earth, but the distance between them is measured in years even at the speed of light.

“So this is loneliness…”

The solitude sank deep.

—

But I can’t give up just because of that.

If a person decides to live, there’s no such thing as dying.

I’m the one who survived lying alone in a studio apartment for three nights and four days after my disk gave out from moving H-beams on a construction site—until I ran out of water.

“There’s a way. There’s definitely a way. I will make it happen.”

Lost in thought while baking doughnuts, the insect-like hungry horde began to gather during lunchtime.

Thanks to Eve’s consideration, more ordinary students were visiting the cart—which was good, but honestly, it’s more burdensome now.

But who am I, Wolfram von Lohengrin—no, Lee Young-jin? I’ve done everything from manual labor to amusement park part-timing during peak seasons, and I’ve thrown myself into all sorts of emergency support jobs to earn hefty pay.

In times like this, I need to set clear priorities.

First—doughnuts are sold only in fixed quantities. Only what was fried in the morning. Nothing beyond that.

“Hey, Senior. Are you out of cream?”

“Yes. I don’t have any.”

“Hmm. Then give me strawberry!”

“Sure.”

Peak-season restaurant part-timer. I’ve even worked as a server at a seolleongtang place in Gangnam that made 300 million won in daily sales. The three-year veteran there once told me:

[If you don’t have something, say you don’t have it. And never lower the quality of what you do have.]

[What do you mean?]

[Sometimes you might run out of radish kimchi because it’s too busy, right? On those days, you just serve regular kimchi—but don’t show that you’re flustered when plating. And since customers remember the missing radish kimchi, give them 30 extra minutes of free parking when they leave.]

Of course, that senior got fired the next month for getting into a fistfight with a customer—but his teachings live on in my heart.

So I only fry a fixed amount of doughnuts. When I run out of one cream and another flavor goes out, I never lower the quality. No—I give a little extra.

“There’s more strawberry cream than usual?”

“I just ran out of cream. It’s on the house. Sorry about that.”

“Ah… Yesss.”

“Enjoy.”

“Yes!”

One first-year junior walked away.

Her cheeks were oddly flushed. Is she cold?

“Next order.”

“I-I’ll have one cheese cream.”

“Got it. Wait a moment.”

“Yes!”

As I was taking the next order, a loud voice came from the side.

“Senior! Take our order too! Cheese cream and strawberry! You can just give us whatever!”

“I understand you’re in a hurry, but I can’t do that.”

“…Yes. I-I’m sorry…”

“No. I might make a mistake myself.”

“Huh?”

“Even if you only eat one thing, it should be delicious. Sorry about that.”

“Y-yes.”

And second—no matter how good the turnover rate is, I only take as many orders as I can handle.

When I worked part-time at a really popular ramen shop in Hongdae, the owner—who had come from Japan—told me:

[This place—ramen shop’s life is turnover rate. But the temperature difference between inside and outside must be clear.]

[What do you mean?]

[There are customers outside enduring the cold—but that doesn’t mean the staff inside should rush to increase turnover. When they endure the cold and receive their ramen, customers taste even the temperature difference—the friendly, unhurried service and the cozy ramen shop’s warmth.]

Of course, that owner later got shut down by a surprise health inspection and went back to Japan. But his teachings live on as part of my soul.

Yes—the outside customers might be in a hurry, but what comes first are the customers who ordered earlier. Sorry, but you need to experience that temperature difference too.

And so, the doughnuts were all sold cleanly.

Now that today’s sales are over, I need to think about how to prepare for the competition after evening.

Just as I was about to pack up—

“Senior, are you a player?”

“Imperial descendant. Frustrated. But an ambitious man who rises again. A hero who saved the first-years. Yet a bad guy… A scary senior.”

“U-um, hello, Senior…”

The three colorful fledglings had come.

—

Vanilla, Yogurt, Mille-feuille.

Among the three colorful fledglings, the yellow one—Vanilla—looked at me with sparkling eyes.

“Senior, Senior.”

“What.”

“We could do another taste test today. How about it?”

What do you mean “could”? Do I owe you something?

“All sold out. Go back.”

“Are you pretending to be a bad guy with us too?”

Immediately, Yogurt cut in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. We heard plenty of rumors about you before we enrolled. That you were a corrupt student council president.”

“I won’t deny it.”

“But what did we actually see after entering? From the freshman welcome party, you were selling desserts. You do business in front of the first-year dormitory. There’s a rumor you suppressed the dormitory ghost incident. And today, you even subtly showed a warm side…”

“Right. It’s totally a bad guy vibe. And on top of that—the old-fashioned Imperial speech. So, got any doughnuts? We could taste-test for you.”

Have these two gone mad? This is dizzying.

“Let’s not be too hard on Senior. You’re making them uncomfortable. Okay?”

“Ah! Mille-feuille’s fallen for the bad guy!”

“Mille-feuille, be careful. The elders say men are wolves.”

“A-ah, no, that’s not what I meant…”

The fledglings chattered noisily.

The best way to shut these kids up is to feed them.

But I can’t just give them something right away…

Ah. I have that.

“Colorful fledglings. You’re noisy. Take this.”

“Fledglings?! Wow, what is it?”

“We’re first-years! Show some respect. A pastry? I’ve never seen this before?”

Their topics of conversation really jump around. Busy little fledglings.

“It’s a pastry made by folding and baking multiple layers of dough. It’s a prototype—a new product. I put a lot of effort into it and…”

“We’ll enjoy it!”

“We’ll enjoy it.”

“Th-then, I’ll enjoy it.”

“Listen to the whole explanation.”

The fledglings devoured my ‘new product’ on the spot.

“Wow, it’s so crispy! Delicious!”

“But if you sneak it in class, it’ll all crumble onto the floor.”

“…U-uh, yeah, it’s good.”

Well, of course—I made it delicious.

Ahem. Anyway, that’s not the important part…

“Did you notice anything special when eating it?”

“U-um? Ah, yes!”

“What.”

“Give us more!”

Yellow one—out.

“Not really. I might know if I eat more…”

Green one—out.

I looked at the last pink fledgling, who was concentrating on eating the new pastry.

“How is it?”

“…S-Senior. This. Um. I might be wrong, but…”

“Speak freely.”

“I feel like my vision is clearer and my concentration has improved.”

And then Mille-feuille muttered something very quietly—but I caught it perfectly.

“Magical effect? No… Enhancement?”

“……Ha.”

My eyes snapped open and a smile crossed my lips.

This girl.

She perfectly analyzed the effect of the ‘Magical Pâtissier’ prototype I’d made after just one bite.

“Yellow fledgling. Green fledgling. You two can go back. Pink fledgling—do you have some time? I won’t take too long.”

“Yesss…?”

“Ugh—Senior’s demonic hand reaches for Mille-feuille… We have to protect her!”

“No! Mille-feuille is our friend!”

“I’ll give you two or three sets of doughnuts at this time tomorrow.”

“Mille-feuille! Be happy!”

“Senior is an ambitious Imperial. It’ll be good for Mille-feuille too.”

The two said their peace and left. Fickle friendship.

Mille-feuille watched her departed friends’ backs with the expression of a independence fighter who had lost her country.

“Pink fledgling—no, Mille-feuille von Sablé. I won’t take too much of your time. I have a few questions.”

“Y-yes?!”

“These are pastries I made. As you said, they’re buff-type snacks created with my skill.”

“Buff-type snacks. Magical sweets?”

“Call them what you like. What I want to ask is—since it’s a prototype, the buff is extremely weak if it even activates. How did you notice it in one go?”

At my question, Mille-feuille hung her head, blushed with embarrassment, and barely opened her mouth.

“…U-um, I, well. It’s embarrassing.”

“Speak.”

“I’m naturally extremely sensitive to mana. So I’m very easily affected by magical influence.”

“Easily affected?”

“Yes. So when I get hit by attack magic, it hurts a lot… And I’m aiming for the Knight Department, but my stamina is low too…”

Mille-feuille became instantly dejected.

Come to think of it, from her birth—from the “character design intent”—isn’t she a character designed to get expelled after being taken down by Kelterus in one hit? Someone given talent that could never be set strong.

What irony.

Magic Craft—the key to beating Regina Ciella.

Buff-type snacks that, the moment you eat them on the battlefield, provide all sorts of buffs plus health recovery.

To realize that, I need someone who can actually eat and test the buffs.

In that regard, Mille-feuille—who guessed the buff immediately after eating the prototype—could be the perfect partner.

Now, how do I tempt this fledgling?

“The professor said I should get another chance even against the top first-year—so after my suspension ends in two weeks, I’ll have to spar with Kelterus. What should I do…”

From Mille-feuille’s endless muttering, I got a hint.

“Mille-feuille von Sablé.”

“Y-yes?”

“Do you want to beat that Kelterus?”

“Yesss…?”

“As I said, these buff-type snacks.”

“Magical sweets?”

“Yes. These magical sweets are prototypes. There’s room for improvement.”

“…Yes.”

“So if they’re enhanced and you eat them before the test—isn’t there a possibility?”

“B-but, isn’t that against the competition rules?”

“Doesn’t everyone use an artifact or two?”

“…Yes. They do. Depending on their family’s standing. But my family is a provincial barony… Our only specialty product is milk…”

Long live Zephrin’s injustice.

“Then you should use them too. On one condition.”

“Condition?”

“Every day, eat these buff-type snacks.”

“Magical sweets.”

“Yes. Report what buffs activate and whether they stack. How about it? Worth a try?”

“B-but.”

“Do you want to live doing nothing, losing to the top student, cursing your own constitution? Mille-feuille?”

“…Yes. I’ll try. I want to win too!”

Mille-feuille nodded, eyes shining.

Good.

Hooked.