HTACS 86

Chapter 86

Eve von Lohengrin doesn’t visit the convenience store often, but when she does, it’s usually because she’s run out of candy and needs a sugar supply.

Looking at the mirror in the store and my family-register mate’s face, I thought, “We really do look alike,” and something came to mind, so I asked a question.

It was about the Imperial Bloodline.

“The Imperial Bloodline skill?”

“Hmm. It’s about when I attended the tea party in your place last time.”

I briefly explained what had happened then, and Eve nodded.

“The Imperial Bloodline is something all direct imperial family members possess, but its tier and the direction of its manifestation vary completely.”

“I know that much. But I have questions about my own manifestation.”

As expected of a 1-tier skill, the Imperial Bloodline has several hidden options.

And I don’t know the hidden options of the Imperial Bloodline applied to Wolfram.

I actually know Eve’s better. A prime example is one of Eve’s hidden options—【Reincarnation of the Magic God】.

In a way, it’s similar to Wolfram’s auto-counter option.

Eve has a simple, god-tier ability: she counters a certain percentage of 4-tier or lower magic directed at her.

“Isn’t there a way to check how it’s developed?”

“Yes. The Imperial Bloodline has that kind of aspect. I don’t know the details either.”

“Is that so.”

I read through the Imperial Bloodline’s description.

**【Imperial Bloodline】**

**【1T】**

**【Wolfram von Lohengrin acts with the dignity befitting the imperial family in any situation.**

**Counters all mental control magic with a certain probability.**

**Cannot use vulgar speech.**

**If the user’s bloodline is higher than the opponent’s, they gain a significant advantage in all persuasive actions—negotiation, intimidation, extortion, persuasion, etc.**

**The effect increases proportionally to the bloodline rank difference.**】

Truly a wonderful skill.

If the main skills supported it, it would be worth using in many ways.

But since Wolfram has nothing else, he’s just Convenience Store Owner A—that’s the problem.

“The Imperial Bloodline also gains proficiency the more you activate it.”

“Yes. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Hmm.”

I nodded.

Having used the Imperial Bloodline quite frequently since Zolf, my proficiency might have risen somewhat.

Because when Eve usurped my student council presidency, and Silphia was acting up beside me, this message didn’t appear.

“I’m truly grateful for this skill.”

“Same here.”

Imperial Bloodline.

The reason the Lohengrin Empire never experienced a rebellion despite 300 years of foundation.

Because every direct bloodline is born with a 1-tier skill—what a magnificent talent.

But for Wolfram, it might have been despair.

The reason Wolfram hoarded magic books and swords might have been because of the Imperial Bloodline.

He might have held onto the vain hope that if his Imperial Bloodline manifested through magic or swordsmanship, he could make up for his low stats with skills.

—

In the end, I decided to leave the hidden options of Wolfram’s Imperial Bloodline for later, and focus on something else I needed to do right now.

“Canvas, paints, and brushes.”

Namely, expanding the ways to raise Agility.

Since Agility will reach 10 soon and I’ll lose the beginner set’s effect, I need to quickly find other ways to raise it. I can’t stay at 9 forever. It’s better to aim for 13 quickly.

Handy Work. Magical Patissier. Cooking. Mix Beans. And so on.

Since all hand-based actions affect Agility, music and painting can’t be left out either.

“Patrasche. Get ready to go out.”

“Can’t we just have it delivered from Maestro? Do I really have to go out, Master?”

“……”

Is he really a wolf?

If I unzipped him, would a 300-year-old unemployed middle-aged man pop out, scratching his belly?

Unable to withstand my gaze, Patrasche sighed, and the cart trundled off.

Let’s go. To the Artist’s District.

—

Inside the 6th Knight Department. The district where artists gather.

A place I’d visited to death when grinding creative Agility.

“The mana enveloping the entire district is pleasing—I suppose you could say it overflows with color as mana. What an interesting place.”

Patrasche chuckled in delight.

With my low mana, I can’t even see the colors, but still, the scent of paint wafting through the entire district brought a strange sense of comfort.

Walking down the street, ateliers line both sides.

In front of them, handcrafted accessories are displayed on stalls.

And that’s not all—portraits of Zefflin’s famous figures are also scattered here and there, adapted to each artist’s style.

Eve. Ayla. There’s Nephti too. And the Jewel Sword Isolde is here as well.

Of course, there won’t be a portrait of Wolfram von Lohengrin.

I gave up on that expectation and walked down the street. Let’s see—I don’t need expensive paints, just some discounted items…

“That, isn’t that a picture of you, Master?”

“……?”

No way.

What kind of madman would paint a picture of Wolfram?

Thinking that, I looked at the shop front to refute Patrasche’s words—and forgot how to speak.

“…That’s me.”

“Right?”

Without a doubt, it’s a picture of Wolfram von Lohengrin.

Well, I am somewhat famous, so one portrait is to be expected.

But.

Why am I, with cold eyes, strangling a golden-haired elf whose face is half-covered by rose petals in a bathtub filled with roses?

“?”

That’s not a portrait, is it?

—

I examined the painting closely.

A dark bathroom.

A golden-haired elf in a dress lies in the bathtub, her eyes covered by roses.

Above her, I—dressed in proper imperial attire—am strangling her.

“…I’m curious about the mental state of the person who painted this.”

What kind of person would paint something like this?

“Ah, you shouldn’t touch that. It’s not for sale.”

A voice came from inside the shop.

So this is the lunatic who painted this—I glared as the person emerged from the atelier, and saw a girl in shabby clothes with round glasses, ink stains all over her outfit.

“Did you paint this?”

“Yes. It’s scheduled for delivery tomorrow, so if you touch—”

“President?”

“…Huh?”

“The real president? President! How have you been?”

A girl with ink stains all over her head and ash-gray hair down to her waist smiled as if she knew me, grabbing my hand.

I know her.

A magical engineering artist.

Not a playable character—meaning she can’t be added to the party.

“Layer.”

“Yes. It’s been a while, President.”

But, how do you know me?

“You know me…”

“Ah, right. President, wait a moment. Come inside the shop. I need you to pose as a model for a bit. You can do that, right?”

And so I was dragged into the shop by Layer’s hand.

Her grip strength is crazy…!?

Where’s my guard wolf at times like this…?!

“Patrasche…”

“Hmm. Does the master know every woman in this academy? Amazing. I express my respect. Ah, I’ll go look around the area for about three hours. See you then.”

Hey. Patrasche!

Hey!

—

Inside the dusty atelier, the walls—and even the ceiling—were covered with paintings.

There was no spot without ink stains, and canvases filled every wall to overflowing.

The ash-gray-haired girl immersed in her work—Layer.

She was an NPC.

To be precise, she straddled the line between shop NPC and quest-giving NPC.

Raising heroine affection basically requires gifts, and for some heroines, portraits were particularly effective.

A prime example is Regina Sierra. She tends to commission paintings she likes or display them on her walls.

When you visit the Artist’s District to commission a portrait, the one who welcomes you with “Welcome. What brings you here today?” is Layer.

The surprising thing is that Layer knew Wolfram von Lohengrin.

A setting not even in the lore book—the NPC Layer and Wolfram von Lohengrin.

It really bothered me what kind of relationship they had.

But if I asked clumsily and rumors spread that I’d lost my memory, or that Wolfram didn’t seem like Wolfram, I’d probably die from a light spear to the gut—so I decided to find clues in Layer’s words and ask.

If I toggle the Imperial Bloodline on and off, I can ask about six times.

With that, I’ll somehow infer the answers!

“…**【When was the last time we met?】**”

“About four months? It’s been about that long, I think?”

Despite working, Layer kept talking.

Good. I’ve got my next clue.

The clue is four months!

“I see. Four months ago—**【so much has happened that it feels distant. What were we doing then?】**”

“President? Same as usual.”

So what exactly is that ‘usual’?

“‘Same as usual.’ As I said, so much has happened that **[I can’t remember well anymore. Can you explain?]**”

“You’d come, hang out with us, paint, buy paintings… that sort of thing.”

…What?

Hang out and paint?

That Wolfram von Lohengrin did? For real?

“…I see. Sorry for not coming often.”

“You used to come at least once every two months, though.”

This is a side of Wolfram I don’t know.

According to the lore, Wolfram von Lohengrin was a tyrant who sowed discord between the Knight and Magic Departments, committed all sorts of corruption, and eventually even touched the imperial family’s treasures, getting kicked out of the student council presidency.

But he came to this Artist’s District once a month and made close acquaintances?

Ah, one guess comes to mind.

This is, literally, the Artist’s District.

In other words, Wolfram was buying artworks under the guise of tax evasion and distributing them as bribes.

Drawn by the sweet bait Wolfram scattered, they call me “Wolf” affectionately.

“Calling me ‘President’—Eve von Lohengrin would be angry if she knew. I’m not the student council president anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Without you, this district would have been in danger. You’re the one who created the ‘Zefflin Basic Pension System for Artists,’ aren’t you? You’ve been our President ever since!”

“…What.”

Wolfram did something like that?

I stared at Layer in bewilderment, but she didn’t even look at me, just kept moving her brush.

“Thanks to that, this Artist’s District somehow survived. You said back then: ‘This is the most fierce battlefield where talent and effort must align to shine. How unfair it would be if you couldn’t shine just because of money—I want to support you.'”

“…I said that.”

“Yes. You said: ‘Not magic or swords. I respect those who believe in talents that no one in this world acknowledges, who walk their own path without fear, and I will only do what I can for you.'”

“……”

“After that, you’d come by sometimes and paint together, right?”

For a moment, I forgot how to speak.

So the original Wolfram was doing things like this.

I could feel, even just a little, how thirsty Wolfram von Lohengrin—not Lee Young-jin—was for talent.

How much he envied and admired them…

“I see.”

“Of course, you weren’t very good at painting, President. Your skill was… middling.”

“You didn’t need to add that.”

“Ahaha. Right. Since you’re here after so long, paint one and take it with you. I’ll lend you paints and canvas.”

“…Not a bad idea.”

I accepted that pure goodwill and picked up a brush.

“What should I paint?”

“Whatever’s on your mind right now. What you hold dear. What’s most precious to you.”

“I see.”

At those words, I moved my brush.

In the very front, I painted Wolfram von Lohengrin. Myself.

Because Lee Young-jin, who became Wolfram, swore to survive as Wolfram to the very end.

Next, I loaded the brush with as much purple as it could hold.

A black that reminded me of black crystal.

The lines never stopped, and the brush raced wildly. Pouring all my strength, I painted behind Wolfram.

What’s most precious to me.

Something incomparably vast.

“…Wow.”

Stroke by stroke.

That purple sometimes reflected or absorbed sunlight, becoming sunlight itself.

Black.

Purple.

Beautiful beyond words.

“A building?”

“Right.”

“Why did you paint a building behind you, President?”

“Because I’m the owner of this building.”

“What kind of building is it?”

A massive building standing behind Wolfram!

A 3-story underground, 7-story above-ground building.

The final form of the mart I desire!

“It’s called Wolfram Big Mart.”

“What’s a mart?”

“A large store.”

“A store? Your dream was to be a store owner, President?”

I painted countless small figures in front of the enormous mart.

I painted the people with joyful smiles.

“It looks like a fun store. Is this your vision, President?”

“It’s my ambition. To be the owner of a mart where everyone can shop happily.”

“…You’ve changed a bit, President.”

“In what way?”

“You used to only paint yourself as a great swordmaster or archmage—holding a holy sword, opening a magic book, firing meteors…”

“I did that?”

He painted crazy stuff like that?

For real?

“Yes. But this is much nicer to look at than your self-portrait as the self-proclaimed ‘True Great Magic Swordsman Emperor Wolfram von Lohengrin.’ Back then, everyone around you had their heads bowed—but now, everyone’s smiling, aren’t they?”

“……”

He even had a name like that?

For real?