HTACS 89

Chapter 89

Previously, I mentioned that 8-tier skills are the early stage of specialization.

And above that, 7-tier is the entry level of a profession. In other words, even as a newcomer, you can say you’re working in the field.

For example, 7-tier combat magic is elemental magic.

You learn projection, enhancement, and control that match your affinity.

For support magic, 7-tier allows you to obtain 【Maximize】—a mainstay even in the late game.

Setting that aside, 7-tier is also a skill that signifies a ‘career path.’

And what about Magical Patissier’s evolution, Shining Patissier?

**【Shining Patissier】**

**【7T】**

**【Allows you to create magical sweets directly blessed by the Goddess of Sweets.**】

**【Make them and you’ll be happy♡happy♡ You who enjoy making sweet things just by thinking about it! Now you can make them! The more the eater smiles happily, the more my heart sparkles! Shine! Shiny! Sweets filled with our hearts!】**

“Is this what you call my career path?”

Are you insane?

—

No, that can’t be.

My career path is the convenience store.

Naturally, my future lies in the convenience store.

Let me be honest.

After completing fourth year next year, will I return to the imperial palace, or will I take my savings and open a convenience store in the countryside, or will I stay at Zefflin and run the store here!

Wolfram von Lohengrin has countless choices.

Among those choices, there is no “Shining Sweets filled with our hearts, sparkle and shine!”

“Was this that kind of skill?”

There are skills with ‘that kind’ of description text.

If you read carefully, the upper part is a proper description.

Shining Patissier isn’t that different from Magical Patissier.

It’s just making sweets. So there’s really nothing to explain.

So the upper line is the proper description, and the lower line… well, that also has its own meaning.

“This is a severe blow to my sanity.”

Hoo.

Well, even if the skill is 7-tier, it doesn’t mean I have to become a baking master.

On the contrary, overly specialized skills are problematic.

“I need to make other things. Raise the gear level.”

If I just keep leveling Shining Patissier like this,

even if proficiency reaches master and reactions become more elaborate—

‘They say it’s a place that makes amazing sweets!’

‘They say if you eat them, you’ll be happy♡happy♡!’

‘Wow! Shiny! Shining! My world! Happy like a dream!’

That’s the kind of reaction I’d get.

“If I drugged the sweets, there’d be no way to refute it.”

So I’ll completely change my approach.

If something is amazing in every way, who’s going to complain that the reaction after tasting it is like being on drugs? Right?

So, let’s make something that’s amazing in all aspects.

“Hmm. What should I add?”

I looked around the convenience store.

Sweets. Accessories are standard, and on order, meals come out like a mini restaurant.

It wouldn’t be wrong to call it a dessert-centered convenience store.

So now I just raise Cooking skill and learn dishes that make people happy when they eat them?

…I’d really get arrested.

Something to make… a signature item befitting a convenience store.

I scribbled items in my notebook and tapped it with my pen, concentrating on the sound—then a small realization came.

“Ah, I forgot about this.”

—

In this Zefflin,

in the original, an incident occurs in Act 2.

The Shaft Destruction Incident during Act 2 midterms.

A 4th-year Magic Department student named ‘Milfieu’—who only ever got second place—cast a grand spell that temporarily conceptually corrupted all the pens of the 4th-year Magic Department students, screaming something like “Let the exams disappear!!!”

Because of that, all ‘pens’ in the Magic Department building shattered, and they had to bring in items that could write but weren’t pens from outside.

The funny thing is, the first-year chick ‘Mille-feuille’ and the 4th-year second-ranked ‘Milfieu’ are different people.

Chick ‘Mille-feuille’ gets expelled around midterms in one ending.

4th-year ‘Milfieu’ causes a major incident during midterms and gets expelled.

Since they’re extras, they might have reused the name.

“So the developers must have been lazy.”

…Or maybe they just had a catastrophic naming sense and lacked variations for girls’ names.

Anyway, setting aside that useless topic—

come to think of it, the Shaft Destruction Incident didn’t happen during the last midterms.

Of course, I have a guess.

The midterm subject that 4th-year ‘Milfieu’ takes is Mage and Battlefield II.

The professor for that subject is Lantica Grace.

Yes.

She’s the professor in charge of that Zolf, and currently under investigation by the imperial palace for ‘suspicion of overworking graduate students.’

Because of that, third-year classes ended with assignments instead of midterms due to the professor’s personal circumstances.

There’s no way the 4th-year advanced course had midterms.

In the end, the peace of Zefflin’s Magic Department pens was preserved.

And from there, I got an idea.

“Couldn’t I make ballpoint pens?”

What I want to make is writing instruments.

In other words, ballpoint pens.

“Hmm. Making them is fine, but… I want to get samples from various places.”

Writing instruments follow trends, after all.

I should ask what colors and designs they like and make them.

Market research, literally.

—

“Writing instruments? We usually use standard-issue supplies.”

“Standard-issue?”

“Yes. Even though I’m royalty, my allowance is extremely small. Buying personal stationery is beyond my means. I use the same as other students.”

The next day, I started chatting with Emily, who had come to learn cooking.

The topic was mainly about Zefflin’s school supplies.

“The Hymelody royal family’s support is scant?”

“Yes. They calculate the average and give me that minus taxes.”

“They even deduct taxes.”

“They say if I walk the path of magic steadily, they’d increase the support—but my path is in cooking, so…”

Emily said that while shaking a wok, her expression unchanged.

Hmm. So she’s a good sample.

“Emily, if I made personal stationery, how much would you be willing to pay?”

“…Hmm. Do I really need to buy it? The standard-issue supplies are enough.”

“Then—”

“No. If Master says to buy it, I’ll go into debt to get it.”

That cool yet pure goodwill is frightening.

Don’t say things like that with such a cold expression.

“……”

“I can walk without hesitation if I’m with Master. No matter what lies ahead, I have no fear.”

Cancel.

She’s useless as a sample.

—

After that, when the next sample arrived, I asked my question.

The next one was Nephti, who said she’d be taking Royal Guard classes.

Nephti spun the ballpoint pen I’d made in her hand and tilted her head.

“So you made this writing instrument? You’re suddenly making something interesting.”

“This is a convenience store. If I can provide convenience, it’s something I should make and sell.”

“…Convenience store. Ah, that’s what this place is. Right.”

Nephti. I might write you that recommendation letter, but

don’t you think your attitude toward the convenience store is a bit of a problem?

“Then what did you think it was?”

“Hmm, a day labor request office, a restaurant, a place with tasty sweets, a meeting spot for good seniors and juniors, unlimited drinks, and you’re here too? Hmm, hmm?”

“So?”

“What is it? It’s definitely a fun place, but…”

“……”

Nephti tilted her head.

Never mind.

What’s the point of talking to you? Let’s just get to the point.

“So, would you buy a new ballpoint pen?”

“No?”

“……”

Such a quick answer?

“It’s a prototype. Just try it out.”

“It looks oddly expensive.”

“Be quiet and try it as a test.”

At my words, Nephti took the pen and scribbled something on paper.

“Oh, oh. This is amazing. Really impressive. It’s a premium product.”

“Right?”

What I’d mimicked was a Korean classic—the Monami 154 ballpoint pen.

I used it all the time during my school days.

“…Ooh. Amazing. It’s a great pen.”

“It’s durable and rarely breaks. Clogs are also rare.”

I rattled off the pen’s specs like that.

After listening to it all, Nephti smiled and asked back:

“So who’s going to come all the way here to buy this pen?”

“……”

I’m not using you as a sample either.

You bad girl.

—

The last subject was a truly, truly good kid.

“Wow… Amazing, Senior.”

“Hmm.”

Mille-feuille clapped several times as she looked at my pens.

Yes. This is the reaction I wanted.

Not “I’d buy it no matter the cost” or “What are you going to use this for?”—this!

“The black pen is nice too, but this 15-color pen is especially pretty.”

“You have a good eye.”

“Hehe… Thank you, Senior.”

After Nephti left, fired up, I went beyond the 154 pen and made 15 different colored pens.

These pens carry a bit of personal sentiment.

This is a story from Lee Young-jin’s high school days.

In fact, back then, everyone carried a few computer sign pens or ballpoint pens in their pencil cases.

Among them was something called “Tech Hi,” and one of my small hobbies was collecting them.

And I collected a lot. I worked hard at part-time jobs to collect them. They were trashy Japanese pens whose tips would fall apart just by brushing against the floor, but at the time, I don’t know why I wanted them so badly.

And in my second year of high school, I suddenly realized:

‘After I graduate, I’ll go straight to the military and then to construction sites—what am I going to do with these pens?’

In the end, I gave them all to a friend who said he was going to college, and I returned to my Monami 154.

But.

Honestly, it pissed me off.

I shouldn’t have given them away.

I should have chewed and swallowed them if I had to, just to keep them.

Why did Lee Young-jin back then think that giving up on dreams and living carelessly was the epitome of cool, nihilistic, modern youth?

“Do you think there’s enough market demand?”

“Yes. I want to buy one.”

Truly a good kid.

This ‘first-year Mille-feuille’ says she wants to buy several pens. Huh? ‘Act 2’s Milfieu’? What about a 4th-year? I’ve erased that kind of person from my memory.

“Your baking is improving, and now pens like these… you said 15 colors?”

“Hmm. Yes.”

“Wow… And magic-enchanted cooking, trains—you’re making so many things.”

“It’s nothing special.”

Yes. This praise. This recognition!

This is what I wanted.

“I-I’m also working really hard to catch up to your ideals! …It’s not easy, though.”

There she goes again—seeing her self-blame drift.

Mille-feuille is someone who could do better with effort, but her low self-esteem holds her back.

“But you won’t give up, will you?”

“…No!”

Good. That’s all that matters.

“Mille-feuille. This pen is a prototype—you use it and tell me your thoughts.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t give up.”

Unlike Lee Young-jin, don’t give up.

Mille-feuille looked at me with unwavering eyes and nodded.

“Yes. I won’t give up.”

Good.

Now that’s a better sight.

—

The next day. The student council room.

Mille-feuille stood before Eve von Lohengrin, with a single document between them.

Eve could read the determination in Mille-feuille’s calm expression and the fire in her eyes.

“You seem ready.”

“Yes, Senior Student Council President Eve von Lohengrin. I came after making up my mind.”

“I’m happy too. A vacancy lasting too long would hinder operations. My guess was right, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Mille-feuille placed her right hand over her chest and let out a deep breath. Then she inhaled.

Feeling the 15-color charm in her pocket that her senior had given her, she continued.

“First-year Common Department, Mille-feuille von Sabre.”

Encouraged, supported, and always given strength whenever she visited—that alone was no longer enough.

She wanted to stand proudly by his side.

“I will challenge the currently vacant first-year top student qualification exam.”

Now, she won’t waver.

Her eyes said so.