HTACS 85

Chapter 85

To describe the convenience store’s recent situation—the range of customers hasn’t expanded, but the existing customers have started coming very frequently.

That’s not to say there are no new faces at all.

Emily Hymelody, whom I accepted as my disciple, comes every three or four days to ask about cooking.

To be honest, cooking is just a skill, and even though my cooking skill is low, she still comes and asks.

What a frightening girl.

And sometimes she asks vague, abstract questions.

“Master. What is the truth of cooking?”

“More grains and more meat. And intense flavor. First of all, if it’s greasy and sweet, the brain will be delighted to the point of melting. If it lacks flavor, add sugar. Then add salt. If that still doesn’t work, use bone broth instead of water. Usually, it becomes edible.”

“…I see. I never had that kind of idea. As expected of my master.”

When I was living alone and something tasted bad, I usually kept two ingredients in mind.

One was instant ramen soup powder, and the other was ssamjang.

Those two are truly the holy grail of seasonings—no matter how garbage the dish is, adding them usually makes it edible.

No, really. You might question ramen soup powder, but ssamjang? Ssamjang contains broth, corn syrup, gochujang, doenjang, garlic, and sesame oil all in one. Ssamjang is good.

Anyway, Emily Hymelody just says things like “I see, as expected of my master!” makes a few dishes, and returns to the dormitory.

Next, the ones who visit often are—of course—the chicks.

They’re always noisy, but today their energy was strangely low.

Well, even chicks have days like that.

“Hello, Senior.”

“The chicks’ order?”

“…Ah. Three cream pastas, please. That’s okay, right?”

“Are you ordering drinks separately?”

“Yes. Unlimited refills, please.”

“Understood. Three unlimited drinks and three cream pastas.”

I nodded.

This is the convenience store’s proud unlimited drink refill service.

At 10,000 lin per person, we serve everything from fruit juice to smoothies, shakes, and carbonated drinks!

It seems like the store is gradually becoming more like a snack bar or a cafe that serves meals, but in a way, a convenience store isn’t that different.

When customers gather in large numbers later, it’s better to have things prepared in advance than to have no products.

Anyway, the three chicks sat down, pulled out a piece of paper from their bags, and fell into serious thought.

I tilted my head at the rare sight of these usually noisy kids looking dead serious, sometimes not even talking, just lost in thought.

“Is something wrong?”

“…Ah, hmm. Well, we have to fill out our career aspiration survey.”

At Vanilla’s answer, I nodded with an “aha.”

Zefflin’s career aspiration survey. I filled it out from Kelterus’s perspective too.

This is one of the route branching points—whether you write Knight Department or Magic Department here determines the route split.

Come to think of it, this really is about their future.

“Haven’t you decided which department to enter?”

“The Knight Department.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“…We also have to write down our future aspirations.”

“I see.”

Aha.

That is a difficult problem.

After deciding on a department, having to write what you want to do in the future is a surprisingly difficult question for children.

“Still, we have it easy.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“We’re just at the survey level—the second-year seniors are… ugh. It’s their real career path, after all.”

“…Yeah. Right.”

I see.

It’s about time to start thinking about career paths.

“You’re having a hard time. This is on the house.”

“Wow! What is it?”

“Newly made cheese balls. I hope you like them.”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm. Think hard and worry about it. There are also lives where you can’t make any choice at all.”

“Yes!”

Lee Young-jin lived like that, continued living like that, and ended like that.

When you can choose, worrying about it as much as possible is also a joy.

—

Nephti was summoned by her advisor professor and visited the consultation room.

“You called for me, Professor?”

“Hmm. Come in and sit down.”

“Yes. Excuse me.”

Since the Magic Department basically runs on noble connections, even the advisor professors treat promising Magic Department students as kindly as possible.

But the Knight Department has many commoners, and since it’s centered around physical labor, it often has a military-like atmosphere.

However, Nephti was somewhat of an exception.

“I called you because of this career aspiration survey.”

“Pardon? I submitted it on time, didn’t I?”

“Hmm. But the contents are a bit of a problem…”

“……”

At the kind professor’s words, Nephti fell into thought.

The second-year career survey—its direction is a bit different from the first-year one.

If the first-year is for kids—asking “Are you going to the Knight Department?” “Are you going to the Magic Department?” “What do you want to be when you grow up?”—then the second-year, especially in the Knight Department, is closer to “Which region do you wish to serve in?” and “What are your desired working conditions?”

And on that survey, Nephti had written “Gluco Village Guard, Eastern Region.”

Protecting her mother, younger siblings, and village in her hometown. Succeeding her late father as the guard captain.

That was Nephti’s first choice.

“Is this really what you sincerely wrote? I’ve never even heard of Gluco Village.”

“……”

“Isn’t it also true that His Highness the Prince and Her Highness the Princess think highly of you? If so, wouldn’t it be natural to write down Royal Guard?”

Royal Guard.

The greatest place of employment that those who achieve good grades in Zefflin’s Knight Department aim for.

Of course, it’s notoriously difficult to enter.

Even if a high-ranking central noble’s child grits their teeth, enters the Knight Department, and graduates as top student, there’s no guarantee they’ll become a Royal Guard.

But there’s one free pass.

The student council president, generation after generation, can select one person and write a recommendation letter.

With just one letter that says “I will make this person my personal guard,” the recipient becomes a Royal Guard immediately after graduation.

And the current student council president, Eve von Lohengrin, and the former student council president, Wolfram von Lohengrin, have yet to write these letters.

Meanwhile, Nephti—who is close to the former student council president, Wolfram von Lohengrin, and also has a friendly relationship with the current president, Eve von Lohengrin, as a peer—is obviously a talent who could become a Royal Guard by anyone’s standards.

In other words, in the professor’s eyes, Nephti is a future count candidate who could reach the position of Royal Guard with just a little effort. There’s no harm in maintaining good relations.

But for such a person to write “Gluco Village Guard” at the very top of the career survey—the professor couldn’t hide his bewilderment.

“Hmm. Well, Professor.”

“No. You don’t need to say everything. So which one is it? Is it His Highness the Prince after all?”

“……Pardon?”

“Her Highness Princess Eve von Lohengrin’s recommendation letter would be highly competitive, but I believe His Highness Prince Wolfram von Lohengrin’s recommendation letter has no rivals. And I heard you’re in his faction? Haha, I’m truly envious.”

“……?”

“Becoming a Royal Guard isn’t something even an imperial family member can choose lightly. It means being the confidant of their soul. The most trusted person. A sword and shield for only one person.”

Nephti said nothing.

She couldn’t.

—

On the evening after the chicks had painstakingly filled out their career surveys and left,

Nephti suddenly appeared and shouted, “Senior! I have something to ask!”

So I said, “Go ahead,” and she began talking about the meeting she’d had with the professor today.

Why?

“…That’s what happened.”

“I see. The Royal Guard.”

Hmm. I thought she was just rambling nonsense, but an interesting topic came up.

Royal Guard.

It’s a rather nostalgic term.

Eve’s route true ending.

Kelterus becomes the Royal Knight—a superior version of the Royal Guard.

A guardian knight who serves only one imperial family member for life.

A sword to whom the imperial family entrusts their life.

The difference between Guard and Knight is like the difference between a bodyguard and a guardian knight.

You can think of the Knight as higher-ranked.

That doesn’t mean the Royal Guard is low-ranked.

“Are you really not interested in the Royal Guard?”

“I want to be the guard captain of my hometown. You know that, right?”

“To succeed your late father, you said. That’s a good mindset.”

“Hehe.”

Nephti’s expression softened at the compliment.

But there’s something strange.

Nephti, who has unwavering conviction, shouldn’t have a reason to come to me for consultation.

“So what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, no, it’s not really a worry. It’s just that there’s something—just a tiny little thing—on my mind.”

“Tell me.”

“I heard you haven’t written your recommendation letter yet, Senior.”

“Recommendation letter? Ah, the Royal Guard recommendation letter.”

Come to think of it, there was such a thing.

Even in Eve’s route, there was a mini-event about who would receive the Royal Guard recommendation letter.

But Wolfram had that too? And he hadn’t written it yet?

A simple guess—he probably used it as a bargaining chip for power struggles, waffling on who to give it to.

In the end, he gave it to no one and got stabbed to death in the prologue.

“I heard that even though your position as a prince was suspended, you’re still an imperial family member, so the recommendation letter’s validity remains.”

“I see. I had that authority.”

“So, Senior.”

Nephti let out a *hoo* and looked at me with a slightly flushed face.

“What?”

“If you were to write that recommendation letter, do you have someone in mind?”

“You mean the Royal Guard recommendation letter?”

“Yes.”

Hmm.

I wonder.

Considering the original setting, the Royal Guard is an incredibly heavy position.

The weight of being the imperial family member’s most trusted retainer is equivalent to a Count—or even a Marquis—among central nobles.

But setting aside all that trivial power talk,

in her own route, Eve wrote a recommendation letter for Kelterus and said this:

**【Even if you betray me and plunge a knife into this heart, I will not resent you. This is proof of that trust. Will you accept it?】**

A Royal Guard is someone talented enough that an imperial family member truly trusts them enough to entrust their life.

And if you ask if Wolfram has such a person…

“No, not yet.”

“Hooo. Ah, I see. Do you have any candidates?”

“Candidates.”

Among the people I trust most right now, the one most likely to become a Royal Guard…

“If I had to name a candidate, you’d be number one.”

“……Pardon?”

If asked whether she’s a trustworthy person—of course, she is.

She’s a bit obsessed with money, but other than that, she has no real issues.

“What’s the surprise? It’s only natural.”

“Hehe. I’m… I’m number one. Hehe, so I’m number one… Naturally, hehe.”

“Of course, I have no intention of disturbing your dream. It’s a wonderful dream. Nepheterian. Your conviction still impresses me.”

But choosing to be a village guard captain over the Royal Guard.

Truly, Nephti. What a admirable person.

“The Royal Guard’s starting salary, if I recall correctly, is 200 million lin.”

“…………Pardon?”

“I’ll support your dream.”

“Wait a moment, Senior. What did you say?”

“I said I’ll support your dream?”

“Ah, no, not that!”

“Ah, you mean the part about being impressed by your conviction?”

“NOOOO! Not that! Th-that! How much?!”

“Hmm? Ah, the starting salary? It was 200 million lin.”

Since Kelterus became a Royal Knight with a 400 million salary, and Royal Guard was half of that, it’s about right.

Nephti pondered for a long time, went *hmmm* deep in thought, then clapped her hands once and sparkled her eyes.

“Senior, you said you’d support my dream, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I just had a brilliantly genius idea.”

“Hmm. Tell me.”

“If I receive the recommendation letter and become your Royal Guard, the starting salary is 200 million, right?”

“Hmm. And?”

“Couldn’t I hire mercenaries with 100 million lin to protect Gluco Village?”

“……”

“Genius idea!”

Hey.

What happened to the Knight of Faith and the dream of succeeding your father?