Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 013
Chapter Title: (Former) Knight of Conviction
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From then on, Nefti and I met up often, throwing ourselves into development research for the freshman welcome event.
For some reason, she never asked for hourly pay. Instead, she scarfed down donuts by the pile, beaming with happy smiles.
By the time she'd polished off every variety under the guise of "helping me," we'd brainstormed pretty much everything we could think of. Before we knew it, the welcome event was just a week away.
She headed back to her own duties in the Knight Division, and I threw myself into my own frenzy of preparations.
The star of this welcome event, Eve, was no doubt swamped beyond belief. Even Aila hadn't shown her face.
In the meantime, I'd made some real progress: I could now do one push-up a day and wake up the next morning feeling fine.
"Nice. At this rate, Stamina 3 isn't a pipe dream."
2 and 3 had to be worlds apart, right?
Today, too, I knocked out my single push-up and hit the sack.
...
Ordering stock timed to the date. Confirming stall locations and times.
Once I'd checked everything—mana stone output limits for the stalls, hygiene standards, expiration dates on goods—it was the eve of the freshman welcome event.
"Tomorrow, my third-year life officially begins."
Until now, it had been summer semester, so skipping classes was fine. But starting tomorrow, no more slacking.
Contempt from those around me. Dismissal. Or violence, insidious social lynching—all of it, I'd have to endure.
And while doing that, save the convenience store.
"...Save the convenience store. Graduate. For a third-rate villain like me, that's no small feat."
I was prepared for it.
Of course, if I didn't rake in a fortune at tomorrow's welcome event, bankruptcy awaited...
No way that'd happen, right?
Jefrin Academy had a total enrollment of over 100,000—but that included undergrads, grad students, and even faculty. Undergrads alone numbered between 10,000 and 20,000 per year.
Average enrollment age: sixteen.
Finish the first two years of your four-year program and head out into the world at twenty? Tack on three more years for bigger dreams? Or stick around forever as a grad student? Three paths.
So, new freshmen arriving meant fresh possibilities for the futures they'd chase here at Jefrin. It was always an exciting time.
Over 18,000 new students, no less.
Jefrin's grading was brutally strict.
Graduation rate for freshmen? Roughly 60%. Half washed out.
This auditorium could hold tens of thousands—like another colosseum.
First-years stood center stage. Second-years looked down from the seats, appraising them like livestock.
The survivors among the second-years chatted casually as they sized up the newbies.
"...Fresh meat."
"Rinder how many'll make it."
"Hey, wanna bet on who drops out first?"
Ignoring their chatter, I scanned the crowd of 20,000.
In the game proper, there were people in that throng I had to watch out for—and ideally recruit.
But that was from protagonist Kelters's perspective.
...
So Wolfram sought just one.
The light hero with the potential to become the greatest among 20,000.
The red-haired boy who now wore an innocent expression.
"Can't spot him."
Made sense. 20,000 wasn't a small crowd.
More importantly...
"Hey, look over there."
"Why's he here? Didn't he get kicked out?"
"...Prince Wolfram's here? ...Insane."
"Damn it... I'm outta here. Ruins the vibe."
"That bastard got Dupel expelled."
...
Come to think of it, the grand plaza drew massive crowds. Stick around here, and I'd be perfect for a shanking amid the mob. Dump the body in pieces in the Eastern Forest—goblins would gobble it up and grow big and strong.
Time to bail. As I moved to stand as quickly as possible—
"There you are, Wolfram."
...
A girl approached, flashing a smile that evoked black crystal. She was eyeing me.
My fiancée and third-year Magic Division vice-top. Icon of black crystal and rebellion. She gave me a small smile.
"Aila."
"Didn't you say you'd be selling stuff at the freshman welcome? Here to see me?"
"Yeah. On my way to set up now."
"...Ah. I see."
Why does she look annoyed?
"Anyway, I'm heading out soon. Swing by if you're curious. Pleb District 3."
"If I have time. You'll watch the 'education' bit later, right?"
"If I've got time."
Aila pouted.
"You told me to win perfectly, and now you're saying you might skip it? You think that's okay?"
...
"I want a proper answer, Wolfram."
...
Fair point.
Here, keeping my mouth moving was key to avoiding a gut stab from Aila. Work, brain.
How to appease her without tanking my stall...
Aha.
First, curve my lips naturally. Smirk like whatever she's saying isn't funny. Shrug once.
"Even on raw skill, you'd crush her after all that training. Do I really need to watch?"
"...Huh?"
"I just told you to go all out. If Aila Trista ever wavers against some pleb, even once, you wouldn't forgive yourself, right?"
"H-Hmm."
"Your rebellion has to be the most covert, meticulous, and perfect. Isn't that right?"
"......H-Huh, mm, yeah. You get it. Exactly."
"Then the outcome's set. Doesn't matter who's watching."
"R-Right? Hehe. Classic Wolfram. The wing of rebellion I acknowledge."
So what's this "wing of rebellion" anyway?
Anyway, seeing her smile happily meant I'd survived another day.
Come to think of it, there was something I needed to ask when Aila was in a good mood.
"By the way, met your opponent? Kelters, the pleb."
"Yeah. Red-haired guy. Farmer vibe, like he herds goats or something."
"Huh. Anything stand out?"
"Like what?"
"His gear or weapons."
This mattered.
Jefrin had starting difficulties, and easy mode handed out good gear early.
"Hmm... Can't recall perfectly, but he had a straight sword with a blood-red pommel. Strapped across his shoulder. Looked high-end, but no clue what it is."
"Blood-red pommel."
No difficulty gave that at the start—but this was real life, glitches happened. No point overthinking.
But I had a rough idea what weapon it was.
"Two-handed straight sword, reaching down to his waist from the shoulder?"
"Yeah."
"Got it. So he has that weapon."
"You know it?"
"Not for sure, but Aila—watch his breakthroughs."
"...?"
Should be a second-act weapon. No idea why he had it now.
I gave Aila some vague advice and turned to go.
"Skipping Eve's opening speech?"
"No need to take the abuse here, right?"
"Fair. Wolfram."
"Hm?"
"How's it feel to have the throne snatched?"
"That? Just a fake."
Putting on a strong front for Aila, but honestly, I rated Eve highly.
Usually, Jefrin student council presidents were royals "pre-appointed" before enrolling.
I'd enrolled as a first-year, coasted to second, then got booted.
Eve, a first-year at the time, did the booting.
Wanting to understand Jefrin life, she'd toured the common areas whenever she had time. That's how she learned of my tyranny.
Finally snapping, Eve declared she'd take president next year, raised the flag of rebellion, networked with existing students for intel, cross-verified it.
Then wrote Dad the Emperor, got me axed. That's the coup history.
Scary kid.
"I see. You're aiming higher—things I can't even see."
"Not really."
"Hehe. Opening a stall in the pleb sector this time... for your ascent?"
I said nothing. Aila nodded.
"Knew it. Antagonize the nobles on purpose, paint yourself the mad tyrant, win pleb support to climb the stage... Daring rebellion."
"........."
What are you talking about?
"Kinda disappointing, though."
"What is?"
"If we'd talked longer, gotten to know each other better... maybe I could've stopped your downfall."
What the hell?
Aila looked like she'd scripted some grand epic in her head.
Anyway, I shook my head. Had to shut this down before she went further.
"This status quo suits me fine. Everything's going to plan."
"Sure. ...But I wanted front-row seats to your rebellion's wings. Even if it meant ruin."
...
I just shook my head silently.
Then slipped out of the auditorium without another word.
Any more talk, and my brain might only spit out "rebellion."
Heading to my stall in Pleb District 3 for the commoner freshmen, I found a visitor already there.
Well, "visitor" was generous—it was Nefti.
"You're here, sir. Preparations are complete."
"Good."
"Yes."
The other stalls buzzed with whispers.
Most students here were from Maestro, with some Magic Division, but plenty from Knight Division too.
So lots recognized Nefti, the Sword of Conviction—and naturally, the academy's top pop-star villain, Wolfram, drew eyes too.
Everyone gawked, dumbfounded that we'd team up for a stall.
Hmm. Feels like I'm dragging her into something shady. I've got nothing to lose, but she does.
"...The gall to 'guide' me. But I like it. That's the Sword of Conviction from the Knight Division, right?"
"Y-Yes?"
"Hm. That spirit earns you a pass today."
I bellowed it loud. The stares cooled instantly. Good enough bait—these kids would spread the word if asked about Nefti.
The Knight of Conviction's reforming the trash ex-president by running a stall together.
"......Thank you, Your Highness."
"Hmph. Get to work."
"Yes!"
Nefti caught on, bowing deeply in genuine gratitude.
"Pathetic, though."
"What is?"
"All of it."
Glancing around, sure, food stalls galore. Handmade crafts, shoddy artifacts, swords, daily goods.
But to me, THE convenience store master—current world-first store boss— it was all amateur hour.
I'd blast past competitors so hard they couldn't catch up.
"Nefti. Start with that."
"That thing...? For real? It's... way too dangerous."
"Rin't do it?"
"...M-Might bankrupt every other snack stall."
"Performance bonus."
Freeze.
Nefti's body halted.
"What was that?"
"Not hourly. Sell well, and 20% of net profit's yours. Hit a million rin? Two hundred thousand's yours."
Nefti's eyes shook endlessly.
"B-But mutual prosperity..."
"30%."
She dropped to one knee, extended her right hand, face resolute as she intoned.
"For this moment, the Sword of Conviction's loyalty is yours."
"Hmph. Then prepare."
"Yes, my lord. Trust this vanguard, Nepthelian, to crush all rivals and bring flawless victory to this stall."
Whatever happened to mutual prosperity?
We finished prepping, and soon, it emerged.
"Incredible... aroma."
Even I trembled.
A small spark ignites a tidal wave; the wave becomes a storm.
Vanilla beans, sugar, flour—filled with custard cream and fried. Donut variant.
Common anywhere, but that scent always drove people mad.
The subway demon.
Belly Manju revealed itself.