Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 015
Chapter Title: Genuine Spicy Cheese Egg
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"Nefti."
"...Yes. Lord Wolfram."
"You worked hard."
"...Thank you. You worked hard too."
We had survived that hellish battle.
Honestly, I figured we'd sell out completely.
Belly manju is just that strong, great, and beautiful.
The donuts and shakes we whipped up created an unbelievable synergy.
We sold every last bit, scraping together whatever scraps remained, mashing them into mix donuts, and hawking those too. In the end, we were left with absolutely nothing.
When I tallied up the total sales minus material costs and her hourly wage, there wasn't quite an overflowing profit for the two of us...
"Here. This is 20% of the pure profit left after subtracting material costs and your hourly wage from sales."
"......How much?"
"Roughly 800,000 rin."
I'd given her a bit over 800,000 after her 20% share plus her wage, leaving me with over three million rin in profit.
Of course, it wasn't a huge sum.
In a money-grinding dungeon, you could rake that in within an hour or two.
The problem was that it was a mid-Act 7 dungeon.
Anyway, in the late game where a single weapon costs ten million easy, three million was pocket change to me.
"O-oh... ohhh."
Nefti took the money and sank to the ground in awe.
"Is it that much?"
"Of course. 800,000 rin is what I make working alongside my studies for three whole months."
"If Jefrin's minimum wage is 8,720 rin, 800,000 isn't that hard to earn, is it?"
Three hours a day for three months should cover it, right?
Nefti gave me a faint smile, as if wondering what I was on about.
"Come to think of it, does Your Highness know? This year, the Loengrin Imperial Family set Jefrin's minimum wage at 3,540 rin."
"......What? Isn't it 8,720? That's what the Knight Division said, and when I first hired you in the Eastern Forest, you said it was minimum wage too."
"Correct. I get exactly 3,540 rin."
"W-wait. Then the remaining 5,180 rin goes...?"
"To the Knight Division's commission."
"Those damn thugs!"
Even back in the modern world, site bosses didn't skim that much!
......Probably.
"But today's side gig was requested directly from you, so no commission is deducted. No need to pay the Knight Division."
"So that means......"
"Yes. I get the full 5,180 rin extra. I'll take the whole 8,720 rin. Like a proper knight."
"......"
As I stared at her in stunned silence, Nefti finished the last donut and nodded.
"Thanks for the meal. Call me again if there's work. Connect directly without the Knight Division, and I'll serve you with utmost loyalty."
"......"
The dirt-poor knight grabbed her share and vanished into the red sunset.
"I see. So you...... had a plan all along."
She probably thought she'd outsmarted me and turned away victorious, but whatever.
Who cares.
'30%.'
'Here. This is 20% of the pure profit left after subtracting material costs and your hourly wage from sales.'
I'd planned to give her 30%, but forgot and only gave 20%.
Nefthelian.
Nefti.
She's kind, obedient, wise... but maybe dumber than I thought.
We both probably thought we'd backstabbed each other, but I planned to hire Nefti more if the chance came.
She's from a commoner family, supporting her mom raising her siblings, so she avoids relying on home—in fact, she sends money back and works hard to earn it.
When people start pinching pennies, they cut back on food, clothes, and fun first. Nefti eating grass sap salad was to send money home. That cash will probably go to her siblings too.
In the original story, hitting that point right kept her loyalty at bond level unchanged. Bond means she'd never draw her sword at me, even if I killed her. That's the depth of her conviction and loyalty.
Of course, Nefti isn't a heroine with no individual ending, but she was that popular. As someone who trusted her as a comrade and saw endings with her, that expense is worth it.
Treat her with benevolence, and she repays with loyalty. That's Nefti.
But the place I'm heading now is a fiery pit full of characters who aren't like that—many worse.
The Magic Division third-years.
Shockingly, the third-years are packed with psychos. To the point where our class traitor, Black Crystal Aila Trista, counts as 'normal.'
There's the assassin clan ace born to kill targets without fail, the one who only blasts AoE spells insisting all magic must be wide-range, and the lunatic mastering body enhancement to outdo Knight Division in close combat.
Anyway, classes with those classmates start tomorrow.
The regular semester, not seasonal classes.
Can I survive in there?
"My heart's really pounding now. Is this thrill... the cry to survive?"
Magic Division third-year Wolfram.
Alright.
Exciting new semester kicks off.
Class was pretty fun.
But separately, I couldn't fully enjoy it.
"...Look, it's Wolfram."
"He's coming to school?"
"Didn't he go back to the imperial family?"
"What's up? Why's he in class?"
Even zoo monkeys get fewer stares than this, you guys.
But all I could do was focus on the lesson.
If I snapped and Vitality 2 Wolfram's gut ripped open, what then? I can't accept that terrifying future.
Anyway, first class done. It was on magic refinement and keywords—pretty interesting stuff.
Practical will be a mess, but theory I can nail.
Steadily racking up major credits, graduation's in sight.
"Wolfram. There you are."
"......Hm."
"Come on, let's eat."
Why're you deciding that?
If I said it out loud, Black Crystal short-hair ultimate form would probably smash me.
I had no choice but to stand, and Aila smiled, leading the way.
"Today's a traitorous lunch too!"
"......"
What the heck does that mean?
"Let's eat lunch at the cafeteria." Her reaction was odd when I said that.
"Oh, no bento today?"
"I brought one. Milkshake and donut."
"Then wouldn't it be better to eat them together in the garden?"
"Sometimes you gotta eat the school meal."
"When's that exactly?"
There's reasons.
Running a convenience store, the biggest thing to watch is school lunch.
Simply put: the day the class rep contacts parents and floods the room with burgers and cola. Will the class buy hamburger buns from the canteen? No way. Canteen burgers are fated to lose even to Coderia's deli burgers.
So I need to gauge the academy cafeteria average to price the counter right.
"Lots of menu items."
"Order-style, so yeah."
"Must be a hassle."
I shrugged.
At construction site cafeterias, it's usually Korean buffet-style based on one meat dish like pork stir-fry or bulgogi. Even big factories split into A, B, C sets for meal tickets. Here, it's like a regular restaurant—you pick your menu.
"Salad black bread. Oil pasta. Cheeseburger...... Hm. Modest fare."
"Want the bento instead?"
All bottom-tier recovery items from the game, kinda depressing, but I shook my head. Gotta taste it anyway.
"What'll you have? I've tried most, so I can recommend."
"Alright then."
Let's see. Lately too much sweets, soul's Korean anyway, stress piling up...
"Aila."
"Yes?"
"What's the spiciest thing here?"
"......Pardon?"
Aila pointed in bewilderment to the Red Hot Chili Spice Soup. The name alone made my heart race...
For a Korean, gotta be spicy. Hot chicken ramen with a cheongyang pepper, or nuclear spicy dakbokkeumyeon—total bliss.
Even before entering the game, I loved spicy food.
Once you start filling up on clearance convenience store junk, you crave stimulating heat. Hotbar or whatever, but spending on one dakbokkeumyeon pack ends the day.
Since becoming Wolfram, no real spice though. Ah, Scoville cravings.
At the counter, mentioning the ticket, the server stared blankly.
"You'll... eat this?"
"Yeah. One please."
"Y-yes. One Red Hot Chili Spice Soup."
Handed the ticket to the kitchen staff, who gawked too.
"You want... this? It's really spicy."
"Ha. 'Really' doesn't cut it."
"Pardon?"
"Make it spicier."
"......Understood. I accept your resolve."
"Hm."
I turned away.
Worry flickered—what if it's insanely hot? But right now, I crave something scalp-tingling fiery. Can't help it.
"Red Hot Chili Spice Soup order up!"
"Hm."
As I strode confidently to the kitchen, murmurs rose around.
"Look over there..."
"Yeah, that's the custom-order guy..."
"Someone's eating that again?"
......Okay, now I'm getting worried.
How hot can it be to cause this fuss? The pot on the tray had a lid, hiding the contents.
Back at the table, I lifted the lid—steam whooshed out, revealing a glimpse of vivid red soup.
This red... perfect. Bright and clean. Color passes.
"U-ugh... You really gonna eat that?"
Aila looked horrified, but whatever... if too hot, toss it. I scooped a big spoonful of crimson soup and shoved it in.
Then, as flavors unfolded in my mouth, my eyes widened.
"......No way, this."
"T-too spicy? Should I get water?"
"No. It's not."
"Th-then call a doctor? You okay, Wolfram?"
I grimaced, and Aila panicked beside me. I glared at the soup before me.
This.
Is.
Way too mild.
Hell, instant ramen with milk, cheese, and butter boiled in would be spicier.
I'm no ramen fiend, but come on... this isn't spicy at all. Super bland instead. Annoying.
"The red's just whole tomatoes ground up, huh? Calling this spicy...? Seriously?"
"Y-yes? Wolfram, you okay?"
"Just pissed. Not spicy at all."
A true Korean grabs extra kimchi, garlic, cheongyang peppers even with pork stir-fry. This sub-ramen heat couldn't satisfy my Scoville.
Aila tilted her head at my deep sigh.
"I-I've never even tried it... and it's not spicy?"
"......Wanna taste?"
"Huh? Oh... sure. If it's traitorous spice, I'll try."
I scooped some and handed it over. Aila's face flushed oddly as she took the spoon, popped it in...
And.
"......!! Ugh! Uwaa! Ah! Uuugh!!"
She let out inhuman shrieks.
Yeah, that's the reaction to unbearable spice.
I glanced at the soup, then Aila, tilting my head.
"Aila, can't handle it?"
"...!!"
Aila started punching my arm with her fists. Ow, seriously hurts.
"...Ugh! Waaater."
I nodded, handing her my prepared shake. She chugged it, let out a teary "Huuu," and wiped dribbling tears with tissue.
"H-how do you eat something this spicy."
"It's not spicy at all."
I frowned, spooning more Red Hot... no, just Chili Tomato Soup.
"Look, he's eating it straight."
"They say if you do madman stuff, you are one..."
"Crazy? No wonder he wrecked student council last year..."
Murmurs swelled; I sighed deeply.
Eat quick and clear. No good drawing eyes.
I'm Wolfram; lots harbor grudges. Jefrin has real dangers.
Kelters always gets surmountable hurdles, but not me.
"Man, tastes like garbage. This spicy? This ain't spice!"
"Rudika gets it too."
The voice right in front froze my hand mid-motion.
What?
When'd she sit there?
Chair scrape? No. Footsteps? None.
Who!?
Aila, top of Magic Division third-years, only noticed post-voice, eyes widening.
"When did you get there...?"
"Not spicy at all. Right, Rudika?"
Who!?
Who'd she call!?
I snapped my head up, locking eyes with the girl.
Slender build. Shorter than me. Brown skin, grayish short bob not quite to shoulders. Blue, emotionless eyes.
I know this girl. Terrifyingly well.
Magic Division third-year.
Rudika Hassan Shadow.
Occupation.
Assassin.
"So, Wolfram, can you make that spicy for Rudika?"
The most dangerous reaper in Jefrin had taken an interest in me.