Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Wolfram's Final Flame in Life (2)
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Academy City Jefrin.
The main stage of D/Z SAGA.
According to the setting documents, this artificial island was created by the founding emperor of the Loengrin Empire and a host of imperial archmages, who raised what was once open sea from the depths.
Yet it boasts natural scenery so breathtaking that no one would believe it was man-made. Within the island lie mountains, canyons, and rivers, as well as deserts, volcanic zones, glaciers, and jungles.
And when the prime minister of the era asked the founding emperor what he intended to use this Jefrin for after its completion, the emperor replied with just one word: "Academy."
The emperor had poured all his resources into crafting Jefrin for one purpose—a grand academy city.
Academy city, academy island, academy fortress: Jefrin.
It's a famous anecdote that the prime minister grabbed the emperor by the collar and called him a "mad bastard," but in time, Jefrin became the founding emperor's greatest legacy.
Over the course of three hundred years, the empire flourished with Jefrin at its heart.
So why did this natural history museum of an island become the pinnacle symbol of imperial glory?
Because Jefrin Academy gathers the finest educators not just from the empire, but from the entire continent.
It's a place of learning that accepts anyone with ability, commoner or noble alike, concentrating the world's knowledge in one spot.
First, it's vast. Jefrin's breadth of knowledge is so immense that students can take cultural lectures on the traditions of a kingdom with a population of just a thousand. Here, students choose what to learn from an infinite array of possibilities, guided by professors.
Second, it's honorable. This isn't your average academy—it's where the royalty, nobility, and talented commoners from across the continent gather for seven years of education. Graduating alone earns you respect anywhere in the world.
Third, it's profound. Every curriculum at Jefrin is designed to advance the continent as a whole, while securing the future leaders of each nation from a young age. Jefrin is an island with no escape. If you want your child to be top-tier, you send them here—but doing so is tantamount to handing them over as hostages to the imperial family. This blend of cultivation and political leverage ensured the loyalty of every nation on the continent to the Loengrin Empire.
Students here don't just train in swordsmanship and magic. They strive day and night to excel in etiquette, liberal arts, commerce, administration, or even self-sufficiency like hunting or farming—whatever field they've chosen.
This is Jefrin.
An artificial island where you can amass wealth through business while still in school, or stake your life in bloody battles against monsters.
The greatest symbol of humanity surpassing nature. Paradise for every student's learning.
"Here is the account information for Mr. Wolfram's personal account, as requested."
"……."
"There's not a single rin in it. Zero rin."
A land that was pure hell for me alone.
Jefrin Central Bank.
Currencies across the world aren't unified, of course. Each nation has its own—Doge, Ripple, EOS, Maro, Stella, Ignis, and more.
This bank exchanges them all for rin, the currency used exclusively on Jefrin, doubling as a global exchange.
And the account balance for me—Wolfram, former student council president and son of the emperor?
"Not a single rin?"
"Yes."
Zero.
Not one rin to my name.
Was this even possible?
No matter how you sliced it, I was imperial royalty, a prince, and the student council president. How could my account be empty?
"Could you print my transaction history?"
"Of course."
The teller smiled brightly as she printed it out. I stared at the page, eyes widening.
I stepped out of the bank and quietly reviewed Wolfram's transaction history.
Every month, 80 million rin was deposited under "dignity allowance." Per official settings, 1 rin is roughly equivalent to 1 won. So this schoolkid had blown through 80 million won a month.
Spending on clothes, shady magic tools, getting cleaned out at casinos, handing out cash to flatterers—all of it, this bastard's doing.
I wasn't broke; he'd spent it all. And now, I was him.
I left the bank.
"Dorm. Yeah, maybe the dorm has something."
Jefrin Dormitory No. 1, Glasstheim: a towering 58 stories above ground, 7 below.
If he'd been using the top luxury suite solo, there had to be valuables inside. Sell one or two, get startup cash, and I'd be set.
I remembered the map. The moment I opened the dorm entrance...
"Mr. Wolfram von Loengrin, your checkout procedures are complete."
"...What?"
"This is your luggage. Thank you for staying with us."
Two suitcases thudded down before me. The lobby staff smiled kindly, bowing her head.
"We wish you the best in your academy life."
And just like that, I was evicted.
"……."
The world had abandoned me.
"Still, it's not so bad. Actually, it's kinda good."
Crank the happiness circuit to max, and a path appears.
First off, the luggage had some decent valuables.
A gem-encrusted necklace and ring each. A ceremonial sword. A magic staff. An old grimoire.
"This'll do."
As a member of the imperial family, his possessions were naturally high-end.
No job? No problem. Sell the fancy gear for seed money.
Luckily, I knew the locations of good antique shops and pawnshops from the original game.
"Hm. Here to sell something?"
"...Yeah."
The pawnshop run by dwarf students had sharp eyes.
They studied commerce at the academy—how to appraise, buy, sell, and craft—and forged their own paths that way.
Their guild, Maestro, was renowned for strict discipline. True to their gold-obsessed rep, they haggled hard but never scammed. I figured I could negotiate here.
Dwarves were money-grubbers, but loyal friends once you won them over.
The way to their hearts? Weapons, especially swords—they lived for them. Start with the ceremonial sword for cash.
As I reached for the suitcase lock, a cold voice cut from across the table.
"No need to open it."
"...What're you talking about?"
"Don't you get it? No sale. Even if that bag holds the Wind God's Rapier Rapid Regina, we're not buying."
"Why? Gold dwarves turning picky now?"
"That's how it is. Please leave. It's awkward for us too."
"……."
The dwarf scratched his chin beard, clicked his tongue, and sighed.
Evicted again.
"……."
Why?
Did a Wolfram hate arc even exist?
"No. Calm down. Breathe, Wolfram. Count primes. Numbers divisible only by 1 and themselves... that'll give me courage..."
Muttering nonsense, I kept thinking.
Yeah, maybe Wolfram had screwed over the pawnshop.
Maybe he'd ripped off the dwarves for being broke, abused his status at Maestro, got blacklisted. Can't be helped.
"If Maestro's out, Yggdrasil it is."
The elf alliance. Cold, but they wouldn't outright refuse.
I had a magic robe to sell—top-grade stuff.
Then I realized: this was elf-condor silk, specially processed in a way they'd drool over.
Sell it at the elf guild Yggdrasil, and I'd rake in serious cash.
"Around three million?"
Original game's elf-condor silk went for that. Symboli silk? Five million tops.
Elves hated shady deals, so no beef with Wolfram there. No grudges likely.
At the Yggdrasil branch in central Jefrin, I requested a meeting with an elf...
"We decline."
"...Do you know what this item is?"
"A robe of the finest elf-condor silk. Top quality."
"You know and still won't buy?"
"Yes."
"...It's an incredible luxury item, you know?"
"Of course. Worth 30 million rin. Shall I print a price tag?"
"Thirty million?"
"Yes. Easily."
I smirked inwardly. They have no clue on pricing. Perfect mark.
"Then ten million."
"Not buying."
"...Ten million."
"No."
Colder rejection than the dwarves.
A 30-million-rin robe, unsold.
"May I ask why?"
"Sorry. Hard to explain, but Yggdrasil's stance won't change."
So damn cold.
"……."
After that, the golden magic tower refused the grimoire too. Even colder rejection.
Dwarves, elves, humans—no dice.
This was weird.
Way off from the strategies I knew.
This wasn't some slapdash route.
At Jefrin's start, affinity grinding with factions was mandatory.
Build that up, and by Act 4, they'd buy rare items.
Sell those, level blacksmithing for gear, or flip for profit.
Essential for the Golden Hand ending: Pleiades. But if they won't even buy...
"...Try selling again."
Gripping the ceremonial sword, I wandered darkening streets.
Back at Maestro, the dwarf eyed the sword and sighed.
"Masterpiece."
"Right?"
Even to me, it screamed luxury. Decorative, but worth five million at least.
"To repeat: Maestro can't buy it."
"I don't get it. You know it's top-tier."
"...Yes."
"Then doesn't that tarnish your gold-dwarf name? Buy quality at fair price—that's your creed. If a fine item falls into bad hands, isn't rescuing it a gold dwarf's virtue?"
"……."
The dwarf's eyes flickered at my words.
Canon setting: Dwarves' eyes waver endlessly for fine metalwork.
Refusing went against their beliefs.
"The reason..."
He stroked his beard, exhaled deeply, and met my gaze.
"It's you, the seller. Wolfram von Loengrin. There's a limit to 'bad.'"
"...?"
"Word spread at dawn: Wolfram von Loengrin is no longer student council president. Thus, Maestro, Yggdrasil, Diabolos, and the Five-Colored Towers will not treat him as such."
I knew the hate and resentment coming my way.
Sell sword, robe, grimoire—crash in the cheapest dorm. Seize chances, climb to the game's ending.
So I slapped on a steel mask.
"So what? I'm a regular student now. I don't expect equals' treatment, but blocking trade outright contradicts the Maestro ethos I know."
"...Not really."
"What?"
"Maestro always puts guild interests first."
"Trading with me loses you money?"
"You know only the student council president ranks above us here. That sole superior—and next prez—sees you as an enemy. That's the key."
"……."
Reality hit.
Next prez Eve hated me, so all Jefrin shunned me. Or pretended not to notice.
They didn't want to fall out with the Loengrin royals.
Didn't want to irk the next regime.
"...I see. Thanks for explaining."
"Never thought I'd hear thanks from you. Hm. No offense, but are you really that vicious ex-president?"
"Had some realizations. Planning to live quietly from now on."
"...Hand over the sword."
"Gonna buy it?"
"No. Just pricing it. Around 50 million rin."
"Fifty million?"
"Yes. Even our strictest appraisal clears that easily."
"......Hm. Alright."
What's their deal? Messing with me?
"Sorry anyway. But it's real. Attend classes diligently, get a job, work hard—the next prez's anger might cool."
Eve's anger cooling? Ha, impossible. She'd decapitate my zombie self over her boyfriend.
"Speaking of jobs, hire me?"
"Out."
People, man.
Didn't have to be that cold.
"Still... why ten times the price?"
Out to get me? Or some reason?
Anyway.
I smiled at the 180 million rin worth of goods in my bag.
Belly full without eating.
"With this, a new life begins."
Oddly, same amount as the savings I'd scraped together before entering this world.
Yeah. Once more.
In this hellish world.
Somehow, start over.