Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Who Am I? "Third-Rate Convenience Store Owner" (1)
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Jefrin Academy City.
I loved this game so much that I'd cleared it to the point of being a total veteran.
There were many reasons I enjoyed it so much.
First off, the massive storyline.
The story spans 12 acts and 45 chapters, following protagonist Kelters from his first year to his graduation in the seventh. Along the way, he chooses his own path and reaches the ending before leaving the academy.
Then there are the countless branching points—and the way characters' positions shift accordingly.
A prime example is Wolfram's younger sister, Eve von Loengrin.
The girl who kicked me out is the heroine on the imperial route, but a supporting character on others. Hell, she even becomes the final boss on one path.
The fact that characters' roles change based on the protagonist's choices makes them feel truly alive.
But the biggest reason I was obsessed with this game? Effort always yielded rewards.
The 12 acts and 45 chapters might sound long, but they fly by once you're playing.
Kelters doesn't have much time.
Each ending has its own final boss, so he has to gather companions to take them down. That means getting stronger himself, building friendships, and earning money through hunting or odd jobs.
Befriend someone, and they might gift you gear or awaken a skill. Fail to build those bonds, and you get slapped with a bad end.
The five years you're given aren't tight, but they're not generous either. To see the endings, you have to give everything your all.
And when you do? The payoff is sweet.
I cheered myself hoarse at the hopeful conclusion where everyone finds happiness—and the countless "rewards for effort" along the way.
That was the thrill.
A world where hard work pays off, you build a team of allies, and overcome adversity together.
I absolutely loved this unique medieval fantasy academy.
And now I'm in it.
A world brimming with dreams and hope—even if I'm Wolfram von Loengrin, a guy not fit to stand on its outskirts. Jefrin is right in front of me, and I'm going to survive here.
In this world I loved so much!
"Sorry, but I can't hire you."
"...I'm sorry. No disqualifiers, but... you know, right?"
"Adventurer's Guild. No openings for explorers either. My apologies."
"......"
I want to survive.
I sit on a park bench, staring blankly up at the sky.
Fluffy clouds drift across the clear blue. Breathing in fills my lungs with the scent of earth, trees, and fresh air.
Jefrin is no longer just a game. It's my reality.
And reality? It's brutally harsh.
"Who said I wanted much?"
It's not that there are no jobs. There are none for me.
My bag holds a sword and clothes worth ten million rin if sold, but no one's buying.
The smiths' guild, mages' guild—even the adventurers' guild—all turned me down.
Any jobs under them? Naturally off-limits too.
Getting shut out across the entire academy island of Jefrin? That's a bit much, isn't it...?
"Or is it because the system treats my existence here as a bug, so no one will hire me?"
If that's the case, I'm truly screwed.
No, wait. That's not it. I shook my head.
The pressure and pain in my clenched fist. The park's aromas filling my lungs. They grounded me in this reality, no matter how sick of it I got.
"Status."
If so, I'll survive on my own.
Even if it means holing up in the forest with a single axe and building a cabin.
I check my own status window and let out a hollow laugh.
"Cabin my ass."
Lucky if I don't get one-shot by a goblin the second I step into the woods.
Sure, I'd love to leisurely chop wood with an axe, build a cabin, and cure some meat—but that's impossible for me.
"What a trash-tier status."
I try to check my skills next, but that just draws another sigh. Imperial Bloodline. It's a bluff skill that forces you to exude intimidation and speak in haughty tones around others. Useful for negotiations sometimes, but for Wolfram? He'd just get beaten to death.
"What now."
Sky's clear, clouds are drifting, trees are green... and I'm unemployed.
"Seriously, what now."
I'm not despairing over reality or giving up. My love for Jefrin won't break over something like this.
I'm just... on the verge of passing out.
Why? Simple. I'm starving.
"Ah, damn."
Jefrin's education is generous. Uniforms, stationery, textbooks, even meals—all free.
But it's strict too. Lose your academy affiliation, and all those perks vanish.
So where does Wolfram belong?
Unfortunately, right now? Nowhere.
He got booted from the Magic Division on the student council president's orders.
Next up is probably Cypress, where commoners mix in.
He's stuck in limbo between expulsion and enrollment. During processing, he's officially unaffiliated—so he has to fend for himself. And the whole academy's giving him the cold shoulder.
"Sigh."
D/Z SAGA isn't without hidden pieces, but they're a pain too. The game's premise is straightforward.
'Effort gets rewarded.'
'Rewards match your effort.'
In other words, even as a veteran, you need prep to suck up those hidden honey pots.
Not necessarily combat power. Eloquence works too.
Take the Settlers' letter delivery event for 10,000 rin—practically mandatory early-game. Get the letter from Settlers and deliver it to the magic tower's second floor.
Reward: 10k! Pure honey.
But I got kicked out of the magic tower two days ago. 10k, my...
Sigh. Cursing won't help. I shake my head a couple times.
This is the magic tower's Sector 8. I realize I can't do the Settlers quest and plop down nearby.
The magic tower's always bustling, but weirdly, some spots are dead quiet.
"Sigh."
Sector 8 of the magic tower.
Just... no people. Too few.
Jefrin officially recognizes it as a failed development zone.
Magic doesn't need eight sectors. One genius replaces ten thousand mediocrities.
A new town that bombed on real estate. Dorms overflowing with vacancies. Empty storefronts. Deserted streets.
That's Magic Sector 8.
But I liked the silence. I remember buying up the research dorms cheap on the merchant route for a tycoon ending.
Anyway, that's the past. Focus on now.
"There has to be a way."
I'm a veteran of this game.
I know roughly how it ticks.
Effort in thinking. I have to find a way to survive.
But I can think.
Even if the academy discards me, I can think.
No job, no money—I can still think.
Give up on thinking, and it's truly over.
"...Hunt some beasts first, maybe."
I tuck my notes back in the carrier and reach a decision.
Last resort. Slim odds, but something I can do.
I grip the longsword from my carrier. Head outside the academy first.
I stand.
"Huh?"
My strength fades.
This is...
Fading badly.
Vision shakes. Body tilts forward.
Why? Just one day without food. Even trash-tier shouldn't collapse here.
"Ah......"
Right... Stamina 2...
In my blurring vision and spinning head, I recall my body.
I wasn't trash.
I was utter trash.
"Wait, passing out here..."
This is Sector 8 research dorms.
Failed redevelopment zone. No one comes.
If I collapse here...
Really... dangerous...
"...Ugh, urgh."
A smell jolts my foggy head awake.
"Coming to?"
"......Y-yeah... Who..."
"Looks like you're alive."
A fragrance tugs at my nose.
My dazed eyes focus on a figure.
A kindly-looking middle-aged man with neatly combed-back hair and a friendly smile.
"Want this?"
"...Y-yeah."
A loaf of bread appears before me.
I grab it with both hands and shove it in my mouth. Delicious. So good it brings tears.
It was hard bread, but I didn't care.
"You okay? Got something to drink too—here."
Tears soak the bread already, but the water wets my throat.
"What happened? A kid like you starving like that?"
"...Well."
"Never mind. Plenty more food here—eat up."
All lowest-grade recovery items: black bread and water. But it was enough. Sweet enough to cry over.
After wolfing it down for thirty minutes, hunger sated, I bow deeply.
"My thanks."
"No need for formalities. Why were you in that state?"
"......"
I had to hide my identity as much as possible. His reaction suggests he doesn't know I'm Wolfram.
"Eh, whatever. Even the student council president must have his reasons."
"...You know me?"
"Of course. The prez who got booted by his sister?"
Ouch, right in the wound.
So he does discriminate. World still has some hope.
"You knew and still fed me? I'll repay this favor later."
"Hah. No need. These were gonna be discarded soon anyway—couldn't eat 'em."
Discarded.
A familiar ring.
"I see... So that's it."
"Yeah. Just cleared some malignant stock. You won't execute me for insulting royalty, right?"
"...Hah. What are you talking about. Repay the favor later, and maybe."
I wave it off, and the man grins.
"So why was our prez holed up there?"
"...Got kicked out. No one would take me."
"Ahh..."
"And you are?"
"I run a grocery shop just up ahead. Name's Phil."
"...I see. Phil. Mind if I drop the formalities?"
"Go ahead."
Phil nods, and I smile back.
"Good. Phil—any thought to hiring me?"
"...Sorry about that."
"Figured. Can't be helped."
"Not for any bad reason. I'm closing up shop soon."
"...What?"
Phil smiles at me, but there's a shadow in it.
"Know what it means for black bread—the lowest-grade stuff—to spoil? Takes half a year normally."
"Ah..."
"Guess the location's no good. Anyway, closing and heading back home. Can't hire you."
"......"
That's...
That's a perfectly valid reason.
Don't stop thinking. What now?
Failed convenience store. Crashed real estate. Vacant storefront hell. Owner bailing.
What do I have? What can I do?
No. What's the one thing Wolfram needs most right now?
I don't stop thinking.
The answer comes.
I reach the conclusion.
"Phil... Would you sell me your grocery shop?"
What I need right now? The tiniest spark to mark a starting point.
That's it. Nothing else.