Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Those Who Made the Wrong Choice (1)
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After that, I managed to glean a bunch of info from Aila.
She was wary of me, sure, but she's such an easy mark that if I scratched her chuunibyou sensibilities just right, she'd spill everything clean and neat.
"Hmph. Aila, how well do you think you grasp the flow of this school?"
"Hah, are you looking down on me?"
"Tell me, then. Heh. Think you can?"
"Hmph. Fine, I'll indulge you. First off, Jefrin is..."
"Oho, not bad. But still lacking. Next up: the market prices for goods in this school. Good stuff deserves a good price. So why's this priced like that?"
"Too easy, I'm yawning. It's because..."
In this way, I started bridging the gap between 'real-life Jefrin' and 'game Jefrin' bit by bit.
And the biggest difference I noticed? Distribution networks. Totally different flow from the game Jefrin.
Think about it. Store A is in a frozen tundra, Store B in a scorching desert. Yet both sell basic gear and potions.
Doesn't that seem off? How's that even possible? Railroads across the world? Identical items supplied everywhere?
Standardized goods and stable logistics letting mega-corporations monopolize retail? Then why's this medieval steampunk world letting them run the show?
Anyway, I tossed my final question at Aila.
"So, can you show me metrics on what sells well and what doesn't?"
"That's our guild's trade secret. Especially not for free."
"Hah. What, need a candy bribe?"
"...Candy, huh. Might work. If you can get it."
With a smirk, Aila sauntered out.
And that gave me the biggest hint.
"Candy's expensive... Yeah, figures."
Making candy means growing sugarcane or boiling down fruit. Labor-intensive either way.
And farming? Sure, but instead of basics like wheat or barley, you're growing fruit, picking it, boiling it, molding it, letting it set?
What about the monsters that pop up? The beasts and magic creatures eyeing your fruit?
Fruit's pricey. Candy? Even more so.
"Right. Got it."
I chuckled and filled out the order form.
First item to sell: decided.
Four days after taking over.
"No way."
Zero customers.
"No freaking way."
My grocery store was getting zero attention. Shockingly so.
I covered my face with both hands and bowed my head low.
Couldn't help giggling behind my palm.
"Honestly, who opens a convenience store here?"
Phil, just quit while you're ahead.
But lounging around laughing wouldn't cut it.
"A few more days like this, and Aila shows up saying she's disappointed in you! Then stabs me."
Just like Wolfram's this arrogant imperial villain type. His fiancée Aila's the 'ambitious villainess'.
Her ambition's so over-the-top, it's like her brain's full of it—her eyes sparkle at any scheming talk.
Last time she survived thanks to my 'ambitious act' performance.
So yeah, she'd totally stab me the second I slack off.
Even without Aila, I need to make this work somehow.
And customers or no? Doesn't matter.
"Order's in. Should arrive today."
Right on cue, footsteps outside.
Not a customer. Gotta be the delivery for my order.
"Your order's here."
"Thanks for the trouble."
"..."
The petite girl narrowed her eyes at me, sighed, and handed over a sheet.
"Total: 3,524,800 rin. Confirm goods and handover, then sign here."
"Got it."
I checked each item.
"All good."
"...Hot water flask. Handcart... And a dining toolset for home use...? Why this?"
"Is it your job to question what people buy?"
"...No. Maestro delivery just delivers. Thanks for your order."
I took the goods, signed, and she nodded curtly before leaving. I shrugged.
I'm her customer, fair enough. Customer service? Zero stars. But doesn't matter. She's from Maestro, the dwarf guild. Them selling to me? That's key.
Jefrin's flaw—and opportunity.
Maestro won't buy from or sell to 'personal Wolfram'.
But academy rules—antimonopoly and fair trade laws—force them to accept 'convenience store owner Wolfram's' orders.
Heard there was an incident. Magic Division monopolized spells, Knights Division mercs, Maestro tools and gear, Yggdrasil magic robes. Pissed everyone off. Student Council did whatever.
Total shitshow.
Academy nearly collapsed. Emperor stepped in, punished folks, made it rules.
At least between guilds, play nice.
So as the grocery store owner, I can order from Maestro.
And Yggdrasil. And the Five-Colored Mage Tower too. No rejections allowed.
"...Delivery from Yggdrasil."
"...Delivery from the Five-Colored Mage Tower."
I grinned and welcomed them. Sour faces, but they brought the goods. Plus pamphlets and recommended orders.
With wholesale prices listed, naturally.
"Yeah. Messed up. Totally different."
Glanced over, shrugged. Lowest healing potion: 10,000 rin. Game price: 100 rin.
Even an idiot could figure out why prices are jacked.
Whatever. Means I can use it.
"Boil fruit juice, mix in edible slime, set it. Jefrin's classic candy."
Basic candy recipe.
But add game-like twists, and profitability skyrockets.
For example.
"Mix healing potion with water to grow fruit super fast. Plus... dried fish jerky, radish. Leftover veggies too. Perfect."
Phil left 100 healing potions. Stock dried fish and veggies.
Time to play alchemist.
In the Loengrin Empire, magic's a noble pursuit.
100 geniuses lead 100,000 normals. Talent rules all.
Nobles once monopolized it, but the founding emperor flipped the script. Now anyone with magic talent can aim for nobility. Geniuses' domain.
Well-off commoner parents send kids to academies for early magic training. They cull the gems, send 'em to Jefrin. Jefrin polishes the stars.
Surefire path for commoners to nobility. Red dragon in your backyard odds. But not impossible, so droves grind into Jefrin labs daily.
Magic's a long, arduous study.
Undergrads do 4 years basics. Learn up to 7th-tier of 9 tiers.
Start with 9th-tier Light, end with 7th-tier four-element bolts: Stone, Fire, Water, Wind Ball. Counts as major, get diploma.
Talentless nobles or commoners graduate here, become mages for rural barons or viscounts.
The gifted? Knock again.
Vow lifelong study, or get hooked by profs' research. Bypass undergrad, make magic their home.
5th year on, till mastery. All-nighters aiding experiments, churning papers. World calls them:
Da—greater purpose.
Hak—striving to learn.
Rin—home in learning's hall.
Saeng—life devoted.
Magic graduate students.
Graduate? Minimum central duchy earl house. Max: imperial mage corps or Jefrin assistant prof. They grind nonstop in magic halls.
"Ughhh..."
"Grooo... Grooo..."
Endlessly today too.
Polishing themselves.
Birds chirp after dawn.
Grad students? Before.
"Grooo..."
"Proo...fessor..."
Hell-crawling grad students' wails as they clock in. Couldn't help smiling.
'Hierarchy' world where 'academic feats mean legit status climb.' Official lore hypes Jefrin fortress-academy. Undergrad 4 years front-loaded, grad 3 back.
Not always 3—often 5, 7. Anyway. Pre-dawn arrivals? Mostly 'magic grad students.'
No bedtime, no wake-up. Lab and self merge. Stake life on prof's grant. Cram theses with meaning. Empire's future pillars shuffle in darker than dawn.
"Tough work."
"...Huh?"
"......Uhhh?"
Two grad students bumped into me.
Dead-fish eyes refocused blankly.
Ew, rotten. Week-old mackerel in summer sun looks livelier.
"Chilly dawn. Heading in?"
"...Yeah."
"You..."
"Wolfram. Wolfram von Loengrin."
"...Y-yeah. We know."
"But why here...?"
Confusion on their faces. Made me grin. Undergrads 1st-4th, especially young ones, spot me and recoil.
Older grad students? Curious first, not reject.
Grad student trait: curiosity? Whatever. They don't auto-shun. Plan's working.
Undergrad drama? Grads too busy surviving. Like privates ignoring barracks as discharge nears. These are reserves.
"Chilly out. How about a cup of soup first."
"Uh... Huh?"
"Soup...?"
Soup.
Fancy name for pollock soup.
Last night, hot water flask with stock veggies and fish jerky, boiled down, salted. Tastes like pollock soup.
Early morn. Gut twisted from brainwork. Lab exit or dorm commute—hot broth calls.
For them: steaming pollock soup bowl.
Too good.
"Brewed it myself for you dawn laborers for the Empire. Not scalding—nice and warm."
"Huuuh, groo, ...grrooooohhh."
"One cup: 10,000 rin."
"Th-that's steep..."
"Refills."
"......Uh."
"Up to three. Basically 3,000 rin a bowl."
We communed with eyes.
They pulled ten 1,000-rin bills. I handed paper cups and ladle.
"Huuuh... Melts..."
"Kuuuuh... Haaaahhh... Kuuh!! Good. So good."
Thought it'd be hot, blew tentatively. But I dialed it precise: 'gulpable in one go.'
Grads gulped cup after cup of Wolfram special pollock soup. Vitality returned sip by sip.
"Whew. Thanks."
"...Whoa. Feels alive. For real."
"Glad future pillars enjoy. Study hard."
"Y-yeah..."
"So good. Anything special... in it?"
"Hm?"
Post-sip suspicion. They eyed me.
Villain student prez. Expecting poison?
"What, think it's spiked? Yggdrasil inspection now? All safe ingredients. Swear on the imperial house."
"Ah, right. Yeah."
Prince invokes house—they nod.
"We'll head out then..."
"Really hit the spot. Thanks."
"Sure, but."
"Yes? More to say...?"
"Nah. Lab research drains mana, right?"
"Y-yeah."
"Look here."
"Huh? ...Oh."
I nodded at hot flask beside shelf.
Rotten piles of convenience store candy. One paper cup.
Luxurious script sign:
"Wanna try?"
"...Ha."
"This guy...!"
Hooked on the bait, grads carefully packed individually wrapped candies into the cup.
This fervor, effort—fuels Loengrin? Mage-tech designs, intellect cramming candies. Handing over stacks of bills. I smiled.
"Your Highness. Taking the candy."
"Heh. Underestimated grad students."
They stuffed pockets full, eyed me triumphant. I shrugged like defeated.
Off to lab, proud. Pitied their backs, clucked tongue.
Happy's what matters.
Shrugged, tallied candy and soup profits.
Nice.
Profitable.
Very.
"Heh, hehehe."
Grinned unwittingly. Birds chirped.
Chirp. Chirp chirp.
Dawn broke after those two.
Grad students trickled toward magic hall.
Glassy-eyed, zombie-like.
I grinned at them.
"Nonstop nation service today too! Warm soup here, unlimited candy takeout!"
My shout halted them dead. Slowly turned, approached.
Damn, not a zombie flick...
An hour later.
"...Uuuh. Th-thank you. So much... Warm broth... First since academy... Heh, hehehe... Hic."
"Uwooo... Thanks... Really... Thanks..."
"Careful going in."
Last grad entered lab. Empty flask, bare candy shelf. Truth dawned.
"Even if I pursue scholarship, never become a grad student."
Dead serious.