This Instructor Really Knows How to Teach (3)
Even after releasing the Midas Cube poison into the academy, Chrome felt no particular pang of conscience. Compared to the companies from his previous life that had inspired the idea, the Midas Cube's odds and its returns to consumers were positively angelic. As for the price, it wasn't particularly expensive for academy students from noble families, even if commoners might think otherwise. Among the rewards inside were magical tools and artworks that could easily dismiss a few gold coins as trivial. When one considered that a portion of the earnings went right back into restocking the next batch of cubes, the actual profit from simply selling the cubes wasn't all that substantial. Chrome's real income came from the ancient cubes students traded in lieu of money to purchase Midas Cubes, and the "wins" from those brought him far greater returns than ordinary cube sales ever could.
Of course, this was a method only Chrome could employ. Those who heard rumors of his academy exploits and tried to imitate the business model quickly realized the profits weren't nearly as impressive as they'd imagined. At the same time, they also discovered ways to "fix" the problem.
"Do we really need to keep the win rate this high? Even if it's one in a thousand, people will still buy."
"Filling out the middle-tier prizes costs too much. For drawing attention, just put a few good items at the top and stuff the rest with junk."
"No need to clearly disclose the probabilities. Even if we do, we can just fake them. It's not like anyone can verify it anyway."
"If we have employees pose as customers and rig the wins, we get free advertising without spending a dime. Isn't that perfect?"
As always, coming up with the original concept was the hard part; applying it was relatively easy. Merchants obsessed with profit quickly devised and implemented various "creative" applications of the model, and the results were spectacular. But when someone raked in massive earnings, it meant someone else was losing just as much. The victims' complaints grew louder by the day. Those with power or connections to the powerful crushed the protests by force, yet in the shadows, karma continued to accumulate steadily.
"So you're saying we're shutting down the business?"
"That's right."
Loto wore a dissatisfied expression. "But everything you just described is about the crooked merchants, isn't it? We're running things fairly, so it should be fine, right?"
"Once people get the idea that something's shady, everyone gets painted with the same brush. We need to slip out before that happens."
"The students are going to complain..."
"I'm not shutting it down immediately. I'll give them a few months' notice, so it'll work out somehow."
"What about my job!?"
"Didn't you already get introduced to various work by Dorf?"
"They don't pay in cubes over there."
"...I'll have a word with Dorf."
"Everyone, remember this. A cube is just like alcohol. It's fine as long as you stay in control, but being controlled by it is strictly forbidden."
Iris thought to herself that this was yet another piece of nonsense, but at least she possessed enough self-restraint not to voice it aloud.
"Understood, senior."
An eccentric. That was Iris's assessment of the young man named Chrome Midas. First and foremost, his competence was undeniable. His performance against the southern army and his exploits in the Mars Duchy were proof enough, but even without such grand events, watching him up close revealed an abundance of miscellaneous talents. His knowledge of magic, his major, was extensive; he was skilled in martial arts as well; and as he had claimed, his support abilities in various fields were more than sufficient. The same held true for his character. A man who had once been merely the son of a merchant had not only become a close aide to the imperial princess but had now risen to the status of a noble and lord of a vast territory. When someone climbed the ladder of success this rapidly, they tended to become either arrogant or complacent. Yet Chrome showed no trace of either. Whether this was his true nature or merely an act to reach even greater heights was unclear, but the fact that he maintained such an outward appearance was enough to warrant high praise.
In that sense, he was certainly an impressive person, but...
"Combat isn't about winning. It's about making your opponent angry!"
"Patience is a truly important virtue. If you show mercy three times, you can avoid killing. What that means is, if someone keeps acting up even after you've given them three chances, you can send them to the afterlife without any guilt on your conscience."
"What's the type of opponent you least want to face when you have a lot to lose? A strong person? Or someone who has just as much as you? No. It's a madman. Common sense doesn't work on them."
His way of thinking was... a little, no, quite unique.
"Lady Otrean, you're taking lessons from Baron Midas, aren't you? What kind of person is he?"
"I heard the students under the baron received tons of magical tools as gifts. He must be incredibly generous!"
"Haha. Hahahahaha."
What kind of person he was? He was a complete eccentric, nothing like what they imagined, and those magical tools were actually loaned items that had to be returned if you didn't place first. She couldn't bring herself to say any of that. All she could do was laugh.
Still, among the members studying under Chrome, Iris seemed to be the only one harboring such complicated feelings. Riverhill, who had initially taken a sharp attitude, had grown tired of Chrome's indifference and settled into doing only his own tasks. Quella, as always, displayed unwavering goodwill.
"Senior, do you have time this weekend?"
"I have quite a lot of work to do. I'm sorry."
"No, don't worry about it! We can just hang out next time!"
Chrome was something else for responding so flatly to such an aggressive approach from a beauty of that caliber, but Quella was equally formidable for remaining undeterred despite repeated rejections. A typical noble lady would have felt embarrassed enough to get angry or complain tearfully about how unfair it was, yet Quella's expression remained perfectly clear. That face looked as though she was overjoyed just to be talking with him. Even Iris, who had initially suspected some kind of honey trap, had no choice but to change her mind in the face of such sunflower-like consistency.
But right now, someone else's love life wasn't the important matter.
"You're telling me to learn magic?"
"Yes. I think it would suit you very well."
One day, out of nowhere, Chrome said this, and Iris couldn't help but be flustered. Suit her or not, she had never even studied magic before. What on earth made him so confident?
"But senior, I'm in the martial arts department."
"People often don't know their own talents. How would the fruit vendor at the market know if he had a heaven-sent gift for the sword? Trying it at least once isn't a bad idea."
"Still, trying to catch two rabbits at once might leave me with neither."
"Even if that happens, I'll make sure to provide sufficient compensation, so don't worry."
When he went this far, refusing outright felt awkward given Chrome's background. He didn't seem like the type to hold a grudge over a rejection, but one could never truly know a person from appearances alone. If she showed a reasonable amount of sincerity, he would probably give up on his own.
With appropriate flattery and financial resources, Chrome managed to lead his team smoothly through business dealings, but naturally, not everyone could employ such methods. While some first-year members had come to recognize their seniors' abilities through the previous assignment, others had been helplessly defeated by the princess's magical bombardment before they could even react. There were also those who harbored rebellious feelings, refusing to accept the situation. The academy had only been established for a few years, not long enough for the seniority system to command genuine authority. Expecting respect simply because someone had entered a year earlier was unrealistic. Why should they learn under commoners? Why should they call someone from a lesser family their senior? Why should a knight who had already served in their territory bow their head to some greenhorn? Why should they seek instruction from someone of another country, another territory, another faction? Differences in status, rank, national sentiments, family grudges, and political interests provided endless excuses, and the blood pressure of the second-years serving as teaching assistants rose rapidly.
The result was predictable.
"Doctor! Priest! Anyone will do, just get over here! Check the potion stock too!"
"I told you to bring a person, not a blue balloon!?"
"Violent incidents are breaking out all over the academy! First-year patients keep coming in!"
"P-Professor Istal. Shouldn't we stop this class?"
"Why? It's going well."