Black Market Lecture Seats
I perched on a haphazard stack of crates on the bridge, watching the passersby come and go. I channeled mana into the ring on my finger. 25 points. A sigh escaped me. That damn ham and beer. The taste still lingered in my mouth. It had been an unexpected expense.
While eavesdropping on conversations in the tavern, I'd gotten a rough sense of the city's prices. Items that cost ten mana stones outside went for less than a point here. Yet the ham and beer had set me back five points. Damn, there was ripping people off, and then there was this. I wanted to grumble about it, but deep down, I had to nod in agreement. For that flavor, five points was fair. Thinking I'd stay here a few days, I'd checked lodging costs too—they were ridiculously high. An inn room ran five points a day, or a hundred for a month. Either way, after blowing all my points on beer, it was a heavy burden for me.
And to head up to higher floors, you needed points too. The lowest level was free to enter and exit, but the tolls piled up the higher you went. In the end, every conversation boiled down to one thing: I needed points. Points.
It hit me anew just how monumental an opportunity it was to stay in the professor's tower. This Stalactite City was basically a refuge for mages who'd fled sky-high surface rents. Countless mages scraped by down here in the underground. But I'd entered the university and immediately taken up residence in the professor's tower, steeped in its potent mana. Without her, I'd be wandering the streets like them—or worse, since they were all stronger than me.
A surge of profound respect and loyalty welled up for the professor. To think I'd misunderstood someone with such a vast, kind heart all this time. Well, she'd always treated me well, always so gentle and... hmm. No matter how I pictured it, a broad-minded professor didn't fit. She was petty and loved nitpicking. The respect and loyalty fizzled out fast.
I let out a sigh. What if she decided to charge me rent? From what I'd seen, she'd absolutely do it. Sighing again, I stood. Time to get moving, at least. First things first: submit Professor Irian's lecture syllabus. Along the way, I could scope out the requirements for Professor Heisen's class. Following the tavern tips, I headed to the registration office.
[Unified Registration Office]
It was one of the largest buildings in the city center. Not just for course registrations—all paperwork in the city funneled through here. Beneath that sign, a massive line of mages snaked along. Must be the enrollment rush. Lines stretched long not just on this lowest floor but up in the higher levels too. New students had about a month after admission to register, and a week had already passed—three weeks left. I had to sign up for Professor Heisen's lecture within that window.
But where the hell was I getting those points? Sighing, I joined the long queue. I waited patiently for ages. Some mages, confident in their strength, cut in line, but I stayed quiet. No desire to draw attention, and no guarantee I'd win. The line shrank steadily. I cautiously pushed open the building door and stepped inside.
The interior buzzed with people. Ten counters, each manned by a clerk handling the crowd. I picked the shortest-looking line and waited for the person ahead to move. It dwindled bit by bit, and folks lined up behind me. Here, maybe due to prying eyes, no one cut. Processing took time, so this line dragged on.
When my turn came, I sat in the chair before the counter. The clerk greeted me with a smile—a woman brimming with polite warmth.
"Hello. Arcana General Merchant Association, 5th Division Customer Service Department, probationary clerk Hwaryeong. How may I assist you today?"
"Good day. I'm here about course registration."
I bowed my head politely. She was much stronger than me. By a lot.
"Understood, questions about course registration. Are you planning to enroll in a specific professor's lecture?"
She smiled, but it felt rehearsed and stiff. Her eyes stayed cold, not smiling at all. Cold sweat trickled down my back. Cautiously, I named Professor Heisen.
"Hmm, one moment."
She manipulated her mana, pulling out file folders to scan. Soon, she extracted one and handed it over.
"Professor Heisen's lectures get rave reviews. But many can't keep up with the difficulty, so enrollment is low. That's why the fee is a bargain at 5,000 points—cheaper than most."
I froze, clutching the paper. Five thousand points. An insane sum.
"Capacity is three hundred, with eight hundred applicants already. After submission, individual reviews happen, and results post after the enrollment period. Come back then to check."
Eight hundred applicants already? And the period had just started—way over capacity. No refunds if rejected, either. More would pile on. And the biggest issue: I didn't have the points.
As I sat speechless, her eyes narrowed. The smile faded. Her mana sharpened, gathering in her hand—visible killing intent.
"Short on points, perhaps?"
Thick malice dripped from her words.
"Ah, haha. No, just inquiring, as I said. That's not the main thing. This is."
I hurriedly pulled a bundle of documents from my spatial pouch. Potent mana emanated from them. Professor Irian's syllabus.
She glanced, startled, then smiled again. Her mana softened instantly. The whiplash brought more cold sweat.
"My, may I ask what this is?"
"The syllabus for the lecture my professor is offering. Here to submit it. I heard you need to register for approval."
"One moment, let me verify."
She took it and stood, leaving the counter. Watching her go, I slowly unclenched my rigid body. She seemed connected to Hongryeong—her mana handling felt similar. A great house scion working as a clerk? Surprising, but fitting for a top-tier organization like Arcana General Merchant Association. Only elites got in.
She returned soon, her smile more genuine now.
"Sorry for the wait. I've reviewed the content. Shall I process it?"
"Yes."
"Confirmed: Targets are 1st- and 2nd-floor students, capacity two hundred. Five-year duration, one day every three months—correct?"
"Yes. All accurate."
The floor divisions sorted students by strength—up to twelve floors total. Good thing the professor knew the basics when we drafted it. We'd settled details like this together. With little prep time, we aimed for the easiest students first. I had pushed hard for that—powerful mages would crush me. The professor didn't care who attended as long as the class happened; for me, it was survival.
"Very well, processing as such."
"Does registration cost points?"
I asked cautiously. Might seem green, but I couldn't help it.
She smiled softly, shaking her head.
"No, points are only for student enrollments. Professors don't pay to teach."
"Thank you."
"Anything else?"
"No, that's all."
I shook my head. Time to bolt. Her sharp eyes now gleamed with interest in me.
"Thank you for visiting Arcana General Merchant Association, 5th Division Customer Service Department, probationary clerk Hwaryeong."
I stood carefully. She stared, smiling. I bowed and hurried off. That gaze lingered. Glancing back, she was still watching—despite the next person at her counter. I bolted outside, gasping for air.
Even I knew it was weird: submitting a professor's syllabus from the lowest floor. But no choice. To leave this bottom level for higher, I needed points. Which I didn't have. Back to square one: points. How to earn them? Two weeks left in enrollment—needed five thousand big ones. Recalling the tavern mages: they'd saved for two years working. No time for that. Still, hope flickering, I headed to the request broker.
[Arcana General Merchant Association]
It was another central building—the city's hub. Crowds streamed in and out. The vast space overflowed with paper: walls, floors, ceilings plastered with requests. Rip one off, another filled the spot instantly. I floated cautiously, scanning. Nothing worthwhile—just grueling gigs for peanuts. Made sense; legit requests wouldn't sink to this depth. Down here, folks took these, ventured out for hunts and gathering, scraped points for classes. Staring at the mountain of paper, it dawned: honest work wouldn't cut it. Needed quick cash.
Frustrated, I rummaged my spatial pouch. Just a few dolls inside—ones I'd crafted in spare moments. Sell these? Heavy sigh. Might fetch ten points tops. Absurd. Even selling my chest-strapped turtle wouldn't hit five thousand. I left the broker, wandering the lower level. Walking eased the frustration. What could I sell? Nothing. Empty pockets, no means. Damn, head back to the tower? She'd smash me for missing the class. But how to afford it? If only I could sell spots in her lecture.
I froze. Thought it over. Lectures... why not sell them? Recalled Heisen's: three hundred seats, eight hundred applicants. More to come, all desperate for a spot. Our treasure-hunt class? Even bigger draw. Who'd pass up instant riches? Professor Irian wouldn't care who attended. So reserving a few seats for myself...
Lately, these improvised escapes felt habitual. An unwelcome smirk. Not my style—I preferred meticulous plans. Ad-hoc fixes helped short-term but bit back later. But no choice. University life was nonstop crises. Stabilize first, then plan. Right now, I was just a leaf adrift on the wind.
At Stalactite City's heart loomed a colossal building, plunging into the abyss below, bottomless. The sign read Arcana General Merchant Association—the rulers' name. They bought and sold anything, rumor had it. They'd handle my offer. I queued calmly, reviewing: Could I pull it off? How many seats? Line vanished quick. I entered slowly.
Two paths: buying, selling. I took selling. Space warped; people gone. A small desk, person opposite. I startled back. Entry door sealed shut. The figure smiled. No escape. I sat warily, facing her. Studied her face: rehearsed smile, sharp eyes, brimming with interest in me. Hwaryeong again.
"Ufufu, we meet again."
She poured tea, offering it. Dazed, I sipped.
"After you left the Unified Registration Office, I moved here, figuring you'd come for points."
Bitter laugh. Caught good. My moves transparent.
Improv's downside: predictable.
"Here to sell class seats."
Straight to it. She beamed. Her smile didn't suit her.
"How many?"
"Price first."
"Of course. Arcana General Merchant Association trades on trust—leave the math to us."
She pulled paper, scribbling.
"Selling seats happens often. Professors do it, students too. Prices are set."
She wrote 5,000 points. Per seat?
"Value varies by target. 1st-2nd floor students? Slight discount."
Subtracted 3,000: 2,000 left.
"But treasure-hunting? High demand—add premium."
Added 1,000: 3,000 points. I swallowed hard. Three thousand per seat. Two would cover Heisen's fee.
"First lecture for Professor Irian, so base price. Good reviews? Next time, higher."
Higher? Later problem. Now, decide quantity. Watched her warily—eyes not right. Too many seats, and I'd expose my involvement. Already leaked too much—predictable path here. Could backfire.
"Two seats."
Six thousand. Out of two hundred, unnoticeable.
She nodded, smiling.
"Points now. Once buyers confirmed, we'll send their info to you, Ebron."
She offered her ring. Awkwardly, I touched mine. Mana flowed—points jumped to 6,025. Before joy, chills: how'd she know my name? Racked memory—no mention. Syllabus lacked it. Her smile turned eerie. She stood silently, hand out. I rose hesitantly, shook it lightly.
"Arcana General Merchant Association, 5th Division Customer Service Department, probationary clerk Hwaryeong. Thanks for the business."
I nodded warily, turned to leave—all senses on her.
"For future deals, find me. Submit this."
At the door, something dropped into my hand: small medal.
"Sure, got it."
Awkward reply, fled the exchange. In the alley, I slumped. Cold sweat. But shook it off. Not my first rodeo. Focus on what I could control. Back to the Unified Registration Office for Heisen's signup. Worried she'd be there—nope. Relief. Enrolled. Down to 1,000 points. Managed it. Class seats too, somehow. Checked time: felt like two days, but only six hours since arriving. So little time, yet learned how dangerous this place was—and how fragile I. Tired of harsh lessons. But weakness was the crime.
This score came from tricks, not strength. Did the professor send me to learn this? Clever beneath the simple facade. Probably wishful thinking. Anyway, sold the seats—no turning back. Just make the class work. Plenty points left—grab another beer? Gotta fill the belly for the brain, right? Excusing myself, I headed to the tavern.