An Unexpected Storm

Perhaps realizing that entangling himself with these dangerous underclassmen any longer would guarantee he never survived to graduate from the academy, Bigstone hastily shoved on a gas mask and spearheaded the raid on the Red Teeth Mushroom farm without a moment’s hesitation.

"It’s not even shift change yet, why are you here alrea—gah! Wh-who are you?!"

"Shut up!"

Bigstone drew a glass vial from his robes and slammed it against the stone floor. Pshhhk! A thick, billowing cloud of vapor erupted into the air.

Inhaling the pink fumes, the watchman sputtered, clutched at his throat, and collapsed in a heap.

"Heh. Look at him go. That senior actually pulls his weight when it counts."

"He is a second-year, after all!"

"Fair point. Anyone who survives long enough to become a sophomore in an academy like this deserves at least a little credit."

Zhuang sounded genuinely impressed.

Weaving between the comatose, whimpering Red Teeth Mushrooms, Bigstone tightly bound wide strips of cloth around three of their wrists. The monsters were hauled out as lightly as featherweight sacks of flour.

The gas had been laced with Sleep and Dispersal reagents, while the cloth was imbued with Binding and Weight Reduction enchantments.

"Bigstone-sunbae has quite a few tricks up his sleeve!"

"If I couldn’t even manage this much, how in the world would I survive the sophomore meat grinder? There are lunatics running around slinging sword aura and carpet-bombing high magic left and right!"

"That’s true."

If you lacked raw combat prowess, you had to master alchemy and enchanting to act as a competent support. That was the only way an ordinary student could stay alive.

"I brought them, so the deal’s done, right?"

"Yep! I wrote down the exact location, so go check it out!"

"Hold on. I’m verifying the goods are actually there before I hand these over."

Rather than handing over the bound Red Teeth Mushrooms immediately, he demanded a verification procedure.

"Fussy, fussy. And here you are being a scaredy-cat."

"I’m fussy because I’m scared! What if you two scam me?"

"It’s fine. It’s only fair to accommodate a trading partner who feels anxious. It’s not like it’s difficult."

Besides, Bigstone-sunbae and I would keep seeing each other in Discernment class from here on out. If we didn't wrap this up cleanly and complaints cropped up later, lecture hours would turn awkward for both of us.

"See? Right there. Just go in through that gap."

"...Pushing the painting on the wall to slip behind the revolving partition? Where on earth did you find the nerve to pull something like that off?"

Bigstone stared in horror, clearly privy to the art gallery's darker secrets. Zhuang tilted her head, bewildered.

"Is something wrong with the painting?"

"If you mishandle a painting protected by the gallery’s security wards, every single statue in this room wakes up."

"Then can’t we just smash them?"

I wondered if that was really an appropriate thing for an assassin to say, but Bigstone just scoffed and pointed at the surrounding statues.

"Those statues are commissioned guard sentinels, you know. From what I hear, some of them are graduation projects submitted by seniors."

"S-seniors?!"

Having witnessed firsthand the terrifying monstrosity of upperclassmen in the Secret Training Ground, Zhuang finally showed some genuine fear.

"Orknodi... Did you know about that?"

"Huh? Of course I did. It was written plain as day in the Room of Double-Sided Paper Strips: 'Countless treasures are hidden behind the art gallery’s paintings, but touch them wrong and the statues will awaken!'"

"How is anyone supposed to memorize all of that already?"

"Fair. There were quite a lot of notes."

"Wait... Room of Double-Sided Paper Strips? What is that?"

"Don’t worry about it if you don’t know."

Either way, the transaction concluded smoothly. Bigstone got his contraband moonshine, and I dragged the mushrooms back to the 3rd-year necromancer senior.

"...They are a bit small. But considering the swift delivery, I will overlook it."

"Thank you, Senior!"

The moment the senior declared his leniency, a notification chimed to announce the event's successful completion.

Out of nowhere, the Dark Cult route—which I had zero interest in pursuing—unlocked before me.

Too much pressure. I shouldn't even talk to him. He's the taciturn type anyway, so if I don't initiate conversation, it should be fine, right?

I gave a polite bow and turned on my heel to leave when—

"Wait," the senior called out in a raspy voice.

I really didn't want to engage, but I forced a bright, adorable smile as I looked back over my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"...Eat."

The senior placed a single piece of jelly onto my open palm. In stark contrast to the parched, rough scrape of his fingers, the jelly was squishy and soft.

"Wah! Thank you~!"

He might look terrifying and belong to a sketchy club, but he was actually a sweet guy deep down. Yeah, who cares if you're a bit cruel to monsters? As long as you're nice to people, you're a good person in my book.

My internal favorability rating for the senior jumped by about fifty points.

"Eat it now."

"Okey-dokey."

"Orknodi? Isn't that... kind of creepy?"

Zhuang looked visibly repulsed, but I popped the candy straight into my mouth without a second thought.

It was delightfully chewy and gummy, bursting with that distinct, nostalgic artificial flavor of cheap corner-store junk food.

"...Is it good?"

"Mhm!"

"If you join the Dark Cult... I could give you more..."

As I gave that offer serious consideration, Zhuang poked me sharply in the ribs.

"Dummy! How can you be tempted by treats?!"

"Hmph. But it's delicious..."

By its very nature, the Dark Cult held few regular meetings and rarely assigned public tasks. Every few months, only trusted apprentice members were promoted to full members, granting them entry to authentic rituals and true club activities. Most members didn't even know one another's faces—a classic secret society organized into compartmentalized cells.

"...Take one too."

"Ew, no thanks. I'm not joining."

"I am simply offering."

"Well, then thanks."

Zhuang tossed the jelly into her mouth, and her eyes went instantly round. She clenched both fists, squirmed in delight, and stamped her little feet in place. It really must have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been delicious.

For me, it was just the familiar taste of Earth junk food, but to a native of this fantasy world like Zhuang, the texture and flavor were entirely unprecedented revelations.

"...Zhuang. You haven't forgotten what you just told me, right? You aren't joining just because he gave you food, are you?"

"Tch. I know! I'm not that stupid."

A Dark Cult that recruited apprentice members with candy. A Zhuang who half-fell for it before barely pulling herself back. Truly an adorable club, and an equally adorable friend.

"Do you normally hand out jelly like this?"

I didn't recall anything like this from the game, so I poked him with the question. Naturally, the senior shook his head.

"You gave it to us because we're cute, right?"

At Zhuang's smug declaration, the senior brought his thumb and forefinger together into a circle. Hovering it right before her gloating forehead, he flicked her hard. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Thwack!

"Oww!"

"Not because you are cute. I gave it out of pity for underclassmen taking the same professor's course..."

"The same professor?"

A senior whose bizarre, eerie appearance screamed bona fide Dark Cultist. Only one instructor fit the bill.

"...Professor Sadako?"

The senior nodded. Zhuang's face soured with undisguised disgust.

"Senior, what class of Professor Sadako's are you taking?"

"Understanding Structural Conflicts of Interest with Undead Summons and Countermeasure Protocols."

"...Wow. Just hearing the course title makes me want to drop out. Why on earth are you taking that, Senior?"

"Because the professor is a beauty."

Zhuang beamed, waiting for him to admit it was a joke.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠senior didn't answer.

Zhuang prodded him with a suspicious squint.

The senior remained completely deadpan.

Gradually, the smile drained from Zhuang's face.

A bizarre, heavy silence settled over the corridor.

"I-I mean, it happens! Looks matter a lot! You can't fight animal instinct!"

Feeling an odd prick of guilt, I jumped in to defend him. Zhuang gave me a look of profound revulsion, but reading the room, she gave a stiff nod as if letting it slide this once.

Meanwhile, a theory hardened into certainty within my mind. Just as I suspected, beneath Professor Sadako's dripping wet, disheveled mop of black hair, a jaw-dropping beauty had to be lurking. Otherwise, how could a corpse-like professor attract face-simping groupies?

"Which part of her face was the prettiest?"

"Her mouth."

"...Really?"

"Her smile was exquisite."

Recalling the professor's signature bone-grinding cackle, I couldn't even fathom what kind of smile that could possibly be...

The harder I tried to picture it, the more chills ran down my spine. But we failed to realize something.

"...Setting aside the bond of sharing a professor, your diligence earns you one last piece of advice."

"Yes!"

"Raiding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Red Teeth Mushroom farms is tantamount to a declaration of war against the second-years. You had better prepare yourselves..."

That for these oblivious, happy-go-lucky freshmen, a truly chilling ordeal was about to unfold.

A gathering of second-year students from the 980th cohort—proprietors of the illicit Red Teeth Mushroom farms—had assembled in a secret chamber.

"Six of the Red Teeth Mushrooms from my farm are gone. Word is someone flash-froze them alive and hauled them off."

"On our end, they found grilled mushroom stems left behind at the scene. Someone fried them on an iron griddle and ate them right then and there!"

"Is it an upperclassman's doing?"

"No. According to my sources, the Dragon Principal assigned the freshmen a cooking practice task involving Red Teeth Mushrooms under the guise of culinary education."

"...Freshmen laid hands on our farms?"

"Are you serious?"

"Do those little brats think so little of us that they can just poach their seniors' property?"

As the thoroughly enraged farm operators raised their voices in fury, an uninvited guest stepped smoothly into the clandestine conference hall.

"My, my. What good does venting among yourselves do? The ones who need a sound thrashing are those sticky-fingered freshmen."

"Who's there?!"

"Outsiders aren't permitted in our meetings!"

"Who brought this guy in?!"

When no one stepped forward to vouch for him, the 980th cohort sophomores grew instantly guarded. They raised staves, drew blades, and gripped alchemical vials or hefty legal tomes.

Amidst the suffocating standoff, one student squinted before gasping in realization.

"Wait a minute! I recognize that voice! That's the Consultant! The guy who taught us how to build the farms, curated our curriculum lists, and advised us in exchange for Points!"

"What? So he's the mastermind who founded our Red Teeth Mushroom Growers' Association?!"

The very architect who introduced the sophomores to the lucrative culture of illicit mana farming, uniting them into an illegal cartel and orchestrating their secret meetings and underground infrastructure. The unofficial power behind the Red Teeth Mushroom Growers' Association—the External Advisor—had revealed himself.

"What's your game, you bastard?! If it's Points, you already milked us dry for your crime consulting!"

"I simply don't care for the freshmen's attitude. In particular, one of those brats interfered with my business."

The vicious contract scammer who trapped his classmates into errand-running and reduced them to virtual slave labor—Bellocasio.

In an ordinary playthrough, he would have ensnared an influential freshman figurehead in a fraudulent contract and manipulated them like a puppet. But this time, Orknodi's interference had ruined his scheme, leaving him with scraps.

Harboring a burning grudge against Orknodi for wrecking his racket, Bellocasio saw this mushroom uproar as an unexpected golden opportunity.

"I intend to teach those insolent underclassmen a harsh lesson. Care to join me?"

Bellocasio, the shadow broker of the 980th sophomore class. At his proposal, every single member of the Red Teeth Mushroom Growers' Association joined in without a dissenting vote.

A violent storm began to gather over the deceptively peaceful daily lives of the freshmen.