Chopstick Time
Judging by how thoroughly terrified Yui was, there was little danger of her brewing Berserk Potions anytime soon.
I had successfully severed the route where she peddled illicit enhancement draughts to desperate failing students to line her own pockets, which inevitably caused hordes of them to run wild in uncontrollable berserk rampages. 'Man, getting screwed over by the devs really does pay off eventually!' How else could I have headed this off if I hadn't already suffered through every sadistic twist myself? It was entirely thanks to the hard knocks of past playthroughs.
Whenever the second-tier NTR heroine Yui got demoted to the Lower Class for any reason, that cursed potion never failed to ignite a catastrophic incident. Had I not nipped it in the bud, an enormous uproar would have engulfed the campus. A second-tier heroine hovering in the twenties on the popularity polls would have found herself blackmailed overnight by an underworld syndicate and corrupted into a full-fledged villain. All of that grim fate had been neatly prevented by the diligent, virtuous hands of little Orknodi!
Is the next one over there?
Passing by the open-air grounds where Yui and the dolphin-shorts big sisters were sweating through their drills, I headed for the indoor Training Annex, which had just reopened now that the mosquito outbreak was settled. Tucked away inside this facility—frequented only by those Lower Class students with a healthy surplus of Points—lay the second dev-trap waiting to explode.
"I'd like to request a visit with the resident of Training Room 215, please!"
"If the occupant refuses, visitation is denied, little miss."
"Then please deliver this message as well: tell him that a friend of Cassia has come to see him!"
Cassia. Leader of Group C. Acquired electrokinetic. An artificial chimera organism. My poor friend couldn't even sleep in the dormitories and had to bed down out in the open, and there was one particular character tied to her who was developer spite incarnate.
"...Is it you? The one who dared speak that insolent wench's name to summon me?"
Prince Hector. The tragic prince of Troy, an impoverished southern kingdom bordering the Empire, and a figure wildly popular among female players. He was an NPC hailing from the exact same homeland as Cassia—and a doomed soul whose failure to beat her into the Upper Class relegated him to the Lower Class, or outright saw him disqualified and deported back home. Cassia's archenemy. Her irreconcilable counterpart. That was the identity of the blond young man glaring down at me.
Along the southern frontier of the Empire, amidst the cluster of petty states pressing against the imperial border, sat a powerless kingdom. Compared to its neighbors, it lacked natural resources, military prowess, and commercial vitality alike. In a desperate bid to survive, its rulers made a fateful decision: they would dispatch their finest talent to Gift Academy. They poured all their hopes into sending a champion to the world's premier educational institution, praying for the triumphant return of a prodigy capable of saving their motherland.
"I shall go."
Prince Hector took the stage. Through a duel against the candidate previously chosen by the nation, he proved before the entire populace that he was far superior to the champion selected by popular acclaim. Even though the chosen champion bearing their hopes was crushed, the citizens rejoiced. After all, the prince of royal blood—the heir most likely to ascend the throne—had proven himself greater than anyone's wildest expectations.
He challenged the special off-schedule entrance examination, a trial permitted solely to prospective applicants possessing a Numbering Ticket. Word of his acceptance soon reached the kingdom. Yet contrary to all hopes, he was assigned not to the elite Upper Class, but to the Lower Class.
The one who had bested him was an experimental subject bred in a tiny, obscure research laboratory within the Troy Kingdom itself—a creation nobody had expected anything from. When news of this broke, the fury of the kingdom's citizens soared to the heavens. Their resentment targeted not the Prince, but the candidate who had stolen the seat rightfully his.
"Nobody wanted you to pass!"
"Give back the seat where our hero belongs!"
"Drop dead! Withdraw from the Academy this instant!"
"Tear that wretched lab to the ground!"
Even the laboratory offered Cassia no support. They had merely agreed to surrender their test subject to the Academy in exchange for a staggering grant. The Numbering Ticket was simply collateral—nothing more than a guarantee to smooth over their transaction with the institution. Thus, no one stood to protect her. Not the laboratory. Not the kingdom. And certainly not Prince Hector, who had been pushed down into the Lower Class. Only the player knew the tragic backstory she carried.
Cassia really drew the short straw in this run!
In truth, the failure route was far kinder: if Hector had failed the exam entirely and been sent packing back to his homeland ahead of schedule, the enraged citizens would have torn down the laboratory, and tiny Troy would have eventually collapsed. Though Cassia would lose a homeland, she would also lose every reason to cling to people who were never worth protecting in the first place. She could have lived her own life. But if the Prince lingered at the Academy, Troy's ruin was merely postponed. Neighboring powers held their breath, reluctant to antagonize Hector out of fear that he might one day return as a continental titan.
As long as Hector stays here, Cassia will never know peace at the Academy.
The kingdom's bitter jealousy would fester, and Hector's venomous envy within the Academy walls would relentlessly hound her. The laboratory would exploit their past ties to exert control over her, while the royal court would demand that she shoulder the Prince's national duties since she had robbed him of his rightful place. It was a harrowing burden for a young girl raised in a sterile test tube. A miserable side route where callous adults bartered over the heart of a child who wished for nothing more than to meet the parents whose faces she could not even remember.
That was the destined future awaiting the character known as Cassia.
She really is a pitiful supporting character, in a totally different way from Hestia.
Though the Prince's malice was aimed squarely at Cassia, countless innocent bystanders ended up expelled or crushed in the crossfire. Because of this, experienced players launched elaborate conspiracies to have Hector expelled the moment they realized he hadn't failed the entrance exam. But veteran min-maxers didn't just ruthlessly discard him; they had forged an optimal route to exploit him instead.
"Do you hate Cassia?"
"Has she lost the nerve to face me herself, sending a mere child instead? How utterly pathetic. Yes, I despise her. That woman and I are mortal enemies. How could I ever forgive the wench who stole where I rightfully belong?"
"Even so, if you make a move yourself and end up expelled, all that'll happen is both of you getting shipped right back home together. You won't even be able to fulfill your dream of protecting your little southern kingdom, you know?"
Hector's expression twisted with visible discomfort. Still, what needed to be said had to be said!
"Cassia is a good girl. She deserves to make good friends. So if you've got a complaint, you'd better come look for me first."
"...Are you certain you won't live to regret this? No matter how feeble my homeland may be, you are making an enemy of an heir destined to inherit a sovereign crown."
"You'll be the one regretting it first, Prince. I'm pretty strong, and I happen to have a lot of friends."
Time to show off a little parlor trick. Right on cue, I spotted a tiny mosquito drifting silently through the air nearby. Now, that was something I simply couldn't tolerate. It's Chopstick Time!
I flicked my wrist, sending a metal chopstick flying with a sharp snap—thud!—and cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the solid stone wall. Buried deep into the masonry like a legendary holy sword, it sat mere inches from the Prince's ear. I casually sauntered over, slid the chopstick free from the stone, and puffed softly on the tip to blow away the squashed insect corpse.
"See? I'm pretty great at pest control, aren't I?"
"......"
"Pests like mosquitoes need to be squashed the second you spot them."
Oh, right. I dug into my robes, pulled out a small pouch, and pressed it into the Prince's numb fingers.
"I found this on my way here, and it's super yummy! I already ate one, so you can have the rest. Well then, I'll be on my way. Have a lovely time!"
I'd given him the stick, and now the carrot. Surely the Prince would behave himself now, right?
You have successfully seized the psychological initiative against Merchant Yui and Prince Hector.
Extortion EXP +5
Terror Induction EXP +5
Intimidation EXP +5
Bad Child EXP +2
Please exercise caution. If similar play patterns persist, the Bad Child trait will deteriorate into the Terrifying Child trait.
...Wait, why was my Bad Child stat ticking up? And what in the world was 'Terrifying Child'? Why wasn't Good Child going up at all?! I really couldn't fathom this game's logic.
Behind that cherubic visage lay the calculating heart of a viper. An infuriatingly brazen brat.
To dare threaten me...
Orknodi, was it? Hector understood her implicit message with chilling clarity.
Lay a finger on Cassia, and I will expose you as the culprit. If you don't wish to go down in flames alongside my friend, don't try anything clever.
I have the power to crush you as effortlessly as swatting a bug, and I have plenty of companions every bit as dangerous as I am.
Behave yourself if you value your life. To think anyone would dare level such extortion against a royal prince!
"Are you all right, Your Highness?"
"Your influence is truly magnificent, Your Highness! To hold a private audience with the co-valedictorian hailed as the strongest of our entire year... You are destined for unimaginable greatness!"
"What did you discuss with Orknodi? Did you hire that little assassin to serve as your henchman?"
These opportunists... creeping out from the shadows only after Orknodi had vanished, completely blind to the turmoil in his chest. Their obsequious chatter, dripping with fawning deceit, failed to ignite his fury. If anything, it turned his heart ice-cold. Under normal circumstances, he would have erupted in righteous indignation, but this encounter with Orknodi had sparked a profound shift within him.
Yes. I am the prince of a weak nation. In Gift Academy, where the continent's mightiest congregate, I am nothing more than a fragile insect. A weakling must never bare his fangs carelessly.
The foolish prince who had once reached for honors beyond his grasp had transformed into a calculating, cautious avenger capable of biding his time. The only moment a weakling is permitted to bare his fangs is when he is certain of ripping out the enemy's throat—a single, fatal strike that allows no second chance.
Now was not that moment. He was nowhere near prepared. With this motley rabble hovering around him, exacting true vengeance was an impossible dream. He had to become stronger. Both he and his retainers. If only to seize a proper opportunity when it finally presented itself.
Caramels... I have ears; I know what this signifies.
Caramel was the underground currency traded among students to barter for illicit deeds and dirty labor. Orknodi's offhand remark that she had already 'eaten one' was a refined, razor-sharp warning that she had already hired an operative for a covert mission. As expected of the chief scholarship student of the Foundation. She carries herself with the dignity befitting the mastermind of that sinister syndicate.
Though she was his enemy, he could not help but admire the sheer elegance of her threat. It bore the unmistakable polish of someone thoroughly trained in the psychological arts, knowing precisely how to manipulate force to instill pure dread—a masterclass in intimidation impossible to associate with an eleven-year-old child. Furthermore, by thrusting the remaining caramels into his hands, she had simultaneously attempted to humiliate and subordinate him under the guise of an offering.
"Wait, Your Highness, aren't those caramels?"
"Whoa... When did you manage to hoard so many?"
"I heard whispers of high-stakes underground gambling rings... Did Your Highness make a massive killing there?"
Compare her to these fools. Look at the naked greed oozing out from behind their reverent masks. If he attempted any grand scheme with pawns of this caliber, they wouldn't escape the watchful eyes Orknodi had planted. No, he would be fortunate not to suffer an immediate, catastrophic counterstrike.
"Cease all surveillance and rumor-mongering regarding Cassia at once."
"Pardon? But Your Highness ordered it just the other day..."
"The bait was just starting to take! A little more time, and we can drag her reputation straight through the mud! Please, grant us just a bit more time, Your Highness!"
"Silence! Before whom do you think you raise your voices? Are you defying my direct command?"
"N-No, of course not..."
"...We will call off the operation."
Watching his retainers openly sulk, Hector felt a profound sense of relief. Pawns like this would have amounted to nothing more than disposable fodder. He could clearly envision a future where his foundation was annihilated overnight, leaving him utterly isolated once more. No matter how pathetic they were, those who swore fealty to him needed to demonstrate steady growth and reap tangible rewards rather than collapsing into ruin. Only then would more Lower Class students realize that submitting to his banner was profitable. Given enough time, he might even recruit genuine prodigies.
Therefore, he would endure. He would treat this pouch of caramels as an official war chest, focusing for now on cultivating his own strength and that of his retainers.
"Even at this very moment, the Upper Class students are growing stronger. If we ever hope to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, our efforts must never fall short of theirs. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"Good. Return to your training rooms immediately. From this hour onward, both intensity and duration will increase by one tier."
Through Orknodi's intervention, the catastrophic event poised to crush Cassia was safely deferred—postponed alongside the inevitable rise of Prince Hector and his retainers.