Will This Actually Work?
Will this actually work?
"Sorry, but I don't think so."
Boom.
What was that? Thunder? I looked outside. The sky was brilliantly clear.
"Huh. That's new."
I muttered it to myself and turned my gaze on Pink-head—only to find her face gone ashen. She'd asked me to take her on part-time, and the moment I refused, her expression turned grave. I felt sorry for her. There wasn't much I could do about it.
"You know how it is. Business has been awful."
The shop was dead again today, idle to the point of boredom. Not a customer in sight, and I was supposed to hire help? I'd have to be out of my mind. I'd told Pink-head to drag a few friends by, but ever since she'd shown up with White-head, there'd been nothing to show for it. Honestly. I hadn't expected much from a girl with no gift for talking, and putting someone like that on the payroll was absurd to begin with.
"I-is that so..."
She'd clearly been counting on it. I felt a little bad.
"Why'd you want the job in the first place?"
That much, I was curious about. If you were enrolled at the Academy, you had to have some money, didn't you?
"Well..."
Pink-head squeezed her eyes shut and forced the words out.
"I need the money."
"Money?"
What, had she gone and gotten herself into debt? Of course not. Still, the question snagged—and with it, a memory flickered past.
"The Academy isn't only for nobles."
One line from the principal, and a prejudice I'd been carrying had cracked clean open. So was this girl one of the cadets who wasn't a noble?
I studied Pink-head where she stood with her head bowed. A grown man staring at a female cadet was an easy way to invite the wrong kind of misunderstanding, so I'd been careful about where I let my eyes rest. Looking closely now, I caught things I'd missed. Her uniform hadn't been pressed—the creases stood out sharp—and the cloth bore every sign of frequent washing, as if she didn't own a spare.
Hmm...
Not a noble. That much was certain. The thought had barely settled when a rather good idea struck me. If I put this girl to proper use(?), couldn't I earn a few points with the principal? A true educator like her would surely take it in good faith.
All right.
Decision made. Hiring her outright, though, was still out of the question, just as I'd said.
"Your name was Seria, wasn't it?"
"Yes..."
Thoroughly deflated. Just you wait, kid. I'm about to make you an offer that'll have those ears standing straight up.
"Out of the kids who sit through lectures with you, who are the ones with the most clout?"
"C-clout...?"
Damn. Asking outright who had the most money would've been too blunt, so I'd reached for a softer word. Maybe not soft enough.
"You know. The ones with good backgrounds."
"Oh."
She didn't have to think long.
"The princess, and Ekaterina, and Violetta, I suppose...?"
So she shared a classroom with the princess. A princess didn't need a background. She was the background. Still, she wasn't a customer I was eager to have. I'd spend the whole time walking on eggshells.
"Ekaterina—that's the one who came with you that time?"
"Yes, that's right."
That caught me off guard. Seria wasn't even a noble. How had she ended up friends with someone of that standing?
"So what's her story?"
"She's the daughter of the Grand Duke of the North."
Ah. So White-head was the Grand Duke of the North's daughter? A bead of cold sweat slid down my spine at an identity I hadn't seen coming. Now that I thought about it, she had been cold—not just in manner. When she walked in, I'd actually felt a chill. It was almost funny that I hadn't put it together on the spot.
"But why hasn't she—I mean, why hasn't Ekaterina come back since then? Did she say the dumplings weren't any good?"
"No! She liked them so much!"
"She did?"
She'd looked pretty indifferent to me. Still, they were friends. Seria would know better than I did. The Grand Duke of the North's daughter was nearly as thorny a customer as the princess, but whatever. We'd gotten off on the right foot. I could probably keep welcoming her.
"So, did she say she'd come again?"
"Um... well."
Seria hesitated, then spoke while sneaking a glance at my face.
"I'm sorry. I want to bring her, but money's a little tight..."
What kind of excuse was that?
"And what does that have to do with your wallet?"
Don't tell me someone was shaking her down. ...Why? What could the Grand Duke of the North's daughter possibly be short on?
"It's a little hard to explain.... Anyway, if I ask her, she'll definitely come!"
She sounded sure of herself, which didn't exactly inspire confidence. They must have had their own circumstances. Pry any further and I'd be overstepping. If Ekaterina did come back, that was fine by me.
Which left...
"Who's the third?"
"Violetta is... the daughter of the Eastern Naval Admiral."
The admiral's daughter. Then she'd have eaten seafood until she was sick of the sight of it, wouldn't she? That's what an amateur would think—that she couldn't possibly care about seafood anymore. But business belongs to the people who find the gap everyone else walks past.
"All right, Seria. I've got a job for you. Bring me results I'm happy with, and I'll give some serious thought to hiring you."
At that, her face lit up all at once.
Customers won't come? Then you make it so they don't have a choice.
Will this actually work...?
Half convinced and half not, Seria drew a stiff rectangular object from her bag. Dante had picked it out of the sundries corner—a stretch of shelf so crowded with things she couldn't identify that she'd never spared it a glance—and told her it was a bundle of paper you could take notes on.
She flipped through the notebook in a crisp, neat flutter, exactly as he had shown her, and every eye in the room snapped to her at once.
What is that?
The question rose on the cadets' faces. Ekaterina, for whom sitting together had come to feel natural—or more precisely, beside whom Seria had made a habit of claiming the empty seat—watched what she was doing without a word.
"Oh, this is called a notebook."
No one had asked. Seria explained anyway.
"Parchment stays thick and awkward to carry even after a workshop finishes with it, right? This has so many more pages, and as long as it doesn't get wet, you can use it for ages."
Ekaterina nodded in place of an answer.
"I bought one for you, too. Try it."
In truth, Dante had given it to her for free, same as her own.
"This is an investment. So you'd better make it count."
Turning his words over, Seria swore she would see the mission through. The other cadets, watching, only snorted. A commoner, hauling in some strange trinket.
Hmph. As if the Grand Duke of the North's daughter would use a thing no one can even identify.
Look at her, trying so hard to curry favor.
It was too early to give up. The moment the lecture began, she drew out a ballpoint pen to take notes. Scratch, scratch. While the other cadets dipped their quills in ink every time the nibs ran dry, Seria wrote the lecture down in one unbroken sweep.
Whoa.
Even she was startled by how easy it was. She glanced sideways and found Ekaterina already writing in the notebook beside her. With the ballpoint, of course.
"Well? Isn't it amazing?"
"It'll do."
From her, that was the highest praise imaginable.
"Hehe."
By the time the lecture ended, the eyes on Seria had changed completely.
What is that thing?
Some writing tool commissioned special from a workshop?
Impossible. Where would a commoner get the money?
They were dying to ask and biting it back for the sake of their pride.
It does look incredibly convenient, though...
Glancing at Seria's notebook, they looked down at the parchment spread before them. Stacked to the same thickness, the paper would have been sheet upon sheet. The parchment was a single page. The disparity hit hard. They had used parchment all their lives and never once thought it inconvenient—until a marvel this convenient sat right in front of their eyes, and there was no way not to feel the difference.
"I brought some food, too."
Break arrived, and Seria began pulling things from her bag. Most of it was snacks. Ekaterina swept her eyes over the spread, and disappointment flickered there for the barest instant. Seria didn't miss it.
"Sorry. He said dumplings are better warmed up, so I didn't bring any. Let's go eat some together next time."
"Mm."
The two of them worked their way through the snacks. Not one was anything less than delicious, and Seria's eyes went round with every bite. Ekaterina never said they were good, but she didn't turn a single one down, which was answer enough.
Eating in the lecture hall. Where exactly did she leave her sense of propriety?
Commoners. Honestly.
The watching eyes were anything but pleased.
But.
Then what does that make Ekaterina?
Her station sat far too high to lump in with a commoner's.
Idiot. That's just Ekaterina showing a commoner a little grace.
Fair. And look at that blank face. She doesn't actually seem to be enjoying it.
Isn't she always like that, though?
None of them dared say a word. There was no rule against eating in the lecture hall, not if you scoured the regulations until your eyes hurt. No one had ever done it simply to preserve the dignity of being noble. And yet Ekaterina—as close to the peak of that nobility as anyone in the room—was breaking the unspoken rule without a flicker of concern. The cadets had no idea what to do with that.
That was when it happened.
Ugh. What is that smell now?
A stench sharp enough to sting the nose flooded the lecture hall. Heads whipped around, and it didn't take long to trace the source. It was Seria.
...!
She was every bit as startled as they were.
Why is it this strong?
The moment she tore open the red bag—a shrimp printed across the front—the smell of the sea came pouring out. It could not, by any kindness, be called pleasant. The line between fishy and outright rank was razor-thin.
Urgh...
Caught completely off guard, Seria ducked her head, her face burning scarlet.
"Listen carefully. This one, you eat in the lecture hall. It has to be the lecture hall."
She found herself desperately curious what Dante had been thinking. Unless he meant to make a fool of her, why would he ask her to do something like this? Even Ekaterina was frowning.
Has she actually lost her mind?
She's a menace. She really is.
Someone go say something.
Murmurs rose from every side.
"Blech. Commoners eat things that smell like that?"
"If Ekaterina eats that too, her reputation is finished."
"God, that reek. It isn't coming off her, is it?"
Furious clear to the ends of their hair, the cadets didn't hesitate to make it personal. And so, while Seria sat frozen, unable to go forward or back, her hands trembling with shame—while every nose in the room wrinkled at the smell, even the one belonging to the girl who had caused it—someone said something no one had expected.
"Hey. What is that? It smells amazing."