Chapter 28
It was just a careless remark, but the air in the classroom froze solid in an instant. The professor, the students, even the guy next to me who'd been shaking my shoulder to wake me up moments ago—all of them had dumbstruck looks on their faces.
What the hell? Did I say something wrong?
Fantasy worlds might operate on different economic principles. The professor stared at me blankly for a moment before opening her mouth coldly.
"Explain your reasoning, Cadet Ian Ashy."
I'm screwed. If I don't explain this properly, she's liable to kick me out.
I should've just said I don't know.
I'd tossed out a half-asleep answer too casually. No choice now but to dredge up every scrap of middle school economics I could remember.
I rubbed my bleary eyes, glanced at the blackboard, then back at the professor.
She's pretty? No, focus.
"Assuming we exclude all other variables for simplicity."
I strode forward confidently and picked up the chalk.
"For example, suppose both countries have 100 workers each."
"What is this, math class now?"
"Art Department kids can't even tell math from political economy, huh. What a show."
Yeah. I'll remember your faces and get revenge later. I'll draw you as the NTR'd protagonist in my manga...
I ignored them and continued.
"Let's quantify the professor's premise too. The Empire produces twice as much wheat and three times as much iron ore as the Rom Kingdom?"
"Rom."
"Right. Rom Kingdom. So, one Empire worker makes 2 wheat or 3 iron ore. One Rom worker makes 1 wheat or 1 iron ore."
Scribble scribble. As I wrote the numbers on the board, the sneering jerks started shutting their mouths.
"If they each split production evenly to meet their own needs—Empire: 100 wheat, 150 iron. Rom: 50 wheat, 50 iron. Total: 150 wheat, 200 iron."
[Wheat: 150]
[Iron Ore: 200]
I drew a long line under the 150 and 200.
"But labor is finite, right? So what you give up to make one thing becomes crucial."
The professor's eyes sharpened. Oh. She's getting interested now.
"Empire labor that makes 2 wheat can make 3 iron instead. So, making 1 wheat costs 1.5 iron ore."
Tap.
"Rom sacrifices 1 iron for 1 wheat."
"…!"
I saw realization flash across a few faces. Good. They're catching on.
"So, the cost of making wheat is lower for Rom. Iron is cheaper for the Empire."
I drew a big arrow on the board.
"Empire should go all-in on iron, Rom on wheat."
"……."
"Even split gives 150 wheat, 200 iron total. But Empire all iron, Rom all wheat: 100 wheat, 300 iron."
Someone in the back shot up their hand.
"Wait! Wheat drops!"
"Yes. But iron skyrockets."
I nodded.
"Key part next. Set the right trade ratio, and both get a better mix than self-sufficiency."
With sleep fading, words flowed smoothly.
"Say, 1 wheat for 1.2 iron. Rom profits over making their own iron; Empire over their own wheat."
Opportunity cost difference. Why even vastly superior nations trade? Straight out of the Korean textbook.
"It's not 'Empire's better at both, why trade?' It's 'What hurts Empire least to make? Rom?'"
The classroom went dead silent. The sneering faces were all blank. Even the professor was speechless for a beat.
What? Did I mess up?
Eh, whatever. This should cover sleeping through class.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow, elegant applause echoed from the back. I whipped around reflexively.
"…What."
By the sunlit window stood the flashy black-haired villainess, clapping gracefully with gloved hands. Her wine-red eyes curved in stunning admiration.
Judith La Roche. Why the hell is she here?
"A truly perfect explanation."
Her smile broke the frozen air. Students buzzed belatedly.
"Huh, what?"
"That actually makes sense?"
"The art bum?"
"Wasn't that explanation super clean?"
Someone started clapping too. Soon, applause filled the room.
Clap clap clap clap!
What is this vibe? Even the professor, who'd eyed me coldly before, joined in.
"A very thought-provoking answer, Cadet Ian Ashy."
Don't make that 'thought it was a pebble, turns out a gem' face!
Class ended, and I bolted outside. Classroom's dangerous!
Lena caught up immediately.
"You—when did you even learn that stuff?!"
I shrugged, deploying my prepared excuse.
"Read it in the library."
"You?"
"Why? Can't I read books?"
"Not that you can't—hard to believe. Ian Ashy at the library."
This feels less like childhood friend, more like bro. Praising your pal's win? Nah, roast instead. Makes me feel extra wronged. Just getting beat on by my bro.
Lena saw my face and dug in gleefully.
"Look at you? How'd Ian Ashy spit that out on the spot? Art kid too. Can't do anything but draw. Something's off. World's broken."
"Artists don't eat? Economics is always the issue, Lena."
"Hmmm~"
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously—a habit when she sensed something embarrassing.
Her lips twitched.
"Not that... but still! You were totally cool ba—"
"Totally what?"
"Ack."
Lena scowled suddenly.
"I hate that girl."
Hate? Who—
I turned slowly. Black hair fluttered in the breeze. Beneath, wine-red eyes curved like a crescent moon. Decadently serpentine beauty that stole your breath.
"Ah. Damn it."
Judith La Roche had arrived.
Lena spoke fast.
"I'm out first."
"Hey, take me with you."
"Rooting for you, Ian Ashy."
"You traitor—"
I grabbed for her wrist... but.
Whoosh. My sleeve got caught instead.
"Oh my. You two must not have seen me. Otherwise, you'd never pretend to ignore me."
Whoa. She emphasized 'ignore' like a true villainess. Scarier smiling than yelling.
"Lena had urgent business."
Upheld bro code. Not because no printing materials means no Rune Press—loyalty, pure loyalty.
"Aha—"
Clack. Judith stepped closer, beaming.
"Meaning you saw me and pretended not to, Ian Ashy."
"…Ah, haha."
"Fleeing eye contact with a lady."
She laughed elegantly.
"No manners, Ian Ashy. Quite rude."
Squeeze—ow, ow. What girl has this grip strength? Worse, her house, talent, viciousness—all top-tier.
…Big trouble.
How to escape? And why's she so gorgeous on top?
Ah. Idea.
"I actually run from anyone too pretty."
"…Pardon?"
"Scary, y'know."
Her eyes twitched faintly; she released my sleeve to cover her mouth. Then, villainess cackle: ohoho!
"You say I'm scary, but mean it as praise. Ian young master sure talks well."
No. You're just weak to old-school flirting. Her eyes curved like crescents. Too pleased? Balance it.
I stiffened.
"So, what brings you here, Lady La Roche?"
"No need for stiff titles between us. Call me by name."
"Got it, Judith."
"……Pfft."
Why laugh? You asked.
"At least add the title? Just the name makes us sound like we're dating."
"Lady Judith."
"Oh? So you don't want to date me? Rejecting me?"
I glared meaningfully—what do you want?!
She deflated with a pffft.
"Your reactions are so varied. Fun."
Born to toy with people. Hope she doesn't see me as a plaything.
Time to push back.
"May I ask why you've sought me out?"
"Telling me to cut to the chase?"
"Isn't your time precious, milady?"
"Your manners flip every minute. On, off."
Same here. Every second tangled with the villainess shaves years off my life.
I just shrugged; she smiled lightly.
"That question from class you answered."
"Yes."
"It mocked House La Roche."
"……Pardon?"
I blinked dumbly. Whoosh. She snapped open a fan, gesturing at the classroom.
"That professor's Duchess Valentii."
Valentii. Rings a bell.
Judith explained kindly.
"La Roche specializes in trade and diplomacy. Valentii in internal affairs. Longstanding rivalry, still clashing subtly."
Her smile thinned.
"'Why trade with poor Rom?' Sounds political, but mocks La Roche's trade focus."
In short, I'd jumped into a duke houses' power play—and sided hard with La Roche.
…Screwed.
Just mumbling half-awake, and now this mess.
Judith smiled on.
"You saved my face."
"No, that's—"
"For my sake?"
"Hardly."
I shook my head vehemently.
"Absolutely not."
No matter what. Won't tangle with Judith. Especially not duke politics!
…Too harsh?
She didn't seem offended. More satisfied.
"Even that attitude's appealing."
"……."
"Sick of flatterers."
She stepped closer. Rose-like perfume wafted.
"One thing. If you need a favor, say so."
I do. Keep me away from you. But voicing that? I'd be the lowly noble defying a duke—fair game for execution.
So.
"No favors needed."
"Might later."
"I'm fine. Handle things solo."
"Hmmm. Rejecting a lady's goodwill isn't polite. I have pride too?"
Yes. Oceans of it. Still, no means no. Better bruise her ego than future doom.
I averted my eyes; she widened hers in surprise.
"…You're serious. Fine then."
She stepped even closer. Heavy rose scent. Wine-red eyes looked up into mine.
Her lips parted sweetly.
"Tell me if you think of something."
Judith's eyes curved gracefully.
"Whatever it is."