Flowers in Both Hands: Dual Wielding #1

It had been roughly two weeks since Enrique’s raid on Ludens. Before we knew it, the end of March had arrived—the season when Ludens’s cherry blossoms burst into spectacular bloom.

“Victor, look at this! The old ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠school building is completely covered in cherry blossoms!”

“Indeed.”

The end of March at Ludens was a world drenched in blooming cherry blossoms. This was also the only time certain exclusive CGs could be obtained, making it a rather significant period in the game. Originally, the town crier Enrique would have stormed in after the blossoms appeared. The campus should have been loud and chaotic. Yet because we had already eliminated the Act 1 boss ahead of schedule, the end of March felt unusually peaceful.

“This spot looks good.”

“Let’s eat snow shaved ice! I bought two bowls!”

Once classes ended, students would drag out mats and claim spots in the park or beneath tree shade, gathering in lively groups to chat and laugh.

“Flower viewing… How enviable.”

Nike stared at the carefree students with genuine longing. To pull her back to reality, I spoke.

“We have no time to indulge in sentiment. We must begin business shortly. When others play, that is precisely when we earn money.”

“Right!”

We had lashed discarded desks together to form a makeshift stall. On it we stacked pre-prepared Luxury Herb Soup and snow ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shaved ice for sale. Because stock sold out almost immediately, we had to replenish and craft more on the spot—an added chore.

Jingle. Jingle.

The Rene pouch grew heavier. “Living frantically” truly described my current existence. This was my first time balancing academics and debt repayment simultaneously; I sometimes wished I possessed two bodies.

Still, the feeling was pleasant. Rene was accumulating at a favorable pace.

By the time the sun began to sink, Nike clutched a bulging pouch of Rene to her chest and giggled.

“Victor, we earned a huge amount today too! Let’s hurry back and tally it up!”

I returned to the club room with Nike and inspected the ingredient quantities needed for the next day’s sales. Herb grass appeared slightly insufficient, but we still had a considerable stock of snow lilies.

“We have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quite a few lilies remaining.”

“That’s because those friends from Class A keep bringing so many! They delivered ten stalks just yesterday!”

“You mean Diarmuid and Melvin.”

Ever since I had informed them about the Snow Mountain Labyrinth dungeon, the Diarmuid-Melvin duo seemed to enter it daily. Thanks to their steady supply of snow lilies, our inventory for snow shaved ice remained comfortably abundant.

“Nike, does mass cultivation of the lilies appear viable?”

“Ugh, no. They keep melting! It seems like a flower that’s difficult to grow anywhere except cold places. Even Rose says she doesn’t know much about it.”

Cultivating snow lilies would apparently require more time. For now we had no choice but to rely on that delivery duo for stock. I hoped to succeed in mass production before summer, when shaved-ice sales would surge.

Nike suggested, “Should I write Father a letter and ask?”

“Your father resides in the Reshguard Forest, correct?”

“Yep! My dad knows everything about flowers and animals!”

Nike was an earth mage. Her affinity for nature likely stemmed from everything she had absorbed while growing up in the forest.

Suddenly I grew curious about the father she occasionally mentioned.

“Nike, what sort of person is your father?”

“What sort of person… To be exact, I’m not sure he can truly be called a person…”

“Not a person?”

What did she mean? Nike began to mumble as if reluctant to continue, so I refrained from pressing further.

At that moment the door burst open.

“Knock knock! My friend Victor! Today’s quota has arrived!”

The giant warrior Melvin entered. Beside him, the handsome blond swordsman Diarmuid yawned lazily.

“Hello, Victor. I see Miss Nike is with you today as well. You look radiant as always.”

“……!”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

At Diarmuid’s effortless compliment, Nike flinched and hid behind me. Nearly a month had passed since she had tidied her messy hair and begun showing her face, yet her shyness remained uncured.

I addressed them.

“You usually arrive around sunset. Today you are two hours early.”

“The Snow Mountain Labyrinth is easy for us now! Ice Fang dies in one hit!”

From Melvin’s boast I could tell their levels had risen considerably. The cloaks and wrist guards crafted from Ice Fang leather now suited them well.

“Which brings me to this. Since we now have time to spare, we wish to challenge other dungeons. My friend Victor, do you know of any additional dungeons?”

Melvin’s question struck me as an excellent opportunity. These two should now be capable of gathering materials from the Tropical Jungle dungeon. With those ingredients, I could produce that particular beverage.

“I shall inform you of that later, along with a map.”

“Great! Then we’ll leave today’s share here!”

Melvin set a wooden box overflowing with snow lilies down in the corner of the club room. After more than ten days on the job, the pair already moved like seasoned professionals.

Smooth. Very smooth.

Jingle. Jingle.

I emptied the pouch and counted each coin with meticulous care. Money calculations must be exact. After finishing the tally…

“Victor, we earned four million Rene in just this past week!”

“Correct that figure. It is four million, three hundred fifty-four thousand, two hundred fifty-two Rene. Small amounts must never be disregarded. Catastrophe can follow.”

Ignoring even a few hundred could result in a declined card and the collapse of one’s entire economic cycle.

Regardless. Earning more than four million Rene in a single week was an impressive haul. At this pace—four weeks per month—we would reach roughly eighteen million Rene monthly. Over a year, that approximated two hundred million Rene. My goal of repaying two hundred million Rene annually was, in approximate terms, being met.

“However, it is insufficient.”

“I-insufficient? This much? I’ve never earned such an astronomical sum before…”

“At this rate we cannot repay the four hundred million Rene debt within a year.”

My personal target was two hundred million, yet our collective target remained four hundred million. Interest would push the figure higher. Five percent annual interest on four hundred million alone approached twenty million. Moreover, self-employment profits were never perfectly consistent. We might earn more in the future, but there would also be periods when we earned less.

“Even so, this is worthy of celebration. Today is Friday—shall we hold a dinner party?”

“Club dinner party!”

People break if they do nothing but work. No matter how urgently money is needed, one must preserve at least a sliver of leisure. Let us designate every Friday as dinner-party day.

“Victor, I’ll bring the ingredients!”

Nike retrieved herb grass, dried jerky, and a single egg from the corner. I skillfully prepared the 1-tier dish Luxury Herb Soup.

Perhaps because I had cooked incessantly for the past two weeks, I had acquired the Intermediate Cooking skill. Overall cooking speed had risen by nearly forty percent. I had become a true master; even veteran Chinese-restaurant chefs would have to step aside. Upon graduating Ludens, securing employment at a mainland restaurant would pose no difficulty whatsoever.

“…Delicious! So this is what other people eat every day!”

Nike scooped her soup with a spoon, visibly delighted. We sold delicious food, yet our own regular meals consisted only of dried jerky or cheap hard bread; her reaction was understandable.

At that moment Enio asked, “Victor, when do we have dessert? I mean the snow shaved ice.”

“……”

Instead of answering, Nike slowly narrowed her emerald eyes. She did not appear pleased that Enio had casually joined our club dinner. Enio frequently visited the club room after business hours to enjoy free food. Nike would grumble that “She never helps, she only eats…” but because Enio had been instrumental in securing this room, she never voiced the complaint openly.

To ease the tension between them, I presented my newest creation.

“It’s good. Sweet and refreshing.”

Enio’s spoon trembled slightly as she tasted it. Her reaction did not appear insincere. Even Nike—who had been eyeing Enio with displeasure—picked up her own spoon. Her complaints promptly dwindled.

“Delicious!”

This could be released as a new menu item. Provided we secured a steady fruit supply, of course. If the delivery duo successfully conquered the new Tropical Jungle dungeon, the matter would be resolved. The dungeon did contain a mid-boss, so it might prove slightly challenging for them…

“So this is shaved ice! It’s delicious! Better than snow!”

Was this Nike’s first time actually eating the product? She had mostly been selling it until now.

Then Enio asked, “Have you ever eaten snow? Miss Nike, does snow fall in the Reshguard Forest where you lived?”

“Yes! The western mainland is famous for its four seasons. When snow falls on the Reshguard Forest, it catches on all the sharp trees and…”

Nike’s emerald eyes sparkled faintly. Was it homesickness?

“Sometimes I want to go back. I wonder if everyone is doing well? I hoped to return during break, but I never made it home last winter vacation either.”

Home. The word made me think of my own. Not Victor’s home—Ha Seung-ri’s. For better or worse, I had been alone since high school. After my parents passed away, I had lived with fierce determination. I no longer possessed anything that could be called a hometown. There was nothing to miss.

In that respect, this Victor and I were perhaps similar.

Before long, the single bowl of shaved ice had vanished. Three people sharing one bowl made that inevitable. Yet everyone wore satisfied expressions.

As I moved to clear the empty bowl, Enio asked Nike, “Speaking of which, I heard there are terrifying monsters living in the Reshguard Forest on the mainland. Especially in winter, one must be careful.”

“R-really?”

“This is merely a rumor I heard, but… Miss Nike, your father…”

“Never mind that—let’s wash the dishes right away!”

The moment Enio tried to inquire about Nike’s father, Nike snatched the empty bowls and hurried to the sink. She began scrubbing them with unusual vigor. The behavior was undeniably suspicious.

The hour had grown a little late for dinner. While I organized various items alone in the club room, Enio—still seated in her chair—spoke.

“Victor, I didn’t get to tell you earlier. Three additional council members have given their approval.”

“I see. This concerns the weapon-carrying permit, correct?”

It was not bad news. Outside the academy—in places such as dungeons—weapons could be drawn without a permit. Inside the academy, however, the rules differed. Those granted permits could legally engage in ‘duels’ on campus. That duel system was rather interesting, but the explanation could wait. Enio seemed eager to pester me with more talk.

“By the way, Victor, your former fiancée confiscated the sword you once carried—Balmung, was it? I heard it could slice thick logs as easily as paper.”

Correct. Even within the game, Balmung had been an excellent blade.

“So even if you obtain the permit, you currently possess no sword at all?”

Was she teasing me?

At that moment, the long shadow cast by Enio’s chair stretched across the floor. From within it rose countless rods. To be precise, they were swords.

“You may choose any one of them. These are weapons my sisters and I seized through duels. If none appeal to you, you may take this instead.”

Enio plunged her hand into her own shadow. What she drew forth was a jet-black scabbard wrapped in sinister, coiling darkness. I knew the name of that ominous blade well.

“Tyrving. You produce quite the rare article.”

“Indeed. This is the original, not one of the replicas circulating in the market. A famous sword that does not fall short of the Arclight family’s Balmung.”

Famous sword? Demonic sword would be more accurate. The Demonic Sword Tyrving carried a continuous effect that drained ten percent of its owner’s maximum HP and mana each turn. A classic high-risk, high-return weapon—outstanding performance paired with severe drawback.

“What do you think? I can lend it to you. Of course, knowing you, Victor, you will probably refuse because it would create a debt.”

“No. I will accept it.”

“…I thought so. As expected… huh?”