Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Upperclassmen Don't Go All Out
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Tied up the subdued upperclassman nice and tight with rope.
"Senior! How could you do something so wicked? Your junior is disappointed!"
Pastel was disappointed in this senior whose name she didn't even know properly.
The senior, wrapped up tight just like Mira, looked utterly bewildered.
"What wicked thing did I even do?"
"You're even going to deny it?!"
Uwaaaah.
The textbook wicked criminal!
Brashness and immorality overflowing.
Pastel opened her mouth with a resolute expression.
"Senior, you did something wicked, uh......"
Gasp.
I don't even know what this senior did.
She glanced at the first-year who'd been chasing him. The first-year hurriedly answered.
"He found the secret warehouse. The senior happened to be inside and ran off."
Gasp, a secret warehouse.
Just the name screams wickedness.
"That's right! A wicked secret warehouse! Your junior is disappointed! In the wicked secret warehouse!"
Shivering, a wicked secret warehouse.
How many mana stone awakening agents could be inside? Her mouth was watering. She quickly swallowed and declared firmly.
"The student council will confiscate it right now!"
They dragged the senior to the secret warehouse. He couldn't walk because the bindings were too much, so they loosened just the part around his feet.
"Here?"
"Yeah."
Pastel arrived at a warehouse that didn't seem all that secret. It was a single unit behind the shopping district.
Out in the open like this.
"How did you get a secret warehouse? Don't tell me shady lobbying? A criminal network tied to the shops?"
"Just rented the warehouse."
The bound upperclassman looked sheepish.
Eh, no way...
Pastel, somehow disappointed, searched the warehouse.
Straight ahead was a desk piled with wooden boxes and sacks of awakening agent pills. One wall was packed floor-to-ceiling with finished boxes of the stuff.
"Whoaaa."
The perfect awakening agent production site.
This much food?
Her salivary glands tingled.
Pastel hurriedly wiped her mouth before anyone saw.
And shouted quickly.
"Confiscate it all! Confiscate everything!"
Her arms flailed wildly depending on her mood.
Confiscate it all into my stomach!
The awakening agent friends would want that too.
Oh yeah.
The upperclassman groaned in misery.
"Isn't that a bit much? These were expensive."
"It's punitive too!"
"Can't you let it slide just this once?"
"No exceptions! Right, friends?"
The friends who'd already been confiscated from nodded vigorously.
Pastel stared down the senior confidently.
"Senior! Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. But skill comes from honest effort. You can't rely on drug doping. It keeps you from honing your true potential!"
Ahem.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"That's a fair point, but hear me out."
The senior ticked off points one by one.
"No side effects, no addiction. But the effects are definite. The only issue is the price—otherwise, it's flawless. The professors already checked it out."
Huh, really? Actually a good product?
"Of course, it does feel like it carries the Order's know-how. Kinda shady."
The senior shrugged.
"But who cares. The Order's done for anyway. Maybe some survivor with the tech is peddling these? These are for promo."
A logical voice rang out.
"Small-time awakening agent dealing? Do we really need to crack down on that when the whole Order's collapsed? No. In life-or-death combat, is it wrong to use a drug with no side effects or addiction? No way."
Hm.
That makes sense when you hear it.
Hmm.
Am I misunderstanding this world's culture and history?
Is drug use not that big a deal here?
Was naive Pastel the only one freaking out over the word "drug"?
Come to think of it, cigarettes and alcohol are drugs too.
She tapped the demon sword rapidly.
Demon! Demon!
"That's right."
Gasp.
"Even the imperial elite soldiers use mana stone drugs. Very effectively. Even students focused on studies should consider it for combat commissions. Nothing's more important than survival."
Hmm.
Pastel's eyes trembled fiercely.
Why is this world like this?
Or am I the wrong one?
"But underestimating the Order's danger is wrong. You weren't born after its fall, so your sense of it differs. Confiscating these is justified. It's tied to the Order."
Oh.
As expected of the demon.
Supporting my "confiscate into my stomach!" plan.
Pastel regained her confident expression.
"Senior, you're wrong!"
She didn't know what the Order was exactly, but parroted the demon's words like a myna bird.
Chatter chatter chatter.
Ahem.
Shrug shrug.
The upperclassman listened, then hung his head.
"Fair enough, the professors' decision. Take it, sigh."
This is the persuasive power of the top written exam scorer.
Hehe.
"Friends, grab it all! Confiscate everything! Confiscate!"
The first-years bustled about.
Pastel turned to the senior with a smile.
"By the way, Senior, what's your name?"
She needed it for the report.
The senior's eyes, still bound tight, changed.
"My name?"
Suddenly, the ropes slipped off. The senior moved his freed hands casually. He pulled a black orb from his pocket.
"Of course I can't tell you. Why get in trouble?"
Eh.
The orb hit the ground. Smoke exploded.
Whoaaa.
Pastel, startled, freaked out at the onion stench stinging her nose.
Eueeek.
Her eyes burned fiercely. Tears flowed. Breathing hurt her nose.
"That's for you, so leave it out of the report!"
The voice echoed and faded.
Smoke filled the warehouse.
Uwaaaah.
What kind of onion smoke is this?
She flailed her arms and ran out of the warehouse.
Fresh air hit her. Coughs came one after another. Her eyes stung, nose ached.
Onion!
She unconsciously rubbed her eyes and jolted. Smoke residue on her hands got in them.
Burning pain surged.
"Waaaah!"
Pastel wailed in a whole new way.
"Waaaaaah!"
The chaos continued.
Onion smell wafted everywhere.
A calm voice came from somewhere.
"Good experience. You'll run into this in real combat sometimes. Experiencing it safely now is invaluable."
Zero-empathy merciless advice continued.
"Calm down and hold your breath. You don't need to breathe since you're beyond human. No ingredient will affect you anyway. Calm your mind. It's not dangerous."
What advice is this in my choking onion crisis?
Utterly wicked demon!
Demon of demons!
Pastel shouted through her tears.
"Cold-blooded! Shameless! Zero empathy!"
Total demon!
The demon itself!
The demon sounded flustered.
"Ahem, sorry. Right, you feel pain. Expecting you to endure it outside combat is too much. Don't rub your eyes—spread your arms. Blow away the residue with clean air. It'll pass soon."
Pastel spread her arms.
Wind, wind.
Then she flapped them frantically.
Flap flap flap flap.
Uwaaaah.
Couldn't hold it, so she spun around.
Spin spin spin spin.
Whoaaa, the world's spinning.
Pastel's spinning too.
Her balance wobbled, and she plopped to the ground.
Pastel lowered her dazed head. Her eyes and nose were red.
The onion smell still lingered.
Hate onions so much.
Worst ingredient in my life.
"I don't wanna eat those onions."
Ever.
Leave them out of my cooking from now on.
"Hm."
The demon pondered briefly.
"That'd make cooking tricky. No, eat a variety. Picky eating's no good."
Uwaaaah, cold-blooded.
The guy who sneaks ground anchovies into hamburg steak!
Who brazenly forces you to eat after getting caught!
Gasp, the demon itself.
Sometime later, things settled down.
Dustin, who'd rushed over, organized the friends and cleared the warehouse, recovering the awakening agents. Of course, he watched closely to ensure no one skimmed any.
Pastel, after washing her face, coldly and meticulously checked the scene. She double-checked, then marveled.
"Whoaaa! Clean work!"
Unlike Ellie, who excelled at paperwork, Dustin was made for fieldwork.
"Dustin! Dustin!"
Pastel chewed on chicken skewers she'd bought from a nearby skewer stand while washing up.
"You're a natural at handling people! Overflowing talent!"
Chicken skewer munch munch.
Dustin's expression turned subtly complex.
Doesn't like praise, huh?
So shy?
Understanding me will get it!
"We confiscated a substantial amount of awakening agents. Most got soaked during the warehouse takedown and had to be discarded."
Pastel reported, smacking her lips at the lingering premium candy aftertaste.
Professor Carlo looked up from the report.
"Got departmental cooperation?"
"Yes. We need joint action to catch underground deals. Root it out before it becomes chronic. Requesting faculty cooperation on this too."
He set the report down.
"No need for the student council to go that far."
"Pardon?"
"Re-analysis shows no issues with the ingredients. Small-time underground trading can slide."
Pastel was bewildered.
Eh, is that right?
Professor Carlo pulled files from his drawer.
Data on all students' external commissions.
Post-drug spread, commission quality rose, completion rates too.
Eh.
"Dependency's bad, but if they're paying out of pocket, no reason to stop them. No side effects."
The academy chose performance over student health.
Uwaa?
"What about the Order? Isn't it dangerous?"
"Worried because you're a Craft? We'll discuss it at the next faculty meeting. It's defunct anyway—no danger."
Professor Carlo pulled new files.
"More importantly, got an official notice from the Magic Tower. Routine exchange, nothing big, but student council should know ahead."
Pastel took the notice back to the student council.
Huh.
Reality's so cold.
She sprawled on the sofa, skimming the notice.
Simple content: Magic Tower coming soon for regular exchange as usual.
Hm.
"Ellie! Ellie! Magic Tower's coming—what exactly do they do?"
Ellie looked up from her quill.
"Probably freshman exchange. Skipped last year due to no newbies, but doing it now. Simple stuff—gather in the auditorium, watch, done."
Hee, got it.
Pastel secretly popped a pill from her pocket into her mouth.
Chewing without swallowing spread sweet candy flavor in her mouth.
Woooow.
Chef's mana stone cocktail.
Worlds apart from raw mana stones.
Her mouth corners slackened.
Ellie, nibbling her quill in thought, spoke again.
"Pastel, you're not just watching—you'll represent the freshmen in front of the returnees. Tough luck."
Huh.
Talent show in the auditorium?
Hee, sounds fun.
"What do I do? Sing a song?"
Woohoo.
Pastel's song incoming.
"Top written scorer, right?"
"Yep!"
Hehe.
Ellie said coolly.
"Academic debate then."
Academic debate?
Pastel pondered the words.
Academic debate.
Gasp.
Academic debate?
She bolted up from the sofa.
"W-what's the topic?"
Competent Pastel can handle it, right?
Something like admin work or practical administration.
Hm.
Not really auditorium debate material.
"Probably no field limits. Like the written exam."
Ellie rummaged in the student council drawer, found last year's topic.
—Discuss the defensive implications of wild boar habitat migration on the Great Forest ecosystem.
Uwaaaah.
Totally clueless!
Top written scorer Pastel, in big trouble...!