Troublesome Customers (2)
Piiiieeeeeek—! An ear-splitting mana alarm tore through the entire academy. Moments later, the thunderous thud of heavy military boots shook the earth as soldiers poured into the open lot in front of the store.
"All hands, weapons up! We've got an assault by at least an archmage-level terrorist!"
"Deploy defensive formation! Check for survivors!"
Heavily armed knights from the order and academy instructors burst in, swords and staves drawn, eyes blazing with killing intent. Tension etched every face. It stemmed from the unprecedented mana surge detected at the academy outskirts.
But the sight that greeted them was anything but terrorism. No, if anything, it was tragic(?).
"Sob... sniff... I'm sorry... *sniff*."
A crater half the size of a person gouged the front yard. At its center, Edelin—the academy's top theory student—barehanded rocks and debris, a massive lump bulging on her head. Her face was smeared with dirt, uniform in tatters.
"Student? Edelin! You okay? What kind of attack was th—!"
The senior instructor started forward in horror—
"Hey. Clear that big rock. Gotta level the ground."
An indifferent voice drifted from inside the store. Every gaze snapped to the source: the rundown shop, spotless without a speck of dust, its glass windows gleaming like freshly polished. I stepped out broom in hand, face sour. At my bark, Edelin whimpered "Y-yes..." through streaming tears as she hauled the rock. The instructors gawked, eyes flicking between the store and me.
"And who the hell are you?"
I slung the broom over my shoulder. "Store owner. You the ones in charge here?"
"W-well, yes, but—"
I fished pen and paper from my pocket, scribbled, and jammed it against the instructor's chest.
INVOICE
Front yard tile repair & business disruption compensation: 10,000 gold
The instructor's jaw dropped in disbelief.
Academy main building, temporary interrogation room.
Shouts of disbelief from the magic faculty professors echoed beyond the door.
"Impossible! Circuits blocked for 20 years, now perfectly opened to 3-circle?"
"Without a trace of friction heat? A miracle! What the hell did you feed her?"
Edelin's awakening had the academy brass in an uproar. But the two senior instructors before me sweated bullets, fixated on a different issue.
"Mr. Hakan, was it?"
"Yeah."
"What we're really here about isn't Edelin's awakening."
The lead instructor gulped dryly and slid over a mana measurement report. "Accidental 3-circle explosions from senior students happen now and then. But... the real reason for the top-level alert wasn't that."
His eyes trembled faintly. "The moment of explosion, that colossal power enveloping the store. Our academy sensors couldn't even gauge the limit—an 'incomprehensibly transcendent magic' was detected."
"......"
"Like it could shrug off half a continent blowing up... 9-circle, no, beyond. What was it?"
I tsked inwardly. Hating the thought of shattered windows, I'd unconsciously thrown up a barrier. New continent rubes—magic's shit, but their detectors are hypersensitive as hell.
But after 99 loops, I had excuses stacked like cordwood.
"Just a cook from across the sea."
I shrugged innocently. "Put some weed from home in the bread instead of parsley, kid scarfed it down, got indigestion, belched—how was I supposed to know?"
"A belch caused the explosion?!"
"Young guts are fragile. Indigestion's a killer."
I played it cool. "Magic? No clue. Hid under the counter scared shitless when it blew. Your school's got ancestral blessings or something."
Stone-cold poker face. No spell interrogation cracks my mental fortress—not even gods could. They'd never pry the truth.
"But that massive mana flow was clearly...!"
"Whatever."
I thumped the desk and shoved the invoice forward again. "Cough up the bread's 1 gold and yard repair. Gotta get back to business."
Before the tyrant's gall, the instructors just gaped like dumbstruck fish.
Next day, lunchtime.
My peaceful retirement shattered in a single day.
"Mister! Two loaves!"
"Line up! I was first!"
"Bread from the foreign mister opens your mana circuits!"
The rundown store at the academy outskirts. Yesterday's ghost town now swarmed by hundreds of zombie-like students in pandemonium.
Rumors spread faster than light. Word that mana-dead top student Edelin ate store bread and hit 3-circle archmage (half-true) drove them feral.
"Haa..."
I leaned on the counter, half-shutter down, sighing deeply.
Spirit Grass was the last batch in yesterday's bread for Edelin. Now? Just flour, water, cheap sausage—utterly ordinary loaves.
Then a freckled boy thrust shaking hands with 1 gold. "M-Mister... this really lets you use magic?"
Dead serious face. I snorted. "Nah. Just bread."
"Liar! Edelin ate this and awakened!"
He ignored me, wolfed it down, clenched eyes, thrust hands forward.
"Fireball...!"
Whoosh—!
A head-sized fireball bloomed from his fingertips.
"Huh...?"
Even he looked stunned. I stared blankly too.
...Huh?
I blinked. That was plain flour and cheap sausage bread?
Why the hell did that work?
"It worked! I cast fire magic!"
"Wooooaaah!"
The hundreds behind erupted like a cult revival.
"Miracle elixir!"
"Mister forever! Bread forever!"
I scowled hard.
No miracle. Kid had latent talent, just lacked confidence to manifest mana. The "eat and awaken" rumor bread sparked it—pure placebo effect he conjured himself.
"Please, three loaves, mister!"
"Mister! Hey, mister!"
"Mister" from every direction. Healing quietly? Now swamped, primary piss-off hit; "mister" piled on secondary rage.
"One per person. Prepay. No refunds."
I slammed the counter, aura flaring murderous. "And fuck, call me 'mister' one more time, I'll smash your legs with the cutters."
The air froze subzero. Students snapped to rigid lines like fresh recruits.
Tyrant's rule worked wonders on store ops too.
Deep night after daytime frenzy's storm.
In the quiet store kitchen, I rolled my stiff neck.
Crack. "Haa, such a pain."
Shelves picked clean, not a crumb. Routine: haul discard bread to back alley.
Since opening day on this new continent, some beast prowled the trash bins. Like feeding teary Edelin for survival, just tossed leftovers 'cause it bugged me.
But today, no leftovers—thanks, assholes.
"Won't leave without, it'll rustle outside all night."
Grumbling, I kneaded fresh dough, deep-fried sugar-dusted donuts. Greasy sweet scent wafted.
Hot paper bag in hand, out the back door.
In pitch darkness, a tiny shadow huddled by the bins.
Isana, saintess hostage from Holy Kingdom to Eilen. "Saintess" in name only—discarded pawn. Eilen took her under pressure, no honors, barely fed, abandoned.
Hence nightly store haunts in misery.
"Hey."
My low call jolted her; face from knees, silver-gold hair tousled in moonlight, huge eyes brimming tears.
And then—
Gruuuumble—!
Thunderous roar from her gaunt belly cleaved the night.
Her face flushed tomato-red. I wordlessly chucked the fresh donut bag into her arms.
"Eat and beat it quietly."
Sweet, violent sugar scent billowed. Ecstatic, she gulped saliva; our eyes—hers rapt, mine annoyed—locked in void.
Tonight too, peaceful retirement seemed impossible.