Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Magic Clash (2)
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15 years ago, as a clueless kid summoned to this other world, I'd been fighting hard for humanity.
To be precise, these people had no connection to Earth and weren't dear to me in the slightest, yet I'd personally wielded my sword and lopped off the Demon King's head.
At this point, it wouldn't be wrong to say I harbored true humanity-love, not the kind that's reviled in certain circles as a dirty word.
I'm a canteen owner with a bit more all-encompassing love for humankind than most.
Even so, there's no way I could like everyone. There were a few prime examples of people I despised.
First off, any damn bastards who tried to cozy up to demons even a little.
They topped my hit list. No compromises. No need to mention how uncomfortable I felt when Liv suspected me. Even Professor Glatos keeps a watchful eye on them now and then.
Second, King Baor and his daughter.
The king who dragged my happy rural life into the pits of hell for Act 2, and the princess who slinks into the academy, glares at my counter now and then, then vanishes.
Not enough to go beat them up frontally, but I'm always ready to smack the back of their heads.
And finally, the one student right in front of me now—
"Hmph. Been well, Canteen Owner?"
Neither the green cape marking a fresh-faced first-year, nor the water-blue skirt flowing like liquid for a second-year.
A third-year on the verge of graduation. A petite mage sporting the tezjas crown signifying the fire element, with a striking red bow tie. She entered the canteen speaking like some geezer in his fifties.
"Canteen Owner. Is your greeting too curt, or is your neck too stiff to bow? If it's the latter, shall I fix it with a spell? Just lend me your nape for a moment?"
"...What brings you here, Luhillen Viscount?"
Darling Tokarev de Luhillen.
"You've racked up unpaid building lease and monthly rent that exceeds the land appraisal from ten years ago. I'm here to seize it."
"I bought this land. Haven't I shown you the papers from my late father multiple times?"
"I know nothing of that."
As I mentioned earlier, ten years ago, Pharenchia was the boondocks of boondocks.
The streets reeked of manure, monsters occasionally burst from the western woods to attack the village, and farmers had to form militias. A textbook backwater of the Penheim Kingdom.
When I bought the land, the then-lord, Luhillen Viscount, had welcomed it with open arms, figuring she could stash a few more sacks of potatoes in her manor granary.
But one day, a royal decree stamped with the king's seal arrived in Pharenchia, flipping everything 180 degrees.
The construction of the kingdom's largest academy.
Separate were the villas, salons, spas, and riding grounds for the accompanying nobles.
It was like witnessing Britain's Industrial Revolution. Massive manpower flooded into Pharenchia, and the Luhillen Viscount family struck it rich overnight.
Pharenchia boomed with traffic and commerce, earning the moniker of the kingdom's second capital. Naturally, the lord's own trading company raked in a fortune.
A lowborn rural noble had skyrocketed to success, lightning-struck.
"Pack your things and get out today. No grace period."
"Today's not even a full day."
Human greed knows no bounds, as they say. From the viscount's perspective, even the last scrap of non-royal land must have been tempting.
Just the land valuation alone was astronomical, so ever since enrolling in the academy, she'd been relentlessly pressuring me to sell.
When I stubbornly refused, now she was trying to evict me with some nonsense about the old contract being invalid.
"Building three stories on such a small plot violates building codes."
"Not if it's mixed-use residential. And isn't that Monark standard? Show me the code."
"On second thought, you didn't pay last year's land acquisition tax properly."
"I paid it on time, and tax collection is the capital's magistrate's job. You sure get around."
"When do you ever leave the canteen empty for a day? I'll send agents, so tell me ahead."
"Never happens."
Refusal after refusal. My stance never wavered.
If anything, I was more curious why the viscount obsessed over my canteen so much.
Money? She had more than anyone on the continent.
The accessories draping her tiny frame—earrings, rings, family crest, even the academy-mandated uniform adornments—were all top-shelf luxury.
"Canteen Owner."
Yet her tone, treating me like some alchemical ingredient, was strangely grave.
"You don't grasp this land's true value."
"What value?"
"Don't you get it? Slap a small magic tower here instead of this useless canteen smack in the academy's center, and the utility would be immense! You could blanket the whole campus in defensive magic! This isn't the time to cling like a limpet!"
I see. Scheming to snag a project like that.
But she had cause and effect backwards.
I didn't preempt the academy site; for some reason, the academy came to Pharenchia because of me.
No point saying it—she wouldn't believe me anyway—
"Quit your nonsense and get out."
"How dare you touch me! Unhand me!!"
I slipped my hands under Darling's armpits and deposited her outside.
For all my words, I'd never actually harmed her, so I was responding in kind.
Having lived here since Pharenchia was a hamlet, I had some familiarity with the Luhillen Viscount family.
Plus, sympathy for her losing both parents before even enrolling...
"I won't forgive you... Kyaa!"
I let it slide with a light swat.
"Hmph! Fine! This land will be mine soon anyway."
But then something odd slipped from the sputtering Darling's lips.
"What do you mean?"
"Ha! Your narrow mind matches your narrow views! Forgot the magic clash with the new students is coming up?"
Her bellowing as she jabbed a finger was grating.
Magic clash? What did that have to do with my canteen?
"The heir of the family with the top performance in the clash has a time-honored tradition of receiving a share of the academy's privileges. Last year, they adjusted the guard roster and repaved the brick paths on campus."
Come to think of it, there was that roadwork frenzy last winter. Mark had griped about training new guards.
The canteen wasn't royal land but part of Pharenchia Academy's auxiliary facilities, so it fell under academy rules.
But—
"The canteen's never been included before."
Ultimately, the final say rested with the academy chairman. And she was never the type to cross me, no matter what.
"The chairman's on vacation."
"What?"
"All authority delegated to the student council. Get it now?"
"But you're graduating this year, Viscount. You can't participate."
"Deal's already done with the Cloud Viscount family. Think my house only has servants here?"
With money to burn, she'd probably greased the student council palms handsomely.
I regretted not swatting Darling one more time as she smirked smugly.
"Too bad. If Ansen were competing, it'd be an easier win."
"Ansen?"
"No matter. Victory was sealed the moment they included Roshiar family's blockhead in the lineup. Farewell, Canteen Owner."
She extended her silk-gloved hand with a resolute smile.
An elegant gesture fit for society debutantes, but her height only reached chest-level, hardly stirring male hearts.
"If you end up jobless, serve me. Your chance to recoup the key money is now."
It was like Xerxes taking a hit from Leonidas.
To think she'd try dragging an almighty landlord like me down. No choice—I had to counterattack.
"Shove it up your ass."
I elegantly flipped her the bird in return.
"My house ain't going anywhere."
"This is the student council room. Her Highness will be using it from May onward, so feel free to look around."
"The election hasn't even started."
"It's a done deal anyway, haha."
Erzebet was being shown around the Acasha dorms by the student council president, set to graduate this year.
Entering the council room, her eyes fell on the piles of documents atop the work desk.
All related to the academy's privileges.
The student council was entrusted with managing part of Pharenchia Academy's operations, originally royal property.
If she became president, the direct royal line would hold it, allowing fairer oversight.
Skimming a few papers, her eyes narrowed slightly.
Traces of personal gain-seeking peeked through.
'Come to think of it, the current president's the finance minister's son, right?'
She pondered the blond youth before her, then shook her head.
As he'd said, Erzebet wasn't yet part of the student council.
Without a solid base in the academy, poking around was poor politics.
"Thanks for the tour, Carter."
"My honor. Then, how about a leisurely meal after...?"
"Ah, that’s..."
Knock knock.
Just then, a knock sounded from outside.
Before Erzebet could reply, the door swung open.
"Pardon. Got business to discuss."
"...Louis?"
The visitor to the student council room was the canteen owner.
He looked thoroughly pissed and cut straight to it.
"Withdraw the canteen privileges from this magic clash prize."
"Pardon?"
"I told you last time. It's my house."
Erzebet turned to the president.
He coughed awkwardly, sweating bullets.
She sensed she'd stumbled into a headache.
Clearly, the council had touched a nerve.
Back off and play dumb?
But was siding with the canteen owner over the finance minister's son—and current president—the right call?
She hesitated.
Her father's advice, and the densely packed notes in the rulebook no one reads.
There was definitely something about that canteen.
Bailing now meant she'd never uncover the truth.
"Louis—"
So she spoke.
Just this once, she'd look away from her father's counsel.
"...Haa. You always pull this."
The canteen owner sighed deeply at her response.
"You'll regret it."
He glanced between her and the president, left those words, and departed.