Three Gold Coins a Week

Unless you owned a money printer, the only way to earn cash was to work.

But who was I kidding? Things like that didn’t exist.

Which meant that I, currently broke as a beggar, had no choice but to get a job.

The problem was that I was still a student at the academy. Ability and status weren’t real obstacles—worst case, I could haul bricks on some construction site. Time, however, was another matter entirely.

Academy classes never wrapped up before four at the earliest. Factor in personal training and it got later still; students in clubs were stuck even longer. Dorm curfew kicked in at ten. Finding anyone willing to hire around that schedule was, unsurprisingly, a nightmare.

“Maybe I really should look for weekend-only work…”

I muttered to myself while stroking the little meow perched on my lap.

Ah—Meow was that elegant black cat I’d met before. I hadn’t realized it at first, but after deliberately wandering around looking for her, I’d more or less mapped out her favorite spots.

Places where the sun poured down warm and golden. Spots where a gentle breeze drifted through. Corners where the sound of rain was clearest. Anywhere foot traffic stayed light.

In short, perfect napping territory. Cats supposedly slept more than they were awake, so of course she’d been dozing the first time we met.

“Is there really no money printer out there somewhere?”

Meow flicked one ear as if my nonsense were too much even for her, then peered up at me with those green eyes.

With a soft mewl she slipped free of my arms, stretched long and luxurious, and trotted off with elegant little steps.

I’d been planning to try a gentler version of the butt-pat today, but I completely forgot. Oh well. Another time.

Halfway away, though, Meow paused and glanced back over her shoulder. The look was pure—

“Follow me?”

Whether she understood the words or it was pure coincidence, she gave another long mee-ow and continued on at a leisurely pace.

I had nothing better to do right then, and the others wouldn’t be back from the dorms for a while yet. Stepping out for a bit wouldn’t hurt.

So I stood and followed.

Meow kept a careful distance, glancing back every so often as if making sure I was still there.

Were expensive cats just smarter?

She finally stopped in front of the academy’s main bulletin board.

Unlike the faculty boards, the main one was plastered with every kind of notice imaginable: warnings not to enter the Old School Building, club recruitment posters, announcements about repairs to the barrier surrounding the academy—papers layered thick enough to make your eyes water.

The fact that somehow none of them overlapped was almost impressive.

I was scanning for any new official notices when Meow suddenly sprang onto my shoulder, then leapt to the board and tore one sheet free with her teeth.

“You little—!”

If the owner saw, they’d think I’d ripped it down myself. I snatched her up at once and pried the paper from her mouth.

Had she dragged me here just to socially assassinate me?!

I flipped the sheet front and back. Luckily only a tiny tooth-hole marred one corner; the rest was intact.

I smoothed it out against the board, intending to stick it back where it belonged—and that was when the words caught my eye.

Magic Research Assistant Wanted

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

I’d heard that wealthy magic students sometimes hired part-timers to help with their research. Everything from cleaning and running errands so the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠researcher could focus, all the way to serving as a test subject for whatever spell they were developing. Money really did make the world go round. Of course, I was still the broke one in this equation.

Curiosity piqued, I read further. Unlike the other job postings, this one was brutally short.

Straight-up test subject, huh. Safety guarantee or not, it still made me hesitate. Maybe I should check the other postings—

Three gold coins a week?!

I scanned the rest of the board just to make sure magic research gigs weren’t always this lucrative. Nothing else came close. Even the highest-paying ones were half that at best.

I double-checked the paper in my hand. Yes—three gold coins weekly, plus extras. And right underneath:

Positions available: 1

I crumpled the notice and stuffed it into my pocket before anyone could see.

A quick glance around confirmed no one was watching. Perfect crime complete.

So that was why she’d brought me here!

I scrambled after Meow, who had already started wandering off, and scooped her up. She gave me a look that clearly said what do you think you’re doing? The fact that I could read her expression at all was still amazing. Sometimes she even acted like she understood every word I said.

But that wasn’t the important part. Meow was my personal lucky charm! She’d already been adorable; now she looked downright precious. I hugged her tight and rubbed my face against her fur in pure affection.

That day, Elicia received four rounds of cat punches.

After begging my friends’ understanding and bolting through lunch, I now stood in front of Laboratory 707 in the Magic Building. I pulled the crumpled paper from my pocket and checked it one more time. Yes—707.

Knock knock.

I rapped lightly. No answer. Maybe they were out? I was debating whether to come back later when the door creaked open on its own.

Even though it was broad daylight outside, heavy curtains kept the lab dim. A single small lamp struggled to light the space and failed to reach the corners.

I peered around the door, ready to greet whoever had opened it—only to find no one. So even opening doors was magic. Small, but useful.

“Over here.”

A voice drifted from the doorway of an adjoining room. Two rooms connected.

I followed the sound into another equally dim chamber lit by the same meager lamp.

In the weak glow I made out a long sofa. Reclining against one armrest was a girl—not quite as tiny as Anne, but still remarkably small—watching me with half-lidded eyes.

Her hair spilled over the cushions in a cascade of black, the same shade my old body had worn. Yet where mine had been plain, hers carried an antique elegance that made the color feel completely different.

And those eyes, vivid even in the gloom, were a pure emerald green.

The room was dark, but darkness alone couldn’t hide beauty like hers. She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked young enough that “cute” still edged out “beautiful,” and something about her—maybe the looks, maybe the knowledge that she was a mage—gave off a quiet air of mystery. Strangely, despite never having met her before, she also felt… familiar.

“Ah—I came because of the notice about hiring a research assistant!”

I held out the paper. Her emerald gaze flicked to it, then back to me.

Crap. This had been pinned to the board. Was she going to scold me for tearing it down?

But her expression never changed. Still that same languid look she’d worn since I walked in.

“Mm. Then the contract…”

Still reclining, she flicked a finger toward the ceiling. A single sheet of paper floated from a corner and drifted into my hands.

She kept watching me without sitting up.

I abandoned any hope of a detailed explanation and simply read.

The contract laid out the terms in full. First things first: I checked that the three gold coins a week plus extras weren’t a lie. Thankfully, the wording was crystal clear.

The rest was standard—neither party could break the contract lightly, the employee (me) had to give full effort to the employer’s experiments, and so on. As someone who needed every coin, I had zero reason to quit early or get myself fired for slacking.

If I hesitated now she might start looking for someone else, so I signed on the spot.

The paper floated back to the girl on the sofa. After glancing over my signature she curved her small mouth into the tiniest smile.

So it wasn’t that her face ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never moved—just that it moved very little.

Only then did she sit up.

“So… your name?”

“Elicia Frentz!”

I answered with crisp formality. She might look young and tiny, but from this moment she was my master, my savior, my boss. Proper manners were only natural.

“I’m Freesia Gatina. Lunch break’s almost over, so… shall we start right away?”

See? Even the boss seemed pleased with my attitude—she was smiling that little smile again.

…Though, was it just because no sunlight reached this room? Why did it suddenly feel so cold?