A Plausible Plan
"Kunsai."
A Sunday morning, about a month before the festival at Central Academy. Luta called in a low voice to Kunsai, who lay limp where he was.
It was nine. On any other day he would already have washed, dressed, and finished breakfast in that cramped little kitchen, but today Kunsai had only turned toward the wall.
"You're not going out?"
"......"
"Resting today, then?"
If he did not rest, he would have to make the rounds of the open shops all over again, stacking one sting of rejection he could never quite get used to upon another, and then move on to the next, and the next. This was the path of thorns laid out before him—the one he himself had spread.
I want to run.
But I can't.
And so today, as on every other day, he rose with a resolve most people could scarcely imagine.
"No. I have to go."
But no one puts a price on resolve.
After rejection upon rejection, standing now before his sixth destination, he stopped a moment and fought to steady his breath. Cold sweat stood on him, while the staff inside seemed, by contrast, to be taking an ordinary joy in an ordinary day.
What faces would they make this time? How would they turn him away? The thoughts chased one another until the world before his eyes went dark.
And then, as if falling from the sky itself, someone's whisper rang out.
"Kunsai?"
When his eyes snapped open, he was in a corner of the donut booth. He had worked himself to the limit today, and the strength had simply drained out of him until he dozed off. Blow and Megan were looking quietly down at him. Kunsai scrambled up, brushing himself off, and bent at the waist.
"Ah—ah! Young master, I'm sorry. I nodded off."
To the boy who kept folding himself in half, Blow offered an easy smile that said it was quite all right.
"Business isn't easy, is it? Until you get used to it, the body takes a beating."
"I'm sorry, young master. Making a spectacle of myself in my own booth..."
"What spectacle? Sales were done. We were just cleaning up."
At Blow's unhurried reply, Kunsai began to bustle.
"Ah! We'll tidy our booth right away too."
"While you were asleep, Luta and Megan already finished it."
"I'm sorry, Miss Megan. It was the booth I was in charge of..."
"It's fine, Mr. Kunsai. I was the one who said we should."
"It won't happen again tomorrow."
Kunsai stood there awkward with embarrassment, and Blow patted his shoulder and asked lightly.
"How was today, Kunsai?"
"From the middle on, I was completely out of my head. I don't think I even remember it properly."
"Yeah?"
"It's a good thing Miss Linne came by. If she hadn't, I think it would have been rough."
"Linne's pretty good at the work. She took the orders, right?"
"Yes. And when we got slammed, she even helped make the donuts."
"She's quietly thorough. She must have been a help. You awake now?"
"Yes! Completely."
He opened his eyes round and clenched a fist, and Blow pointed toward their hot-spring booth.
"We're heading to a meeting. Coming?"
"Yes!"
"Today we're only doing overall feedback. It'll be short, so don't worry."
Megan, wiping glasses with a handkerchief, spoke aside to Blow.
"Young master, I'll finish the rest."
"All right. See you in a bit."
"Miss Megan, thank you. Truly—truly."
"What for? We're the same team."
Kunsai finished his thanks to Megan, who only shrugged, glanced back at the spot where he had been lying, let out a breath, and followed Blow toward the hot-spring booth.
When Blow stepped inside, the crew from Melo's booth and the hot-spring booth—already finished cleaning—had their feet in the bath and were each nursing a drink.
"It's Blow!"
"You're here, young master!"
Their faces were flushed from soaking their feet. Blow looked them over and laughed under his breath.
"Everyone's living it up, huh?"
"Young master, come quick!"
Melo patted the spot beside her as if it had been reserved for him.
"I'm a little thirsty. Kunsai, will you have a drink too?"
"Ah—if you're offering, I'll take one!"
"What'll it be?"
"Lemonade, please."
Hearing them, Blow called to Jane, who was settling the books alone in a corner.
"Jane, one lemonade. I'll grab the beer myself."
"Ah, yes, I'll get it right n—"
"I'll do it."
Hervena, just stepping out of the spring channel, mixed the lemonade and held it out to Kunsai before Jane could finish.
"Thank you!"
"Don't mention it."
Blow watched them with quiet satisfaction, then stepped over to Jane, still wrestling with the numbers.
"Jane, shall we have a quick meeting?"
"Ah, yes. I just wrapped up a rough tally."
"I said we could do it tomorrow."
"There was time left, so I only checked that the amounts matched. Just briefly."
Jane closed her notebook, and Blow came over to the rest of them and called out brightly.
"All right—first, a round of applause!"
They clapped hard the moment he finished, every face bright in its own way.
"Everyone worked hard today!"
"You worked hard!"
"Especially Hans, on dishes the whole time. You really suffered. I'll make sure you get something when this is over."
"I only did what needed doing!"
"You all did well. Today we only sort out what we can use tomorrow, then we get out of here. Everyone's tired."
"Ehh! That's ridiculous! Of course we have to have a drink!"
Skadi, who had been waiting for exactly that since evening, grumbled—but Blow shook his head.
"No. I used too much magic today myself."
"What! I was waiting just for that..."
"Anyway. Anyone got something to say? Speak freely."
The first to open his mouth was Kunsai.
"Go on, Kunsai."
"The green tea sold better than we expected. I heard Miss Megan say earlier that we ought to prepare more tea leaves for tomorrow."
"Oh yeah? Then we'll need to pick who hits the market in the morning."
"We're short on lemon syrup and wine too! We had to borrow them from the donut booth!"
"The pork ran short too, young master."
"And the sparkling water..."
Once one person spoke, the rest sprouted up in a rush. Blow listened quietly, nodded, and set each item down in his notebook.
"For the sparkling water, leave only the minimum for experiments and use the rest. Write me a list of what we need, and Hans or I will stop by the market in the morning. Melo, nothing to improve on our booth?"
"Nope! It was so much fun! The fire was fun too."
"Melo. Why can't you hold in your laugh? I almost laughed too."
"Because it was so funny! Everyone kept saying it was the fire flavor..."
"That's because you grilled it well."
He said it while stroking Melo's head, then turned his gaze to Kunsai, who sat in front of him with a lemonade and eyes gone wide.
"All right. Donut booth?"
"The donuts sold much better than I thought. Would it be all right if I came early in the morning and started some of the dough? Other than that, I don't have anything to report."
"Then we're good. Hot-spring booth?"
As if she had been waiting for it, Skadi shot him a thumbs-up.
"If you hadn't told them to wait their turn, it would have been a disaster. It was a huge success!"
"Yeah? There must have been kids who didn't show up on time."
"I cut them off right on the dot."
"Good. You need a firm side for moments like that."
Hervena, who had been listening, slipped in.
"But the customers were all nagging about why we weren't open from morning. They said they'd come again tomorrow."
"Mm... that's because you two have class."
"Tomorrow we can come a bit earlier, though. The practical instructor canceled the afternoon class, since it's the first class after exams."
"Oh. Both you and Skadi?"
"Yup!"
"That's good news."
"Morning is still the problem, though. Around nine?"
"We could just open in the morning and cut the menu. What do you think, Jane?"
"The line is harder to manage than it looks, if we do that."
Jane looked reluctant. Blow, seeing her face, hummed, then spoke.
"Then until those two arrive, people can come in if they've bought food from our booth or the donut booth. Jane, you just hold the line."
"Ah, that should work. What standard should we use?"
"Two silver or more a head, and they can go in."
"That seems a little expensive."
"In exchange, be flexible. Give them a bit more time. That sort of thing."
"Yes, understood. But young master, there's one thing I need to say."
"What?"
"I don't think word of our opening is getting out."
"I completely missed that. I was only thinking about running the booths. If it weren't for you, we'd have been in real trouble."
At the praise, the tips of Jane's ears went a little red, and she spoke in a small voice.
"Tomorrow I was thinking we could at least write something on paper and post it on the booths."
"We'll have to do at least that."
"Or we could write the details on the maple leaves we're using as disposable plates..."
"That'll take forever, won't it?"
"If everyone helps, it shouldn't take long, right?"
Jane looked at the others, and they all nodded readily.
"That's nothing!"
"Right—together, it'll be quick!"
"Good. We'll think about how to promote it... anyone else?"
Blow was just starting to wrap things up when Skadi suddenly shot her hand into the air.
"...What?"
"Let's finish a little early tomorrow!"
"Hm?"
"There's fireworks tomorrow night, and I just want to enjoy the festival a bit..."
As she spoke, her voice grew smaller, as if she weren't sure of herself. Blow looked toward Kunsai, lemonade in hand, eyes wide.
"If Kunsai allows it."
"Ah, I don't mind at all, young master!"
The moment he said it, everyone's eyes sparkled. Blow nodded as if he had no choice.
"Yeah? Then tomorrow we only go until half past six."
"Yes! They say the festival goes late into the night!"
"Fireworks!"
At the excited voices of Skadi and Melo, happiness spread across the others' faces, and Blow made up his mind that tomorrow they would finish early, no matter what.
"Everyone worked hard today."
"You worked hard!"
With that shared farewell, the booths on the first day of the festival came to a splendid close.
At last able to breathe, Blow headed toward Caipol Ale—and Skadi smacked him on the back.
"Drinking alone?"
"I was only going to have this one."
"I'm only having one more too, you know? Hervena, you want one?"
"Sure."
Skadi filled her own cup with practiced ease and thrust cups at the two of them. Blow and Hervena immediately knocked theirs against hers with a bright clink.
The beer tasted cleaner, more striking, after the work. Feeling it, Skadi spoke to Blow, who was rolling his neck this way and that beside her.
"Blow."
"What?"
"Thanks."
At the sudden word, his eyes went round.
"Out of nowhere?"
"No, I mean... selling was more fun than I thought. Of course, you set everything up."
"What are you talking about. You, Hervena, and Jane are the ones who worked."
"If I was a help, that's enough..."
"I'm the one who's grateful. Honestly, I didn't think you'd throw yourself into it like this."
"So. After we close the booth tomorrow, what are you doing?"
"Dunno. Settling the books?"
Skadi's brow pinched. She let out a heavy sigh and turned to Hervena, who was downing her beer beside her, in a thoroughly fed-up tone.
"Hervena, I think your master is a truly boring person."
"Well..."
Hervena seemed to find the answer just as unsatisfying. She narrowed her eyes at Blow.
"Hervena, were you all right today?"
"It was just fun. But you looked so cold, young master, and that was a little..."
"I was working in front of a fire. What of it."
"...Then never mind."
"So, Blow. Tomorrow I'm dragging you around the festival myself. Got it?"
"Mm. That makes me uneasy."
"What's uneasy about it!"
"Nothing. Anyway, you worked hard today."
Their cups met once more, and the first night of the festival came to an end.
Noon on the second day of the festival. The Parso Teahouse booth, Delter's.
Inside the all-too-quiet booth, Delter, his father Victor Zayd, and their guest, Viscount Bruno Hart, were drinking tea. After listening at length to Delter's complaints the moment they sat down, the viscount stroked his beard and asked a question.
"You're certain it was Blow Deblique?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"Then there won't be a problem."
"What do you mean..."
At Victor's question, Bruno puffed himself up.
"Whatever you do when you go, if I'm standing beside you, nothing will come of it. House Deblique has fallen quite a bit lately. Because of that Blow Deblique."
"I thought he looked rather disreputable."
"Yes. Even the paintings his mother treasured so—he sold them all. If that boy had stayed down a few months longer, the estate itself would have been in danger."
"Ah. Is that so?"
"A noble's power comes from title and reputation. The boy falls short of me in both. What can he do?"
"Haha! As expected of Viscount Bruno. I will be sure to repay this kindness!"
"Not at all. You've looked after the convenience of our domain's merchants in Caipol a great deal. This is only what I ought to do. So—what are you planning?"
At that, Victor wore a thin smile, dropped his voice, and whispered.
"We only wish to reveal the truth."
"What?"
"They're selling donuts dusted with black sugar. That can't be allowed, can it?"
Victor held out one of the donuts from Blow's booth. Seeing the black sugar scattered over it, Bruno's brow drew tight.
Even now, black sugar never appeared at a noble tea party, and it was absolutely not to enter the food. He knew the rumors clinging to it were little more than ghosts—but the thing was unfamiliar, and the notion had taken root, so a thick unpleasantness rose in him all the same.
"Black sugar is a bit much, yes. And the source of this black sugar is the beastkin?"
"Yes, that's right! I only feel sorry for the customers swallowing food made with such low-grade ingredients without a second thought! We have to go and tell them the truth!"
"I see."
Bruno's eyes narrowed as he watched Delter speak, trembling all over, but he said nothing more.
A little time passed, and Victor spoke to him in a calm voice.
"It would be better to go now."
"Yes. That would be better."
"Yes! This Delter will guide you at once."
There was more force in the answer than usual, because he was already thinking of paying Blow and Kunsai back in kind for the humiliation he had suffered.
Viscount Bruno rose and followed them, stroking his beard and studying the pair, and he gave a shake of the head so slight it was almost invisible.
They do fixate far too hard on something terribly small.
This was not even a business. It was only a school-festival booth. The sort of matter, in other words, that one could let pass well enough with a pleasant compromise. And yet, strangely, the people of Parso were not without a habit of overreacting whenever beastkin were tangled up in a thing. Perhaps it felt as if the creatures they always looked down on had climbed overhead and begun to waltz.
Viscount Bruno understood it well enough at that level, but he did not fully understand their hearts, nor did he wish to. He had joined this childish game only for the profit he would collect later, not because he shared their thinking. If he merely went and stood there as background, they would say they had received a kindness as vast as the sea and repay him with no end of benefit. Thought of that way, it was a trade that could not help but pay. And Blow Deblique, infamous as a scoundrel, was hardly likely to have connections anywhere.
Calculating hard all the while, he arrived behind the culture hall. Booths lined both sides, and the narrow path was packed with people. At the end of that line he found the red-haired Blow, the very image of his mother, Luce—and Bruno could only tilt his head.
That Blow Deblique shouldn't have this much skill.
Just as he sensed something off, Delter's shout rang out in front of them like the signal to open battle.
"This is black sugar!"
With that cry, the noisy clamor behind the culture hall died all at once.
"The sugar stuck to these donuts—this is black sugar, isn't it, Young Master Blow Deblique?"
"You seem to know it well."
"Do you know what this is, and still sell it? Or has that Kunsai Cherohun over there bewitched you?"
"I really should have broken your spine back then, shouldn't I?"
"What are you saying to my son!"
Victor's voice came thick with rage, and Bruno walked calmly toward them.
There stood Blow Deblique with his face set hard, and some little girl, and in the booth beside them the two beastkin Delter had named while he trembled—watching in silence. In front of them, several students in Central uniforms stood with notebooks in hand. From the armbands that read PRESS, they seemed to be something like the school paper.
A brief silence passed. Blow walked out in front of the booth, looked down at Victor, and let out a faint sigh.
"What is it you want?"
"We are only speaking the truth!"
"Is black sugar such a problem?"
"Of course it is! Viscount Bruno Hart, beside me, will vouch for that!"
At once every gaze swung to Bruno, who had been standing behind Victor. He stepped forward in a deliberately leisurely manner. Blow, who recognized him, and everyone standing behind Blow, could not help but offer him courtesy.
"Young Master Blow Deblique. It's been a while. I met your mother once, before."
"So you did."
"To come straight to it, I was a little surprised to see the black sugar myself. I had the thought that you simply didn't know."
"Does the Viscount also believe black sugar must not be used?"
"I do. And I heard you grabbed this Delter by the collar. Is that true?"
"......"
At Bruno's words a stir grew through the crowd, and Delter, seeing it, wore a thin smile as if the sight pleased him. Unlike him, Viscount Bruno was sensing something wrong. By now, cracks ought to have shown on Blow Deblique's face—and yet, strangely, it held its calm.
Then a commotion rose from the booth behind them, and a clear, sharp voice drove in.
"Is something the matter, Young Master Blow? Your expression..."
"What? Cutting the line? Why are there so many people piled up front?"
At the familiar voices Bruno flinched and turned, and what met his eyes was a pair he knew all too well.
Yulia Edfolk, eldest daughter of House Edfolk—and Skadi Hetaya, the youngest daughter most cherished by Duke Bjorn, the man they called the Butcher of the East.