Rewards by Merit
Cunsai had gone up to the third floor and was gazing out the window when, down in the main square, the Delter booth sat sunk in gloom.
In the innermost seat, Viscount Bruno sat with his legs crossed, one hand clamped over a throbbing temple. The tea he had not touched once since returning had long since gone cold.
It was Victor Zayd, hovering awkwardly at his side, who finally broke the long silence.
"Thank you, my lord Viscount. If things had gone even a little further, Delter would have been in real trouble."
The viscount's brow twitched. He let out a heavy sigh and asked,
"Trouble? You mean to say something worse than this could still happen?"
"That is..."
"Thanks to you, my reputation is scraping the floor. I'm ever so grateful."
At the chill in his voice, Victor dropped to his knees.
"The restaurants under my management will purchase every last one of Eastpol's ingredients for the next three years, and I will invest in your future ventures as well, my lord."
Rewriting so many contracts would cost him dearly, but he could not let the credit he had spent years building collapse into nothing.
And yet—
"No need."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I mean I won't be doing business with you any longer."
"My lord!"
Victor cried out, thoroughly shaken, but the viscount's face did not so much as twitch, as if his mind were already set.
"How am I to sit down and talk with a man who cannot even govern his own son?"
"Ah..."
A long line of sunk costs flashed through Victor's mind—the opportunities he had poured into the viscount. He had won them only after staggering investments of time and money, and now his chest burned with fury. He turned, in that moment, to look at his son, but Delter was only trembling from head to toe, swallowing on a dry throat.
The viscount rose without so much as a glance at him.
"And should today's affair happen to bring any disadvantage upon the merchants of Eastpol, I will not leave you be. Mark me."
"That will never happen. Never."
Victor scrambled to his feet and answered with bow after bow. The viscount looked at him as if he were something contemptible, clicked his tongue, and spun on his heel.
"I truly misjudged the man."
Victor remained bent at the waist before that retreating back, while Delter stared after the viscount in a daze. The instant the man vanished from sight, Victor kicked the table laid with tea and sent it crashing over.
Porcelain shrieked. Cups and bottles burst apart, the sound ringing through the booth, and everyone inside froze where they stood.
"That rotten—"
He ground the broken cups under his heel for a long while. Then he jerked his head up and roared.
"Tear it all down!"
"...Yes, sir!"
"F-Father!"
Victor turned on Delter, who stood helpless beside him, and spoke through gritted teeth.
"Get out of my sight."
"That's..."
"I said get out!"
Delter vanished. Only when Victor's rage had cooled a little did one of his men approach and ask, in a dry voice,
"Master Zayd, shall we first arrange for the restaurants to purchase Eastpol's ingredients?"
"Do it. The mess has to be cleaned up somehow."
"And what of Young Master Delter?"
"Tell him to go downstairs and wait until I decide what to do with him."
"Understood."
Still not satisfied, Victor Zayd stamped on the overturned table, bang after bang.
"Worthless piece of trash. And they call that thing a son."
"Then his share..."
"Give him a farm or something! And from now on, keep your eyes on that bastard Blow Deblique!"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Young Master? What do you think of my retainer Theo's painting?"
"It's excellent."
"Oh, truly?"
Having finished his talk with Cunsai, Blow had stopped by the exhibition of Theo, Yulia's retainer. Theo explained his work with a thoroughly nervous face. Blow stroked his chin, then shrugged and spoke.
"There's a freshness here you don't find in established painters. Perhaps because you're still a student."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"The painters before you poured themselves into soft linework and coloring, trying to reproduce a single scene exactly—like a photograph. No. Like capturing one moment whole. This painting, with brushstrokes that look as if they were boldly pressed into the canvas, seems to carry the feelings of the figures inside it far more clearly."
"Thank you for seeing it so kindly!"
Yulia, visibly pleased, smiled as she went on.
"To think Young Master Blow would have an eye for painting as well."
"When I was little, my mother dragged me here and there by the hand."
Every time he had stepped into a gallery with her, he had flung himself on the floor and pitched a fit about how boring it was. If Jane were beside him now, she would surely be watching him with her mouth pressed flat, ready to add a word of her own. The thought pulled a quiet laugh out of him. Yulia, who had been studying him in silence, tapped his shoulder.
"Young Master?"
"Ah—yes. Forgive me, Senior."
"You must have remembered something amusing."
"Yes. I was thinking of an old visit to a gallery."
"I see. I plan to attend the Black Bridge Gathering with Theo, but I wanted to introduce him to you first."
"Ah. So that was it."
Theo bowed to him again—a plain, rather pale young man. Blow held out his hand.
"I'll look forward to more fine work from you."
"Thank you, Young Master!"
"Theo, you may go on in. The Young Master and I will look at the rest together."
"Yes! Of course."
They sent him off, looked at a few more paintings, and then Yulia asked Blow, as if only in passing,
"Have you decided what you'll do for the Black Bridge Gathering? Lady Rachel has surely told you to prepare something again."
"She has. You may look forward to it."
"Oh my, truly? I was thinking of lending you Theo's newest piece, if need be."
"No. I ought to prepare something myself."
"You really are precise."
"It's too fine a painting to simply hang beside whatever I put together."
"Young Master Blow, you do have a way with words. How is it you always manage to say just the thing that pleases a person?"
She laughed brightly as she said it, and her indigo hair swayed with her. If he had never crossed into another world and come back, he never would have grown this close to Yulia Edfolk. Not in this life. The thought struck him as strangely wondrous, and at last he made up his mind and spoke to her with care.
"I think it would be best if we moved the contract along, Senior."
"Oh my! The truth is, I've been waiting. Young Master Blow!"
"What would you say to a three-party contract, with Cunsai as well?"
"Oh, that would be good too. It would suit us to obtain sugar at a low price. I'd be glad if Cunsai attended."
"If you don't mind, how about tomorrow?"
"I'd like that."
Yulia nodded readily. Then the two of them started downstairs together, to finish closing out this festival's booth.
A little later, at half past five in the afternoon, Blow decided to close the booth an hour early. Cleanup would take time enough on its own, and if he began taking in the people coming for supper one by one, he might find himself stuck selling straight through to the end. If that happened, Skadi would be genuinely furious, so he chose to close now, in this quieter hour.
As he was finishing up, a murmur of delight rose from the people looking toward the roof with donuts in their mouths.
"Whoa, it's standing on a ball!"
"It's seriously cute."
The sun was nearly down, and the white bear Hervena had treated so it would glow was displaying its own cuteness without reserve. Blow watched it a moment, then stepped into the hot-spring booth, where Skadi and Yulia welcomed him with smiling faces.
"It's Blow!"
"Young Master, you've come."
"Yeah."
Hervena greeted him as well. Blow pointed toward the bear on the roof.
"Let's send that one off soon, too."
"Oh, right. Earlier, while you and Senior Yulia were at the exhibition, someone from the school stopped by."
"Hm? From the school? Why?"
"They asked if we could keep the bear on display until the festival ends."
"They did?"
"So I just said yes."
"Oh? How much did you get?"
Hervena blinked at that and tilted her head.
"We get paid?"
"Hm. Miss Hervena Westriver?"
"Y-yes?"
He had never addressed her that way before, and she stared at him in fluster. Blow smiled.
"There is no such thing as free in this world. Absolutely none."
"Ah, I'm sorry. But why did you suddenly start talking like—"
"No reason. It's funny."
Skadi, beside them, let out a snort and cut in.
"Hey! Hervena, why didn't you mention that? That person also said they'd use it as a mascot for future festivals."
"Th-that's..."
"Don't tell me that was free too?"
"It just sort of happened. I'm sorry, Young Master."
Hervena hemmed and hawed. Blow smiled as if it were nothing.
"It's fine. We'll go see the official later. You didn't sign a contract, did you?"
"...No."
Before long the last guests left the hot spring. Everyone finished closing the booth and came inside. Even as the others found their seats, Jane was still settling the accounts. Blow spoke to her lightly.
"Jane, still doing the books?"
"Almost finished."
"We'll do it together tonight, all right? The accounts can wait. The festival can't."
"Yes, Young Master."
Once she had taken her seat at last, Blow clapped his hands.
"Everyone, well done. Two days of it."
"Thank you, Young Master!"
They answered as one. Blow drew a pouch from inside his coat and, starting with Melo, who stood nearest, began pressing five silver into each of their hands.
"Y-Young Master! This is—!"
"You've still got a festival to enjoy, haven't you?"
"Waaah! Th-thank youuu!"
"It's separate from your wages, so spend it without worrying."
Linne shot him a firm thumbs-up. She, along with Rowbedi, Megan, and Hans—who must have been worn out from two days of dishwashing—each received seven silver.
"Thank you, Young Master!"
"Get some real rest tomorrow. You too, Megan, and Melo."
"Yes, sir!!"
Leaving their excited voices behind, Blow went over to Cunsai and Luta.
"Y-Young Master! What we earned from our booth is already more than enough..."
"Even so, what's owed should be given. And keep tomorrow open."
"Pardon? Oh—is it because of the teardown?"
"Ah, Ornn will handle that. I'm calling you for a contract."
"A contract?"
"Yeah. With Senior Yulia, over there."
"Whaaat?"
Yulia smiled and waved at him. The Edfolk family—the scale of it was larger than he had imagined, and Cunsai's mouth fell open.
"We'll talk details tomorrow."
Blow pressed five silver each into their frozen hands, then passed Jane and Hervena and came to Skadi, who was sitting with an awkward look on her face.
"Here. You too."
"I'm fine."
"You worked hard. Take it."
Five silver settled into her palm. She had always lived on an allowance; this was the first money she had ever earned. Something welled up in her, proud and a little tight in the chest. While she clutched those five silver hard, Blow stepped over to Yulia.
"Will you accept some as well, Senior?"
"Oh my, I'll only take three silver, Young Master!"
"This is a little embarrassing."
"Not at all. I'll treasure it, truly!"
Yulia took the silver he offered with a bright smile. Meanwhile Blow drew a single gold coin from his coat. Jane, watching in silence, pressed her mouth into a line and asked,
"Don't tell me you're giving that to yourself, Young Master...?"
"Jane. What exactly do you take me for?"
"I'm sorry."
At that, the noisy talk of how they meant to enjoy the festival died all at once. Every eye fixed on the single gold in his hand.
"This goes to this time's MVP."
"What does that mean, Young Master?"
"It means the one of greatest merit."
"Oh my. What an extraordinary honor that would be."
At Blow's answer to Yulia, quietly hopeful eyes turned his way—but his own gaze had gone to Hervena, who was pointlessly kicking at the water with her feet.
"Hervena Westriver."
"Yes?"
She jerked her head up, wondering if she had heard right.
"Here. Take it."
"M-me?"
"Yeah. Come on out. The cub did a proper job of the publicity, didn't it?"
Her face flushed red as a beet, and she came toward him slowly.
"Now then. Let's hear a word."
"P-pardon?"
"Go on."
Gold in hand, Hervena looked embarrassed for a moment, then lowered her eyes.
"I dedicate this honor to that white bear..."
"Fair enough. Maybe I should have given the gold to the cub."
"Young Master...!"
She pouted at him. Applause rose again, and Blow spoke to them all.
"All right, everyone—go enjoy the festival! Once more, truly, well done!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Yes! Thank you!!"
Even then a flush lingered on Hervena's face as she looked up at Blow. His playful gaze shifted to her for a moment. Meeting his eyes, she smiled before she knew it, then carefully tucked the single gold coin into her pocket.
That evening, at the tarot booth behind the cultural hall, Marseille, the club's head, and Decame, his deputy, had finally understood the reading they had drawn for themselves the last time.
"Satisfaction and rest... That must have meant we'd be so busy we'd need the rest."
"Right? If the seniors who taught us spreads ever heard about this, they'd be in tears."
Marseille paged through the register, counting with his eyes. Last year it had been a mere five people over two days. This time they had passed a hundred. An enormous success.
"Chief, I could die right now with no regrets. We even got two applications to join..."
"That many?"
"Yes, of course! Don't tell me you don't feel the same, Chief!"
"Well, I mean. I did too."
"Of course, I don't think it was really because of us."
"True enough. The people in the booth next door were something else. A bear, a fire show..."
"From what I heard, they're students from the magic school."
"Imagine it. Talent that bright, spent on a place like that..."
Just as Marseille was sighing in admiration, the booth's canvas lifted, and the white-haired, blue-eyed girl who had greeted them before peeked her face in.
"Hello? I was hoping to have a tarot reading, if that's all right."
"Ah, I'm sorry, but we're closing for today..."
Decame jabbed Marseille in the side and hurried to answer in his place.
"You're from the booth next door, aren't you?"
"Ah, yes."
"Then we'll take you as our last customers!"
"Um, about that..."
Jane scratched her cheek once and spoke carefully.
"There are quite a few of us. Would that be all right? We'll pay properly."
"Perfectly all right!"
"Thank you for accommodating us!"
With that, her face disappeared behind the canvas again. The moment Decame shrugged at Marseille, they came in—Jane and Yulia at the front, then Hervena and Skadi, and last of all Blow, wearing a look that said he could not for the life of him understand why they were doing this.
Marseille's mouth fell open as he took them in. Yulia, already seated, spoke in an easy voice.
"How does it work here?"
"Ah..."
"Would it be possible to ask unlimited questions?"
As she said it, she held up one gold and three silver. Seeing that, Marseille answered at once.
"W-we have that."
"Good. I'd like that. Now then—Young Master Blow first!"
"Me?"
"Of course."
To Blow, sitting there awkwardly, Decame spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"You may ask whatever you wish."
"If I must have one, then something about the business, or money..."
"Your love fortune!"
The one who blurted it, fumbling over the words, was Hervena, seated on his right. Blow looked at her as if something were slightly off and tilted his head.
"Why a love fortune?"
"Th-the person I might have to serve someday—I-I was curious!!"
"That's what you're curious about? Jane, are you curious too?"
Three women's sharp gazes flew toward Jane, seated at the far right. Cold sweat broke out on her under those eyes. She offered an awkward smile, then nodded.
"A little?"
"Well then, we may as well start with that."
Blow's tone was thoroughly unenthused. Decame, seated before him, shuffled the cards and asked,
"Do you happen to have a lover, or someone you're betrothed to?"
"No. I don't."
"The more specific the question, the better, you see. Shall we try it as a reading on a lover or spouse you might meet in the future?"
"As you like."
Yulia could not hide her admiration at how perfectly the proceedings were going, and a smile of quiet triumph touched her lips. Blow sat with his arms folded, watching the cards.
"Now, please choose five."
Without a second thought, he scooped up the five cards at the far right all at once and held them out. Skadi, appalled, shouted,
"Hey! Who picks them like that!"
"Then how am I supposed to pick them?"
"One by one, with some care!"
"Is that how it works?"
When Blow asked, Decame shook his head quickly.
"No, it doesn't matter. Though I'll admit you're the first guest we've had quite like this."
"I do have a unique side to me."
At that, Jane's mouth went flat as if she could not believe him, and Skadi let out an empty laugh—but Blow paid them no mind at all.
"You really are an interesting person! Shall we proceed like this, then? I'll turn them over starting from the far right."
"Yes."
And at once Decame turned the five cards face up. Every gaze in the room locked onto them as one.