Cola Mania and the Cliché Ring
The Carde Magic Tower’s distribution network, laid out across the entire empire, was moving cola like it had grown wings. The manufacturing cost was only twelve silver, yet the selling price sat at thirty times that—three gold and sixty silver. Even after subtracting distribution and promotional expenses, the profit margin was an absurd ninety percent. Even if the Carde Magic Tower took twenty percent, I still kept seventy. With both sky-high margins and sales that kept shattering records, I’d heard rumors that the tower was seriously discussing how to wallpaper all twenty floors of their building in solid gold. If I’d known it would print money this easily, I would have demanded a bigger cut.
“Aigoo, Young Master! You’ve arrived.”
The Tower Master, busy sweeping in money with cola and looking even brighter-faced because of it, welcomed me with a radiant smile. I’d heard from Father that the current master had risen to his position at a young age and his footing had been precarious. But the explosive success of the cola business had apparently solidified his position as Tower Master.
“If you need any magic done, please call me anytime. If it’s a request from you, Young Master, I’ll come running immediately.”
“Thank you.”
I had filled the tower’s coffers and strengthened his political standing, so the Tower Master treated me like a lucky charm. This wasn’t some ordinary mage’s promise; a Tower Master’s word carried enormous weight. If the air-conditioner project failed, I’d have to ask him to lay down some cold magic in the count’s residence.
I followed the Tower Master into the building lobby.
“Based on cola’s huge success, we’ve dramatically increased the investment budget for the rest of the planned projects.”
“Did you expand the development team as well?”
“We used to have about twenty mages assigned. We scaled up, and now roughly a hundred mages are pouring their efforts into development.”
Oh, the more engineers the better.
“Young Master, you’ve arrived?”
While touring the development team with the Tower Master, a lively blonde woman greeted me.
“Who are you?”
This body had just turned eight; there was no way I’d suddenly developed dementia. No matter how hard I tried to recall, I couldn’t place her.
“It’s me, Betty. I’m the team leader of the Food Development Department.”
“Eh?”
The messy-haired, dark-circle-eyed mage from my memory was gone. In her place stood what looked like a noble young lady.
“Hehe, it’s all thanks to you, Young Master.”
Carde Magic Tower Director
Betty Merhel
She must have been promoted and left the field. She looked way too healthy. What a shame—she had been such an excellent slave.
Betty, completely unaware of my inner thoughts, smiled brightly and showed me around the expanded development department. It really proved that money was king; the place was packed with cutting-edge magic tools. They clearly hadn’t invested just a few coins.
“How much did you invest?”
“We’re reinvesting all cola profits.”
Good grief. It seemed that after seeing cola’s massive success, the tower was pinning huge expectations on the other projects. Cola hadn’t required much technical skill, so it was easy, but the rest wouldn’t be so simple. The last time I’d checked, both the air conditioner and the telephone were still stuck at the conceptual stage. At least the calculator and the ergonomically designed chair were progressing smoothly. The chair was being rushed because my back felt like it was being destroyed in real time, and the calculator was being developed because it looked like it could make us even more money. This world was full of people who couldn’t even handle basic arithmetic.
I had imagined a primitive calculator using gears, but they somehow managed to create something similar to an electronic calculator with magic. Of course, the magic version had an insanely high production cost, so if we commercialized it we’d still develop the gear-driven one alongside it.
After the short tour, I gathered a mountain of cola to bring back for Mariné and was about to head home when the Tower Master came running in a panic.
“Huff… huff… Young Master… This is my gift to you.”
Even a high-ranking mage apparently couldn’t escape the species trait of gasping for breath after a short sprint. He pulled out a small pair of rings from his pocket and handed them over.
“You’ve turned eight now, Young Master. Isn’t it about time you started thinking about engagement? These rings allow a man and woman to share a portion of their mana when worn. In an emergency, they also contain a built-in shield magic of about the third circle.”
“…”
I had seen this exact trope countless times in my previous life’s fiction. Engagement rings, betrothal rings, wedding rings, husband-and-wife rings—they went by many names, but they all shared one common point: any couple who exchanged them would inevitably face a life-threatening crisis. Things usually worked out in the end, of course.
“…”
I fundamentally believed in the coercive power of clichés because I knew this world was from a novel. Like how a suspiciously mature and resourceful commoner girl who enrolls in the academy is guaranteed to seduce both the crown prince and the tower master. Could I really accept these? Wouldn’t taking them trigger some life-threatening event?
All sorts of thoughts swirled through my head.
“Haha, please don’t feel too burdened, Young Master. I’ve already placed them in your carriage. You can give one to your fiancée when you get engaged later.”
When I hesitated, the Tower Master seemed to think I found the gift too much and let out a hearty laugh. Without waiting for my consent, he put the ring box in the carriage. Magic tools with functions like this traded for astronomical sums in this world. And if the function was a protective spell? Rich people who lived under constant threat of death would go crazy trying to get their hands on them.
Yeah, I just won’t wear it myself. I can sell it later.
I bowed my head in thanks and left the tower, completely underestimating the coercive power of clichés.
When I returned home, I went straight to find Mariné.
“Ugh… This is the formal dress for parties… and this is for weddings…?”
Mariné was diligently studying etiquette with her head in her hands. Good children who studied hard deserved rewards.
“My lady.”
“I didn’t call for—ah, Bern… Hello?”
“…”
Cani’s testimony that Mariné only became gentle in front of me flashed through my mind. It seemed at least somewhat true. Still, the fact that she’s holding back her temper shows a lot of improvement. Compared to her early days, she had been rehabilitated considerably over the past year. There was still plenty of time left; if I continued the rehabilitation project slowly, wouldn’t she turn out fine?
I placed the cola I had just brought in front of Mariné, who was awkwardly avoiding my eyes. The carbonation fizzing in the ice-cold glass sounded refreshing even before taking a sip.
“Oh! Cola!”
Mariné’s eyes sparkled as she reached for the glass.
“Wait a moment.”
Like a well-trained puppy, Mariné froze. She looked up with desperate, longing eyes that begged to drink it. I took both her hands in mine.
“Make me one promise. You’ll be kind to other people too, not just me.”
“Uh… yeah, of course!”
They say that when people look each other in the eye and talk, the words carry more sincerity. This world was from a story. A villainess was doomed to an unhappy ending. After living with Mariné all this time, I had grown rather fond of her. I genuinely hoped she wouldn’t walk the path of a villainess and suffer a tragic future.
“Promise.”
“Yeah, promise.”
We sealed it with a pinky swear. It might seem childish, but it worked well on young children. Sure enough, ever since the day we pinky swore that she would eat cabbage, Mariné had been forcing it down with a frown but still eating it.
“Good. Then let’s drink it before it gets warm!”
I smiled playfully to soothe the sullen Mariné, not wanting the serious atmosphere to leave her feeling awkward.
“Okay!”
Still a child, Mariné quickly forgot the past and broke into a huge grin. Yes, keep smiling brightly as you grow up. After spending quite a long time raising Mariné, I genuinely felt like I had become her father.
After the long heir lessons ended, I finished the day’s schedule once again clutching my lower back. Sword training already strained my back, and then I had to sit on that hard chair for the rest of the time. I felt like I was going to get a herniated disc at a young age. Having painfully experienced the terror of disc problems in my previous life, I decided I needed to hurry the tower along so I could receive my custom chair as soon as possible.
Tap, tap.
“Um…”
On the way to dinner after magic class, Mariné cautiously tapped my shoulder. The fact that her way of calling me had become more careful than before was a positive development.
“Yes, my lady. What is it?”
I answered with a pleased smile at her growth. Mariné spoke shyly.
“Can I use my wish ticket?”
Oh right, there had been something like that. She had been quiet about it for so long that it had completely slipped my mind. Part of me wanted to let it fade away as if it had never existed, but I remembered that keeping promises with children played an important role in shaping their character.
“Yes, go ahead.”
Since I thought we had grown fairly close, I believed she wouldn’t make an unreasonable request.
“Let’s go play!”
Whew, nothing too bad.
“Since it’s summer, let’s go to a cave!”
“…”
Of all places, a cave. An ominous premonition made cold sweat trickle down my back.