Chapter 52. Tough Bastards
Right after leaving the black-market broker.
Aster slipped into a quiet alley, took off Kalahen's robe, and put it into Subspace.
'Heh heh.'
His face was full of smiles.
How could it not be?
Two whole Subspace pouches.
In an instant, he'd stripped away half the black-market broker's lifetime fortune.
'Well... I don't actually know if it was really half.'
Are black-market bastards the slippery type?
Just in case, he might have made two or so extra secret storages.
But even so, with how he felt right now, he had more than enough generosity to forgive it.
'It's going to sting pretty bad. My heart aches.'
He said his heart ached on the inside, but the grin on his face was so fully bloomed it was practically bursting.
By now, wasn't the broker probably pounding the ground and wailing while cursing Deculan?
He definitely was.
Because—
'I made sure to pick them out well. Very, very well.'
Look.
Sparkle, sparkle.
The gold coins and jewels inside the Subspace openings, pouring out dazzling light.
He'd gathered only the kind of wealth that wouldn't cause trouble over its origin, no matter when, where, or how you disposed of it.
You could say he'd skimmed off hidden funds.
In a way, it also made him think again about Deculan's infamy.
'These tough bastards.'
Just how much wickedness had they committed for even those vicious black-market bastards to tremble in fear? It had to be beyond imagination.
Ahem. In my previous life, I played my part in wickedness too, but not this much. Seriously.
Anyway, his pockets were nicely stuffed, so it was a good thing no matter how you looked at it.
But...
"Hmm."
Aster sat at an angle on top of some stacked boxes in the alley.
'It rubs me the wrong way.'
He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.
The emotion in his eyes was unmistakably petty irritation.
The black-market broker, who'd prostrated himself before Deculan's infamous name, had told him the whole story—and that story had scraped at his nerves.
'I thought something was off... and you're telling me there was someone behind it?'
The "someone behind it" the broker carefully confessed was Ivelin.
One of the three greatest merchant guilds on the Eastern Continent.
The precious jewel of Goldrin!
The daughter of a great merchant whose ability to mobilize funds, by itself, surpassed even noble houses by a vast margin.
The rumors about her were so widespread in the Academy,
that even Aster—who had no interest in Academy life in general—had heard them until his ears practically callused.
The rumors went like this:
'Proper conduct.'
She had dignity, no different from any aristocratic young lady.
'Smooth relationships.'
With that kind of wealth, you'd expect arrogance, but she was kind to everyone regardless of background.
And that wasn't all.
'They say her attitude in class is good, too.'
A model student second to none.
And yet, who would have known—
'That behind the scenes she's doing this kind of nonsense.'
According to the broker's speculation, it was this:
"Th-that... it may be that she's trying to create a black market within the Academy, where grades are bought and sold."
"A black market? A black mar-ket?"
Crack.
When he clenched the fist that had been holding the box, the wood crumbled weakly.
As a righteous Troubleshooter—
'You're going to set up a black market in the sacred Academy?'
I can't watch that happen.
If Demian were just a little sharper—sharp enough to cheat—I might have considered lending a hand, but that was purely a hypothetical.
The yardstick of justice that only stands strict when it needs to was screaming furiously.
"My stomach... my stomach hurts."
That's just how people are.
More than losing a coin yourself, it hurts more to see someone else earn an extra coin.
While someone chooses the proper route and ends up becoming a private tutor despite it not being in their fate—
someone else is going to throw money around and live comfortably, leisurely handling cash?
That isn't justice.
As a righteous Troubleshooter who rejects good and aims for evil, this is something I cannot allow!
'Next week, lunchtime, right?'
Aster recalled the schedule for Dibay's meeting with the seller.
Exactly one week left.
It felt like it would be a week full of 고민.
He'd caused trouble out of sheer spite so many times that he didn't even know which method of causing trouble would be best.
Of course, if the broker ran and blabbed about today to Ivelin, the schedule could change, but...
'No way.'
Why would that bastard do something that lowers his own credibility?
Anyway.
'Slowly. Slowly. Let's think.'
He needed to be careful.
How to cause trouble in a way that people would say he caused it well.
If he was going to cause trouble anyway, it was only right to serve them a huge helping of misery.
"Putting that aside, did you say B-12 Sector?"
What mattered immediately was this.
The condition Purion had demanded in exchange for the study packet.
Help with person-to-person combat training.
In a way, this too was part of the
Aster gathered his thoughts and headed toward the main road.
Basement of Building 13, B-12 Sector.
A private training facility,
In a private waiting room, Purion waited for Aster with a hardened face.
'Aster, this bastard....'
It had already been a bit over two hours since he'd suddenly said he had something to do and slipped out.
Purion's temper was starting to spike.
Aster had said with his own mouth that he'd come by five at the latest, but that didn't mean it was truly fine to show up at five.
It was only natural for irritation to rise.
But what made Purion displeased wasn't only that Aster was late.
The bigger reason was...
"...."
Across from him.
A silver-haired girl sat on the sofa with her arms crossed, eyes closed.
It was because of Dahlia de Dinai.
'How dare he make Dahlia wait?'
He hadn't liked it from the start.
"For person-to-person combat training, should I ask Aster to help?"
A few days ago, Dahlia suddenly brought up Aster.
To be honest, Purion had noticed long ago that Dahlia seemed to be paying attention to Aster.
After all, the battle with Hickster, the second son of House Dollanpe, had been a fresh shock even for Purion.
But suddenly?
'They've never even met?'
Of course, considering Dahlia's usual personality, it wasn't all that unusual.
Her way of chopping off everything and speaking only the main point stayed the same even before the august Head of House.
But whether Aster was the kind of guy to nod along cheerfully to that way of speaking...
'No, he isn't.'
As a fellow member of Class M3, Purion had watched Aster.
The bastard had no motivation in anything.
How should he put it.
He didn't feel like a student who came to learn.
No matter what lecture he attended, he was just indifferent.
He'd lean back crookedly in his chair, arms crossed, and "listen" to the lecture... no, "watch" it.
Yes. Watch.
There was no more fitting expression.
He didn't sleep, and he didn't fool around—he just quietly took the lecture in with his eyes, as if he were watching a play.
And you want to ask that guy for person-to-person combat training?
'A guy who even neglects Demian right next to him?'
A proper friend should guide someone who's fooling around back to the right path.
"Friend, what is the professor even talking about?" "I don't really know either. But aren't you going to sleep? It's nap time."
No matter how bothersome things were, to recommend a nap to your friend during class!
Over the last few days, he'd been watching for the right moment, and that was why he'd put his blood-and-sweat study packet on the line.
'For some reason... it seemed like he wanted to raise Demian's grades.'
He'd thought this might get Aster moving.
Honestly, it stung.
'M-my blood-and-sweat study packet....'
It was a compilation he'd painstakingly gathered through inquiries even before entering the Academy.
Some of it was precious material not available on the market—valuable enough that you couldn't buy it even with money!
But—
'Kgh.'
It was better than watching Dahlia get insulted by that rude vagrant from the Black and White Zone.
Yes. That was why.
Why he'd matched that rude temperament, why he'd swallowed humiliation and obediently followed the bastard's words.
All of it—because Dahlia wanted it.
And yet.
'How dare he make Dahlia wait for 2 hours 17 minutes 31 seconds. 32 seconds. 33 seconds...?'
Anger boiled up.
When he'd counted time up to 2 hours 18 minutes, Purion finally burst.
"Dahlia!"
"...Yeah."
A flat voice.
She still didn't open her eyes, but Purion, used to it, didn't mind.
"Let's think again. It's true he beat Hickster of House Dollanpe, but he's not someone worth learning from. A rude bastard like that can't possibly have the right qualities."
Among all things, nothing is as refreshing as teaching someone or receiving learning.
A sublime act that only people—and only those with refinement—can do!
In Purion's eyes, Aster absolutely did not possess that sort of refinement.
And that wasn't all.
"His fighting isn't a mage's fighting. What kind of mage gets into fistfights with a martial artist? That's… that's... right. That's what vagrants from the Black and White Zone do!"
It was impressive, but if the opponent hadn't been Hickster, most of the fight was just a fistfight.
It wasn't behavior a mage—who nobly pursues truth—should ever show.
And Dahlia was going to learn that?
'Ridiculous!'
It would be far more refined to seek instruction from Martial Division students.
But whether she understood Purion's frustration or not, Dahlia said nothing.
She kept her eyes closed, lips pressed shut.
"Rather than that...."
In the end, in his frustration, Purion let slip the words Dahlia hated the most.
"Rather than that, let's request the House and invite a renowned battle mage. No—bringing in the House's mages would be fine too—!"
Purion stopped mid-sentence and clamped his mouth shut.
At some point, Dahlia had opened her eyes and was glaring at him.
"That's not allowed."
Flat, but chilling.
"...."
In the end, Purion let out a long sigh and settled back down after half-rising.
"Hah, okay. ...I'm sorry."
She was a child struggling with lacking talent.
A child who trained day and night with that lacking talent, without rest, just to step even on the shadow of the Young Head and the Second Young Master—geniuses with no shame in being called prodigies.
But—
'Even accepting help from the House should be fine...!'
Purion found it unbearably frustrating.
No one would blame her even if she actively begged the House for help.
But she refused to walk any path she considered a shortcut.
Receiving instruction from House mages at the Academy was not right, or so she said.
Single-minded to the extreme.
'She's probably so desperate for person-to-person combat training because... of the Young Head and the Second Young Master.'
To catch up to their grades from when they attended.
Purion sometimes found Dahlia admirable, and other times so frustrating that he wanted to open her head and see what was inside.
Just as Purion slumped in discouragement—
Rustle.
"...?"
A faint sound from somewhere.
Rustle-rustle.
Purion turned his head, puzzled.
And when his gaze reached the source of the sound, his eyes flew wide open.
"...W-when?"
Aster stood blankly in one corner of the waiting area, holding a box of macarons.
He was biting into a crisp macaron, and then, with those sullen eyes, he spoke.
"You not gonna fight more?"
"...W-we weren't fighting."
"Too bad. I was curious who'd win if the collateral line and the main line fought. It's not a common sight. Right?"
"...."
Purion stared with his mouth slightly open at the utterly calm attitude.
After a moment—
"H-how did you get in here?"
"You were taking forever. I said your name and the staff guided me."
"Ah."
Purion remembered he'd told the staff in advance.
But more importantly—
"Seriously... since when?"
"Since 'let's think again'?"
"...."
So he'd heard everything Purion had been spewing, from start to finish.
Purion's face went pale.
But Aster ignored him and took a seat, claiming one end of the sofa.
"...."
Dahlia stared at Aster with wide eyes.
Aster pulled out a macaron and held it up.
"You want one?"
Nod.
Dahlia nodded.
Aster said,
"Trade."
"For what?"
"For Purion. I'll use him well and return him after the exams. I need him to tutor Demian."
Purion came to his senses around then.
"What kind of bullshit—!"
'Tutoring? Tuto-ring?'
It was insane.
Even handing over the blood-and-sweat study packet had been painful enough to die over.
And now, on top of that, he was supposed to tutor the Young Head of House Brando?
Purion had watched the three of them's conversation in the cafeteria from beginning to end.
And at that time, Chenbi's expression had been...
That scream had been...
No—leaving all that aside, Purion didn't even have enough time for his own studies.
He'd already studied all the exam material, but studying is something you do until the very last moment.
So why?
"...."
Dahlia frowned slightly, thinking.
Aster raised the stakes right then.
"If you sell him for a macaron, I'll throw in a special person-to-person combat curriculum package as an option."
Somehow the option was bigger than the product.
No—more importantly—
"W-what package? Dahlia, you're not actually going to fall for that ridiculous nonsense, right? Aster, say it properly. I already paid the price with the study packet."
This was an unfair deal.
He'd already paid, and Aster had already agreed.
"So I'm offering something too. One macaron."
"What kind of bullshit— No, more than that, why is Dahlia deciding my fate? I have free will—I am a proud blood relative of the great Dinai!"
Purion raged and launched into a heated speech.
But Aster picked at his ear as if he couldn't care less, and the crease between Dahlia's brows had deepened.
Then Aster drove the nail in.
"I'm feeling generous."
"...?"
Dahlia glanced at Aster.
"One more macaron."
When Aster pulled one more macaron from the box—
"...Fine."
A quiet, single word.
Aster placed two macarons onto Dahlia's outstretched hand.
And with that, Purion's fate was decided.
"N-no. What is this—"
It was just two macarons.
What package?
This "package" was bullshit, and in reality, what had changed hands was just two macarons.
Worse, his own will hadn't been involved even a speck—his fate had been decided by someone else's hand.
A situation a Dinai blood relative could not let pass!
As Purion sprang up from his seat—
"I can't accept—!"
"Are you tougher than Hickster?"
Just one sentence.
Purion blinked.
Hickster was an Aether user who had learned Strong Body, and Purion was a mage with magic power.
Naturally, he couldn't be tougher than Hickster.
But how should he put it—
'....'
He'd risen so boldly that sitting back down felt awkward.
Purion glared and headed for the door to the hallway.
"Where are you going?"
"...The exams aren't far off, so shouldn't we start teaching quickly? Every second counts."
A commendable attitude.
Aster beamed.
'Nice.'
An unexpected gain.
His heart felt at ease.
Just the study packet alone had felt a bit uncertain.
Even if Chenbi stayed at Demian's side and taught him, the exam arriving might be slower than...
'Chenbi collapsing first.'
In that sense, Purion was a good slave... no, a good teacher.
From the look of it, despite a face that looked like a thug's, he seemed to study hard himself too.
And for Chenbi, it would be easier to have an ally than to suffer alone.
That aside—
"You want me to teach person-to-person combat training?"
Nod.
Dahlia nodded.
He'd taken payment, so it was time to do his duty.