Healing at the Academy convenience store

Since then, I’ve been gathering information from Aila, and despite her initial wariness, she turned out to be quite easygoing. By stroking her ego with a little bit of adolescent melodrama, I could extract information from her without much trouble.

“Aila, can you read the dynamics of this school?” 

“Are you underestimating me?”

“Give it a shot. Can you do it?” 

“Heh, let me tell you. First of all, Jephryn is…” she began.

“Not bad, but you’re still missing something. What about the pricing of items in this school? Good items have a reasonable price. So why is this particular item priced like that?” I pressed further.

“That’s so simple it’s boring. Well…” she started explaining.

Through these conversations, I started to identify the disparities between the real-life Jephryn and the Jephryn in the game.

The most significant difference I noticed was the distribution network. It operated on an entirely different level compared to the game version.

Consider this: Store A is situated in the tundra, while Store B is located in the desert. Yet both stores sell basic equipment and potions.

Doesn’t that strike you as odd? How is this even possible? Are there extensive railroads connecting all corners of the world? Can identical items with the same effects be readily supplied?

Could it be due to product standardization and efficient logistics by a dominant manufacturing company that monopolizes retail? Then why does this world resemble a medieval setting instead of a steampunk one? Why hasn’t that company taken over the world?

With these thoughts in mind, I posed my final question to Aila.

“Can you show me the indicators of items that sell well and those that don’t?”

“I’m afraid that’s our business secret. It certainly won’t come for free,” Aila replied.

“Hmm, do I need to bribe you with candy?”

“Candy… That might work. If you can get it.” 

With a smirk, Aila left, providing me with the biggest clue.

“Candy is expensive… Well, naturally.”

Growing sugarcane or boiling down fruit to make candy requires significant effort.

Even in farming, they don’t cultivate basic crops like wheat or barley. Instead, they focus on growing fruits, picking them, boiling them, molding them, and then hardening them.

But what about the monsters that appear during the process? What about the beasts and magical creatures that target the fruit?

Fruits are expensive, and candy even more so.

“I see. That makes sense,” I chuckled, and began writing my order.

I had made up my mind on the first product to sell.

***

Three days after taking over, reality hit me.

“Is this for real?” I muttered.

The store had zero customers.

“Is this really happening?” I questioned, surprised by the lack of interest in my convenience store.

I covered my face with both hands and bowed deeply in despair.

Unintentionally, I chuckled behind my hands.

“Seriously, who would open a convenience store in this place?” I questioned myself.

Phil, you really shouldn’t have ventured into business.

But what good does laughing do?

“If this continues for a few more days, Aila will come to me, saying, ‘I’m disappointed in you!’ and I’ll be in trouble,” I thought, recalling Wolfram, the arrogant royal villain, and his ambitious fiancée, Aila.

Her ambition is so overwhelming that she lights up at any ambitious story, as if it replaced her brain.

The reason I survived last time was all because of my acting skills, pretending to be ambitious.

So, for a woman like her, it wouldn’t take more than a day for her to express her disappointment if I slacked off.

Even without mentioning Aila, I have to secure my position from now on, no matter what.

Whether customers come or not doesn’t matter.

“I’ve placed an order, so it should arrive today.” 

As soon as the words left my lips, I sensed a presence outside the door.

It couldn’t be a customer; it must be someone responding to my order.

“Your ordered goods have arrived.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

“……”

The petite girl looked at me with narrowed eyes, let out a sigh, and handed me a piece of paper.

“The total cost for all items is 3,524,800 rin. Please confirm the goods and sign here,” she said, offering me the paper.

“Yes.”

I carefully inspected each item that I had ordered.

“All correct.”

“Hot water tank. Rearcar. And… a set of simple dining tools for home…? Why do you need this?” she asked curiously.

“Is it your job to be curious about what people buy?”

“No… As a delivery person from Maestro, I only deliver. Thank you for your order.”

After accepting the items and signing the paper, she nodded with a chubby face and left. I shrugged.

She may not have scored any points in hospitality, but it didn’t matter. She was an employee of Maestro, a guild of dwarves with exceptional craftsmanship, and the important thing was that Maestro had sold me the goods.

This was both the loophole and advantage of Jephryn.

Maestro didn’t buy or sell items from “individual wolfram.”

However, according to Jephryn’s code of conduct, the ban on monopolies and fair trade laws, Maestro had no choice but to accept orders from “convenience store owner Wolfram.”

There had been a similar incident in the past. The Magic Department monopolized magic, the Knights Department monopolized mercenaries, Maestro monopolized all tools and equipment, and Yggdrasil monopolized magical outfits, causing frustration among everyone. The student council did as they pleased.

It had turned into quite a spectacle.

In the end, the academy was on the verge of collapse. The emperor, in a rare move, intervened, punished those responsible, and established it as school law.

At the very least, there should be some decorum among organizations. That’s what the law stated.

So, according to the academy regulations, as the owner of a convenience store, I could place orders with Maestro.

And also with Yggdrasil and the Tower of Five Colors. They couldn’t refuse my orders.

“A delivery from Yggdrasil.”

“A delivery from the Tower of Five Colors.”

I greeted them with a grin, and they brought the items with sour faces. They also handed me pamphlets showcasing their various products and recommended order items.

Of course, the wholesale prices were listed.

“As expected. It’s all tangled up. No, it’s completely different,” I muttered, taking a quick glance. The lowest-grade healing potion now costs 10,000 rin. In the game, it was only 100 rin.

Even the most oblivious person would gradually understand why it costs so much.

Anyway, it’s all good as long as I can take advantage of it.

“If you sweeten fruit juice and solidify it with edible slime, it becomes a traditional candy in Jephryn.”

That’s the basic recipe for candy.

But here, by adding a few game-like factors, its production becomes incredibly efficient.

For example…

“If you mix a healing potion with water and use it for cultivation, fruits grow incredibly quickly. Plus, there are dried fish jerky and radishes. I could use those too.”

I still had a hundred healing potions left from Phil, as well as some dried fish and leftover vegetables.

With these, I planned to try my hand at playing alchemist.

***

In the Roengreen Empire, magic holds a position of great importance.

One hundred geniuses lead a hundred thousand ordinary individuals, and the profession is entirely determined by innate talent.

In the past, magic was monopolized by the nobility. However, when the founding emperor reformed the empire, magic became a field for talented individuals, offering them the opportunity to aim for noble titles.

Parents from moderately wealthy commoner families send their children to magical academies from a young age, hoping to find the exceptional talents among them. Those chosen are then sent to Jephryn, where their abilities are polished.

In theory, it is the most certain path for a commoner to rise to nobility. However, the chances of this happening are as likely as a red dragon appearing in your backyard. Nevertheless, it is not entirely impossible, so many talented individuals devote themselves to the laboratories of Jephryn every day.

Magic is a vast and intricate discipline.

Undergraduate magic students undergo four years of basic education, during which they typically learn up to the 7th tier of magic out of the total 9 tiers.

Starting from the most fundamental tier of light, over the course of four years, they study 7th tier magic from the four primary elements: stone, fire, water, and wind. Once they master these tiers, they are considered to have completed their major and are granted a diploma.

Usually, nobles or commoners without exceptional talent receive their diplomas at this stage and use their knowledge to become wizards serving a baronet in a provincial border town or become self-taught magicians.

However, those with extraordinary talent knock on academia’s doors once again.

They either choose to devote their lives to the study of magic or possess such remarkable abilities that they are enticed by professors to assist with their research. Beyond undergraduate studies, they make magic their home, their institute.

Those who persist in their quest for knowledge from the fifth year onward, assisting professors with experiments, staying up all night writing new magical papers—they are known as:

“Dahakwonsaeng” – graduate students of magic.

Upon graduating, they secure at least a position in a baronet family in the central kingdom. At best, they join the royal direct magician division or assume an assistant professor position at Jephryn. These individuals spend their days and nights refining their magic skills in the magical laboratories.

“Ugh…”

“Guh… Gugh…”

Endlessly.

Refining themselves.

***

Birds chirp at the break of dawn.

But graduate students chirp before dawn.

“Gugh…”

“That damn Professor…”

Smiling involuntarily at the exhausted cries of the graduate students emerging from their grueling endeavors.

The official setting of this world describes Jephryn, the city of academies, as a place where the ‘hierarchical system’ and ‘academic achievement as a legitimate path to social advancement’ coexist. In Jephryn, the education system consists of four years of undergraduate education and three years of academy education.

Well, in reality, the three-year timeframe is often extended to five or even seven years, but regardless. Most of those who begin their work at this hour in Jephryn are ‘graduate students of magic.’

They are the ones who struggle to fall asleep on time, struggle to wake up on time, merge with their laboratories, risk their lives for a single research project led by their professors, and tirelessly produce papers of academic significance. The future of the Roengreen Empire grows darker with each passing dawn.

“You’re all working hard,” I said, addressing the two graduate students.

“Uh?”

“Ugh?”

Their previously lifeless eyes suddenly regained some focus.

Oh, look at those downtrodden souls. The eyes of a mackerel left out in the summer sun for a week would shine brighter.

“The morning is chilly. Are you heading to work?”

“Yeah.”

“You are…”

“Wolfram. Wolfram von Roengreen.”

“Yes, I know.”

“But why are you here?”

Confusion appeared on the faces of the graduate students. I couldn’t help but smile, and they mirrored my expression.

Undergraduates in their first to fourth years, especially the younger ones who would have been cautious and apprehensive upon seeing me, seem to find me odd rather than threatening. Whether it’s the inherent curiosity of graduate students who have chosen to pursue academia until the end, I’m not sure. But the fact that they don’t outright reject me is already a positive sign for my plan.

In reality, whether it’s among the undergraduates or the graduate students, they’re too preoccupied with their own affairs. Like an end-of-term sergeant who doesn’t concern himself with the internal matters of the department, these individuals are essentially discharged reservists in their own way.

“It’s chilly out. Why not have a cup of soup before you head in?”

“Uh…”

“Soup?”

Soup.

It may sound fancy, but it’s dried pollack soup.

In the hot water tank I ordered yesterday, I added some vegetables and fish stock that seemed to have aged in the pantry. I boiled it thoroughly and seasoned it with salt to create the flavor of dried pollack soup.

Early in the morning, after a night of mental strain in the lab or commuting from the dorms, the thought of a hot bowl of soup comes to mind.

A warm bowl of dried pollack soup for them.

Ah, I can’t resist this.

“I personally prepared this for all of you who toil for the empire in the morning. It’s not too hot, just warm enough.”

“Huh, guh…”

“One cup for a thousand Rin.”

“Guh, that’s a bit expensive…”

“But there are refills.”

“Ugh…”

“Up to three times. Actually, it’s 3,000 Rin for one bowl.”

In that moment, we communicated through our eyes.

They took out ten thousand Rin bills from their pockets, and I handed them paper cups and a ladle.

“Huh… it’s melting…”

“Guh… huh… this is good. Really good.”

Initially, they were cautious, thinking it might be scalding hot, but I had carefully set the temperature to be comfortably drinkable in one sip.

The two graduate students eagerly sipped Wolfram’s special dried pollack soup from their paper cups, and with each sip, vitality returned to their bodies.

“Phew, that hit the spot.”

“Wow, I feel alive again. Truly.”

“I’m delighted to see you, the future of our country, finding joy. Keep focusing on your studies.”

“Yes, of course.”

“This is really delicious. Did you put something special in it?”

“Hmm?”

After they finished drinking, they looked at me with a hint of concern.

As the villainous student council president, they may have worried that I had added something harmful to the soup.

“Why? Do you think something was added? These are all safe ingredients, even under a Yggdrasil food investigation. I swear on the royal family.” 

“I see. Yes.”

When the prince vouched for the safety of the ingredients on behalf of the royal family, they nodded in agreement.

“Well then, we’ll take our leave…”

“It was really good.”

“Good to hear.”

“Yes? Do you have something else to say…”

“Don’t you expend a lot of energy doing research in the lab?”

“Well, yes.”

“Take a look.”

“Huh? … Ah.”

I subtly gestured towards the shelf next to the water tank.

It was filled with an abundance of candies, more than what you’d typically find in a convenience store, and a single paper cup.

There was a beautifully written sign displayed.

[One cup of candy for 50,000 rin. Regardless of how much you fill, it’s 50,000 rin per cup. Fill it to your heart’s content! One cup per person per day!]

“Would you like to give it a try?”

“Huh.”

“What a challenge!”

With that, the graduate students accepted my challenge and began carefully filling the cup with individually wrapped candies.

Their enthusiasm, their dedication, felt like the driving force behind Roengreen as they meticulously filled the cup using magical engineering designs and intelligence. I smiled as they handed over the money.

“Prince, we’ll take the candies.”

“Heh, you underestimated us, grad students.”

They exclaimed as they stuffed their pockets with candies and looked at me. I shrugged, as if admitting defeat.

They walked towards the lab with newfound confidence, and I watched their retreating figures, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

But as long as they’re happy, it’s all good.

I shrugged again and calculated the profit from the candies and the dried pollack soup.

Nice.

I’m making a profit.

No, a substantial profit.

“Heh, hehe.”

I found myself smiling, and at the same time, the birds began to chirp.

Chirp. Chirp.

It seemed that dawn was breaking after dealing with those two.

Soon, one by one, more graduate students started making their way towards the Magic Castle.

Their vacant expressions reminded me of zombies.

I smirked at them.

“Good job working day and night for our country. Here’s some warm soup and unlimited candies!”

At the sound of my loud voice, the graduate students halted in their tracks. Then, slowly but surely, they started moving towards me.

This isn’t a zombie movie…

An hour later…

“…Eh, eheh. Th-thank you. Thanks… for this warm soup… This is the first time since joining the academy… Eheh… Eheh.”

“Uhuh… Thank… you. Really… thank you.”

“Please return safely.”

After the last graduate student returned to the lab, I looked at the empty hot water tank and candy stand, and a realization struck me.

“No matter how much I value my studies, I will never become a graduate student.”

And I truly meant it.