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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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Once upon a time.
A long, long time ago.
There was a very beautiful and kind country.
The people were good, the nobles were proud, and the king was wise.
Everyone there was happy, and all the other countries envied them.
But perhaps that was why.
A man, jealous of the happiness he did not have, harbored evil thoughts and invaded the happy country.
The people of the happy country fought together, but the violent and shameless man used all sorts of cowardly means to hurt them.
The beautiful plants withered, and tears never stopped streaming from people’s eyes.
Everyone in the happy country became unhappy.
But the shameless man, far from atoning for his sins, proudly boasted about them.
The man audaciously declared himself king, and he defiled and trampled the beautiful country.
Oh, what a disrespectful thing to do.
Oh, what a tragic thing to witness.
Retribution is needed.
He must pay the price for his sins.
Do you understand? This is something that must, must be done.
No matter what, absolutely.
Do you understand, Ly…
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Lyla Everblaze Barhardt shook her head, as if to ward off the phantom voice that still seemed to echo in her ears.
She drank the water in the cup, and the faint traces of sleepiness slowly faded.
It was a small room, incomparable to the place where she used to live.
Lyla recalled the academy staff member who had first shown her the room, his face filled with apology for having to house a member of the imperial family, a direct descendant of ‘that Emperor’, in such a place.
A bitter smile formed on her lips.
‘There’s no need to be so concerned.’
It wasn’t that there were no inconveniences, but it was comfortable to at least not have to worry about the eyes of others.
For her, who had lived her entire life conscious of the opinions of those around her, it was even more so.
Using several spells in tandem, she efficiently finished her morning preparations.
It was her own desperate measure, born from her desire to not have any flaws in her appearance, but at the same time, her dislike of spending too much time on her daily grooming.
If the imperial ladies-in-waiting had seen it, they would have been horrified and begged her to maintain her dignity, but it would have taken her three hours just to get out of her quarters if she had done everything by hand without the help of magic.
Finally, she checked her appearance in the mirror.
Red hair, a symbol of the Barhardt imperial family.
…And blue eyes, as beautiful as jewels.
She covered one eye with her hand and activated the spell she had repeated thousands of times.
When she lowered her hand and looked in the mirror again, her usual sunset-colored eyes were reflected there.
[How long do you plan to live deceiving those around you?]
It felt as if someone had whispered.
Even knowing it was just a phantom voice, Lyla Everblaze Barhardt answered.
“—Until the very end, Mother.”
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As she stepped out of her quarters, she saw other students heading to their respective classrooms, just like her.
The students’ reactions to Lyla at the academy could be broadly divided into three categories.
Those who showed her respect and goodwill.
Those who greeted her out of courtesy, but kept their interactions strictly formal.
Those who avoided her presence altogether, even averting their eyes to avoid making eye contact.
The common thread was that they all watched her from a distance, as if spectating, and none of them tried to actively engage with her.
The name of the imperial family was an object of faith for the people of the Empire, but Lyla had several older siblings, and they were all vying for the next throne, each with their own factions.
If Lyla’s abilities had been merely average, they would not have paid her much attention.
But Lyla was excellent.
No, to be more precise, she was excessively competent.
So much so that she was considered a threat, despite her young age, her gender, and her lack of a clear backer compared to the other powerful royals.
Therefore, they did not approach Lyla, and at the same time, they did not want others to gather around her and form a faction.
There were many students who personally held goodwill or respect for Lyla, but even they found it difficult to approach her, ignoring the checks from students of other high-ranking noble families.
It was clear who was behind them.
It was only in situations like the last assignment, where they were forced to form teams, that even those who were usually cautious could gather by Lyla’s side under the pretext of class…
“Hey, how were your Midas Cube results?”
“Completely busted, damn it. I put in ten gold coins and only got five iron swords? Isn’t this a scam? We need to throw that damn merchant in jail.”
“Puhaha! Don’t be ridiculous. Why are you blaming the shop for your bad luck?”
“…Hey, wait. What did you pull?”
“The second volume of ‘The Falling Stars on the Battlefield’ by Heodos, the original edition.”
“Are you insane!? Why is something that should be in a museum here!?”
“I don’t know. I almost got beaten to death by my father for spending 50 gold coins, but when I sent him this, he sent me 300 more and told me to buy more.”
Lyla also paid attention to the other students’ conversations.
“Oh my, Lady Claire. Your skin seems even more beautiful these days. Do you have some secrets?”
“Do you think so? Nothing special, really, but I did try a beauty water that came out of a Midas Cube.”
“Could I get some too?”
“Well, it’s a limited edition…”
“…Speaking of which, I have a ticket for that play you were interested in, but something else came up, and I can’t go. Do you happen to need it?”
“If that’s the case, I’ll gladly accept it.”
The female students, laughing and giggling, secretly exchanged items under the table.
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Come on, why are you being so stingy, you rich noble? Let’s just be easy about it.”
“Hey, you swindler. You’re trying to sell a Cube you bought for two gold coins for twice the price!? Have you no conscience?”
“A poor commoner has no such thing. If you don’t like it, find someone else. By the way, there were almost no SRs in this week’s batch. Maybe this is it?”
“…Damn it, give it to me!”
Two students, one a commoner and the other a noble, haggled as if they were just joking around.
Lyla was inwardly dumbfounded by how much they seemed to have adapted to the academy’s unique atmosphere, or more precisely, to Istal von Levenstein’s constant nagging: ‘Throw your status to the dogs,’ ‘I know your family is great, but that doesn’t mean you are,’ ‘You don’t need a title to roll around in the dirt.’
‘The whole academy is in an uproar.’
The translucent Cubes that Chrom Midas sold in a limited quantity of 300 every Sunday.
Dubbed ‘Midas Cubes,’ they had quickly spread among the students, and specialized terms like Normal (N), Rare (R), and Super Rare (SR) had even emerged.
Pulling an N, with a 70% chance, was a bust.
Pulling an R, with a 25% chance, meant breaking even—assuming you bought it for two gold coins.
Pulling an SR, with a 5% chance, was a profit.
Strictly speaking, even the items classified as SR varied in value, with the lower-tier ones yielding a profit of only a few dozen gold coins, but the most valuable ones were often items that couldn’t be easily obtained with money.
Objectively, the probability of losing was much higher than winning, but the buyers were endless, and it became a daily routine for students to gather during the weekend or on Monday morning to discuss what they had or hadn’t pulled.
At first, there were voices calling for Chrom Midas to be punished for turning the sacred place of learning into a mere gambling den, but after Chrom somehow negotiated with the professors to distribute Midas Cubes as rewards for top-performing students in class, and academic achievement showed a noticeable improvement, those voices were silenced.
‘Limiting the number and encouraging students to buy in small groups was a wise move.’
If he had sold them indiscriminately without limiting the number to 300 per week, he might have made a large short-term profit, but at the same time, the higher-ups would have punished him.
However, the quantity limit kept the total amount of money in circulation within a certain ceiling, and since most students, with a few exceptions, only bought a small amount, the financial burden—at least from a higher-level perspective, was not particularly significant.
He had successfully positioned it in a tolerable range, judged as ‘helpful for improving students’ motivation and achievement.’
He was a boy with a knack for securing his own profits while staying within the lines—whether you called it cleverness or just good sense.
“Hello, Lyla-nim. Everyone is so noisy. Is there some kind of incident?”
For example, like now, he sat down next to her naturally, as if he couldn’t care less about the stares of others.
He didn’t even seem to mind the few students who openly clicked their tongues or frowned.
“I wonder. Perhaps Chrom would know better than I do?”
“Me? No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I-is that so.”
To be that thick-skinned was, in itself, a weapon—something Lyla couldn’t help but admire.
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