Zolf.
The most talked-about unfortunate graduate student in Zefflin right now suggested we move somewhere else to talk, and I headed with him to the convenience store.
“So this is the ‘Wolf’s Den.’”
“…What’s that?”
“His Highness Prince Wolfram von Lohengrin’s hideout. They’re talking about the 8th Faculty of Magic.”
“Is that what they call it?”
“Yes. They say it’s a place in Zefflin that only those chosen by His Highness the Prince dare to visit.”
Who started that rumor?
If customers stop coming to my convenience store, what am I supposed to do!
“I see. So you, Zolf, have voluntarily set foot in this Wolf’s Den?”
“If I were wise enough to worry about being bitten to death by a wolf, I wouldn’t have become a graduate student in the first place.”
That’s… a fair point.
I pulled out two drinks and got to the main topic.
“Alright, let’s hear it. You want to enter my service… what does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“I mean I don’t understand what that ‘exactly’ means. I’m asking for a full explanation.”
This is the guy who, when I handed out snacks at the church on Sundays, asked if he needed to sign a collateral contract. Of course, he was told he didn’t have to come starting the next week—but anyway, he’s not the type to sign contracts easily.
“I see. You’ve been through a lot since then too, Your Highness, so I’ll keep it brief.”
“I permit it.”
“First, our lab fell apart after that. Of course it did—how could research proceed when the professor was under investigation? Worse, because it was research commissioned by the Imperial family, they issued a stop order, and another lab took over.”
“Is that even right? They just stole ongoing research? The research data up to now would remain as records, but the ‘future ideas and research directions’ in their heads can never be stolen, can they? That could be a huge waste of time.”
“With Imperial authority, even that formidable professor was taken down in one blow. Haha.”
“……”
Right.
The Lohengrin basically don’t move—they remain still like a mountain—but once they do move, they show no mercy. When Regina Sierra insulted me, even Regina Sierra—the top candidate for the next head of the Sierra family—was prepared for expulsion.
That’s the weight of humanity’s guardian.
A professor’s research or two, dismantling a lab or two—when the Imperial family gets involved, it’s a simple matter.
“So? What happened to Professor Lantica Grace?”
“Still under investigation. She’s denying the charges, asking other professors for statements of support, and pulling strings every which way—but since the Imperial family itself is directly involved, it won’t end easily.”
“Then what about your graduate research? It’s not easy to find another professor at this point.”
“…By the way, Your Highness, are you familiar with the thesis review process at Zefflin Graduate School?”
“Not in detail.”
“In short, Zefflin’s thesis review involves six reviewers authoritative in the same field evaluating the thesis. They say things like ‘This thesis is sufficient to earn a degree’ or ‘It has shortcomings but is fine for graduation.’ Officially it’s written that ‘these six people are chosen by agreement between the graduate student and the professor from a list of names,’ but in reality, the professor just decides.”
“So?”
“In short, I’m now at the center of the Zefflin Graduate School situation, and since I don’t have a professor, I can appoint those six reviewers myself. The review results will be compiled by other professors in the same field, but since they don’t want a fuss, they’ll probably pass me without issue.”
“I see. So your degree is essentially confirmed. Congratulations.”
“It’s nothing to celebrate. The real war starts now. And… that’s also why I came to see Your Highness.”
“Right. Your graduation being a given isn’t what this is about—entering under me.”
“…Yes. So, to the point.”
“The small talk was long. Get to it.”
“The Imperial family has been watching this case closely and has now announced that they will establish a ‘professor evaluation system by graduate students.’”
“Hm.”
Graduate students evaluating professors?
There’s no way that’ll work properly.
A military complaint box would function better.
“A system where graduate students anonymously evaluate each lab’s name and professor. They say they’ll add a feature that everyone can view, like Zefflin’s status book. …Haha. I know—even without Your Highness making that face—there’s no way it’ll work properly.”
“Good that you know.”
“Yes. [Everyone in the lab, write the highest evaluation this week] or [The ones who gave low scores are staying another year, got it?]—that kind of talk won’t be a joke; it’ll be dead serious. What’s more…”
“…In the worst case, the Imperial family might just treat it as a face-saving measure and leave it at that. I doubt much additional management manpower will be allocated.”
“Haha… As expected, Your Highness is spot on. I’m just amazed at that insight.”
Well, of course. No society where whistleblowing systems actually work exists.
“Now, to the main point. I—no, we—want to privatize that system. For that, we need Your Highness.”
“…Continue.”
“I want the graduate student treatment improvement system to keep running even after I graduate. I might be changed after getting my degree, but even so, if the system works properly, my juniors will enjoy better lab lives.”
“For that, you need the Lohengrin name to maintain the system?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Simple.
If they secure the powerful name of Lohengrin, and that Lohengrin keeps watching, the probability of that ‘professor evaluation system by graduate students’ actually functioning jumps dramatically.
Of course, since labs are closed communities, the probability isn’t high—but complaint letters could be sent directly to me. And if I tell the Imperial family “This kind of case came up, so let’s investigate at the Imperial level”—well… if the Emperor’s bloodline speaks, investigators will at least show up.
And that’s enough. Long live bloodline privilege.
That alone will pressure the faculty. It ensures at least a minimum level of fairness.
And what I gain is the future graduate students—the scholarly class that will lead the Lohengrin. If I strongly appeal that the system is maintained through my consideration, they will become my loyal subordinates.
Honestly, all that aside—
“How many graduate students follow you?”
“About fifty or so.”
“I have one condition.”
“I dare to hear it. Whatever command you give…”
“Buy my products regularly. I’ll deliver school supplies, meals, snacks, drinks—on a regular basis.”
“……………………..Excuse me?”
“In exchange, I’ll reduce the margin by 10% from the regular retail price. I’ll send you a list, you check what you want to buy and place an order. I’ll deliver via Patrasche—free shipping.”
“What’s the meaning of… Ah. I see. So it’s also a subtle show of being a member of the Wolf’s Den. Haha. Not just some spy operating in the shadows, but openly declaring yourself part of the Wolf faction. …Yes. Understood. I’ll share your fate.”
What is he talking about?
I’m just saying I’ve gained 50 regular customers.
“Good. Call a gathering tonight.”
“Tonight, you say?”
“Since we’ve made a deal, we should have at least one meeting. Don’t you think?”
“You’re right. I’ll call one immediately.”
“Good. Give it your all. Place as many orders as possible.”
“A graduate student’s monthly salary is 1.8 million rin. Please be merciful.”
“I’m giving you 10% off and free shipping—and you’re still saying that?”
“…Well, it is cheaper than regular stores, right?”
“Hm.”
“Fufu. Thank you for your continued generosity.”
That evening, those who shared Zolf’s ideals gathered for a dinner party in front of the convenience store.
I cleared out my inventory nicely. Of course, I got paid.
*Burp.*
This is good.
I’ve raised some quick cash and secured a supplier, haven’t I?
Putting my name as an honorary advisor to one institution is cheap at that price. Don’t you think?
—
A few days later.
Eve von Lohengrin, with dark circles under her eyes, suddenly barged into the convenience store.
“…Wolfram.”
“Eve. You look half-dead as always—truly a fine example of a student council president leading Zefflin’s hundred thousand students. Keep up the good work.”
Eve and I smiled at each other and raised our middle fingers. Haha. What great bloodline mates we are. If you weren’t here, things would be twice as good for me.
“So, what brings you here?”
“I heard some information.”
“……?”
“…I heard you held a gathering with graduate students?”
A gathering?
Do we really need such grandiose words?
“Word travels fast.”
“What are you thinking?”
“They sought refuge with me, so I just accepted them.”
“……”
Eve glared at me.
Wow, those eyes are full of killing intent.
“Among the first-years, there’s a rumor going around that you raised [Iron Fist] Millefeuille. The first-years who bear no ill will toward you admire and envy you. And now you’re going to take graduate students under your wing too? Your personal faction is going to grow enormously. Congratulations.”
“……”
Does it really work that way?
“…We imperial descendants—especially the direct line—always become student council president in Zefflin. In order to build our own faction when we leave this model garden.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you planning to build your own faction now? By taking in naive first-years and oppressed graduate students…?”
Wow, when you put it like that, it sounds truly trashy.
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Yes. Of course you’d say no. But your ambition is too great. Now you’ll undermine and toy with my reputation, achieving a dualization of Zefflin. My term will go down as the most worthless in Zefflin’s history.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Don’t play dumb. You’ve already taken the second-year Knight Faculty’s top student as a royal guard, the third-year Magic Faculty’s top student as your fiancée, the third-year Magic Faculty’s strongest assassin on campus, and even the adopted daughter of your great ancestor who’s currently in her fourth year. Your forces are growing terrifyingly—politically, in ability, and in legitimacy. And at the center of it all is the ruthless, tearless Wolfram von Lohengrin.”
Wow, is that so.
There really was a truth like that even I didn’t know.
Could you please introduce me to this Wolfram? I’m confident I could watch four ads with a smile even if he appears on screen 60 seconds later.
My mind can’t keep up with Eve’s talk.
I’m getting dizzy, really.
“Wolfram. Wolfram von Lohengrin. Are you now setting your sights on the throne itself?”
Ah.
Now she’s saying something I can roughly understand.
The throne? That thing.
I know it—I have it, that money-devouring monster.
“The throne is already mine.”
Eve gritted her teeth and glared at me.
“My older brother and sister are no pushovers. No. You know that too, don’t you?”
She probably doesn’t mean me when she says “older brother”… Ah. She means them.
But why are they coming up now?
I can’t make heads or tails of what Eve is saying.
“Fine. I usurped your position and turned it into my term, but it’s also my fault for not stopping you from growing this much. I won’t be so petty as to revoke your forbidden-area permissions now, but I won’t lose either.”
“……”
“I’ll watch what you do and follow you. Your ambition is dangerous!”
“Is that so. Do as you please.”
“…I will definitely follow you!”
Yes, yes.
That’s just your age.
So all that fuss was just because you wanted to say you want to follow me?
“If that’s the case, get a swimsuit ready within two weeks.”
“…Excuse me?”
If she’s begging so tearfully to be included in the party, well—she is a bloodline mate, so I suppose I have no choice.
“The departure date is in two weeks. I’ll announce the details later.”
“…………?”
I understand completely, really.
When will she ever grow up?
