Owing to my expectations, class proved to be a breeze. Everything. From maths to magical study. Which when you think about it, is only two classes, but regardless. I think the point stands. Studying here won’t necessitate a great deal of my patience. Since applying demanded you select what subjects to take, such an outcome was only logical. Granted, if I were forced into the subject of Practical Botany or nonsense like ‘Philosophy’, I’d probably have greater difficulty.
Though, there’s little use in contemplating that. Our merit in society isn’t based on how diverse our skill sets are. It’s based on the fields we apply them to.
“What are you having?”
“Set A, please.”
This time at lunch, an elvish woman of what I presume to be an ‘edgy persuasion’, hands me my food. A little reasoning leads me to suspect our eccentric headmaster was the one who asked her to wear it. Seeing as she wears dark eyeliner and some frilly ankle-length dress made more for some antiquated ball then anything else.
“Is that your type?”
“No, Yon.”
“Your loss.”
And with that, we seat ourselves at our usual place. The designated gathering spot for dinner, breakfast, and now lunch at this very moment. And by we, I do mean the usual male trio. That being, Harux, Yon, and yours truly.
“So, anything new?”
Halfway through our meal, I endeavour to ignite a spark of small talk.
“Class,” Yon replies, his voice raspy.
“Food!” Harux joins in, a mouth full of, you guessed it, food.
No further attempts at conversation come from me. By the time we finish our meal, there counts down ten minutes before class starts. Normally, this would be my signal to leave. But not this time. In the distance, a low-hanging table propped by the cafeteria’s exit catches my attention. It appears to be run by a student, with a small line of people queuing for what I assume to be homemade confections.
Given the time until our next class, I notice the crowd waiting for food diminish in intensity, thereby leaving the occasion for me to sweep in and pick up some treats of my own.
I clear my throat and propose the offer to my compatriots. “Want to get some snacks?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah!”
We queue in line of what are around six students. The numbers diminish in short of a minute, and we soon find ourselves face-to-face with the vendor. He looks to be human and has short brown hair. His outfit, which is a Witken pullover brown hoodie and a pair of sports pants, implies a degree of informality and ease of familiarising himself with others. A suspicion further confirmed by the others who pass by, commenting on his general kindness and quality of product.
“Hello, what can I get for you three gentlemen?”
He sends out an eager nod and, with equal enthusiasm, points to many of the treats on display like a businessman on cocaine.
“I’ll have the Mari-Mari.”
“Mari-Mari?” I ask Yon.
“It’s that.”
I feel quite stupid as it becomes clear that the dessert’s name, MARI-MARI, is written in all yellow on a sign. What remains opaque still is what the dessert actually is. I see that it is colourful, yes. It looks to be a cake of several layers of blue and pink, with an almost jelly-like, if not slimy, sheen to its surface.
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“That’s Mari-Mari! Layered with five levels of rice flour, coconut milk, and egg!”
I take it to be Crilandese. Admittedly, I’m not terribly familiar with their cuisine, and have yet to see something like this. Blame it on geography, if anything. The country’s all the way in the southwest, so I hardly hold responsibility for being unfamiliar with what they eat.
“Try it, Lucius. It’s pretty good.” Yon says, nodding.
I heed his suggestion.
“Alright, I’ll have one of these ‘Mari-Mari’ and one of those big chocolate chip cookies.”
“You got it, boss!”
The boy throws out a thumbs up, and then proceeds to use a tong to put the desserts on a bamboo plate.
“Will you guys be having anything else?”
“I’ll have a Mari-Mari and one cashew nut cookie!” Harux demands.
“Greeeeat choice, boss!”
“I’ll have nothing,” Yon utters.
“Also a commendable choice, boss!”
I decide to ask a question that’s been itching at my mind at this point.
“How much will all of these cost?”
“Wow, Lucius, are you paying for me?”
I smile the charitable smile.
“It’s more convenient that way than to have us both swipe, no?”
The boy lurches slightly forward and hands us our two plates. We take it, and I take out my card, ready to swipe at the e-reader.
“That’ll be nine points!”
Nine points?
“You must be mistaken, I assume you mean ninety, or maybe, nine hundred?”
“I’m not here to rob you dry, boss!” He grins. “Just nine!”
Uh oh. While I’m trying to rationalise this, I come to the conclusion that it’s either an atrocious business decision or that I might’ve made a mistake of some kind.
I play off the price. “Hmm, alright. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know how many points we start off with, right?”
The boy scratches his chin, eyes closed and then nods in a flash of genius.
“Two thousand!”
“Two thousand,” I murmur, still smiling. “Sorry to bother you. But would you mind explaining how transactions are carried out here?”
“Sure thing!”
Then, as if verifying my doubts, the boy shows me his setup, of which composes this small device connected by cable to the e-reader, and of which I see a series of numbers.
“So, the vendor decides what price to sell their goods at, right?”
“Uh-huh!”
“And there aren’t any counter-measures in place against this?”
“Well…” He trails off, expressing sympathy. “If you want, you could ask the student council for help. There’s a rule saying you can’t sell your stuff for a price you haven’t named, so some guy can’t say 200, and then charge you for 2000.” He then scratches his chin. “So you can always look for some video recordings to prove you’ve been scammed!”
“I see.”
How very amusing. It all comes flashing back now. Last night, at that convenience store… When I was in a rush, that seller had named 2000 points and robbed my dry. All for a bundle of toilet paper. So, in the end, the joke’s on me. Hah. What a precocious little gaggle of morons these scammers are…
“I’ll pay,” Yon says, swiping his card over the e-reader.
“Thank you for your purchase, do come again!”
I prepare to pull away from the vendor but come up with one final question.
“Sorry for the trouble, but would you happen to know who runs the first convenience store in the district behind the school?”
“Oh, you mean, like, the one just right of the entrance?”
“Yes.”
“I believe that place belongs to Ceylica’s gang!”
“Ceylica.”
A gang and an unknown name. The source of my current conundrum and the target of my not-so-mild vexation. Nevertheless, a gang, huh? So, this school’s power structure has a little more leeway than expected, after all.
“Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure, boss!”
I give a humble bow and depart with the others. A minute into our walk, Yon motions to speak, no doubt pitying my current situation.
“Sorry about your loss,” He comments as if speaking about someone recently deceased.
“It’s nothing, really.”
He shrugs. “If you want, I can buy whatever you need until you get your points back… Somehow.”
I wait a moment, a tension in my body. I know he didn’t intend it, but the sheer notion that I’m somehow unable to recuperate my lost points is enough to tick me off.
“Thankfully, I came prepared with three sets of suitcases.”
“Still… You seem annoyed.”
I make no effort to disprove that point. All this time, an unbridled rage gnaws at my being. I can’t help it. It’s humiliating, is what it is. For a businessman like myself to be conned by a bunch of kids who probably can’t even pay their taxes is nothing short of slander.
“It’s nothing.”
Digging my fingers into my palm, I feel a semblance of logic return to me, grounding me to the earth. Then, all at once, I brush back my hair, and any traces of visible anger leave me.
“Yon.” I declare, stepping forward. “Watch me. I’ll dismantle this petty gang of theirs in less than a week.”
“Ooh, how are you going to do that, Lucius?!” Harux yells, hand on sword, ready to jump at a moment’s notice.
“With the power of economics.”