Civil Servant in Romance Fantasy

Indeed, my decision was not wrong. Giving up the competition and bowing our heads was the right choice.

While Ernesto Academy bowing its head during my tenure as principal was my personal karma, the students receiving teachings from the Mage Duchess were a blessing for all of Yuben. Gaining something so extraordinary at just the expense of tarnishing the name of an old man—what an undeserved gift.

“As expected of Ernesto’s descendants, you grasp things quickly.”

Moreover, the Mage Duchess positively mentioned Yuben’s hero and referred to us, who couldn’t even touch our mentor’s toe, as descendants. What an honor this was. The students seemed to feel the same way, their faces flushed or smiling from ear to ear.

I didn’t blame them for showing emotions unbefitting of mages, who should always maintain a calm demeanor. If I were young, I would have reacted the same way.

“While the Empire’s mages and Yuben’s mages may be separated by the borders of nations, the truth remains: both drive the progress of magic on this continent. The advancement of one side fuels my own ambition, and my ambition fuels competition. It is through unending competition that true progress is made.”

The Mage Duchess continued with a slight smile while looking at the students. Although we were divided by borders and nationalities, we were comrades striving for the progress of continental magic. Competition was natural, but even that competition would lead to the continent’s development and magic.

Indeed, these were wise words. That was why it was all the more moving. With such a pioneer of continental magic holding such noble ideals, the future of the magical world was incredibly bright.

“Do not think of the advice I’ve given as everything you need. Use it merely as a stepping stone as you move forward.”

With those words, the Mage Duchess left the classroom. It felt a bit bitter. I felt a sense of loss, as if I had been banished from a paradise where everything was abundant and perfect.

However, we couldn’t be consumed by that sense of loss. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have even set foot in such a paradise, let alone hear the voice of its god. How could we dare to feel dissatisfied? The Mage Duchess may have called her teachings a mere stepping stone, but for me, they would remain a guiding landmark for the rest of my life.

So let’s not forget today. If we progress based on these teachings, someday we might surpass the Imperial Academy. Didn’t the Mage Duchess say that competition was natural? We—no, I may have lost now, but in the future, we will win.

“Excuse me. Are you Professor Kurt Schere?”

Just as I was preparing to return to my quarters to reflect on the lessons before the inspiration faded, someone approached me.

…A young man with black hair, black eyes, and a black uniform.

It’s the Prosecutors’ Office’s Executive Manager.

As a mage, I couldn’t not know him. Apart from being the Empire’s Executive Manager, he was also the Mage Duchess’s fiancé.

What could this be about?

Hopefully, it wasn’t anything too troublesome.

***Unfortunately—no, fortunately, the early termination due to natural disasters didn’t happen. Right, a club fair filled with students’ passion couldn’t end so anticlimactically. That was only natural.

Thanks to that, I had been spending my time as a statue-like totem at the booth, but now I need to step away for a moment.

Kurt Schere.

I recalled the information I had hurriedly crammed into my head.

He was the principal of Ernesto Academy and a big name in the magical and educational circles of the United Kingdom of Yuben. It was easier to think of him as the Yuben version of our Principal. They say he had quite a fiery personality in his younger days, just like our Principal who was active in the military when he was young.

What a bother.

And now, I had to go meet him. Honestly, it was annoying. While I was happy to have an excuse to leave my post as a booth totem, the idea of negotiating with a foreigner I’d never met wasn’t exactly thrilling.

But what could I do? The principal had practically begged me to go, and, after hearing his reasoning, I had to admit it was a compelling request.

“We plan to sell cookies to Ernesto Academy separately from the auction.”

From the first statement, it was clear this wasn’t going to be simple. After deciding to hold an auction to avoid confusion, they were now planning to supply cookies separately to people who weren’t even their own citizens? It was unusual.

Of course, knowing that the Principal wouldn’t make such a decision without reason, I listened silently. Indeed, he promptly provided a valid explanation.

“The funds an academy can mobilize and those that nobles can are on different scales. The former is strictly limited to given budgets and predetermined uses, so there’s bound to be a limit to what can be squeezed out.”

Coming from a fellow academy Principal, the argument was incredibly persuasive.

“While we don’t need to consider individual circumstances in the auction, we must take into account that Ernesto Academy has swallowed its pride to come all the way to the Empire. Since they’ve already humbled themselves, we need to ensure they gain as much practical benefit as possible to maintain a smooth relationship.”

“That’s… complicated.”

Hearing this, I realized how difficult the world of mages was. Wasn’t it common practice to exploit an opening to the fullest when the other side swallowed their pride? However, it seemed that mages refrained from one-sidedly defeating their counterparts, probably because they frequently needed to interact with each other.

“Therefore, we’ll supply them with cookies, but in return, we won’t accept money. Instead, we’ll aim for something else.”

The principal’s following remarks were impressive. Since the nobles would be throwing gold coins at the auction anyway, he suggested we should get something that only mages from Ernesto Academy could provide.

For example, seminars where mages from across the continent gathered, disputes over research papers, joint magical development projects, or excavation of ancient ruins. The plan was full of ways to pressure Ernesto Academy into concessions in a variety of fields. The ideas spilled out so readily that it was clear these were long-standing frustrations. Perhaps the Principal had accumulated this much resentment over the years.

“Aren’t concessions a matter of practical benefit?”

“They’ve already indicated that they want the Mage Duchess’s teachings and cookies. They came all the way to the Empire for this, which means they’re likely willing to give up other things.”

I didn’t fully understand the mages’ ways, so I just went along with it. If the expert says so, then it must be right.

“However, it’s tricky for mages to directly mention concessions, and it would draw too much attention if the Principals were to meet now. It would be best if the Executive Manager could meet them under the pretense of overseeing the auction.”

Everything made sense until that last part. ‘Auction overseer’? I was just a figurehead advisor to the pastry club—they only listed me as the auction coordinator for formality’s sake.

Honestly, I still found it strange. Why was it so taboo for mages to even mention concessions? It wasn’t like they were fragile teenagers with overly sensitive egos. This level of diplomatic rhetoric felt almost pathological.

Still, I bit my tongue out of respect for the principal. If someone as competent as him personally requested my help, it must have been a genuinely delicate situation.

“Excuse me. Are you Professor Kurt Schere?”

So here we were. It felt a bit self-deprecating that my reason for meeting with a foreign VIP was to sell cookies.

“I’ve taken on the role of overseeing this auction through my connection with Her Grace, the Mage Duchess. I wanted to greet you and have a meaningful conversation.”

“That’s an interesting proposal.”

At least it seemed like it would be a smooth conversation.

***The club fair’s profits were split half and half between the academy and the clubs. It might seem odd for the academy to take profits earned by the clubs’ hard work, but it was tradition. Besides, nobles wouldn’t be fixated on the money earned from booths anyway. They saw it as a gesture of gratitude for the academy’s teachings.

Therefore, each club focused on their booth’s performance rather than on profits themselves. The pastry club was also the same last year.

…But not anymore.

“Seven cookies sold to Count Felan for 12 gold coins each.”

Wow.

The auction finally began on the last day of the club fair. As the nominal auction organizer, I barely managed to hold back an exclamation. If no one had been watching, I might have given them a standing ovation.

The Mage Duchess, who was an honorary member of the pastry club, had contributed the cookies as auction items. Thanks to this, they reached the outlandish conclusion that this auction’s profits would count as income for the pastry club’s booth. The Mage Duchess said she wasn’t interested in the profits and it felt wrong for the academy to claim 100% of it, so they must have compromised.

The result? The pastry club’s earnings were skyrocketing. It was a mad auction where anything below gold coins wasn’t even mentioned, with insane amounts equaling or surpassing my annual salary being casually thrown around. And that was the price even with a decent amount of supply being released.

They’re worth more than I am.

With a bitter feeling, I looked towards where the auction participants were seated and saw Kurt Schere with a dumbfounded expression.

Fortunately, our conversation ended smoothly, and Ernesto Academy managed to secure an appropriate amount of cookies. But even so, seeing the current auction must be overwhelming. If they hadn’t made a deal with us behind the scenes, Ernesto Academy would have had to participate in this crazy auction and compete with money.

Of course, the more overwhelmed they were, the more grateful they’d be to us for offering the backdoor deal. Hold onto that gratitude for a long time, foreigner.

“Oh, oppa, do we really get to keep half of this?”

Just as I was about to turn my attention back to the auctioneer, Louise, who had come to watch the auction as part of the pastry club, spoke with a trembling voice.

Right, she must be shocked too. How could anyone keep their composure while watching this insane auction where each item was going for over 10 gold coins? Moreover, Louise came from a barony, which was far from wealthy.

“Can’t we just give it all to teacher?”

I patted Louise’s head at her almost tearful voice. It was a cute question regardless of whether she was intimidated by the overwhelming amount or just lacked greed.

“Our club president must be happy about the increased club budget.”

“I’m not happy!”

I couldn’t help but smile after seeing Louise’s even more tearful face. Sorry, but that’s money you’ll have to manage. What can we do if the Mage Duchess won’t take it?

“Don’t think too negatively. At least the Gold Duke isn’t involved. If he were, the prices would’ve been at least five times higher.”

Ainter, who had been watching the scene, offered a faint smile to console her.

I couldn’t be sure if that really counted as comfort, but I suppose it was meant to ease her nerves. The situation could have been worse, so maybe she shouldn’t feel so bad.

“Five… times…”

Unfortunately, that comfort didn’t reach Louise. The terrifying words ‘five times’ seemed to have short-circuited her brain.

But it was true. If the Gold Duke had graced the auction, he would have crushed the other competitors with money.

“Come to think of it, it is strange. The Gold Duke is famous even in Yuben, so why isn’t he participating in something like this?”

“He didn’t even send a proxy. It’s like he’s completely stepped away.”

The other club members whispered among themselves, speculating about the Gold Duke’s absence. The Mage Duchess’s special cookies were a once-in-a-lifetime auction item, so why had he stayed out of it?

As if he gave up.

The club members might not know, but the Gold Duke hasn’t given up. On the contrary, he was the first to contact me.

— Executive Manager. I heard an interesting rumor that the Mage Duchess has made something fascinating.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

— I’ll pay a price you won’t be disappointed with, so send me 30 of them.

He bypassed the auction entirely, opting to purchase directly from me. And indeed, he sent an amount that was far from disappointing.

I didn’t feel particularly guilty. Wasn’t it natural for high-ranking individuals to live comfortably?

Besides, if the Gold Duke had personally participated in the auction, he would have taken all of them, not just 30. Wasn’t that fortunate for everyone else?

“Six cookies sold to Count Stinel for 14 gold coins each.”

Watching people happily buy their share made me feel good, too.