Side: Tatsuya
Right — this campaign’s final tally.
・Gratuity from the villagers: 200 gold
・The bandits’ cash: 2,000 gold
・The bandits’ treasure: 7,000 gold
Mm. Roughly enough to order one bottle of premium daiginjo sake, give or take.
…No. Bad. I’m converting everything to alcohol units again.
THIS is exactly why we live in permanent budget crisis…
For the record, Arisa attempted to shake the villagers down for substantially more, and received a fist-bonk of appropriate firmness.
The villagers had paid 400 gold up front to the Adventurers’ Guild, with another 400 prepared as the success fee.
Arisa tried to walk off with the entire remaining 400 — hence my “at LEAST split it with them…” and hence the final number.
This time, instead of alcohol, the order went to restocking the full seasoning lineup.
Cornelia’s visit frequency being what it is lately, the curry powder got a double-size restock.
And then—
“Seriously though — HOW are you calculating that fast?”
I muttered it, staring in disbelief as Mayu assembled the farm-revenue ledger via mental arithmetic.
“I did soroban as a kid… and I’m at a commercial high school, so basic bookkeeping’s no problem.”
“Out of curiosity — how far does the mental math go?”
“Eh? Without the soroban… four digits times four digits, I can manage in my head?”
Ahh…
She’s one of THOSE. The real deal.
You meet them occasionally — soroban kids who grew into superhuman mental calculators.
And on top of that: commercial-school accounting training.
“Hey, Mayu?”
I clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“Eh? What?”
“You’re hired. Chief accounting officer, effective immediately!”
And thus our bookkeeping improved to a degree best measured in dimensions rather than percentages.
That night—
To celebrate the appointment of our chief accounting officer, I ordered three bottles of cheap whiskey through the Money-Grubbing God.
Plus soda water.
Austerity measures: it’s a highball party.
Mayu — self-reportedly twenty — had apparently never drunk before.
We gave her a trial glass and — she’s a heavyweight.
Both parents from Kyushu, so genetically she carries the Dangerous Drinking Gene, apparently.
And, per tradition, everyone drank themselves unconscious across the living room.
Finally, a quiet night’s sleep alone — I slid into bed, and—
—Yeah. I knew.
Some part of me already knew Mayu would have pre-infiltrated the bed.
But to think she’d ACTUALLY be here…
“Ah… Tatshuya-shan…”
Oh?
Heavyweight genes or not, apparently a first-ever drinking session still claims the tongue.
“WHY are you in my bed?”
“Ish… um… I… I’m… Tatshuya-shan ish…”
And Mayu wrapped both arms around my back.
A liquid-courage confession, then. I see.
“Like I said — high school girls are off the table.”
“Lishen… I’m… TWENTY yearsh old, ‘kay?”
“You look, by every observable metric, sixteen?”
“Sho, um? During magic training… there’sh a convenient shpace where you don’t age.”
“Hm?”
“Two daysh outside… is one year inshide. I trained there four yearsh. My looksh didn’t age, but… I’m a full, certified twenty.”
Uh… huh.
I’m fairly sure a certain nationally beloved manga about vegetable-named aliens firing energy from their palms… had a room with exactly that effect?
The classic convenient training mechanic — time flows differently inside, one exterior day per interior year, grind your power level in peace…
Oi oi. Seriously?
“Sh-sho… I’m… twenty yearsh old, ‘kay?”
Ah. Then no problem at all.
…No, wait, hold on, the retrofit on this one feels aggressive even by local standards… Twenty or not, the observable data says sixteen…
“No, but… that’s still, you know?”
“Uu… Tatshuya-shan… do you hate me…?”
At that, I heaved a deep, deep sigh.
And answered with my most honest feelings:
“I don’t hate this at all.”
—And so our family grew by exactly one more.