[The Budget Meeting: Coins on the Floor]
We sat on the cold, wooden floor of our empty dorm room. It was bare, functional, and free. I dumped the contents of the scholarship pouches onto the floor. The golden glint illuminated our tired faces like a campfire.
"Listen up," I said,
I slid a heavy pouch toward Elena. "Elena. Here is your 100 Gold scholarship from the Church. Plus, I'm allocating a 50 Gold monthly allowance from the main fund. That's 150 Gold for you."
Elena's eyes widened, her hands trembling as she touched the bag. "Dante! That's... that's too much! Even the Count's daughter only gets 200. I don't need—"
"You do," I cut her off, my voice brooking no argument. "You are the Saintess. You need to fit in. Buy silk dresses, import tea, treat your friends to lunch. Don't let anyone, anyone, look down on you."
Then, I slid a smaller pouch to Arthur. "Arthur. 60 Gold."
Arthur didn't just grab it; he cradled it against his chest with trembling hands, as if it were a newborn dragon. His eyes lost focus, calculating meat-skewer math at light speed.
"Sixty?!" he whispered, his voice filled with religious awe. "Dante... do you realize what this means? I can buy the premium skewers. The ones with the double-glaze. I can eat until I explode."
"It's for maintenance, you glutton," I snapped, tapping the ledger with my pen. "Whetstones. Armor polish. Blade oil. And yes, snacks. But if I find out you spent it all on food, I'm cutting your budget to zero and you'll be eating air for a month. Do you understand?"
Arthur nodded vigorously, already drooling. "Loud and clear. Whetstones. Polish. Meat. Mostly meat."
"And you?" Arthur asked, pointing at the pile remaining in front of me.
"I control the Main Fund," I said, scooping up the remaining 400 Gold. "School supplies, uniforms, bribes, emergency funds... I handle the logistics. I don't need an allowance."
(Truthfully, I just hated spending money on myself. Why buy a quill when I could smile at a Duchess's daughter and say, "I seem to have forgotten mine, could I trouble you?" It works 100% of the time.)
[The Motivation: Fear of the Hierarchy]
Later that afternoon, we walked Elena to the Girls' Dormitory. The air in the hallway smelled of lavender and old money. Maids were carrying luggage that looked more expensive than my entire life.
I looked at Elena. She was clutching her bag tightly, her knuckles white. I remembered the last two years in the slums. I remembered how she practiced walking with a book on her head in our leaky attic, sipping water from a cracked clay cup as if it were fine porcelain. She wanted to be elegant. She wanted to belong.
Now, she was rooming with Isabella (A Duke's Daughter) and Clara (A Merchant Tycoon's Daughter). I imagined the scene: Elena unpacking her school-issued grey blanket while the others unfurled silk sheets. The subtle glances. The pity.
A dark fire ignited in my gut. 'No. Not on my watch.'
I grabbed Arthur's arm. "Arthur. We have a mission." "To the furniture store?" Arthur asked, sensing my intensity. "To the most expensive furniture store in the capital," I corrected. "We are going to spoil her so hard she won't even know the definition of the word 'budget'."
[The Raid: The Last Copper]
We entered "The Gilded Swan Interiors." I looked at the prices. Then I looked at my bag of 400 Gold. 'This is going to be tight.'
I spent money like I was disarming a bomb—carefully, but sweating profusely.
Anka Feather Bed (130 Gold): Sleeping on clouds.
Dragon Silk Curtains (70 Gold): Shimmers in the dark.
Crystal Mana Chandelier (60 Gold): Perpetual rainbows.
Enchanted Vanity Mirror (40 Gold): Compliments you when you look in it. (Essential).
Climate Control Rug (30 Gold): Always warm, never hot.
Self-Cleaning Tea Set (20 Gold): Pure laziness.
Night-Vision Crystal Glasses (10 Gold): For reading in the dark.
Subtotal: 360 Gold. Remaining: 40 Gold.
I looked at the accessories counter. I needed the diplomats. I bought two "Sapphire Hairpins" for 20 Gold each.
Total Spent: 400 Gold. Remaining: 0 Gold.
I stared at my empty bag. My soul hurt. Arthur patted my back. "You okay, Dante? You look pale." "I'm fine," I croaked. "Just... appreciating the lightness of poverty."
[The Invasion: The Gentleman's Gambit]
We kicked open the door to Room 304, hauling crates that smelled of wealth.
Isabella and Clara were there. Their side of the room was nice—standard noble luxury. Elena's side was a barren wasteland. "What is this?" Isabella asked, clutching her pearls. "This is the girls' dorm!"
"Delivery for Miss Vale," I announced, dropping a crate with a heavy thud.
The room was cramped. I needed space. And I needed them gone. "Arthur," I whispered. "Use the Face."
Arthur sighed. He hated the "Noble Fop" act, but for Elena, he would slay a dragon or act like a poet. He stepped forward. He straightened his spine, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun. His golden hair seemed to glow on its own.
He took Isabella's hand, bowing just low enough to be respectful, but high enough to be dominant.
"Ladies," Arthur said. His voice dropped to a smooth, honeyed baritone that vibrated in the air. "Your radiance truly brightens this dull room. However..." He turned his gaze to Clara, locking eyes. "...We are preparing a surprise for our dear Elena. It would be a shame if the dust and noise disturbed such elegance. Could you grant us a moment?"
He produced the two small gift boxes (The 40 Gold Hairpins). "A token of our gratitude for your patience. From Elena."
CRITICAL HIT.
Isabella turned the color of a ripe tomato. "O-Oh! A surprise! How... gallant!" Clara fanned herself rapidly. "Of course! We... we were just leaving! Take your time! Take all day!"
They grabbed their gifts and practically fled the room, giggling like schoolgirls.
The door clicked shut. I leaned against the wall and burst out laughing. I puffed out my chest, mimicking Arthur's pose. "Oh, Ladies! Your radiance blinds me! Please, allow me to be your footstool!"
Arthur's face turned crimson. He punched my shoulder hard. "Shut up, Dante! You told me to do it! Don't make fun of me!"
"You were so smooth!" I teased, rubbing my bruised arm. "I almost fell in love with you myself."
Arthur grumbled. "Just open the crates."
Then, the temperature in the room dropped. I looked at Elena. She wasn't laughing. She was standing by the window, arms crossed. She was looking at Arthur. Her face was perfectly expressionless, but her eyes... They were the eyes of a Death Angel. Cold. Lifeless. Assessing exactly how to murder him without leaving evidence.
She didn't say a word. She didn't snap. She just stared at him. The message was clear: 'If you ever smile at another girl like that again, I will disassemble you.'
Arthur felt the killing intent. He shivered, turning pale. "Uh... Elena? Is the rug okay?"
Elena blinked. The terrifying aura vanished instantly, replaced by a bright, innocent, bubbly smile. "Let's set it up!" she chirped, completely ignoring his fear.
[The Setup: "Real Men Don't Decorate"]
An hour later, Elena's corner looked like the private chambers of a Queen. The Anka bed looked like it could swallow you in comfort. The chandelier cast soft, dreamlike prisms on the walls. The mirror was already whispering, "You look radiant today, my lady."
Elena sat on the bed, bouncing slightly. "This is amazing..." she breathed. "It's better than the hotel in the city! I love it!"
She looked up at us with wide, happy eyes. "Wait... Is your room like this too? Do you guys have feather beds and magic mirrors? Can I see?"
Arthur and I exchanged a look. Our room had straw mattresses that poked our backs, a single wobbly wooden table, and a distinct smell of old socks. It was a prison cell compared to this paradise.
But we couldn't let her know that.
"Pfft," Arthur scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Are you crazy? We are Men, Elena! Men don't decorate!"
"Exactly," I added, leaning against a wall (because we didn't buy chairs for ourselves). "If I slept in a bed this soft, my muscles would turn to jelly. I need a hard surface to keep my spine aligned for... intense calculations."
"Yeah," Arthur agreed, puffing out his chest. "Real warriors sleep on hard surfaces. We don't have time for cushions or mirrors. Our room is... rugged. Tactical."
Elena narrowed her eyes. She knew we were lying. She knew we had spent every last copper of the main fund on her. But she didn't call us out. She just smiled, a soft, warm, teary-eyed smile that made the empty coin bag feel lighter.
"You guys are hopeless," she said softly. "But thank you."
"You're welcome, Princess," I said. "Now, enjoy your palace. We have to go back to our... uh... Fortress of Solitude."
As we walked out into the hallway, leaving Elena surrounded by luxury, Arthur leaned in and whispered to me. "Dante... my back really hurts from that straw mattress. Can we at least buy a pillow?"
"Shut up, Arthur," I whispered back, patting my empty pocket. "We are men. We suffer in silence. Also, I have zero gold."