After seven days of visiting several villages each day and delivering supplies to see them through the winter, our party finally arrived at Maypool, the relay point on the way to the Silva Frontier Territory.
Maypool was the city that oversaw the northern villages of Marquis Saintpaulia’s domain, and apparently, its sweets were delicious. Its population was around one hundred thousand, making it considerably smaller than Flumen, but as the center of this region, it bustled with an energy that couldn’t even be compared to the villages.
Hmm, hmm. Living somewhere like this might be rather enjoyable too.
“Underboss Candidate, aren’t you thirsty?”
The one asking was Jairo, one of the family members.
He had a buzz cut about five millimeters long, several scars across his face, and the imposing presence of someone who’d survived his fair share of deadly situations… yet apparently, he was only eighteen and had just reached adulthood.
His mana was around Intermediate-grade, but he deliberately made its flow rough and violent to appear stronger. I supposed this was this world’s version of acting tough so no one looked down on you. Quite the swagger, wasn’t it?
The Cineraria Family had a branch in this city, and we needed to dress formally when paying our respects.
Naturally, I couldn’t remain where the girls were changing, so I’d moved to another carriage. I would leave the delightful task of dressing Resina up entirely to Penne. Good luck.
“Jairo, you don’t need to fuss over me so much. It’s true that I’m one of the candidates for the next underboss, but I’m only Resina’s friend. I’m not anyone important myself.”
“No, sir. I respect you, Underboss Candidate. Once you officially become underboss, please work me as hard as you like as one of your men.”
Why did every single person in the Cineraria Family refuse to listen to a word I said? It was rather sad.
And Jairo wasn’t the only one treating me so deferentially. Apparently, everyone accompanying us on this journey now held me in some esteem. Secretly replacing purification-barrier cores in the middle of the night was certainly one reason, but the greatest factor was something else entirely.
“You’re the only one who treats the young miss like a friend and lets that mana roll off you without batting an eye. Even nobles have to fight not to piss themselves in front of her… but you chop her right on top of the head.”
“That’s because Resina says such ridiculous things.”
“The young miss only turns into a useless puddle with that lovestruck look on her face when she’s around you. She used to be much more coldhearted, flawless, and merciless—so severe that she kept everyone at a distance.”
What world’s version of Resina was that supposed to be?
Well, she was still only ten. Making a friend could change her personality. If my presence had become an opportunity for her to change for the better, then I was glad. The price, however, was that I now had one foot in the yakuza world. How painful.
“Anyway, we’re going to greet the Maypool branch now, right? Will we spend our time here very differently from when we were touring the villages?”
“Yes, sir. Once the formal greeting at the branch office is over, the Gazania Family will probably hold a welcoming feast. We’ve also reserved a room at the finest hotel in the city, so you and the young miss can take your time and enjoy yourselves tonight.”
“…Hey. Why are you trying to pile up even more evidence that we’re already a couple? Why are you looking away? You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Which Resina gave you that order? Hmm?”
Setting that aside…
Apparently, the head of the Maypool branch operated an independent yakuza organization called the Gazania Family. There were all sorts of finer distinctions, but I wouldn’t be wrong to think of it as a subsidiary organization under the Cineraria Family.
“A formal greeting, huh… I’m the one who has to do it as a candidate for the next underboss, right? Somehow, without my knowledge, I seem to have been made responsible for this tour. How did things come to this?”
“But it ain’t anything difficult. You’re the one receiving the greeting, Underboss Candidate. All you need to do is carry yourself with dignity and say something like, ‘You’re here. Good work.’”
“Wow. That sounds awfully arrogant.”
It went so far that I practically wasn’t allowed to respond politely. Apparently, having your subordinates look down on you caused all sorts of problems.
Honestly, if it concerned only me, I wouldn’t care what anyone thought… but if I acted too deferentially here, I might lower Resina’s standing. If the family members accompanying us were taken lightly, the entire Winter Tour might even grind to a halt. I needed to be careful.
And so, as the leader of this group, I was dressed in formal black… but there was no possible way a ten-year-old commoner who was merely a baker’s son could radiate the dignity of a prospective underboss. At most, I looked like a little boy trying to appear grown-up—the sort of child who might prompt a neighborhood woman to ask, “Oh my, is there a music recital today?”
◆ ◆ ◆
Before me, a heavily built middle-aged man who looked every bit the part of a “boss” bent forward at the waist.
“My name is Gaccha, sir. I lead the Gazania Family here at the Maypool branch. Underboss Candidate, thank you for making the long journey from Flumen. I humbly ask for your guidance during this visit.”
The branch head bowed, all while directing a rough surge of mana at me. It didn’t carry any killing intent, so it was probably only a little game played during formal greetings. Was this another part of yakuza culture? I didn’t really know.
The men surrounding him were all dangerous-looking, muscular bruisers, but… hmm, they seemed surprisingly well behaved. Though their mana was swaggering with all its might, they merely stared at me in silence. Yes, yes—the usual yakuza.
All I needed to keep in mind was maintaining my dignity while still sounding casual. All right, this should do.
“Good work coming out to receive us. I heard Maypool’s winters were terribly cold, but this isn’t as bad as I was told. It’s quite a comfortable place.”
“……..Yes, sir.”
“What’s wrong? Why are you shrinking back like that? Hmm?”
Something about the branch head’s gaze caught my attention, so I looked behind me. Resina’s mana was flaring just a little more than usual.
Had she reacted to the branch head’s mana? No, if that were the case, hers would be much more violent. Since she was holding back, perhaps this was also part of the performance involved in greeting one another.
“Resina. You’re frightening everyone. Restrain yourself.”
“…Yes, Underboss Candidate.”
“You little troublemaker. I’ll punish you later.”
“Yes. I’ll bring the candles and whip afterward, so please discipline me to your heart’s content.”
As expected of Resina.
Even at a time like this, she never neglected an opportunity to establish another “fact” about us.
But watching her behavior finally made me understand.
Some of the people here were family members from headquarters, while others belonged to the Gazania Family. This little performance was necessary to make the hierarchy perfectly clear to everyone present. I didn’t really understand it, but perhaps this too was yakuza culture. Probably.
The sequence must have been something like this: first, Branch Head Gaccha lightly struck me with his mana. In response, Resina sharpened the atmosphere just a little. Then I immediately and peacefully brought the situation under control.
That gave everyone a shared understanding that I stood at the top of this gathering. When I thought about it, the arrangement made a fair amount of sense.
It felt rather roundabout, but a short performance certainly carried more weight than explaining the hierarchy in words. Besides… it was almost like doing an improvised play, which was rather fun.
A quiet chuckle escaped me, and every eye in the area turned my way. Ah, sorry. The whole thing had simply become amusing.
“All right, that’s enough fooling around. Would you get to work now?”
When I said that, Branch Head Gaccha bowed. For the time being, they needed to accept the winter supplies we’d brought. That was the main reason we’d come.
“Yes, sir. We’ve also prepared a feast for you today.”
Good. That seemed to bring the little performance to an end. Just as I thought so, snippets of whispered conversation reached me from the people nearby.
“He treated the boss’s mana like it was a game.”
“He said it wasn’t as bad as he’d heard.”
“So the rumor that he controls Lady Resina is true too.”
“Candles and a whip?”
“He laughed… with the air one spark away from exploding.”
“…That painfully ordinary face is a disguise.”
Well, yes. The little performance seemed to have been rather effective.
I supposed this sort of reputation was necessary for smoothly running a yakuza organization, so however unwillingly, I would have to accept it and move on. It still left me feeling a little melancholy.
For now, I’d heard that this region produced sugar and maple syrup, so I would soothe my heart with some delicious sweets.