"You're really not afraid of gambling away your entire scholarship, huh?" Freya shook her head. "And don't overestimate yourself. Even at a tea café, you might not qualify for the lowest-tier green tea position. To make money there, you'd need to take out a loan for a full-body cosmetic overhaul—body shape, appearance, hair, lips, teeth, scent, and, yes, even specialized physical enhancements would all need adjustments."
Adela looked horrified. "That extreme!?"
"Let me break it down for you," Freya said, pointing at herself. "If I worked at a tea café, I'd only qualify as a blue tea tier worker, and I'd still end up with below-average performance."
"The competition is that fierce? Even sirens can barely scrape by!?"
"Honestly, I think Mud Cafés are even more competitive. Next time you come with me, I'll introduce you to a beastman who's prettier than most sirens."
"Ugh, it's all because of the medics!" Adela ground her teeth in frustration. "These days, even a naturally beautiful girl like me can't make a living with just her looks."
"That's why you need to study hard. Being a sorcerer is the least competitive career path. The Void doesn't care about rankings—only whether you're qualified," Freya said as she packed up her bag.
Adela stood up too. "Alright, let's go to Salace's for dinner."
Salace's was a popular music restaurant near the university. Its affordable prices and diverse menu made it a hit with students. It even had separate zones for sugar consumers and non-consumers, so no one had to worry about a sugar-induced episode from nearby diners.
"I'm not coming," Freya said.
"What? Why not? My treat!"
"I've got plans tonight."
Adela froze for a moment, then asked with suspicion, "Two nights in a row at a Mud Café? You're rolling in cash now?"
"Not a Mud Café," Freya said, resting her chin on her hand. "It's something I can't really talk about."
Before leaving in the morning, Ash had asked about Freya's class schedule and instructed her to come home as soon as her classes ended. Freya, aware she was harboring a fugitive, figured it was best to check on things first.
Adela frowned at her, then suddenly grabbed her shoulders. "Don't tell me you're in a relationship! Don't let one of those café workers scam you!"
"No way," Freya said, laughing and waving her hand dismissively. "Have you ever heard of a siren being scammed by a man?"
Adela thought about it and had to agree. Since meeting Freya, she had seen her visit over a dozen Mud Cafés near the university, never getting attached to any single worker. Sirens were famously a one-time-only species—passionate before mating and indifferent afterward. Only a rare few could become exceptions in a siren's life.
Love was practically an alien concept to sirens. They couldn't tolerate prolonged intimacy with the same person.
"Tch," Adela clicked her tongue. "If you're not coming, I won't bother with Salace's either. I'll hit the buffet at Fortune High instead."
Fortune High was the biggest casino near the university. Anyone who purchased a certain amount of chips could enjoy the buffet for free.
"Don't lose your meal money. I'm not lending you anything," Freya warned.
"Bah! Don't jinx me! I'm feeling lucky today!"
After leaving the classroom and parting ways with Adela, Freya silently prayed to the Blood Moon Sovereign for her friend's luck. If Adela lost everything, she'd surely come begging for food.
Adela was one of Freya's close university friends. A human girl with wine-red hair and green eyes, her favorite hobby was gambling. Though her gambling habit was severe, it wasn't uncommon among university students—nearly every student indulged in gambling, relationships, or both. Those who avoided both were rare "wooden figures" often ostracized by others.
Surprisingly, sugar addicts were relatively scarce among students. Though there was no official study, the general belief was that sugar consumption impaired cognitive abilities, making it nearly impossible for sugar addicts to qualify for university.
That said, Adela wasn't an impulsive gambler. She was confident because of her academic standing. Ranking among the top of her class, she had a solid shot at getting into the Red Mist Research Institute for graduate school. Once accepted, the institute would help her pay off her student loans.
In popular terms, Adela was about to "make it ashore." Naturally, she wasn't too worried about her future.
Freya, on the other hand, wasn't aiming for graduate school. After graduation, she'd have to start repaying her loans immediately. If she couldn't find a decent job, the bank would "helpfully" recommend more profitable professions—like working as a tea café attendant.
How many of those highly modified Mud Café workers were her upperclassmen…?
Freya's mind wandered as she returned to her apartment building.
On the stairs, she ran into Mrs. Mulan from the second floor. The older woman grabbed her arm the moment she greeted her. The soft, furry area on Freya's forearm was a siren's weak spot, so she didn't dare resist.
"Freya, you mustn't trust men, no matter how good they seem. Men are incapable of empathizing with women—it's in their nature!" Mrs. Mulan began her usual tirade.
Freya endured another retelling of "Young and Beautiful Mulan Falls for a Scumbag Who Took Her Money." Seizing an opportunity, she slipped away, saying, "Got it, Mrs. Mulan. I'm a siren. I won't get scammed by men!"
Mrs. Mulan sighed dramatically and called after her, "Men will try to trap you with small gestures! If he's not willing to spend big, he's a liar!"
Why was Mrs. Mulan so riled up today? Did she run into the guy who scammed her at a Mud Café? Freya's thoughts drifted as she pulled out her keys.
Then she remembered the cult leader currently living in her apartment.
Why did he ask me to come home early?
What does a cult leader do when no one's around?
It must be some kind of evil sacrificial ritual, right?
Wait—did he call me back to use as a sacrifice?
No, that's impossible. The contract clearly prohibits us from harming each other.
Maybe he needs an assistant for his ritual?
If that's the case, wouldn't I become an accomplice instead of just harboring a fugitive!?
Even though she felt uneasy, Freya knew she had to check inside. If there was any danger, she'd just run for it. They were in the middle of the city—surely a fugitive wouldn't chase a university student through the streets.
Opening the door, Freya's nose twitched as the scent of food wafted out. Suspicious, she stepped into the entryway and found Ash wearing an apron in her tiny kitchen. He was busy cooking, using utensils she hadn't touched since moving in.
String was circling his feet, meowing eagerly, seemingly enticed by the delicious aroma.
Ash looked up and smiled.
"Take a seat. I'm just finishing the last dish. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Welcome back."