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Chapter 20
Of course, the pampered noble punks weren’t about to submit quietly to labor exploitation.
“What? Why should we work just to earn some shop points? That kind of thing is for commoners.”
“You think my family would just sit back and watch me do menial labor like that?”
“If you’re going to bring up your family, keep your voice down, idiot. What if an upperclassman hears and calls assembly again?”
“Whatever. If those pushovers running the shops get annoying, we can just shake them down. When the 86th class beat us up, some of them looked too timid to even think about grabbing a club.”
“I also don’t feel that labor is… well, it’s not exactly the aesthetic expected of a gentleman. Granted, it’s not expected of ladies either.”
Only a few students, aside from Lucian — plus some who simply wanted to escape eating with that mutt Gaejuk — headed toward the labor-assignment list.
When Chloe reached the bulletin board with the shop-labor list posted on it, she quickly realized nothing had changed since yesterday. As she copied the list into her notebook, she muttered:
“I guess the armory resupply is still the best option….”
Shop duty was worth four points, and she’d sorted armories to death back at the Royal Officer Academy, so it wasn’t a problem. However—
“That’s not a task first-years are allowed to do.”
A flat voice spoke behind her. Chloe turned and saw a familiar blonde beauty standing there with her arms crossed.
That senior.
The blonde senior who kept showing a strange interest in Chloe. Chloe herself always felt a weird sense of déjà vu whenever she saw her.
“Good afternoon, ma’am!”
The first-year group snapped to salute the moment they saw the green epaulets on her shoulders.
At Northport, each year wore different epaulet colors — black for first-years, purple for second-years, green for third-years, and gold for fourth-years.
The 87th class had been so relentlessly hazed by the 86th that even the sight of a purple epaulet made them flinch. But Chloe knew the truth: the real epaulets to fear were green and gold.
Daphne approached Chloe, then tapped the labor list with a calloused but slender finger.
Armory resupply & organization — 4 pts
Ammunition crate transport — 4 pts
“These two are too risky for first-years. Even if you go, they won’t take you.”
It disappointed Chloe, but she understood. Who would entrust weapons and ammunition to the most unstable group — the first-years desperately wanting to escape Northport?
Unless they didn’t know how to use guns at all… but thanks to Northport’s hellish training, most first-years were already proficient.
Daphne’s finger slid up and tapped the next two items.
Warehouse organization — 2 pts
Food supply inspection — 3 pts
“These are only possible if upperclassmen put your names in.”
Chloe immediately grasped what that implied.
So they’re skimming supplies.
If they stole goods in front of clueless first-years, those naïve kids would probably report them immediately. So they created this “rule” to only bring “trusted” people along.
Document delivery — 2 pts
“You need to know all the staff members’ faces, names, and office locations. First-years can’t do this.”
Parade ground maintenance — 2 pts
“This barely has any work at all, so only upperclassmen can do it. Don’t even dream of it until second year.”
Of course there was corruption. But seeing there was only one truly off-limits task for lowerclassmen was almost surprising.
And the fact that this senior was actually pointing each item out one by one and explaining why first-years couldn’t do them — she looked like an angel to Chloe’s group.
“I have a question. Then can a first-year apply for a special mission like this one?”
Chloe pointed at a separate mission recruitment notice next to the list. Daphne nodded.
“There’s no rule against first-years applying. But easy missions get snatched up by upperclassmen first. Don’t expect to get comfy assignments.”
Unlike the 86th class, who glared if you even breathed the ‘q’ of ‘question,’ Daphne actually answered properly.
“Good afternoon, ma’am!”
The second-years stiffened like boards the moment they saw Daphne, greeting her with razor-sharp precision. Chloe found it strange.
She seems decent enough… why is their discipline this intense?
Reactions like that were usually reserved for seniors who were not just strict but downright terrifying.
Chloe knew this intimately — she’d seen plenty of that at the Royal Central Officer Academy and the Intelligence Operations Division.
“Ah—!”
After greeting Daphne, the second-years belatedly noticed Chloe standing next to her. Panicking, they yanked Chloe back.
“Hey! Are you insane? Ma’am, we’re sorry! We’ll make sure the rookies receive proper training—”
Tap tap.
Daphne lightly tapped her lips twice with her finger — a silent warning. The second-years instantly shut their mouths.
Only after they left did Daphne finally turn and walk away.
Now that they knew which tasks were off-limits for first-years, it was time to pick today’s labor.
Chloe quickly chose instructor lounge cleaning, thinking she might find some clues for her mission.
“All spots are filled.”
—But she was immediately rejected.
There was no time to hesitate — a luxury they did not have.
Labor assignment was basically a game of speed.
You had to run to the site of the job you wanted and declare participation before the slots filled up. If it filled before you got there, too bad.
In the end, Chloe ended up stuck with Rozelin, Finny, and Marielle doing slop disposal.
This was something even elite Chloe had never done before.
Their job was to carry the slop bins behind the dining hall, dump the food waste into sacks to be sent to the livestock barn, deliver the sacks, then hose down the bins and take them back inside.
Working in pairs, they managed to carry the slop bins behind the building, but dumping them into the sacks was the real problem.
Gagging, Chloe turned her head as far away as she could from the slop bin.
It was because an instructor had warned them that anyone who puked into the slop bin would regret it. Apparently even pig feed had standards.
“Wow, so you do have a weak spot.”
Rozelin snickered beside her, watching Chloe’s unfamiliar expression.
Chloe had grown up like a noble lady in a mansion full of servants. Even at the Royal Central Officer Academy, cadets never handled slop. Sure, they threw leftover food into bins, but who ever looked at a mountain of mixed food waste up close like this?
She also wondered how there could be so much waste when first-years weren’t even allowed to leave food uneaten.
“How can you stay so calm looking at this nightmare?”
“Well, there’s always at least one guy who drinks too much or gets too nervous gambling and ends up puking everywhere. I almost threw up the first few times too, but once you see it often enough, you adapt.”
Rozelin shrugged. Chloe wondered just how often she’d hung around such places to get that used to it.
“G-guys….”
Marielle called them in a dying voice, pale as a ghost, hands over her mouth, gasping like a suffocating goldfish.
“The smell… I… ugh! I think I’m gonna—”
“Fantastic.”
Her throat was convulsing in a way that was definitely not fake.
“All right, Marielle. Empty your mind — your mind, not your stomach — and get out of here. Right now.”
“Empty… empty… ugh—!”
“I said empty your mind, not your guts! Don’t throw up on the floor — get out, idiot!”
Chloe’s words sped up in proportion to Marielle’s paling complexion.
Unable to hold back anymore, Marielle bolted out with her mouth covered.
So her sensitivity isn’t just hearing — it’s all senses…
Chloe updated her old hypothesis.
“But how am I supposed to dump this by myself?”
“Hold on. We’ll do ours first and help you. Three of us together can manage.”
But a moment later—
“Laaaaady! Lady Marielle told me the Lady was in grave danger, so I rushed here at once!”
Lucian came dashing behind the dining hall.
Marielle, with the last of her conscience, had sacrificed Lucian to the slop-disposal battlefield.
He’s going to be absolutely useless.
That was the thought that crossed all three of their minds simultaneously.
