That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

Suzuki didn’t hide everything, but he certainly didn’t reveal all his cards either. A true merchant never shows his entire hand. He knew he had to be utterly ruthless to survive, and he wasn’t naive enough to believe these sheltered teenagers could stomach his true, cold-blooded pragmatism.

Instead, he fed them perfectly curated pieces of intelligence: the kingdom’s general layout, the actual value of their currency, the harsh economic realities, and the terrifying geography separating them from the demon territories.

Despite keeping his tone light and mundane, the brutal reality of his words left the entire class in a stunned, suffocating daze.

”So... what you’re saying is... we’re literally trapped in the dark ages?” one of the girls asked, her voice trembling as she tightly crossed her arms, her chest heaving with rising panic.

”That’s exactly right,” Suzuki replied smoothly, refusing to sugarcoat it. ”Do not drink the tap water here unless you want to violently empty your stomach. Only drink boiled tea. And try your absolute best not to get injured. The medical technology in this world is... barbaric, to put it nicely. Finally, say goodbye to flushing toilets, hot showers, and soft toilet paper. You’re going to have a very hard time getting used to the hygiene here.”

”....”

The girls collectively shuddered, their faces turning pale as they instinctively pressed their thighs together, horrified by the sudden realization of medieval sanitation. The boys simply stared blankly at the stone floor.

Kouki Amanogawa, desperate to maintain his role as the leading man, immediately puffed out his chest. ”Everyone! Don’t worry! We’ll push through this together! If we train hard and fight bravely, we will definitely save this world!”

”...”

The silence that followed was deafening.

No, the class screamed internally. We do not want to save this shitty world.

They just wanted to go home. They wanted to soak in a hot bath, play their video games, eat their mothers’ home-cooked meals, and sink into their soft, clean beds. Who in their right mind wanted to risk getting slaughtered by demons in a world without basic plumbing?!

Sure, they might have gained superhuman stats and magical powers, but the agonizing loss of modern, first-world comfort was impossible to ignore. Just as Kouki expected, the class forced polite, strained smiles and gave half-hearted cheers.

But immediately after, their desperate gazes snapped right back to Suzuki.

Even though his Status Plate read Merchant, the fact that Suzuki had effortlessly strolled into a foreign, medieval city, gathered critical intelligence, and returned with a feast in a single afternoon proved his absolute, undeniable worth.

Suzuki wasn’t useless. In fact, he was their only lifeline to comfort.

Deep down, if it weren’t for Kouki’s blinding, delusional confidence keeping them moving, the class knew they would have completely broken down in terror by now.

But Suzuki had absolutely no intention of sticking around to play babysitter.

”My strengths are fundamentally different from yours,” Suzuki announced casually, adjusting his glasses. ”It’s completely useless for me to swing a wooden sword and sweat in the training yards with you all. But don’t worry. I won’t give up. I’ll do my absolute best to support you from behind the scenes so your battles go smoothly.”

Translation: Suzuki was legally skipping P.E.

He had no intention of sweating, grunting, or bleeding on the front lines. He wasn’t going to give the arrogant boys a chance to ”spar” with him to assert their dominance. His class was Merchant. Why would a CEO fight on the front lines when he could sit in a plush, air-conditioned office, sipping premium espresso while managing the supply drops?

Naturally, he kept his true, heavily-armed skillset a secret. He had a dozen lethal ways to destroy an enemy using only his corporate skills, but his classmates didn’t need to know that.

”I completely agree,” one of the boys nodded quickly.

”Me too. It’s obvious you’re the best at gathering intel and getting us food.”

”But... what exactly is your plan, Tanaka-kun?” Kaori asked softly, her big eyes looking up at him.

”Think of me as your personal VIP shop,” Suzuki smiled warmly. ”I’ve already made contact with the major merchant guilds in the capital. When you guys risk your lives hunting monsters in the dungeon, I will take your raw loot and negotiate the highest possible prices. I’ll manage the party’s wallet, buy your health potions in bulk, and upgrade your armor so you don’t get scammed. But...”

Suzuki paused, his eyes drifting over the crowd until they locked onto Hiyama, the loudest, most obnoxious bully in the class.

”...It doesn’t have to be me. If anyone else wants to take responsibility for everyone’s survival, manage the kingdom’s cutthroat mafia guilds, and secure our logistics... I’ll gladly step aside.” Suzuki offered a polite smile. ”How about it, Hiyama? Do you want to take my place?”

”I—” Hiyama violently flinched. Feeling the intense, heavy glares of the entire class suddenly shift onto him, the bully practically shrank into his armor. ”N-No way. I... I can’t do that kind of math.”

”What about you, Amanogawa-kun?” Suzuki pivoted smoothly.

”I...” Kouki stammered, caught off guard.

”Ah, my apologies,” Suzuki chuckled softly. ”You are the Hero, after all. You need to focus on swinging your sword and saving the world. You shouldn’t be burdened with something as boring as managing our finances and supply lines, right? Don’t worry. I’ll handle all the dirty work for you.”

”A-Ah, um... thank you very much, Suzuki-kun...”

Kouki felt an intense, agonizing knot in his stomach. He had originally planned to pressure Suzuki into joining the combat training so he could show off his superior Hero skills. But Suzuki had effortlessly boxed him into a corner with pure logic.

Kouki couldn’t deny Suzuki’s value. If someone else took charge of the money, could they even trust them not to get scammed? Suzuki had completely secured the safest, most comfortable position in the party without lifting a finger, and Kouki had just publicly thanked him for it.

”Thank you, Suzuki,” Yuka Sonobe murmured, leaning against a pillar.

She let out a soft sigh, her tongue darting out to slowly lick a glisten of savory grease from her plump lower lip. The unconscious, deeply satisfied gesture was incredibly alluring, her flushed, sweat-dampened skin making her look dangerously tempting in the twilight.

”No problem,” Suzuki smiled.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Shizuku. Her black ponytail swayed heavily as she jogged toward him. Her uniform clung to her sweat-slicked body, highlighting the firm, athletic curves of her chest and hips. She looked exhausted, but her deep brown eyes shone with an intoxicating mix of relief and absolute devotion.

”Welcome back,” she breathed out, her hand boldly reaching out to intertwine her fingers with his.

”...”

The surrounding students swallowed hard. Watching the famously untouchable, fierce Iron Lady look at Suzuki with such soft, needy affection was maddening. The girls in the class bit their lips, secretly craving that exact same aura of safety and peace of mind that Shizuku was currently enjoying.

”You all should get some rest,” Suzuki said, his voice a soothing, low baritone that sent a pleasant shiver down the spines of the girls nearby. ”You’re exhausted. I’ll get back to work tomorrow.”

Suzuki turned to leave. He couldn’t wait to slip back into his [Subspace Penthouse]. The castle was nice by medieval standards, but it was absolute garbage compared to his California King-sized bed and premium plumbing. Furthermore, he needed to experiment with his skill tree. He had a strong suspicion that as he leveled up, he could expand the penthouse and drastically enhance his corporate warfare abilities.

He couldn’t wait for these naive heroes to make a financial mistake so he could legally bind them with his contracts.

As he took a step toward the door, a thought suddenly crossed his mind. He paused, turning back to the exhausted, magically drained students with a warm, flawlessly gentle smile.

From the back of the crowd, Eri Nakamura watched him. The cute, bespectacled girl pushed her glasses up her nose, her tongue subconsciously tracing the rim of her wooden cup. Her gaze wasn’t filled with the naive admiration of the other girls; it was dark, calculating, and almost hungry as she stared at his throat.

”Oh, right. I almost forgot,” Suzuki said smoothly, his eyes curving into a friendly crescent.

”It seems one of my skills allows me to temporarily lend out my excess mana to others to help them recover faster.” His voice was as sweet and tempting as honey. ”You all look so drained. Does anyone want to borrow some?”