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

A full week passed since the students had been violently dragged into the world of Tortus. The initial shock, the hysterical tears, and the paralyzing dread of the unknown had slowly morphed into a grim, exhausting routine. Under the relentless, barking leadership of Captain Meld, the ”Heroes” were desperately trying to adapt to their new reality.

But Suzuki Tanaka remained exactly the same as ever.

He didn’t join the combat practice. For a man of his intellect, swinging a wooden stick in the hot sun was a mathematical waste of time. He had casually observed Captain Meld’s training methods and quickly concluded that they were fundamentally unfit for modern teenagers.

Meld was a traditional Knight. His blade work was rigid, heavily regimented, and entirely straightforward. For a classic, golden-boy Hero like Kouki, it was a perfect fit. But for the rest of the class? Meld’s techniques were the absolute pinnacle of medieval warfare, but the ”best” technique wasn’t always the most suitable. Suzuki could see that the fragile, uncoordinated students couldn’t properly mimic the heavy, brutal swings.

Worse, Suzuki knew Meld was only teaching them the absolute bare-bones basics. The Kingdom expected the students to rely entirely on the magical ”cheats” granted by their Jobs once they were thrown into the dungeon.

They had been given exactly two weeks to prepare for a literal war.

This Kingdom genuinely wants some of them to die, Suzuki deduced coldly.

In a normal medieval setting, it took years of grueling, bone-breaking practice to forge a proper knight. Giving a group of sheltered teenagers fourteen days before throwing them to the monsters was practically an execution sentence. Suzuki knew the cold, political truth: the King and the Pope fully expected casualties. They didn’t care if the weaker students died, as long as the trauma forced the survivors—specifically Kouki—to evolve and grow stronger.

Kouki was the only one they actually cared about. The rest were just disposable stepping stones.

While the class sweat and bled in the dirt, they couldn’t help but shoot complicated, deeply envious glares at Suzuki.

Unlike them, Suzuki wasn’t suffering physical exhaustion. Instead, he spent his days rubbing shoulders with the Minister of Finance, high-ranking nobles, and the wealthiest Guildmasters in the capital. He was rapidly spinning a massive, invisible web of untouchable connections.

The students felt deeply conflicted. They knew Suzuki was working incredibly hard, but his labor was entirely mental and corporate. It made him feel totally alien—like he was playing a completely different, vastly superior game than the rest of them. Because he wasn’t sweating in the dirt, it was impossible for the bullies to gaslight him or complain that he wasn’t ”pulling his weight.”

After all, Suzuki made absolutely sure they knew exactly how much he was doing for them.

Instead of quietly securing their food, potions, and upgraded gear from the shadows, Suzuki loudly and politely announced every single logistical victory he achieved.

Some people believed that true kindness meant doing good deeds in secret, hoping the universe would eventually reward them. Suzuki thought that was absolute garbage.

Kindness is entirely useless if it goes unnoticed.

If he didn’t make sure his classmates knew he was the sole reason they had decent food and warm beds, they would take him for granted. By loudly securing their logistics, he forced them into a state of deep, psychological debt.

Because of his untouchable status and high-society connections, even Hiyama and the loudmouthed delinquents didn’t dare cross him.

Instead, the bullies focused all their toxic energy on the only person who made them feel superior: Hajime Nagumo.

In exactly one week, they would be sent into the terrifying darkness of the dungeon. The only reason the weaker students hadn’t suffered complete mental breakdowns was because they could look at Nagumo—a boy with a useless Synergist crafting class who was still desperately trying to swing a sword—and think, At least I’m better than him.

If they compared themselves to Kouki, they felt inferior. If they compared themselves to Suzuki, they felt completely powerless. But Nagumo? Nagumo was their safety net.

If they were being totally honest, none of them wanted to go into the dungeon. They just wanted to hide behind Suzuki in the capital! But Kouki’s blinding, suffocating protagonist aura wouldn’t allow it.

”Everyone! The real battles begin in just one week!” Kouki shouted across the courtyard, his wooden sword raised high, practically glowing with naive righteousness. ”We have to push past our limits! If we work together and support each other, we will defeat the Demon King! We will all go home together! Let’s keep training!”

Kouki genuinely believed he was being a beacon of hope. He thought his passionate speeches were chasing away their fear.

Y-Yes, Kouki! the class cheered weakly.

Dammit! they screamed internally.

How desperately they wished someone like Suzuki or Aiko-sensei would just tell them they didn’t have to fight! Aiko was vital for the Kingdom’s agriculture, and Suzuki controlled the actual flow of money, potions, and weapons. They were indispensable.

As Suzuki prepared to leave the castle for the afternoon—heading into the city to officially collect the massive, crippling debt from the fat Guildmaster who bought his modern spices—Kouki suddenly stepped into his path.

”Tanaka-kun.”

”What’s wrong, Amanogawa-kun?” Suzuki paused, offering his flawless, harmless smile.

”I know you’re incredibly busy managing the supply lines,” Kouki said, his brow furrowed with earnest determination. ”But... you are still coming with us into the dungeon next week, right? We’re a team. We have to stick together and support each other on the battlefield.”

”Don’t worry,” Suzuki replied, smoothly sidestepping Kouki’s subconscious guilt-trip. ”I fully expect you to protect me down there, Amanogawa-kun. I’m just a fragile Merchant, after all. And as the Hero, it is your sacred duty to shield everyone, isn’t it?”

”...”

Kouki completely choked on his own words. He was instantly trapped by his own heroic ego. ”...Of course. Leave everything to me.”

”Thank you, Hero,” Suzuki bowed his head gracefully. ”I will do my absolute best to keep our supply lines intact. However, because of the Demon Lord’s armies, the local economy is in a terrible state. The guilds and the Crown are bleeding money. I hope you can understand if our supply drops are a bit... thin.”

”...I understand. We’ll make do,” Kouki nodded seriously.

”Actually,” Suzuki murmured, his eyes flashing with a dark, predatory glint behind his glasses. ”There is a solution. If you officially grant me the exclusive right to manage and sell all the monster materials and loot our class harvests in the dungeon... I can leverage those assets to guarantee a much better supply of high-grade potions for everyone. Is that acceptable?”

”.....”

Kouki was silent for a moment. He stared at Suzuki’s warm, supportive smile. ”...Yes. Please handle the loot, Tanaka-kun.”

”As expected of our Hero,” Suzuki praised smoothly. ”Everyone has their specific roles. I won’t distract you with the boring, troublesome math of selling monster cores. You just focus on swinging your sword and defeating the demons. Thank you, Amanogawa-kun.”

”...Yeah.”

Kouki walked away feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He had just been praised, yet he felt a strange, hollow sensation in his chest.

He didn’t realize that Suzuki had just pulled off the ultimate corporate heist. In plain English: Suzuki had just legally convinced the Hero to hand over 100% of the class’s hard-earned paychecks. Suzuki would act as the sole broker, secretly skimming massive, untraceable profit margins off their blood and sweat while looking like a saint for doing it.

”How incredibly childish,” Shizuku sighed, walking up beside Suzuki and rolling her eyes at Kouki’s retreating back.

”Don’t bully him,” Suzuki chuckled. ”He’s our grand Hero.”

”You are the only one bullying him here,” Shizuku retorted, her lips curving into a highly charming, entirely knowing smirk. She saw right through his corporate manipulation, and she found his ruthless intellect incredibly alluring.

”I need to head out,” Suzuki said, adjusting the collar of his coat.

”Going to the merchant guild?”

”Yup. Time to collect.”

”Don’t come back too late.”

”Don’t worry. I’ll be back before five, as usual.”

Suzuki reached out, his hand gently sweeping her long bangs aside as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. Shizuku’s eyes fluttered shut, a beautiful, deeply satisfied flush spreading across her cheeks as she leaned into his touch.

”Oh, right,” Suzuki whispered, his voice dropping an octave. ”I need to teach you something important tonight.”

”...What is it?” Shizuku looked up, intrigued by his serious tone.

”Wait for me in the penthouse later. You’ll need it.” Suzuki knew the dungeon was approaching fast. Since Kouki was entirely unreliable, Suzuki needed to secretly teach Shizuku a few lethal, high-end survival techniques to guarantee her safety.

”See you later, Kaori,” Suzuki added, glancing over Shizuku’s shoulder.

”Y-Yeah. Please be safe, Tanaka-kun,” Kaori waved, her voice slightly breathless.

As she watched his broad, confident back disappear toward the castle gates, Kaori pressed a hand tightly against her chest. The intense, forbidden feelings she had been desperately trying to hide were boiling over. Watching him effortlessly manipulate the Hero, secure their safety, and treat Shizuku with such dominant, tender affection... it was an intoxicating combination that made Kaori’s heart ache with a heavy, deeply conflicted longing.

But Suzuki had no time to worry about teenage romance. He had a kingdom to bankrupt.

Ten minutes later, Suzuki turned down a narrow, shadowed alleyway in the capital, taking a shortcut toward the Merchant Guild.

Suddenly, the shadows shifted. Several brutal-looking thugs stepped out, completely blocking his path. Their weapons were drawn, gleaming with a nasty, dark poison.

From the back of the group, a scarred man stepped forward, pointing a jagged blade directly at Suzuki’s throat.

”Give us your entire inventory of black pepper and the Fairy Dust,” the thug growled, his voice thick with killing intent. ”Tell us the exact location of your source, and write down the recipe. If you cooperate, we’ll give you a quick, peaceful death. If you refuse... we’ll peel your skin off and make you scream for days.”

”...”

Suzuki stood perfectly still in the dim alleyway. He didn’t reach for a weapon. He didn’t show a single ounce of fear.

Instead, he slowly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh.

It had been exactly one week. The Guildmaster had officially missed his payment deadline, defaulted on the [Absolute Contract], and was now stupidly trying to assassinate his primary Creditor.

Suzuki almost felt pity for them. They had absolutely no idea what kind of apocalyptic penalty clause they had just triggered.