The first day of school following the festival felt desolate, a mood perfectly captured by the phrase "the morning after." As students arrived, a significant portion of them bore expressions etched with gloom and despair.
Usually, such major events left people with a sense of burnout or achievement, but this was different.
"Morning... Judging by that look, was it the same at your place?"
"Yeah. My old man chewed me out while shoving that handout in my face."
"Mine too..."
"How was I supposed to know anything about dependency deduction limits?"
From the moment they arrived, friends exchanged half-hearted greetings and shared their grievances, let out heavy sighs in unison. These scenes played out in groups everywhere—inside the school, along the school routes, and everywhere in between.
And these were the lucky ones. In the groups where things were truly dire, the atmosphere was even heavier.
"What am I going to do? I’ve already spent almost all of it."
"Me too... I barely have anything left."
"I have a little remaining, but..."
"It’s not nearly enough."
With faces pale from shock, they let out agonizing groans, engaging in what were technically "consultations" with their friends on how to survive this crisis—though in reality, they were just despairing aloud. No easy solution was likely to present itself.
These students had grandly poured the money they’d earned from the explorer profession into high-end equipment and leisure, leaving them with next to no capital on hand.
"Just as I expected—it’s a graveyard out there."
"Indeed. After all those guardians lining up yesterday, I’m not surprised."
"I suppose family discussions turned into heated arguments, considering how much the kids had been left to their own devices regarding their explorer activities?"
"Most likely. I don’t think the parents ever dreamed that the amount their children earned—which they probably equated to a simple part-time job—would so easily blow past the upper limit for the dependency deduction. You see articles about the average income of an explorer on TV or in magazines occasionally, but I doubt they imagined students working in their spare time could pull in similar figures."
Watching the students from a school building window were Hoshino, the chairperson of the school festival executive committee, and Nakano, the vice chairperson. The two had arrived early to handle the festival’s final paperwork and reports, leading them to observe the morning commute.
Both had predicted this would happen the moment they realized the handout existed. They watched now with detached gazes, seeing just how many students had messed up.
"I anticipated it to a degree, but that handout has incredible influence," Hoshino remarked. "It’s a blessing for both the students and the guardians that they realized this before it was too late, but it’s a shame for the first morning back to feel like this. I was hoping to see everyone coming to school in high spirits, talking about their favorite parts of the festival..."
"I agree," Nakano said. "I spent a lot of time running around to make this festival happen, so I understand exactly how you feel, Chairperson. This is a serious problem that needs to be addressed, but it's disappointing to see their memories of the festival immediately overwritten by such a headache."
With disappointed expressions, the two lowered their gazes to their reports and let out small sighs. Since they had poured so much energy into the school festival, it was only natural for them to want the participants to remember it with a smile.
Unfortunately, the scene beyond the window suggested that wish wouldn't be coming true anytime soon.
"Well... enough of that. We should head to our classrooms, or we won't make it in time for HR."
"Right. We can finish the rest of the work after school."
After checking the wall clock, Hoshino and Nakano began tidying up their materials.
The classrooms were filled with students of all grades clutching their heads and grumbling to their friends.
In the first-year classrooms, where the ratio of those with an Armed Exploration Permit for Special Underground Structures was roughly half, the scene was a mix of joy and sorrow.
"How about you?"
"When I added up my buyback receipts, I was way over the limit."
"Figures. If we’re splitting rewards as a team, we’re all in the same boat..."
"My dad was livid. He said since he has to handle procedures at his company, I should've told him sooner if I was making that much."
Students who appeared to be teammates in the dungeons held their heads, their faces darkening as they recalled their recent spending sprees.
In contrast, the first-year students who didn't have permits yet—or those who had only just gotten them over the summer and had very few working days—were lively, chatting about the festival as if the tax issue were someone else’s problem.
"That class attraction was so cool!"
"No way, the third-year one was better! Since it was their last festival, they really went all out."
"I was more impressed by the cultural club exhibitions. You could really tell they're specialists in their fields."
"The yakisoba from the courtyard stalls was the best..."
In sharp contrast to their permit-holding peers, these students were engrossed in lighthearted debates over which class or club had the best attractions. The temperature difference in the room was palpable, though not yet critical.
In the second-year classrooms, however, where the majority were explorers, the atmosphere was oppressive. Some students were visibly bristling with irritation.
For those who had exercised self-restraint, it didn't go beyond sour faces and heavy sighs.
"My parents were surprised I was over the limit, but they said it was fine as long as they could still get the paperwork done in time. I still got chewed out for not reporting it sooner, though. They said if we’d found out in December, it might have been too late."
"Taxes, huh... I'm just glad I didn't waste too much money."
"I was so happy when we found that rare item, but looking back, I guess I shouldn't have been celebrating so blindly. It was a learning experience."
"I'm just glad I didn't splurge just because I had a lot of cash..."
The responsible group reflected on their past actions with relief as they discussed their future plans.
On the other hand, the conversations among the students who were pale with shock were becoming quite heated.
"Why didn't anyone notice?! Now my parents are breathing down my neck!"
"How should I know?! I got yelled at too! Besides, you didn't notice either, did you?!"
"Forget that—what are we going to do?! I spent almost all my dungeon earnings! Even though my level went up, after restocking weapons and consumables, I'm barely in the black—or worse, I'm in the red!"
"I got carried away and blew everything because we made so much from that rare item..."
Reactions varied from lashing out at teammates to wallowing in regret over their lack of self-control, but they all shared the same ghostly, despairing pallor.
Furthermore, many second-year students had held their permits for a long time, and a vast majority had exceeded the dependency deduction limit. While some had been responsible, many had not, and while it hadn't come to blows yet, the air was thick with resentment and bickering.
Among the third-year students, many of whom were also permit holders, the atmosphere was actually one of relief. Most exchanged impressions of the festival with wry, self-mocking smiles.
"I'm glad I'm a third-year. If I’d been playing like I was last year, I would’ve been in the dungeons all through summer break. I hate to think what would’ve happened... My blood ran cold when I saw that handout."
"Too true. Since I'm a student preparing for exams now, I've been focusing on my studies and barely touched the dungeons. When I checked my income through March, I was just under the limit."
"I quit the explorer profession with a heavy heart to focus on entrance exams, but I’m glad I did. If I hadn’t, I’d be clutching my head over this mess right now instead of studying. At least I could enjoy the festival with a clear head."
"Yeah. My head hurts enough from studying; I don't need any more headaches. Especially not right at the end of the year when the pressure is really on."
Relieved that they had escaped the dependency deduction issue currently rocking the school, they grumbled about the hardships of exam prep instead. Because they had stepped away from their activities as explorers, many had avoided hitting the income cap.
However, there were exceptions to every rule.
"Crap... I was diving into dungeons to vent my stress from studying, and my income went over the limit."
"I heard about this when I was scouted by a dungeon enterprise, so I knew, but I guess nobody else did..."
"Of course not. It's not the kind of thing a high schooler usually has to think about."
"Exactly. This was our last school festival, but I couldn't even enjoy it because I was worried about the income limit. Then I got home, checked my receipts, and realized cashing in that one rare item pushed me over... Sigh."
A small number of students who had used dungeons for stress relief found themselves in a predicament, but since the problem had been caught early, it was unlikely to derail their studies entirely. After all, a family feud right before entrance exams is a recipe for failure.
Students weren't the only ones being tossed about by this commotion. Because the information had been made public during the festival, the staff room was under siege by phone calls from guardians, leaving the faculty exhausted.
This was all happening while they were also dealing with the fallout from the student drinking scandal.
"Yes, I understand... However, our school cannot handle tax matters. Please consult the tax office or a tax accountant."
"You want the school to provide tax education to the students?"
"If you're asking about the school's official stance on explorer activities..."
The phones in the staff room had been ringing since the start of the day. The teachers handling the calls looked utterly drained. Though they didn't say it, their faces clearly read: That's not my job!
One had to wonder why people thought asking an ordinary teacher for tax advice was a good idea in the first place.
"Everyone, it's almost time for HR," the Vice Principal announced. "Homeroom teachers, please head to your classrooms. Those who are free, please continue to man the phones."
The homeroom teachers stood up with looks of subtle relief, while the teachers staying behind to handle the phones watched them with pleading eyes.
The Vice Principal waited until the staff began to disperse before calling out to one teacher.
"Hashimoto-sensei, do you have a moment?"
"Yes? What is it?"
"This commotion... specifically, these phone calls. If we trace them back to their source, wasn't it the club you advise that started all this?"
"It’s true that my club gave a presentation on taxes during the festival," Hashimoto-sensei replied, her expression stiff with indignation, "but calling us the 'source' is a bit much. If you want a root cause, it’s the lack of communication between the students and their families regarding their earnings."
The Vice Principal, who had been looking for someone to blame, looked a bit awkward and cleared his throat to change the subject.
"Perhaps 'source' was the wrong word. Regardless, do you have any ideas on how to settle this? This problem is affecting both the students and the guardians. We need to take some form of action."
"We certainly can't leave it as it is... How about we distribute a handout about taxes specifically for the students? If they have accurate information, I think everyone will calm down significantly."
"I see... Yes, if it's the lack of knowledge that’s fueling the anxiety, then providing the facts would be the most effective response."
The Vice Principal considered Hashimoto-sensei’s proposal for a moment before nodding.
"Very well. Hashimoto-sensei, could you have your club produce the draft for that handout? Since the guardians saw the format at the festival, it would be best to keep it consistent."
Though he spoke calmly and framed it as a request, the Vice Principal’s gaze made it clear he wouldn't take no for an answer, essentially telling her to take responsibility for the mess.
"U-um, I would need to check with the students first, so I can't give an immediate answer..."
"I understand. Please give me your reply as soon as possible."
"Y-yes, sir."
Pushed back by the Vice Principal’s pressure, Hashimoto-sensei could only give a strained reply.
Thus, the tax commotion sparked by the school festival continued to ripple through the student body and faculty alike, showing no signs of settling down anytime soon.