Reincarnated as the Only Male in an All-Girls Magic Academy!
Chapter 36: DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH THAT MALE KID!

Chapter 36: DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH THAT MALE KID!

Ren walked alone through the quiet, winding hallways that connected the arena to the residential dorms, his shoes echoing faintly on the smooth black tiles beneath his feet.

The street lights flickered every few steps with a soft hum, casting long, shifting shadows that swayed with his movements.

His badge still glowed faintly orange on his chest, the light from the recent notification refusing to fade.

Anyone else in his shoes might’ve been skipping down the hallway like they just won a treasure chest.

After all, his name had officially entered the Imperial Leaderboard, the single most prestigious ranking board in the entire academy.

Even more insane, this had happened before he had even taken his first proper class in the academy.

But Ren wasn’t skipping. He was frowning.

Deeply.

That little furrow between his brows was practically digging a trench.

"Too fast," he muttered under his breath, adjusting the strap on his kusarigama just so it didn’t clink with every step. "Way, way too fast."

Sure, he was happy. Being on the Imperial Leaderboard meant he could now officially graduate with honors if he played his cards right.

That was a huge deal, especially for someone like him, who had started this new life with nothing.

He hadn’t even joined the supreme class yet. And yet now? His name was ranked among the most brilliant rising stars of the Academy.

And that’s what bothered him.

Ren might’ve fought well. Mirabella too. Lia had been brave. But nothing about what they’d done was worth putting them in the top 10,000 of the entire Imperial Academy Students.

That leaderboard wasn’t just for the best in their class. It was shared across every class and students that were still in the academy.

You had to do things like win inter-academy battles, discover new magic techniques, or take down monstrous entities in the real world to earn a place on that board. Not survive a glorified tutorial mission.

So someone wanted his name there.

Badly.

Ren’s mind whirled like gears in a lab centrifuge. There were four plausible, shrewd reasons why someone, be it the Academy’s inner circle, or some hidden force in its shadows wanted him on that board.

First, maybe this was all part of some propaganda stunt. Show the world that even nobodies could rise in this academy, that greatness didn’t require a golden spoon.

Ren’s background was a mystery to most, and that made him the perfect poster boy for "raw talent rising through merit."

If the academy was trying to fix its elitist reputation, then pushing a dark horse onto the leaderboard would work wonders. Especially since he was a boy.

Second, it could be bait. Put his name on a list that every recruiter, guild, and noble house watched like hawks, and then sit back and see who tries to contact or investigate him.

Maybe someone out there already had evil plans for him. Maybe the academy was using him like a glowing lure in a sea full of hungry sharks.

Third, it could be an internal test. Not of his strength, but his mind.

Some twisted professor or bored administrator might have decided to throw him into political chaos to see if he’d drown or swim. They needed to test the mind of the potential first male Sovereign.

Make a rat fight with lions, just to study its behavior under pressure. Ren had been in enough labs to recognize an experiment when he saw one.

Fourth, and most dangerously, it could be a trap. Someone high up didn’t like him. Maybe they saw potential and feared it. Maybe he reminded them of someone they hated.

Either way, throwing his name up on the board was like flinging a deer into the middle of a war zone and yelling, "FREE MEAT."

Enemies would come. Challenges would follow. And if he couldn’t handle them, well... it wouldn’t be the academy’s fault.

Ren let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Always with the games."

Then, bing.

His badge chimed.

Again.

He looked down as a new orange notification slid across the surface.

[Congratulations, Imperial Ranker. You are now among the top 10,000.

Reward: 10,000 Imperial Points (IP).]

Ren stopped walking. For a full second, his mouth twitched.

10,000 IP?

His eyes narrowed slightly. "No way it’s that generous..."

He tapped the badge and swiped through the system menu until he found what he was looking for: conversion rates.

If he had learned anything from his previous life, it was that currency conversions were always where the lies hid.

It was like companies giving you reward points, then making you realize a toaster cost two hundred thousand of them.

Then he saw it.

1 IP = 5 Achievement Points (AP).

He blinked.

Then blinked again.

"...That’s fifty thousand AP!" he whispered.

This time, the smirk that curled across his face wasn’t restrained. It was slow, amused, and dangerously pleased.

Fifty thousand Achievement Points was a king’s ransom!

With that much AP, he could buy enchanted gear, long-term passive talismans, rare Loom Thread Enhancers, full combat simulations, or even custom-built weave blueprints!

Hell, if he was creative enough, he might even have his own little apartment!

The frown returned, just slightly. "Still weird they’d give me this much," he muttered, but he didn’t hesitate.

With a quick swipe, he selected the conversion tab and entered 2000 IP.

Converted: 2000 IP → 10,000 AP!

The moment the transfer finalized, a warm pulse ran through his badge. It felt like unlocking a vault.

He could already hear the invisible shopkeepers rubbing their greedy hands together.

He turned on his heel and adjusted course.

Screw going to the dorms.

He had shopping to do.

The lanes where students could spend AP were still active at this hour, especially after major academy events.

The area lit up with shimmering glass stalls, illusionary vendors, and a dozen item testing arenas.

From potions that could relieve a soul seizure to training rooms that could slightly slow down time for perfect practice conditions, everything was sold here, for a price.

And Ren?

Ren had money now.

Real money!

He whistled lightly as he walked, letting his mind run wild with ideas. New gear for close combat? Maybe a lightweight arm guard that could double as an energy conductor.

Or some hidden pockets to store items like Mirabella’s pouch? Or an emergency talisman that could teleport him ten meters in any direction.

He rubbed his chin.

"Definitely need new shoes too," he muttered. "Ones that don’t squeak every time I land."

It was time to splurge!

The shopping lanes were chaos; beautiful, glowing, magical chaos. It was like walking through a fantasy version of a haunted mall run by caffeinated ghosts.

Ren, of course, walked through it all like he was on a casual grocery run.

His eyes were locked on a piece of paper, where he had scribbled the items needed to evolve his Red Evolution Crystal.

There it was, the list:

• 1x Phoenix Bone Shard

• 2x Worldthread Fiber

• 3x Essence of Thought (Unstable)

• 1x Ink of Forgotten Dreams

He narrowed his eyes.

These names sounded like the kind of nonsense you’d find in a poetry contest run by depressed witches.

But he had ten thousand Achievement Points, a glowing badge, and nothing better to do today.

So why not ransack some spirit-run chaos?

The first shop Ren stopped at was a stall that seemed to be run by a giant mustache in a monocle. It was a weirdly shaped spirit for sure.

The mustache hovered over a velvet countertop and twirled dramatically every time someone approached.

Ren stepped in and asked calmly, "Do you have a Phoenix Bone Shard?"

"Ah, my dear sir!" the mustache declared in an aristocratic accent. "What I have is far more exquisite! Behold; Rooster Knuckle of Eternal Sunrise!"

He presented what looked like a fried chicken bone dipped in glitter.

Ren squinted. "That’s just breakfast with ego."

The mustache twitched, offended. "Preposterous! This was plucked from a poultry that once dreamed of being a god!"

"I’m leaving."

"Wait, what about my Turkey Feather of Minor Reincarnation?"

Ren was already gone.

He spent the next hour going through multiple stalls and asking around for the items on the list. Finally, he found the first item on the list.

The stall looked like a cracked volcano crammed into a vending machine. Smoke billowed from the awning, and the shopkeeper, an animated charred chicken skeleton was roasting ghost marshmallows on its own ribcage.

"Looking for a Phoenix Bone Shard," Ren said, voice flat. He was already getting annoyed by all the fake items he had been offered in the past hour.

The skeletal bird turned. "Ah! You mean a fingernail from the sun’s oldest daughter!"

Ren blinked. "No. I mean a literal bone shard from a phoenix."

The chicken wiggled its flaming spine. "Close enough!"

"...How much?"

"Five thousand AP!"

Ren stared. Then said coldly, "That’s almost triple market rate. I’m not paying Five thousand for a fossilized chicken toe!"

The skeletal bird hissed steam. "This toe burned the wing off a Fire Drake!"

"Then it’s defective. Three thousand."

"FIVE!"

"Four thousand. Final offer."

"...Deal," it muttered bitterly.

Ren calmly took the Phoenix Bone Shard from its black display shell; a small, curved, crimson piece of bone that pulsed faintly with residual heat and walked away without another word, the spirit muttering curses in an ancient tongue behind him.

It didn’t take long before he entered another shop that had another item on his list.

This one was run by a stack of sentient sewing needles shaped vaguely like a hedgehog. It vibrated every time it spoke, and its voice sounded like a kazoo trying to whistle.

"I seek Worldthread Fiber," Ren said, eyeing a rack of thread spools labeled DO NOT LOOK AT THE PINK ONE.

"Ooooh, yes yes!" the needle-spirit buzzed. "Fiber spun from the Loom between Realms! But it’s very rare. Very... temperamental."

Ren peered into the display. The fiber looked like normal silver thread—until you blinked, and it had changed color. Or location. Or turned into a tiny worm and back.

"How much?"

"Two thousand AP each!" the spirit sang.

"Absurd," Ren replied, deadpan. "Worldthread is high-grade, but it doesn’t justify gouging prospectives who don’t know its real market rate. One thousand. Each."

"Eep! Cut me down like a dull thread, why don’t you!"

"I will, if you don’t take the deal."

The spirit collapsed dramatically, half its needles flopping. "F-fine! But I shall never sing again!"

"Tragic," Ren said without blinking, and took his two spools of Worldthread Fiber.

.....

An hour later...

Ren entered a stall that looked like a spiraling library crammed into a jellyfish. Books floated. Thoughts buzzed in midair.

Philosophical arguments from imaginary scholars echoed from invisible speakers.

A spirit shaped like a thinking cloud in glasses and a tie drifted down, holding a cup of tea inside its own body.

"I need three units of Essence of Thought. Unstable variant."

"Ohoho, dangerous taste, young mind!" it said, puffing in all directions. "You seek thoughts not yet thought, yes?"

"I seek ingredients. Not riddles."

The spirit chuckled. "But you must know—’Essence of Thought’ is not a liquid. It’s a question wrapped in regret. A bottle filled with a maybe."

Ren’s eye twitched.

"Show me the item."

The cloud opened a drawer. Inside were three small glass bulbs. Each one flickered with faint colors and shifted with every second, like the memory of a forgotten dream.

"How much?"

"Eight thousand each!"

Ren stared. "They explode if you misuse with them."

"They also make you temporarily smarter."

"I already am smart."

"...Four thousand each?" the spirit said meekly.

"Deal."

.....

An hour later...

This was the weirdest stall yet. It looked like a melted candle praying to a bookshelf. The air smelled like lavender and spilled nightmares. Hanging above the stand was a sign that read:

Ink of Forgotten Dreams: Not Actual Ink. May Bite.

A translucent blob with inky eyes slithered over the counter.

Ren nodded. "I assume you’re the Ink Spirit."

"Correct, sir! Welcome to the most sorrowful product in all realms! Would you like to forget something painful and trap it in a bottle?"

"No. I want the Ink of Forgotten Dreams. For crafting. Not therapy."

"Oh! Well... in that case... you must know, the ink is made from melted dream fragments. It’s mined from the subconscious of sleeping spirits who died twice."

Ren nodded slowly. "...Is that why it smells like sleep paralysis and spilled soup?"

"Yes! Beautiful, isn’t it?"

"How much?"

The ink blob smiled. "Twelve thousand AP."

"Too much."

"But it has emotional value!"

"So do my savings. Eight thousand!"

"It took seventeen weeks to milk the dream!"

"You’re a blob."

The blob deflated. "Fine."

Minutes Later...

Ren walked calmly down the lane with four bags confirming his purchases. He sighed softly and stuffed the final item into his bag.

Mission complete.

He now had everything he needed to evolve the Red Evolution Crystal.

And even better, he hadn’t smiled once during the entire haggling spree.

He couldn’t wait to go to the dorms and begin the upgrade so he was leaving immediately. He would buy the other items he wanted later.

Ren turned back toward the dorms at last, calm and unreadable, while behind him, four very traumatized spirits quietly updated their stall rules with handwritten signs that read:

"DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH THAT MALE KID."