Status and Celebration

Click!

As the stern and solemn Auxiliary officer saluted Hachiman Hikigaya, the surrounding reporters sprang into action, pressing their camera shutters with lightning speed. Flashes of light from all angles erupted, and the crowd of onlookers raised their phones to record what was—for most of them—a rare and precious moment.

In the stoic gazes of the Auxiliary soldiers and the envious eyes of the other troopers, Hachiman found himself momentarily blank-minded.

Once the formalities were completed, the awarding officer and the military entourage quickly left—they had other ceremonies to attend across the Eleventh District for others also receiving second-class military honors.

Hachiman had no idea how many local bureaucrats from Chiba's municipal government had shown up, but amidst all the handshakes, photo ops, and warm congratulations, his head spun.

"Young man, congratulations!"

"Little Hachiman, congrats! Your old man finally raised a fine son."

"Hachiman, go celebrate this with your family! Haha, they're probably dying to see you right now."

He vaguely recognized a few familiar faces: Uncle Tezuka from the neighborhood office, Police Chief Sugihara from the local patrol unit... After enduring the long series of rituals and praises, Hachiman found himself floating on air as he made his way back to the apartment.

"I actually did it!!"

He could already feel how much his social standing had changed.

Rushing inside, he closed the gate behind him with a small bow of courtesy. As he reached the genkan, his steps grew lighter—he couldn't wait to see the rewards.

Thump-thump-thump!

A patter of footsteps rang out as Komachi appeared before him.

"Hey, hey! Onii-chan! How'd it go?!" Komachi's voice trembled with excitement, eyes filled with anticipation.

Just moments earlier, when that impeccably dressed Auxiliary officer looked at her, the icy scrutiny in his eyes froze her in place, goosebumps prickling down her spine. Though his gaze softened once he confirmed her identity, the memory still lingered vividly.

Hearing Komachi's worried tone, Hachiman laughed and puffed up with pride.

"My adorable Imouto, who do you think your brother is? Of course it went fine."

He bent down slightly and dramatically presented the leather case in his hands.

"Is this..."

Komachi hesitated, seeing the finely-crafted case wrapped in rare leather, adorned with ornate certificates of commendation, commission letters, and invitations. She reached out instinctively—but pulled back.

"Even though Onii-chan's score is super high in Komachi Points right now, this is something you earned with your life. I think it's only right that you open it yourself. Hehe~"

In this joyful moment, she conveniently ignored his earlier declaration of being a "foolish but brave big bro"—in any other situation, she definitely would've teared up for dramatic effect.

Mrs. Hikigaya, meanwhile, retracted the hand she'd been about to flick at Komachi's ear. With a pleased nod, she silently praised her daughter's sense of timing and tact.

Setting the commendation and commission letter gently on the clean table, Hachiman knelt on the tatami, ceremoniously placing the case in front of him.

Screeeak—

No glittering golden lights or flashy fanfare—just a simple interior lined with red silk and golden embroidery. Several compartments neatly held a new NCO identification card, medal certificate, qualification papers, and at the very center: the most precious item of all—his official military rank certificate.

Though called a certificate, it was more like an oversized badge—an ornate token fashioned from platinum, inlaid with a crimson crystal depicting the Imperial double-headed eagle, and rimmed with white enamel. The front bore the red background and his name—Hikigaya—in golden Imperial script.

It contained an internal identity verification system, but beyond that, it was little more than a finely-crafted semi-custom luxury item.

Even though he had known since his return that he would be granted a title, now that it was truly in his hands, Hachiman couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. He ran his coarse fingers gently over the raised twin-eagle insignia like caressing the cheek of a goddess—tender and reverent.

Indeed, this insignia was more than a symbol; it was a tangible reward, but the real benefits—both visible and hidden—had already been processed and registered in the Empire's central records.

Don't underestimate a second-class military title.

Well... if you were comparing it by Imperial Core or Auxiliary standards, yes—it would seem low.

Within the grand ranks of the Imperial military, it was fairly common—even borderline ubiquitous, categorized under the lower nobility tier beneath the Eighth Rank of merit.

But for a colonial world like this one—especially a leisure world known for its scenic beauty, fine cuisine, and lack of martial pedigree—such titles were exceedingly rare.

This planet wasn't known for producing elite warriors, fierce barbarians, or endless waves of conscripts like the famed recruitment worlds. Nor could it match agricultural, mining, or industrial Forge Worlds in terms of material output.

Third-tier tourism and hospitality was its forte—expecting more was unreasonable.

Thus, higher honors—like a third-class military title and above—were generally reserved for extraordinary individuals who transferred to the Auxiliary or for entire units that had distinguished themselves enough to be elevated en masse.

But even a basic noble title, once awarded, entitled the holder to an annual stipend, monthly bonuses on official holidays, expanded land ownership rights, a permit to build an estate, and the legal ability to own servants—including bonded alien aides like elves or beastkin.

Without a title, even the richest colonial merchant legally couldn't buy such servants—only hire regular housekeepers. Life was full of these restrictions.

Simply put, even the lowest rank of nobility guaranteed a life of comfort—provided you didn't do anything stupid.

Of course, such idle nobles were rare, and usually those who'd suffered personal tragedies or losses. Most of them quickly recovered and returned to the battlefield with renewed fury.

In the Empire, thanks to its ironclad ideological indoctrination, there was no such thing as a freeloader.

The same applied to the Silver Eagle Third-Class Medal. Within the Eleventh District, it was a rare and prestigious honor.

And as for his promotion to Staff Sergeant—just like that Auxiliary officer had said: "Soldier, seize this opportunity." Hachiman's gaze shifted to the military academy qualification letter.

This—was his chance.

The rank of Sergeant is the dividing line into officer status. In the Empire, to become an officer, one must possess systematic command capabilities, including the ability to lead multi-racial and multi-unit coordinated operations. This requires further education at a military academy, and upon passing the required evaluations, one becomes a junior officer.

This is what "Officer Candidate" refers to.

If the candidate fails the officer assessments—proving a lack of command aptitude—they are transferred to the route of Warrant Officer, becoming a senior non-commissioned officer. This is another promotion track, and while different, it also holds considerable opportunity. Depending on luck and personal aspirations, one might even attempt the officer route again later.

"Hey, Onii-chan, does this mean we can call you 'Sir' now?"

Hikigaya Komachi looked up at Hachiman Hikigaya with eyes full of anticipation. Her twinkling, expressive eyes made her irresistibly adorable.

"Don't tease me like that."

Hachiman chuckled and carefully placed the badge back into its slot. He let out a long sigh. Technically, anyone with a formal noble title could be addressed as "Sir." But given his personality—cautious, low-key, averse to unnecessary attention—he preferred not to flaunt it.

Still, perhaps it was precisely because of that prudence, his ability to see through others, his quick thinking (a self-deprecating reference to being a 'suicidal truck'), and his capacity to endure loneliness, that he stood out among the returning soldiers and earned the rare Second-Class Military Merit Title.

First-Class Military Merits were delivered directly by specialized security robots dispatched from the regional governor's office. Second-Class merits, like his, were awarded in person by officers from the local garrison command. As for higher levels—well, in their 11th District, anything above the Fourth-Class Merit was typically presented by the regional governor. Beyond that? No one knew. Maybe you'd be summoned to the planetary governor's office. Maybe even a higher imperial institution would be involved.

"This is wonderful, Hachiman. If you go to the military academy, you won't have to return to the front lines so soon after your leave ends," said Hikigaya's mother with relief after noticing the military academy qualification certificate.

"Mom, it's not that easy. Becoming a good officer is incredibly hard... I'm already considering just staying on the warrant officer track or even retiring."

Hachiman shook his head, casting a sideways glance at the commendations and privileges he had bled for. He closed the case.

"This invitation... Should I attend?"

He removed his military cap and placed it on the table. Setting aside the commendation and appointment letters, he picked up the invitation, which looked completely out of place among the official documents.

For lower-ranked military nobles, aside from standard entitlements, local governor's offices were permitted to offer additional perks—such as rare local specialties or exclusive invitations.

This invitation to the Gourmet Festival was clearly one such special benefit granted by the Tokyo District Government of the 11th Region.

"Eh! An invitation? Let Komachi see!" Komachi squeezed over to her brother, peeking at the letter. "Tōtsuki... Moon Banquet Festival, wow—!"

Upon seeing it clearly, her eyes sparkled. "Onii-chan, Onii-chan, this is an official military invitation! And it's for access to the VIP Third Hospitality Zone at the foot of the mountain?!"

"Uh, is that really a big deal?"

"It's a huge deal! The tickets I prepared only allow access to the First and Second Hospitality Zones..."

She glanced nervously at her mother across the table, then eagerly continued explaining.

The "Moon Banquet Festival"—or Tsukigami-sai—is the formal name of the Tōtsuki Culinary Academy's school festival. It marks the grand finale of the autumn season and is a spectacular gourmet celebration.

The shops opened by Tōtsuki students were mainly divided into three major areas.

The First District, the most popular and bustling main avenue zone, stretched from the main gate. Temporary tents lined the streets, attracting the largest crowds throughout the festival.

The Second District was centered around the academy's teaching and training buildings.

After all, temporary tents made it difficult to prepare highly specialized dishes or those requiring complex equipment.

Lastly, the Third District—located on the mountainside—had the highest average spending per customer.

In this secluded area, sparsely scattered buildings served as restaurants. Without top-tier culinary skills, it was nearly impossible to attract guests here. It was said to offer the most divine delicacies of the entire food festival.

"So it's a collaboration between the Shinomiya Group and the Tōtsuki Group..."

With the partnership between the Tōtsuki Group and the 11th District Planetary Governor's Office, and the festival perfectly coinciding with the troop homecoming, one side needed connections and guests, while the other needed to offer war heroes a memorable holiday experience. A mutually beneficial arrangement—hence the VIP invitation in his hands.

Not hard to figure out. The land here, after all, was legacy property from the zaibatsu era.

Beep beep beep—

"Tch, that idiot Zaimokuza must already be there..."

His phone rang on the table, flashing his friend's name. Hachiman didn't need to guess what that hardcore chuuni wanted.

He stood up and squinted at the corner of the invitation, noting the stamps: "11th District Governor's Office Cooperative Group" and "Planetary Governor High-End Sponsor."

"If it's in Tokyo, that's right next to Chiba... and it's Governor-approved."

Hachiman stood up and glanced at his little sister, who blinked her bright eyes expectantly.

"One word—go."

...

At that moment, at the Tōtsuki Culinary Academy's Moon Banquet venue—

In the First District, the avenue zone, Selene lounged lazily in a white geometric reclining chair inside a barbecue tent. This competition-driven academy really was different—even cooking felt like a life-or-death race!

That girl Alyssa had already gone missing. Selene watched the young chef in a pure white uniform sweating over the charcoal flames, squinting in satisfaction as she enjoyed the meat-scented air and crossed her long legs.

"Today's goal... the Avenue District."

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