140: They say joy multiplies when you have more of it.

"Hey, come to think of it, it's been a year since I became an alchemist."

I blurted that out while checking the production guild's schedule.

Across from me, Leifan looked up from his work.

"Yeah, that's right. Craft came to the production guild just after the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. The Coming-of-Age Ceremony's the biggest festival in the whole country, right? The adventurers' guild was swamped during that time. We managed to keep the party together until then... but after that? Dismissal. Cut loose."

I remember the day I got fired from the adventurers' guild.

The Coming-of-Age Ceremony is a tradition unique to this nation.

People here don't really care much about birthdays.

Age is counted only at the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

Sixteen is the most special year of your life.

Other years? The most exciting day of the year is also the day you get older.

In this country, once you pass your sixteenth-year Coming-of-Age Ceremony, you’re considered an adult and can take on an official role.

But the real important thing is something else.

“Craft. Heard you’re planning to mess up during the Coming-of-Age Ceremony?”

“W-what?! That’s not how you talk! It’s Kyle’s idea, not mine!”

“I know that… but are you really sure it’ll be okay?”

“Kyle’s leading it. It’s gotta be fine.”

“Hmm… well, yeah, I guess so?”

Leifan’s look says he doesn’t believe a word of it.

…Yeah, I’ve got a little idea why he’s skeptical. But this time, it’s fine. After all, it’s Kyle’s plan.

“So, I’m off. He’s called me.”

“Ah, pass along the mid-bridge progress report.”

“Got it.”

Thanks to the moisture-evaporation potion and the underwater-breathing elixir, work efficiency has skyrocketed—deadlines are shrinking daily, and we’re falling behind on documentation.

The pile of reports Kyle needs is massive. Can’t keep dropping by every few hours, so we’re handing them over all at once whenever I or Leifan get called for something else.

Holding a mountain of papers, I headed toward Kyle’s manor… well, technically, next to my own house.

◆

“You’re really going through with this?”

Genelis Ing, the Seal Officer, was the one who pressed us hard. Behind him stood his grandson, Faydral Ing. Probably his assistant.

What we’re doing? Testing every adult for seal aptitude.

Me and Kyle both nodded at Genelis.

“Understood. Before we start—should we go over the basics real quick?”

"Reviewing basics?"

Kyle tilted his head with a soft click.

Persia's breath hitched, but she pretended not to notice.

"Yes. This is your first Coming-of-Age Ceremony as lord. The ceremony is one of the most important duties of a lord. To the common folk, it's the only real way they feel the lord's worth."

"Huh."

Yeah, I used to judge a lord by how well the festival went during their Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

"So we're going over it again—to make sure we're clear on what the people expect from the ceremony and the festival."

"Completely makes sense. Please, go ahead."

Genelis bowed slightly.

"In this kingdom, everyone ages on this day. Basically, it's a shared birthday."

Kyle scribbled notes with serious focus. Seriously dedicated, huh.

"So, the Coming-of-Age Ceremony festival hosted by the lord—it's basically a birthday party for everyone in the territory. Nobles might celebrate their official birthdays separately on this day, but it’s all pretty distant from common folk."

"I see."

"All public institutions in the kingdom operate based on this day. It’s that important—a real turning point."

"Yes."

Genelis slowly crossed his arms.

"So if we do something different this year, it’ll change what the people consider normal."

Kyle and I both snapped upright.

That’s why Genelis had just gone over the basics of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony—the common folk’s shared birthday. It finally clicked.

"Kyle, do you have the resolve to change what’s normal—and to keep it that way?"

Genelis stared straight at Kyle.

Kyle didn’t hesitate for a single second. He answered the Seal Officer.

"Of course. It's my job to keep what's normal—and to keep it that way."

Genelis smiled faintly, his gaze steady.

"I truly feel glad I came to Goldendown."

Faydral, his grandson, stared wide-eyed at Kyle. Same age, barely older—shocked by the sheer weight of responsibility Kyle carried.

"Right then. Next part. In the proper ceremony, every sixteen-year-old stands before the Seal Officer together. They each tell us the mark they’ve chosen in advance—what they wish for."

That’s how it was for me, too.

Before stepping into the grand tent with the Seal Officer, an assistant had told me to pick my mark ahead of time.

Most people choose a symbol tied to their future job—or their parents’ trade.

If your father’s a blacksmith, you pick the blacksmith’s mark.

"And here, as Seal Officers, we use magic to draw out the power of the desired crest... but it usually doesn’t work."

"That’s the crest aptitude issue."

Genelis gave Kyle the look of a student who’d done well.

"Exactly. Unfortunately, crest aptitude is innate. It’s rare for someone to receive the crest they wish for. Still, it’s more likely to pass through bloodline, so if your parents bear a crest, the chance of you receiving the same one is much higher."

That’s probably why so few people carry crests.

Sure, it’d be easy if parents had crests—but even in the kingdom, those with crests are few.

"Now, instead of carving the desired crest, Your Highness Kyle will test every adult’s aptitude and let them choose from the crests they can actually bear... but that won’t happen in a day."

"What do you mean?"

Back when ordinary commoners thought getting a crest at the Coming-of-Age Ceremony was just lucky, now? With aptitude tests, you’re almost guaranteed to get a crest carved into you. So tell someone, “Alright, pick one from these right now,” and who the hell can answer that on the spot?

I couldn’t help but let out a “huh” sound.

Hell, no one could answer that right away.

“So here’s my suggestion. First, spend a day testing your aptitude. Let people know which crests they’re most likely to bear. Then give them another day to think it over—talk it through with parents or guardians, slowly, calmly.”

Makes sense.

Only two places in Kyle’s territory are actually inhabited: Goldendown and Leifan Town.

A few of the ones coming of age in Leifan Town are expected to come to Goldendown with their guardians.

The residents of Goldendown already have guardians they can talk to right away. The ones being brought from Leifan Town? They’ve got guardians too. A day should be enough to talk it through.

It’s a decision that’ll shape their future, so demanding an answer in a single day might be a bit harsh. But the truth is, most people don’t even get their crest carved in the first place. There’s nothing for it—just gotta push through.

“Ah, I see. So we’re leaving a full day open between the consultation and the actual carving. That’s right—assessment day, consultation day, and the Coming-of-Age Ceremony itself, where the crest is carved. Three days total.”

"Indeed. There's one more pressing issue—magic used to test aptitude drains a massive amount of mana. Even with legendary-grade mana potions, going through mana exhaustion and recovery dozens of times in a single day? The fatigue is unimaginable. I’d like to request permission to rest, for that reason alone."

A plea more than a proposal from Genelis—but it made perfect sense. Kyle readily agreed.

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Kyle looked up.

"Then how about we make the Coming-of-Age Ceremony festival span three days?"

That quiet whisper sealed it—Kingdom’s biggest festival would now run nonstop for three days.

That afternoon, Kyle would end up on his knees, shouting at Leifan, “I didn’t do this! I didn’t do this!”

The word "Coming-of-Age Ceremony" just keeps stacking up like that—sorry about the mess (´д｀)

But I had to explain it, so cut me some slack!