Foul Play

There were twenty minutes left until afternoon classes began. I grabbed my sword stick from the classroom and headed up to the Park Myeong-gwan rooftop with Gemma.

Normally, second-years would be hanging out here, but today it was deserted because they'd gone out for live combat training toward the Korean mainland.

In this time slot, shouldn't delinquents be up on the roof smoking? That's what they always do in dramas.

"If the other kids knew the second-years' schedule today, they'd have come up out of curiosity, right?"

You knew about it?

"Of course."

Leaning against the wall, I pulled up the relationship updates I hadn't checked earlier.

Seeing Shin Sua's perception shift to Revenge Target (T^T)o! made me chuckle. Probably the emoticon—it felt less like bitter venom and more like "I won't lose next time."

The unexpected part was Seol Romi's perception jumping to Caution.

Why had only U Hyo-chung's relationship rank skyrocketed to 3? I knew the guy was simple-minded and handed out ranks easily, but it still soured my mood for no reason.

The bonus itself wasn't bad, but imagine hitting rank 3 with Seol Romi or Shin Sua—it would've been a huge boost for future fights.

Whatever. No point regretting the past.

You're acting weird from earlier, you know that?

"Weird how?"

Just as I finished checking the backlog, Gemma shoved her face in close.

Why do you keep rolling your eyes like that? You were muttering to yourself earlier, then suddenly bolted off.

Her pursed lips said she suspected I was hiding something from her.

Until now, I'd only checked the interface when she was away or asleep, but maybe it was time to share. If she grilled me later with her Lie Detection trait and didn't like my answers, our rank could drop.

"Hold on."

I gripped my Soul Thread Bracelet and slowly focused my mind.

Tzzt!

A thin soul thread slipped from the bracelet, sparking blue.

And the next instant—

Eek!

Gemma yelped like an idiot and jumped back a step.

What the—this is weird.

She circled the floating translucent interface, poking at it with her fingers.

Not that it did anything—her pokes passed right through the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠user interface.

Do all Shangju walk around with one of these?

"As if."

What I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠done was a practical application of Spirit Descent from class: sensory sharing.

Usually for borrowing an ancestor's night vision or mutual vigilance, but reverse-sharing a Shangju's senses with their ancestor spirit was possible too.

Whoa. Looks kinda like a game screen from here.

I'd shown her the challenge menu.

I heard some Shangju have weird powers, but you're one of them?

"In my case, I can level myself up like a game character."

Gemma had been a normal civilian in life, so her knowledge of Shangju and ancestor spirits was just common sense.

Famous lineages produced Shangju with bizarre abilities—that was well-known. And what I'd said wasn't a lie, so no suspicion.

Hmm. Thought you had some big secret.

I'd tucked away the challenge completion notices—stuff that might spark useless thoughts—so this would do.

So why show me this now? I wasn't even curious.

Before answering, I tapped the challenge detection icon, summoning a massive padlock in the interface center to show it was locked.

"Obviously—"

Shing.

I drew my sword and aimed it at the interface. A translucent silver key overlaid the gleaming blade.

"—you need to recognize this padlock yourself for Passepartout to work."

Without hesitation, I jammed the incorporeal key into the unreal lock.

⋯

"That's class for today."

8th period ended.

Jang Han-nam had lectured all afternoon on the dangers of erosion barriers—zones corrupted by powerful vengeful spirits—and how to counter them, but it barely registered.

I already knew it all, plus I was busy replaying earlier events while tapping out texts on my smartphone.

I'd given Mun Hee-jeong and U Hyo-chung a rough rundown of what the teachers said. Figured hyping myself as an exemplary class rep would build more trust.

"Whew."

I hit the home button to close the chat app.

I'd thrown in emojis to play upbeat, but honestly, I wasn't thrilled.

I recalled the rooftop experiment.

Bottom line: the lock didn't open.

Stabbing it with Passepartout just spat out a system message: [Invalid Access].

Why? I had a hunch.

You acted like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it'd pop right open.

"I can do it. Just not fully tapping Spirit Lord Transformation yet."

My pride stung, but I wasn't desperate. I knew exactly what to do.

The interface message meant Passepartout's forced unlock had successfully interfered with the padlock blocking challenge detection.

Failing to open it? Just my understanding of Passepartout still lacking.

Spirit Lord Transformations via relics only hit half power without precise use.

Passepartout wasn't in any game—it was trial and error.

But I wasn't wasting days grinding basics.

Time to consult an expert.

"Before dismissal, a rundown of March's key events."

I'd been doodling with my pen, half-dozing, when Jang Han-nam fired up a PPT on the screen after wrapping class.

March's schedule was packed.

Shangju don't just train nonstop, huh?

"They're high schoolers, after all. Even on an academy fleet with a whole city aboard, spots for hobbies are limited."

Clubs are their breather, then.

Gemma looked unusually excited.

"What? You're not joining one."

Still... feels all youthful and thrilling.

She cupped her cheek and squirmed. Idiot move again.

"I'll cut you some slack. Not your fault you're lugging around a one-day bag instead of book smarts."

What? I'm better at chemistry than you!

"Making explosives?"

⋯

"Anything else?"

English too! Better than you!

"What's a one-day bag in English?"

Clu—clutch bag!

"Ooh, nailed it?"

I said English's my thing!

"Good girl. Clutch bag from now on."

No weird nicknames!

I wasn't dissing homeschooling—Gemma was just fun to tease because she was dim.

"No time, so skipping club details."

Jang Han-nam glared at the roster, skipping Gemma's hoped-for part, then pointed at two kids.

"Gong In-myeong. Seol Romi."

The top scorers, packing textbooks for home, blinked blankly at their homeroom teacher.

"You'll represent at the senior-junior meet-and-greet, dueling last year's top boy and girl. Prep hard."

Seol Romi nodded with resolve, but Gong In-myeong grimaced uncomfortably.

"Great chance to show off first-years—especially Class A's level. I trust you'll give it your all."

Gong In-myeong might've refused anyone else, but it was Jang Han-nam, eyes blazing threat: slack off and die.

Even I, not targeted, read the vibe loud and clear—them? Crushing pressure.

Still, it'd wake Gong In-myeong up via the meet-and-greet. Fine by me.

"Next. Tomorrow morning, class officer elections. Candidates, sign the board by hand before leaving. Dismissed."

Jang Han-nam marched out stone-faced.

But I caught him glancing back at the end.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Deadpan gaze, straight at me.

His face held more intensity than for Gong In-myeong or Seol Romi—goosebumps prickled my arms.

Glasses teacher's classes plus homeroom's advanced training? You'll actually die.

"...Yeah."

I'd told them both I wanted their guidance, but I couldn't alternate weekly without pissing off their egos in some petty tug-of-war.

One option left.

Screech—

Scribble scribble.

Soon as Jang Han-nam left, a guy strode to the podium and wrote his name on the board with a wet brush. I eyed his clean-cut glasses face—model student vibe.

Yeom Jin-gwan, was it?

Mid-upper grades in Class A, charisma topping U Hyo-chung's—he'd become class hub in days. Total social butterfly.

But I'd cleared Gods Bless the Ancestors dozens of times. I knew his true colors.

"Guess that side's starting to move too."

Hm? Who's doing what?

"Nah, just—"

Some bastard plotting to drag most of Argo's students into shit. Time to crush him soon.

⋯

I said bye to my groupmates and beelined for the staff room.

Jang Han-nam was off at the training hall, as expected. If he'd been here, I'd be screwed.

Cautiously, I approached Jeong Da-un amid his paperwork.

"Meant to ask next week, but I'm in a rush."

I whispered low so other teachers wouldn't hear. He scratched his temple.

"Tricky. Even if you're my only listed student, starting Spirit Lord Transformation advanced training this week kills fairness—"

"Daily after school, starting today."

"Bold for a beggar. Got time slotted for me?"

"I know where your ex-wife is."

Jeong Da-un stared blankly, then stood.

"...Some things are jokes, some aren't."

The grade chair strode stiffly, pausing at the door.

"And if I saw right, Kim Taeyang knows the difference."

Follow me. His back-turned voice reeked of complications.