The Ship of Heroes

After entering the game world, I spent the next two days searching for a way out. I screamed that it was all a dream and deliberately rolled off the bed. I tried every trick in the book to deny reality over and over, but nothing worked.

The third evening arrived amid seething rage. Having starved myself and holed up in the corner of my room, I finally decided to accept the situation. Over the remaining two days, I focused on resting and bridging the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gap between my rational mind, which was starting to adapt to this new world, and my emotions, which weren't.

Specifically, I checked my bank balance and immediately ordered delivery food that the characters in the game's daily life segments always got. In the story, you had to build rapport with the dorm supervisor and complete an event to order outside food, but I had no intention of living in the dorms anyway.

So, on the eve of the entrance ceremony, I went all in and ordered the most expensive, buff-heavy item from the game's menu: shark fin-packed Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

"Not as impressive as I thought."

I was pretty pissed about being tossed alone into the game world, and with more money left than expected, I bit the bullet and ordered it. The taste was decent for the price, but unlike in the game, no post-meal buffs kicked in. It just confirmed once more that this place wasn't the game world—it was another reality.

"...Time to get started."

Only after filling my belly with that pricey grub did my brain start turning. I decided to dig into who this blond tanned delinquent—this Kim Taeyang—really was.

Logging into SNS on my smartphone, it auto-signed me in as expected. I spent two hours doxxing Kim Taeyang. His account was a lonely wasteland of cringey, try-hard emo posts with zero comments, but it still yielded a ton of info.

Kim Taeyang. 17 years old. Height 185cm. Weight 79kg. Orphan. No real friends except local thug wannabes. Massive poser. Left the orphanage and lived the stereotypical delinquent life, just like you'd guess from his looks, until awakening in his second year of middle school. He seized the chance to escape his dumpster-fire trajectory, grinded his ass off, and aced the Argo Academy entrance exam. Being low-income scored him a full scholarship plus living stipend. Cutting ties with his past was just par for the course.

"What a bastard."

Even with that trigger, who turns into a grinding prodigy overnight? I wasted my school years glued to games because of a bum leg as a kid, barely scraping by to become a lowly civil servant at 27. Kim Taeyang deserves props for getting his shit together way earlier.

But—

"This body's mine now."

From here on, I have to live as Kim Taeyang. A flashy face that never even got name-dropped in the game—an extra. Still, he must have some baseline talent. I have to make use of it somehow.

"What now?"

I scoured and deleted every trace of Kim Taeyang's SNS accounts, then checked the date and major news. Luckily, I hadn't time-skipped way off the story's timeline like I'd feared. That means tomorrow, I'd be attending Argo Academy with the original characters. No guarantee we'd end up in the same class, though.

I racked my brain, recalling the message on the screen right before I blacked out.

Getting sucked into the game probably ties to unlocking that hidden final ending in reality. Or maybe, since it called it a "simulation," the game was just modeled after this world. But splitting hairs like that is pointless—like debating if it's a butterfly or the butterfly dreaming it's me, or which came first, chicken or egg. Point is, starting tomorrow, I'd be rubbing elbows with Shangju—superpowered folks borrowing ancestors' strength.

"Argo Academy..."

The name's already a dead giveaway. The ship from Greek myth that carried the heroes. The Argo. Every vessel in this academy fleet is a cradle to protect and nurture future heroes. Sure, cramming city-scale facilities and staff into massive ships just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a school seems inefficient, but in the world of Blessings of the Ancestors, it's par for the course.

My immediate worry? Tomorrow's placement exam. If getting 10 years younger and stuck in this game world is about reaching the happy ending, I'd be imprisoned here at least 3 years. Even if I had few ties to my old life, jumping into my favorite game doesn't mean I'm ready to ditch everything and settle here forever.

Bottom line: whether I can return or have to stay, I need to nail school life. Interact with the characters, guide them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the perfect ending—that's my ticket home. And if I'm stuck? Graduating top-tier Argo Academy, Korea's premier Shangju powerhouse, means a cushy life. But living here for real will be way tougher than the game. No controller. I'd have to buddy up, offer help or advice, nudge them my way. Stay close to the protagonists, which means landing in their class would be ideal.

"Ha... what a headache."

Here's the snag: the class placement exam right after the entrance ceremony. The core story drivers shine early and clump into one class. To slip in with them, I need solid placement scores.

"Menu."

Obviously, muttering that didn't pop up a stat screen or inventory. I need to know my talents to plan growth. Written and combat scores from the entrance exam were already in. The cadet app on my phone showed decent mock battle results... but abysmal written scores.

"How the hell did he pass?"

Incomprehensible. Special admission? At least entrance scores weigh light in placements. Crush tomorrow's exam, and I could join the mains' class. But could I?

Reading ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the exam details on my phone, I clutched my head and flopped onto the bed.

"Why this of all things..."

The placement event? The luck-based trash mini-game that tormented me across dozens of playthroughs. Spirit Soothing.

* * *

Argo Academy's internal transit is insanely fast. They repurpose high-performance electromagnetic catapults—meant for launching carrier jets—for streetcars. Even massive as it is, they wanna flex that aircraft carrier base design.

I boarded the direct high-speed tram from home.

—Whoosh!

The announcement barely finished when crushing g-forces hit from the front. Scenery blurred past the window like a bullet. Insane acceleration. The catalog spec of momentary 5G max wasn't bullshit. I nearly hurled, but the trip time matched the g's.

"This is..."

Argo Academy's main building loomed even grander than imagined. Massive curved glass panels forming sail-like structures, woven across the facade to mimic a colossal galleon.

A huge signboard at the gate. Early as it was, students in identical uniforms and their parents streamed in. Judging by luxury cars, outfits, and entourages, I was the only solo act from a powerhouse family. Whatever. The bizarre scene before the entrance ceremony killed any room for loneliness.

More like—

"That's..."

Cadets wore bracelets twisted from hanji paper or plain thread. Not fashion. Soul Thread Bracelets. Named for the thin, translucent threads linking to hazy, floating figures. Humanoid shapes of all ages and genders, but legless—like classic movie ghosts.

Ancestor Spirits. Souls of the departed, returned post-monster invasion to grant humans power against otherworldly horrors.

In Blessings of the Ancestors, powerhouses like Indonesia, Mexico, and sub-Saharan Africa alongside China, Korea, and Japan make sense. Nations with strong ancestor memorial cultures naturally rose as Shangju nations wielding them. Korea's top young talents flock here.

But where's my ancestor spirit? Kim Taeyang, orphan, still did mock battles in the exam, so he must've bought some genealogy contract. Did my soul overwrite break it?

"Trouble."

I checked the bracelet I'd hastily dug up yesterday. Dodged total loner status on day one. No need to summon today anyway—just play it cool like it's hidden—

"...Isn't that him? The guy who chucked his pen and bolted mid-written exam."

"Yeah, look at the hair. Infamous delinquent."

"Hot, but total slacker vibe."

"Don't fall for it. All looks."

Nearby students whispered and side-eyed me, cold sweat trickling. Hostile stares all around.

"Flunked written and still special admit? Banged the teacher?"

"Shh! He just glared."

"Scary eyes."

"Ignore him."

...Guys were spreading vicious rumors. Why the hate from randos I'd never met? And bolting mid-exam? What kinda head was pre-possession Kim Taeyang rocking?

"Hey, cut the chatter. Look over there."

As dread flickered, one of the trash-talkers pointed elsewhere. A chauffeur opened a luxury sedan's door. Out stepped a petite girl with low-tied twin tails. Students ogled her enviously, boys and girls alike.

No ancestor spirit visible beside her. But most Argo cadets already knew her and her ancestor's name.

Shin Sua. Top female entrant. Heiress to Goryeo Group's vast fortune in global funeral goods. Even ignoring family clout, her talent and looks commanded awe and envy. One of the main heroines in Blessings of the Ancestors.

Why no spirit? Powerful ancestors hate being leashed to wrists out of pride. They show only when needed.

"Hm?"

Then it happened. Maybe my bright hair? Shin Sua's gaze lingered on me briefly. Her brow twitched—like she was wary of another non-summoner like herself. Should've dyed it black. Regretted the wax, spray, and primping over the untested blond hype.

"Gotta buy dye..."

No need to sour impressions with mains on day one. I slipped into the crowd, avoiding her eyes, and entered the gate.

* * *

Argo Academy's prestige drew VIPs domestic and abroad to the entrance ceremony. Scouting future Korea reps (sounds backhanded, but yeah).

For now, all eyes on the two top entrants as freshman reps.

"Gong In-myeong and Seol Romi, please come to the stage."

The MC teacher called them from the front row. Arriving early, I had a side view from right behind.

Seol Romi stood first. Wavy long brown hair parted 9:1, intense vibe. Short skirt highlighting long legs, big red high-tops. No wonder folks called her the embodiment of self-assertion. Piercing eyes, powerful stride. Her presence dominated, confidence oozing like in-game graphics.

"...Gong In-myeong?"

While Seol Romi strode boldly onstage, the male rep dozed in his seat.

"—Ah."

A nearby teacher poked his arm. He rubbed his eyes, yanked out an earbud, and shuffled up amid light chuckles—not mockery, but warm.

"Top guy's kinda cute, right?"

"Prefer bulkier, but he's handsome too."

Girls buzzed like boys had for Seol Romi. His sheepish smile and everyman charm sold the contrast with his shiny title. Suited his friendly face, anyway.

"Oath. We freshmen regard entering Argo Academy an honor, and vow to diligently train during our studies—"

The story heavies read the pledge slowly. I bowed my head to hide mixed feelings. Seeing nurtured faves in the flesh wasn't fun. Daunting, competing with geniuses when I didn't even know my ancestor.

Wish I'd swapped into a solid side character. Coaching them to happy end? My own nose was barely above water.

"This concludes the entrance ceremony."

The MC's voice boomed, dismissing my petty woes. I followed signs to the placement exam room led by teachers. Tackle the brutal test first. Game RNG ruled it, but real life might have exploits. Survive this hurdle, improv the rest. Clinging to vague hope, I filed into Exam Room 24 with the crowd.