Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Beauty and the Beast
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"Ha. What was I expecting."
Veronica snorted and brushed back her disheveled golden blonde hair. With her natural beauty backing her up, even that simple motion looked like something out of a magazine photoshoot.
"Okay, suppose I am desperate to crush that bitch Son Ha-rin like you said. But why the hell should I listen to you? I can take her and that teacher all by myself."
I said nothing, just stared at Veronica.
Intently—
My gaze packed full of meaning: 'You? An A-rank? All by yourself?'
Staaaare—
After about three seconds of that, Veronica's face turned red and she exploded.
"...I just need to train, you fuck!"
"Hmm. Training. Very martial artist-like. Nice."
I was surprised by the surprisingly orthodox martial artist's response.
Sure enough, with the talent of Veronica, one of the golden generation prodigies at the Korean Martial Arts Genius Academy, surpassing Lee Soo-young wasn't far off.
"But here's the thing."
I scratched the back of my head and laid out the plain facts.
"You, me, everyone in this school—in fact, expand it to the whole world—nobody our age can even compete with Son Ha-rin much longer. This year might be the last shot."
Martial arts are fundamentally a study of time. No wonder they use gapja—the 60-year cycle—as a unit for inner energy accumulation.
Of course, innate talent, parental wealth, or a lucky encounter on a cliff can shorten the time needed to advance.
But becoming a true master requires an absolute total amount of time.
Take one example.
Emperor Chi Tian-di Zhu Jin-pyeong of the Ming Dynasty's 28th generation, marking 99 years on the throne this year.
The EX-rank master who single-handedly smashed the mighty armies of the Soviet Union, Japanese Empire, Mongolia, and the Golden Alliance with just an axe, rebuilt a half-ruined nation, and is known in the West as the God-Emperor—a living legend.
But if someone like me, who defies time, went back a hundred-plus years, snuck two venomous snakes into the cradle where baby Chi Tian-di slept in the Forbidden City... modern China would be completely different in name and system.
Absurd hypothetical, sure. In the original timeline, the Communist Party—wiped out by the emperor—might have taken the Central Plains and set up some ridiculous 'People's Republic of China' or whatever.
Even a three-year-old born with unprecedented talent since the Big Bang—unrivaled in 13.8 billion years of cosmic history—can't beat a thirties second-rate everyday martial artist. Talent needs time to bloom.
But paradoxically, once given enough time for the body to wield a sword, the mind to grasp cultivation manuals, and inner energy to flow through the meridians...
From then on, a genius's time flows at a completely different speed from an average person's.
That's when an uncrossable gap starts opening between genius and mediocrity.
I brought that up, and Veronica glared fiercely right away, but I raised my index finger again to divert her gaze and continued.
"Current U.S. Secretary of Defense, God of War Desmond Kyle. New Star of the original North American Seven Stars from the World War era. Earned his nickname at just 19—the fastest ever—with an S-rank. Might be the youngest to reach Manifestation Realm in all of history, East or West. Crazy, right? S-rank before 20. Think you could pull that off?"
"You idiot, that's the God of War..."
I cut her rebuttal off and pressed on.
"Question: why do you think your friend isn't on that level? At just seventeen, wielding Sword Telekinesis—not one sword, but four at once—and trading dozens of blows one-on-one with A-rank master teacher Lee Soo-young? A genius like that?"
Son Ha-rin was just a seventeen-year-old girl now, but her talent was already blooming brilliantly.
Soon she'd surpass Lee Soo-young, approach Baek Kang-mu... and someday maybe even step into her grandfather Wind Duke's realm.
Of course, Veronica was a genius too. In her previous life, she'd taken a wrong turn down the demonic path chasing shortcuts, but as she said, steady training could get her to A-rank, even S-rank someday.
But put any genius in front of Son Ha-rin, and they'd fade.
To truly beat Son Ha-rin, first accept that fact.
"And winning—what does that even mean? Does it have to be a straight one-on-one duel? Even if it is, how do you judge victory? Not a deathmatch, so... until one loses consciousness? Referee TKO? Or make Son Ha-rin surrender? If she spars a bit, says she lost, and walks off the stage—would you call that a win?"
I barraged her without giving room to argue, and Veronica groaned in frustration.
"But what about grades? Unauthorized tardies, early leaves, unsanctioned fights on campus... No way teacher Lee Soo-young gives you extra points just for being cute when you've broken every school rule by day two of the semester. Beat Son Ha-rin on this evaluation score, and that's a win, right?"
"That cheap wordplay..."
Even as she said it, Veronica's expression grew more uncertain. It was starting to sink in, bit by bit.
Any means necessary to beat her gets full points. That's what Lee Soo-young said.
No way Lee Soo-young pulls some training camp meta, declares everyone a champion for trying hard all semester, and throws the match.
With clear evaluation criteria, in this class, I—no, Veronica—had ways to outscore Son Ha-rin.
And the reason was...
"Son Ha-rin has no friends besides you, right?"
"I-I'm not exactly friends with..."
From what I'd seen, Son Ha-rin's social skills were even worse than Veronica's.
Me, Kim Hoon the regressor; fallen noble Veronica; chaebol third-gen Baek Chan; plain old Park Jong-myeong—Team 1's flashy lineup versus Team 2's Son Ha-rin plus randos. Honestly, Team 2 had the edge.
Not just numbers—Son Ha-rin alone could probably handle us all.
However.
Son Ha-rin doesn't team up with others.
Not out of superiority complex—just shitty social skills.
'Lee Soo-young's lesson about remembering the class meaning... probably meant this.'
Today, Team 2 had numerical superiority and Son Ha-rin as their sharp spearhead, but squandered it.
The others charged Lee Soo-young one by one without a plan, got wrecked one by one; Son Ha-rin watched, then went one-on-one honorably and lost.
Exploit that gap, and even Veronica could beat Son Ha-rin.
One victory, carrying that memory forward—it'd reduce her chances of being consumed by heart demons, even a little.
"That's all I have to say. Think it over. Latest, start prepping seriously next month."
With that, I turned and left Veronica in the clearing.
A fifteen-minute ride on the motorcycle parked in the school lot every morning brought me to the massive traditional Korean mansion where Veronica lived.
Currently used by Son Ha-rin as the Wind Moon Sect's rumor lord safehouse.
Veronica's position here? Military dependent, if you had to pin it. Living off Wind Moon Sect's safehouse, rumor lord, and sect master's funds—but not actually part of the sect.
Even back at the Wind Moon Sect main branch for ten years before coming to Seoul, her status was similar. Prestigious righteous sect practitioners didn't outright discriminate, but she couldn't blend in easily.
Like her exotic looks that drew stares just walking the street, Veronica was an outsider.
That should have faded by now, but closing her eyes still brought sharp memories from after age seven.
'Oh my, there's a kid too. Captain, what do we do with her?'
'What kind of question is that? Iron Maiden. Demonic Cultists get executed on sight, no exceptions—you forgot?'
"...Watch your words. The child is innocent."
'Sword Saint? You of all people saying that?'
Covered in her parents' and siblings' blood, seven-year-old Veronica Lionheart could do nothing before the Murim Alliance subjugation squad arguing her fate.
Too stunned to even beg mercy, sitting dazed in the blood pool—a humanoid storm suddenly descended.
"I'll take the child."
'Divine Wind—no, Wind Duke...! Why are you here...!'
"Gratitude and grudge. Between this family and my late wife—now mine to settle. Does a martial artist need more reason?"
"This is the Murim Alliance's rightful action! Even you, Wind Duke, can't—"
"Can't? And if I want to? What will you do?"
In fact, nothing happened. Swept into Wind Duke's arms, whisked to Korea in a blink; even through ten ordinary years of school and training, nothing.
Unlike the girl who couldn't scratch her parents' killers, Wind Duke could've beaten the entire squad there.
That was the murim world. Ruthless arena where good and evil, right and wrong, bowed to power. The girl just learned it sooner than most.
Under Wind Duke's protection, she started anew with a new place, name, life. Attending school and training martial arts with childhood friend Son Ha-rin—an ordinary life.
But just trying to be ordinary, never truly becoming it. Her mirror-reflected hair, eyes, skin—colors evoking her dead family's ghosts—kept her forever a foreigner here.
'Don't want ordinary. Impossible anyway. If I can't be ordinary, better be superior to the rest.'
Still in uniform, sprawled on bed, Veronica clutched the blanket tight, thinking.
But before Son Ha-rin's shining talent, anyone turns ordinary.
That obvious fact—she knew it without lectures...
Frowning, she recalled her chat with that arrogant prick Kim Hoon. Chained thoughts stretched to his question.
'Son Ha-rin has no friends besides you, right?'
What had she answered?
Recalling it, an irresistible impulse seized her.
"Aaaagh—fuck this shit! 'I'm not exactly friends'—what the hell!"
Bang bang! Her long legs kicked the blanket wildly.
Veronica buried her burning face in the pillow, screaming.
'Why'd I fucking stutter there? Who cares what that clueless bastard says...!'
She gnashed her teeth, biting the pillowcase. Perfect comebacks always come after the argument ends.
—Knock knock knock.
How long? A familiar knock rhythm sounded.
"Lola? You in there?"
Veronica bolted up and flung open the door.
Looking down, a petite girl—head shorter—stood there.
Avoiding the small animal-like upward gaze, Veronica mumbled.
"...When'd you get home."
"Just now? Came straight from the nurse's office after waking. Feel much lighter after sleeping."
Son Ha-rin swung her arms around as she said it.
No way she heard that nurse's office meltdown... Veronica eyed her warily.
But if she'd just woken, no lie—Son Ha-rin lifted her apron with her usual slightly dim expression.
"Hungry. Wait a sec. I'll whip up food quick."
"Whatcha making."
"Mm. Fried eggs?"
"Hey, forget it. You always burst the yolks into scrambled. I'll do it."
Veronica snatched the apron from Son Ha-rin and tied it on.
Son Ha-rin followed her down the stairs. A faint smile no one else would notice played on her lips.
Through the bedside window, sunset glowed red far off.
Like the precarious peace between jealousy and affection wavering in the two girls—it sank into encroaching darkness just as they finished preparing dinner.