Chapter 90
Chapter 90
Academy’s Gumiho is a Magic Genius – Chapter 90
My daily routine didn't change much leading up to the Martial Arts Department practical evaluation.
I wrote lecture scripts for Professor Nam Hwa-yeon, studied magic grimoires, and taught students as a temporary instructor.
Every day was the same routine.
Of course, it wasn't entirely unchanged from before.
The additions to my hamster-wheel life were exchanging knowledge and info with Tamamo over casual chats, and teaching Seo Ye-rin spear and footwork techniques.
On top of that, every other day, getting drilled by Nam Hwa-yeon as her disciple.
That was the extent of it.
To cram that schedule into a single dayfrom meals to sleepI had to cut corners.
But today, I set everything aside and headed down a back alley.
I pushed open the door to the depths of the rundown shop and called out.
"Guya-ja, long time no see. Bet you've been waiting for me?"
"Wasn't waiting, you punk! Long time my assyou barged in here last Saturday with those kids."
"Oh, has it only been that long?"
Having spent quite a while in my inner world, my sense of time had gotten a bit fuzzy. Especially with old folks who feel time fly bythe gap was bigger for me than most.
I suddenly realized just how old Guya-ja had gotten.
Aigoo, gotta give the old man some money for health supplements so he lives long.
[1 billion won has been deposited into the customer's account.]
"...What the hell are you doing right now?"
"Gave you some money."
"Why?"
"Pocket money for supplements, so you stay healthy and live long."
The atmosphere turned icy in an instant.
Had I done something wrong? As I reflected on my actions
Bam!
A hammer slammed into the floor as Guya-ja stomped toward me.
"Supplements my ass...! I'm healthier than you, you scrawny parasite leech."
"...Yeah, looks like it."
Guess the old man was sensitive about his health.
Realizing that, I nodded at Guya-ja, who despite his age, tossed the hammer one-handed and flexed his bulging muscles.
Definitely healthier than me.
I didn't want to admit it, but his physique left no choice.
"So, what brings you here today?"
"The materials we talked about last time."
"No way... Slaughterstone?"
The bag slung over my shoulder.
I pulled out chunks of the ingot stone, and Guya-ja's eyes lit up like stars.
It felt like giving a kid candy on Children's Day from a doting uncle.
He was that thrilled.
But.
"...Hey."
"What's up?"
"Why does this Slaughterstone look so messed up?"
Ah, you're talking about that.
"It exploded."
"What did?"
"Someone carved runes into the Slaughterstone and blew it up for terrorism."
"Those goddamn bastards!!"
Confirming most of it had powdered, Guya-ja glanced at a large fragment before his eyes shifted to the other items nearby.
The intact pieces drew more interest than the shattered Slaughterstone, naturally.
Ingot, dagger, gems, and more.
Plenty caught his eye, but one held his gaze: a massive bolt of fabric.
Pure white, easily dyeable.
Arachne's Thread.
"Make me some clothes out of that."
"Never thought I'd live to make clothes from Arachne's Thread. You see new things when you stick around."
Clothes from Arachne's Thread boasted top-tier magic resistance.
Sure, durability and performance couldn't match armor, but in the realm of clothing, nothing surpassed it.
Unless you brought hides from 1st Hierarchy beasts.
"Condition's pristine too. How much did you snag this at auction again?"
"7.5 billion won."
"What a steal. The thread and fabric are flawless. Worth at least double the minimum bid."
Value that held up even against tens of billions.
That was top-grade Arachne's Thread.
"But with quality like this, wouldn't a tailor be better? I can do tailoring, but forging's my specialty."
"Can't."
"Huh? Can't what?"
"Commission a skilled tailor, and they'll snatch it."
"Who from?"
"The family."
I'd blown most of my cash at auction, leaving scraps, with no standing in the family.
My power was weakif the elders schemed, I could get scammed wide awake.
If I took these to a famous artisan, the five elders and their cronies would outbid me, steal or wreck them.
Bribing folks with sums beyond credibility.
"Yeah... fair point. Even stubborn artisans with forge pride."
"Big money turns them into lambs. Especially that big."
"Damn it, so you're dumping all this on me?"
Guya-ja trailed off with a question mark.
Asking for more cash?
I'd spent most at auction, but for my gear-maker, I wouldn't skimp.
I'm not cheap.
[1 billion won has been deposited into the customer's account.]
[1 billion won has been deposited into the customer's account.]
[1 billion won has been deposited into the customer's account.]
...
Total of 12 billion won hit his account.
Finally snapping at the endless alerts, Guya-ja yelled.
"You crazy bastard! I wasn't asking for more money! Don't insult me with cash!!"
Aha, not what he meant.
Should've said so earlier.
I thought he wanted more.
"Of course I'd trust it to you, Guya-ja."
"You lunatic, save your damn money. So, what parts do you want?"
"Gloves, dress shirt, pants, socks, shoes, undergarments, coat, chest guard."
"Full set, huh. Chasing set bonuses?"
Special resonance from gear born in the same environment, worn together: set effects.
Varied wildly by materials and origins.
Artisans who could infuse them? Top three worldwide. Guya-ja was one.
I demanded boldly.
"If possible."
"Cheeky punk. Always beating around the bush."
"So you won't? Your gear could shield me from Nine-Tail Guild and Heavenly Fox Baek Family beasts, give me a shot to strike back."
"...You little shit."
Glancing at me, Guya-ja grabbed the fabric and headed into the workshop.
Meaning he'd do it.
Meanwhile, I picked larger stone chunks from the Slaughterstone dust. Sensing unease, Guya-ja muttered.
"What's that for?"
"Students need weapons. You have their blueprints from last time, right?"
"Weapons? Why rush? Can't take it slow?"
"No, need them in a week. Arachne clothes by next week too, if possible."
"You madman. Six weapons plus full outfit top to bottom in a week? That the money for?"
Aigoo, busted.
But it didn't matter.
"Why by next week?"
"Midterms start then."
"Why weapons before midterms?!"
"Dead cat's better than nothingeven gear luck's a borrow."
"Why!! Do you need my weapons for midterms?!"
Guya-ja exploded suddenly.
What? Menopause? I wondered
It hit me.
'He thinks the kids want his weapons to ace midterms.'
That'd bruise his artisan pride.
Not wrong, but without his gear, midterm difficulty would skyrocket.
And it had.
"Dungeon clear."
"...What?"
"Dungeon clear's the midterm task. No weapons from you? Balance goes to hell."
Dead cat or gear powerhad to borrow.
Not idle talk.
With midterm hell-level, his weapons weren't optional. Essential.
Can't do without.
"Ahem! Should've said so! Making me look bad."
"Glad you took the commission."
"Chilseong's lost it. Dungeon clear for first-years as midterms?"
Guya-ja nodded at the insane difficulty, far beyond academy student level.
He got it.
...Well, I planned to amp the difficulty, not Chilseong.
Kept that zipped.
"Anyway, I'll pull all-nighters for what you want. Sleep's light in old ageshould make it just in time."
"Oh, and I want weapons too."
"Argh, damn it."
"Taking that as accepted. No blueprints prepped, so sketching on the spot."
With that, I focused on huge sheets of paper.
Swords, spearsfamiliar ones, I recalled weights, lengths.
Long-unused gear? Relied on faint muscle memory. Reviving old senses, I sketched.
Spear, sword, shield, gun, axe, bow, whip, dagger, mace, club, chain sickle, etc.
East-West, ancient-modernevery existing weapon. Some freakish, unseen designs.
Excluding armor: 75 weapon types commissioned.
Many consumables like daggers, bullets, bombsbut durable melee far outnumbered.
Damn, that's a ton.
Short deadline, detailed blueprintspissed him off extra.
"You bloodsucking brat. Sucking this old man dry to the bone."
"If so."
[10 billion won has been deposited into the customer's account.]
Deposit chime again.
I grinned.
"Gotta pay the price."
Felt it before.
Burning cash is thrilling.
Guya-ja, bank balance ballooning, had no energy left for joy or rage. Too much money to complain.
Insult? Whatever.
Dazed by the fortune, Guya-ja. Money's king.
* * *
Two days into hell-week practicals.
Students under Baek Seung-woo's tutelage gathered at a big cafe to swap intel. Sipping drinks, laptops and A4s out, they chatted.
"Everyone do okay on Hunting Studies practical? I bombed."
"Ours is 3 PM today."
"Bait and traps need prep and management. Half-assed it, caught three."
Sighs from Yi Ji.
Three practicals so far, all middling. Ambiguous scoreshe lamented. No Yu-ra laughed.
"Hunting research and instruction practicalbait and traps are basics. What'd you catch?"
"Three Grizzly Leavits. Looked like a family."
"Grizzly Leavit... that's..."
What hierarchy?
Lecture memory fuzzy.
Yi Ji hemmed too.
Isabelle cut in, fed up.
"Single: 8th Hierarchy. 20+ family: 7th. 100+ swarm: 6th. You don't even know that?"
Her 'this basic?' tone.
Others might take offense, but a month together? Water off a duck.
Plus, she answered.
No Yu-ra thanked her.
"Thanks, Isabelle. Jogged my memory."
"No biggie. Just knew it."
Cool under thanks.
More practical talk flowed.
Then No Yu-ra spotted Seo Ye-rin's swollen red wrist.
Like it'd been hit.
Ye-rin hiding it with her sleeveNo Yu-ra grabbed her hand.
"Y-Yu-ra? What's up...?"
"What happened to your wrist?"
"!!!"
Ye-rin flinched at the grab. Suspicious, No Yu-ra rolled up the sleeve.
Revealed: bruised, swollen wrist.
Not as bad as feared, but sore-looking.
"Tell me straight. Who did this?"
"W-Well, this is..."
No Yu-ra's sudden grilling fogged Ye-rin's mind.
Her one true friend.
Classmates, groupmates were friends too, but "friend" meant No Yu-ra first.
Her grilling her.
Mind reeling.
Should answer, but couldn't.
Some things unsayableeven to friends, especially friends.
So Ye-rin skirted.
Clamming up might hurt her friend.
As vaguely as possible.
"Listen... I've been getting extra lessons? No, training from the teacher lately."
"What?"
"Handling the spear, I messed up..."
"Hold on, first"
"W-What?"
No Yu-ra sounded irked.
Sole friend mad? Ye-rin's panic fogged more.
Unaware, No Yu-ra pressed.
"One-on-one? Private lessons?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"Alone with the TA? For real?"
You know my hearthow could you?
Her accusing glare scolded. Ye-rin should've explained.
But lips sealed under that stare.
Couldn't say.
That her training self, enrapt in daily changes, swung the spear mimicking her grandpa's techniques beyond her station, accidentally smacked her wrist on the shaft.
That Seung-woo, watching, gave a "what're you doing?" look.
Too embarrassing.