A New Trait

I’m going to die….

Even a Gatekeeper is only human, damn it. Can’t I get a break? How the hell did more than twenty people show up in a single hour?

After ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wrapping up the evaluations, I dragged myself into the staff lounge. I’d been worried someone might be inside and things would get awkward, but the room was empty. Good.

Clatter.

I hadn’t noticed during the exams, but my body was completely drained. If my hands were shaking this badly just from sitting still, that was definitely not a good sign. I’d only been dealing with Bronze-rank kids, yet I was this exhausted. If even stronger opponents started showing up later, I’d be in serious trouble.

The Elders were monsters no one else could handle anyway, so that was fine… but still.

I’m only human. I can see and hear things just like anyone else. Officially, I’ve only been working as an Academy examiner for two days. Yet in those two days, my name has already spread like wildfire among the students.

The problem is that most of the talk isn’t exactly flattering.

A brand-new Silver-rank examiner had arrived—one who operated on a completely different level. Unlike the previous examiners who passed people without much fuss, this one was brutally strict. Some were even whispering that I must have an inferiority complex, which was why I was playing Gatekeeper against Bronze students.

None of that is good for me. Not one bit.

There really are a lot of genuinely unskilled kids in Bronze. Park Junwoo and his thug friends aren’t exactly impressive either. If I said I’d just let my guard down for a second, most people would understand. That’s exactly why it’s so easy for them to accuse me of playing the “strong against the weak, weak against the strong” game.

In other words, it looks like I’m just acting tough against Bronze-rankers.

It might have been better if word had gotten out that I stood my ground against an Elder. At least then I wouldn’t have to hear garbage like, “That pathetic low-rank ability user with a massive inferiority complex is cosplaying as a powerhouse by beating up Bronze students.”

This kind of treatment isn’t exactly pleasant. I have my reasons, you know. Making snap judgments like that is incredibly unfair to this poor Gatekeeper.

Still, I couldn’t just quit the Academy dispatch. Because of Kim Suhyun? Because of Lee Hyunwoo?

Of course they were part of the reason. Both of them had the potential to become powerful allies if I guided them properly. But now there was another reason—one that had just appeared a few minutes ago.

This new section had appeared right after I finished the last exam. A waiting period until the next threshold. And that the wait could be reduced by performing rank examinations inside the Academy.

My main trait was Silver Gatekeeper. If I acted in ways that didn’t match the trait, the waiting period probably wouldn’t shorten easily. It was just a guess, but my gut told me it was definitely the case.

That’s why I couldn’t quit the Academy dispatch. I had to shorten the waiting period and trigger the next threshold. Only then would a new path open—one that would let me become even stronger than I am now.

On top of that, I needed to change Kim Suhyun’s “Genius Fallen into Inferiority” trait and completely eliminate that one percent chance of her becoming the Red Witch.

And if I could make the original protagonist, Lee Hyunwoo, even stronger in the process, that would be perfect.

“Still… there’s nothing I can do about being this tired.”

On my days off, I probably shouldn’t just hole up at home. I needed to exercise and build up my stamina while I was still young. They say you should train hard while you’re young for a reason. If my body was already like this, it was honestly terrifying.

Knock knock.

“Excuse me! Is Examiner Baek Seojin inside?”

What now? Can’t they let me rest for even five minutes? The Gatekeeper is human. A civil servant is human. I worked like a dog, so I’m legally entitled to my break.

“Yes, I’m here. Come in.”

I forced my stiff body up and rolled my shoulders once. Was it a security officer? Or another staff member? Maybe Ma Hakjun was looking for me again?

While I was thinking, the lounge door creaked open slightly.

“Pardon me.”

And through the gap, a female student cautiously poked her head in.

“Ah, hello, Examiner Baek Seojin. I’m sorry for disturbing your break.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I was about to head out anyway. More importantly, who are you?”

“Yes! I’m from the Student Council.”

The Student Council—the one thing you can never avoid in academy stories. As expected, every member here was an ace. Most were Gold-rank, and I’d heard that some of the executives were even Platinum. In outside terms, that meant they were at least B-rank or higher. Their backgrounds were equally impressive—grandchildren of corporate chairmen, daughters of clan masters, that sort of thing.

If Kim Suhyun’s skills had been a little better, she probably would have joined them too. Because of that, the Student Council held quite a bit of influence inside the Academy. There were a few unpleasant members, but I remembered the president kept them under control.

I think the president and treasurer later joined Lee Hyunwoo’s party…?

My memory was fuzzy on that part. Unfortunately, I’d only read partway through the original story.

“Examiner Baek Seojin?”

“Ah, sorry. Where were we? You said you’re from the Student Council?”

“Yes. Um… the vice president would like to meet with you. Would you have time?”

The vice president? Not the president or treasurer, but the vice president wanted to see me?

…I don’t remember. Who was the Student Council vice president again?

Unlike the president and treasurer, whose faces I could vaguely recall, I had zero memory of anyone called the vice president. Not a single clue.

After thinking for a moment, I let out a small sigh. Well, one thing’s for sure—he’s probably a guy.

Male characters from the Student Council wouldn’t have left any impression on me anyway.

“He wants to meet me. Do you have any idea why?”

“I’m not sure about the details. I was just told to escort you if you agreed.”

“…Hold on.”

I cut the girl off. Something about what she just said didn’t sit right with me. Escort me?

She’d phrased it politely, but it basically meant I was supposed to go to him. He’s the one who wants to meet, yet I’m the one who has to move?

“That’s not how this works. Tell the vice president to come here himself.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m not an Academy student. I’m a dispatched civil servant. I have an actual department I belong to, and actual work I’m responsible for. I may be on a short break right now, but what makes you think you can just drag someone on official duty off somewhere?”

These kids had pride in their skills and were treated like aces inside the Academy. That kind of environment always produced a few rotten ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠apples, and it looked like this vice president was one of them.

It might have been a leap, but I could feel it. That familiar, unpleasant sensation—the same one I got when a problem customer was about to walk through the door.

“If he wants to meet, tell him to come here.”

“Ah… yes, understood. I’ll make a quick call and be right back. Could you wait?”

The girl left the lounge with a slightly flustered expression. I knew she wasn’t the one I should be annoyed with. But I had no choice. Only by handling it this way would that vice president understand the situation.

A short while later, she returned after finishing her call.

“When I told him what you said, the vice president agreed to come here.”

“Good. Let’s step outside, then. It might be a bit uncomfortable to talk in the shared lounge.”

I had a feeling this meeting wasn’t going to be pleasant at all. The unpleasant premonition crept up my spine like a shadow.

“…Yeah. Got it. Tell him I’ll come myself.”

Jeong Yuhyeon ended the call with a gentle voice, then immediately twisted his face into a demonic scowl.

“Ha. Fuck.”

He shoved his phone violently into his pocket.

“That pathetic Silver examiner bastard.”

The new Silver-rank examiner who had just arrived. He didn’t know where the guy had crawled out from, but he was incredibly irritating. The moment he showed up, he crushed every student who came before him. Today he’d even set a new record—facing examinee after examinee without granting a single Silver promotion.

Is he pretending to be a powerhouse without knowing his place? What a lunatic.

He was probably just a C-rank ability user at best. Slightly better than those pathetic Bronze losers, but not by much. The fact that someone like that was acting so high and mighty pissed him off to no end.

And now ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some of the students are already whining that Silver promotions suddenly got harder.

People who lacked the level should know their place. Dirt-poor commoners should stay in the dirt and keep their heads down. Bronze and Silver ranks should act like the bottom-feeders of the ability user world—quietly accepting whatever scraps those above them threw their way and being grateful for it.

Jeong Yuhyeon had no intention of watching some orphan who couldn’t even get into the Academy strut around like a big shot just because he had a little bit of power, publicly beating up Bronze students.

I looked into him. Turns out he really is just a worthless orphan.

He had already used his connections to run a full background check. As the third grandson of the honorary chairman of the mid-sized Jinhan Group, Jeong Yuhyeon was making full use of that powerful backing.

I should go crush him a little.

He held the vice president position in the Student Council—the most influential group in the Academy. On top of that, his own skill was on the verge of Platinum rank. And finally, his background was on a completely different level ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from some orphan.

With all those weapons at his disposal, burying one arrogant examiner would be easy.

“Bronze or Silver… their level really is disgusting.”

Completely unaware that the information he had received—and the data gathered by his backers—had been thoroughly concealed by certain people.