A Shot at Image Rehab (1)
To Bae Do-hyun, school had always been a place where you wasted uninteresting time in uninteresting ways, uninterestingly.
Ever since he'd discovered League of Council, whatever curiosity he'd once held for school had long since fallen away.
Back in his reckless high school days, he'd driven himself into the ground on nothing more than a vague, addictive confidence that he could do whatever everyone else was doing.
And so he'd lost everything.
His ties to his family. His friends. His future.
Mom and Dad are probably doing fine.
Still, a part of him couldn't help worrying. Four years of silence between them or not — how many parents in the world could simply shrug off news of their child's death?
But he didn't have the courage to go see them as Jin Gyeo-wool. He was a sinner who'd wounded his parents by putting an unreachable dream first, and a failure who'd collapsed without ever truly chasing that dream.
So not yet. Visiting them would have to wait a little longer.
Until Jin Gyeo-wool had at least set foot on the threshold of going pro.
If I go to them then… and tell them he worked hard, that he was a good person — maybe Mom and Dad would feel a little better.
Thinking about it wouldn't give him an answer. Gyeo-wool shook her head hard and called out toward the invisible Hon Gyeo-wool inside the mirror.
"I'm heading to school."
She'd been worried about school life after hearing about the past from Hon Gyeo-wool, but thanks to her friends, there probably wouldn't be any major problems.
Gyeo-wool beamed at the mirror.
"I'm not exactly great at making friends, but I'll at least make sure you don't pick up any more enemies. Just watch me."
So that you can become a proud pro gamer in your own right. So that no one can stand in the way of that path — I'll do everything I can.
One way or another, this was a second chance at a challenge, given to him because of her. He couldn't just throw it away.
No answer came back, but Gyeo-wool murmured softly to herself as she left the room.
It's okay. Everything's going to be fine.
From Jin Gyeo-wool's house to school was about a fifteen-minute walk. The usual way of getting there was the local village bus.
But starting this new semester, he'd made up his mind differently.
At the end of the day, going pro is a war of stamina.
No matter how much his physical ability improved, without the endurance to back it up, it was all worthless. Like stacking a full kit of cooldown reduction items and still not having enough MP to spam your spells.
Gyeo-wool needed to build up her base stamina.
At the very least, she couldn't have a repeat of two days ago — burning out mid-game during the Master promotion series.
So starting today, Gyeo-wool would walk the fifteen minutes to school and walk the fifteen minutes back. A short bit of exercise, but better than nothing at all.
Tugging down the school uniform skirt she still hadn't gotten used to after leaving it unworn all through spring break, Gyeo-wool took a short breath.
Calmly. Let's do this calmly.
Hon Gyeo-wool had entrusted this body to him, but this wasn't his life — it was Jin Gyeo-wool's. And there had to be a way back somehow.
If I could find a way home while looking for the incense candle, that'd be ideal…
Once he'd become a pro gamer and won the World Championship — if it were possible, Bae Do-hyun wanted to become Hon Gyeo-wool's companion spirit.
He was the one who'd died, after all. Rather than keep occupying this body, he believed the right future was to watch over a girl's path from her side.
Just for a few years. On loan. For both of their dreams.
Recalling the conversation he'd had with Jin Ju-yeong the day before, Gyeo-wool started forward with purpose.
Talking to Ju-yeong was never easy — the guy was always terrified in front of Gyeo-wool — but she'd forced him into a seat and kept the conversation going until she got the answers she wanted.
Only after she'd told him several times that she wouldn't pull his hair did Ju-yeong finally escape the terror of going bald long enough to speak. Hitting Master tier, he said, was barely the beginning.
He wasn't a professional consultant, but his understanding of the industry was a notch better than Bae Do-hyun's. That was why Do-hyun had decided to trust him with everything outside the game itself.
Among the younger kids Ju-yeong knew, a few were aiming for the pros, and based on what he'd picked up through those forerunners, he'd come to his own conclusion: Gyeo-wool couldn't stop climbing here.
"At minimum, Grandmaster. Honestly, I think you should go all the way to Challenger if you can."
Ju-yeong's judgment was that showing her face and drawing celebrity-adjacent attention first was the wrong move. Better to earn recognition through pure skill, get the organizations interested, and then reveal her face. Being a girl could work against her otherwise.
Gyeo-wool agreed. Unlike the old days, the League of Council pro scene was already close to a red ocean.
"Whatever method you use, you're going to be the world's first female Recon pro gamer. The second you sign with a pro org, it's going to be a massive story. But put another way… you know what I mean, right?"
Ju-yeong had mumbled past the negative part, not wanting to say it outright to Gyeo-wool's face — but she'd understood perfectly well.
Having no precedent meant the gate was that much harder to break through. It also meant drawing endless eyes, sure — but it equally meant the goal itself was nearly impossible.
So the more boxes she could check at once, the better. The higher Gyeo-wool's tier climbed, the more players, staff, and Recon streamers acknowledged her skill —
— the more dramatically her odds of a successful pro debut would rise.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, right…
But what Gyeo-wool could actually do right now was obvious enough. Ju-yeong had said he'd keep looking into amateur team placements, too.
The second I get home from school, it's closed-door training…!
Closed-door training. Barricading yourself in your room and studying nothing but Recon — that was something the old Bae Do-hyun had done better than anyone alive.
About five minutes into the walk, Gyeo-wool ran into her friends on the way to school.
Bae Do-hyun, who had never had any connection to high school girls, once again felt exhaustion and happiness at the same time thanks to Han Yeo-reum clinging to her like her life depended on it.
"Jjinglyeo, Jjinglyeo, Jjinglyeo~"
"Huh?"
"Not 'huh.' You're supposed to say Yeo-reum, Yeo-reum, Yeo-reum back!"
"Uh…"
It wasn't just today. All through spring break, every weekend, she'd been dragged around by the two of them and forcibly enrolled in a lecture titled What Do High School Girls Do for Fun on Weekends?
Every time she got hauled along, Gyeo-wool ended up with Yeo-reum latched onto her arm, and every time, she found herself marveling at the sheer oceanic breadth of the girl's… heart.
Same thing right now. What the hell was this perfectly ripe apple doing here. Was a high school girl even allowed to walk around carrying something like that. Shouldn't flat-chested like Cha Ga-eul be the normal setting.
But… the feel is absolute top-tier.
Even grabbing her own chest whenever she couldn't focus had started getting boring. Against that backdrop, the mere contact of Yeo-reum's heart was enough to soothe Gyeo-wool's mood into something gentle.
If Hon Gyeo-wool had had an inhibitor like Lee Bom, then for Jin Gyeo-wool, Han Yeo-reum was the inhibitor.
She briefly considered asking if she could touch them just once later, but even between friends that was probably pushing it. Those yuri scenarios that showed up all the time in light novels didn't happen in real life. So no pointless thoughts — just enjoy this softness.
Gyeo-wool suppressed the desire boiling up inside and took a long breath.
"What, why are you sighing? You're really not gonna do it? Jjinglyeo, Jjinglyeo?"
"Yeo—reum… Yeo-reum…"
"That's it, that's it! There you go!"
So goddamn awkward. How could anyone mutter something like that without a shred of self-consciousness. Did this girl not have shame.
Gyeo-wool sighed again and turned her gaze toward Cha Ga-eul.
Ga-eul was giving her a cool look that said everything without words.
She's always like that. Just play along. You've spent weeks with her — you know this.
I know. I know perfectly well. But Gyeo-wool had lived twenty-four years as a man. There was no way she could casually spit out an embarrassing line like "Yeo-reum, Yeo-reum" just because someone told her to.
"She's this cute, you know. I don't get why everyone keeps saying she's scary~"
"……"
That aside, she really needed to do something about this puppy of a girl who latched on at every opportunity.
Before spring break there'd at least been some leftover awkwardness keeping things in check, but after a few weeks of hanging out together, Yeo-reum seemed to have decided they were close enough to stick like a grain of rice.
I was going to study champions on the way to school, but that's shot to hell.
From here on out, every moment spent outside the house except class time was clearly going to come with restrictions. Frustrating, but what could she do. This was Hon Gyeo-wool's precious life, one she'd have to return someday. Treasuring even a single friend was only natural.
And when you've got a soft inhibitor right next to you, is there really any need to peel her off? As long as it feels good, who cares.
A brand-new second year. And a brand-new Class 3 of the second-year liberal arts track.
But the homeroom teacher was still Kim Seongyeong, same as last year, and half the students in the classroom were the same as last year too.
The kids aiming for the sciences track had been split off into other classes, but most of those who'd chosen liberal arts had simply rolled up into second year in the same room.
Aside from separating problem students, the school's policy of keeping kids in the same class as they advanced grades was what had made this happen.
"Yaho~"
The two friends stepped into the classroom first, and the boys' eyes naturally drifted toward them — then the moment Gyeo-wool walked in behind them, every gaze that had been facing forward whipped away again.
Someone looked at their phone. Someone looked out the window. Someone turned back to the friends they'd been talking to.
Only one person. Lee Yeong-bin alone smiled brightly at Gyeo-wool and waved.
Atmosphere's absolutely killer.
Confirming that half the faces from February were still here, Gyeo-wool let out a short sigh and followed her friends toward the back of the classroom. She gave Yeong-bin a perfunctory little nod.
It had softened a little, sure — but the careful, wary atmosphere around Jin Gyeo-wool was the same as ever, then and now.
Trailing after her two friends without much thought, Gyeo-wool arrived at a familiar spot in the classroom.
Seats would be reassigned anyway, but the three desks at the very back by the window sat empty as if by prior arrangement.
Reserved seating, huh?!
The kids who'd been in the same class last year had almost certainly pulled strings to push Gyeo-wool to the back on purpose. Put her up front and she might drive out another teacher; stick her in the middle and someone might end up with their hair grabbed — that was the logic, no doubt.
Sitting anywhere else wouldn't have left three seats together anyway, and whether it was habit baked into Hon Gyeo-wool's body or not, the window side definitely felt more stable.
Gyeo-wool had no choice but to pull out the prepared chair and sit down.
I really should do something about improving my image…
But how, exactly.
If she could pull off an image rehab, she might gradually expand her recognition among her classmates while getting her Recon skills acknowledged. And what did guys this age talk about, really?
Girls, games, and getting laid. Setting aside the last one, Jin Gyeo-wool herself checked two of those boxes at once.
The idea that the guys might treat Gyeo-wool as fap material was pretty damn unpleasant — but Hon Gyeo-wool had kindly left behind an atmosphere of pure terror. A little threat and most of them would back off on their own. No guy alive could beat the fear of going bald.
While Gyeo-wool was turning these thoughts over, homeroom teacher Kim Seongyeong came in through the front door of the classroom.
"Alright, alright, quiet down. Everyone rest well over break?"
A perfectly ordinary high school classroom. The response was, as expected, halfhearted.
"Some of you might be seeing me for the first time, but I'm Kim Seongyeong, your homeroom teacher for second-year Class 3 this year. I also teach second-year English. The ones who already know, know."
Kim Seongyeong scrawled her name across the blackboard in a quick slash. Writing in such a hurry, the tip of the fresh stick of chalk she'd just pulled out cracked with a sharp snap.
"Everyone get along, and even though it's the first day, I don't really have any announcements. We'll do a quick orientation, then head to the main auditorium for the opening ceremony a bit later… right, and no classes today. Some of you already knew that, but…"
Cheers erupted at the news of no classes. For a high school that treated studying like a profession, it was the natural reaction — same as an office worker getting an unexpected day off because of some company snafu.
Kim Seongyeong flipped quickly through a few sheets of paper she'd brought, preparing what she needed to say next. She let out a long, low hum, flipped a few more pages, then seemed to find something and tapped the teacher's desk twice with her fingertip.
"Right. Before we do the class president election, we need to pick a temporary class president and temporary vice president."
Gyeo-wool snorted the moment she heard it.
Yeah, that was a thing. It had already been over four years since high school graduation and she'd forgotten, but class president and vice president were always the hot topic at the start of a semester.
And before the real election, for about two weeks — legal slaves to help the teachers. That was what temporary class president and vice president were.
Usually, almost no one volunteered for that kind of annoying work. Sometimes a genuinely good kid who did everything willingly would serve as temporary president and naturally become the real one, but more often it was just whoever had attendance number one getting used for a bit and then discarded.
"Who wants to help the teacher for two weeks?"
"Me."
Gyeo-wool, who'd been face-down on her desk just listening to the teacher talk, lifted her head slightly at the sudden volunteer, curiosity piqued.
Raising a hand the second the teacher finished talking? She wanted to see the face of whatever lunatic that was.
…Lee Yeong-bin?
And that lunatic was Lee Yeong-bin. The kindhearted Lee Yeong-bin who'd looked after mad-dog Jin Gyeo-wool. The moment she saw his face, Gyeo-wool's expression turned pitying.
Honestly, nice guys… why do they always live so exhaustingly.
Class president was settled fast, so vice president wasn't even worth watching. That was what she thought as she went to bury her face again — when Yeong-bin suddenly said something bizarre.
"I'd like Gyeo-wool to be temporary vice president. What do you think, teacher?"
Even face-down, she heard it clearly. Every student in the room turned toward Gyeo-wool in the farthest corner, the rustle of school uniforms filling the air.
Gyeo-wool slowly lifted her head with a look that said I must have misheard, and at that thoroughly irritated expression, her classmates' eyes snapped forward again.
Facing Gyeo-wool, who was glaring daggers with narrowed eyes, Yeong-bin asked,
"Gyeo-wool. How about it — want to do temporary class president and vice president together?"
Yeong-bin was still beaming at her. And it was an enormously burdensome smile.