Why Are You Doing This to Me? (2)
My list of annoyances had grown.
All of it thanks to Professor Magran, the mana theory instructor.
"Hey! What's your name again? Do you know who I am?"
There was the guy who approached me without a shred of prior acquaintance.
"Um, I'm collecting phone numbers from everyone in class. Could I get yours too?"
The girl who held out her phone with the eyes of a predator sizing up prey.
"What are you planning after you graduate from the Academy? If you don't have anywhere to go, our guild could—"
And the type you find everywhere—the ones who shamelessly parade their pure, unfiltered desires.
Just the knowledge that had even shocked Magran, a retired Highest-rank hero, was enough. The crowds that swarmed me the moment class ended were both numerous and thoroughly exhausting.
It wasn't as if there were no upsides at all.
The problem was that the only real upside amounted to Cheon Yu-seong glaring at me with jealousy in his eyes.
Compared to the nuisance of complete strangers clinging to me like bothersome flies, that was far too trivial a consolation.
I could no longer simply brush them off with open hostility, so I answered the swarm of flies one by one—tedious as it was—while waiting for the next period to start as soon as possible.
If my memory was right, the next class was Practical Combat Studies, a subset of Combat Studies. Roughly half of these pests would drop off then, and after that I had about two hours of free time. I was simply waiting for that moment to arrive.
"I need to head to my next class, so I'll be going first."
"Oh, really? What class is it? If it's the same one, want to go together?"
Most of them backed off with the expected disappointment when I said I was leaving for the next class. But among the few who remained, one excessively pure-hearted idiot asked what class it was.
"Practical Combat Studies."
"Oh! Same here—wanna go together?"
"Do whatever you want."
I clicked my tongue inwardly at the fact that the one sharing my class happened to be this pure, brainless type. Still, he was preferable to the ones full of scheming snakes, so I told him to suit himself and stood up.
"Yuna, I'm heading out first."
"Okay, Cheon-seong. Take care."
I tucked the sound of Yuna's voice—healing just to hear—into my ears and set off for Practical Combat Studies with the pure, brainless guy beside me.
"Hey! While we're at it, how about introductions? I'm Kim Ha-jin."
"Sure. Nice to meet you. I'm Lee Cheon-seong."
On the way to combat class, the brainless guy—Kim Ha-jin—suggested we introduce ourselves. He had already finished his own introduction before I could even reply, so I answered halfheartedly and we arrived at the Practical Combat Studies room.
"Hey, what type is your unique ability? Mine's physical reinforcement, for starters."
"Do you even understand what it means to reveal your unique ability?"
A unique ability was everything a person was.
Revealing it meant exposing your weaknesses, and once that happened you always started a fight from a disadvantageous position.
Even if you didn't name the exact ability, every unique ability had corresponding weaknesses based on its type.
Take my unique ability, Five Colors: it let me handle every kind of mana and fell under the mana-manipulation category.
Ability users of the mana-manipulation type were generally vulnerable to those whose unique abilities specialized in physical reinforcement and magical defense.
No matter how much you reinforced your body with mana, if the quantity and skill level were equal, physical-reinforcement types would always come out stronger.
I compensated for that weakness by mastering multiple combat styles and by having the Heavenly Demon Divine Art as a weapon—but I couldn't reveal that at the Academy, so I had no choice but to deal with opponents using other means.
In any case, Kim Ha-jin had casually spilled something that important to me without any conditions attached.
There was a slim chance he was lying, of course, but today's class was Practical Combat Studies, and from what I knew the lesson would be sparring to gauge exact skill levels. Kim Ha-jin's lie would be exposed today either way.
"Ah~ Of course I know! But it's fine! I'm strong, so no problem! And you don't seem like the type who'd go around spreading it, either."
I hadn't properly looked at him until today, even if I'd seen him before. I had no idea where Kim Ha-jin's confidence came from, but I didn't dislike people like him.
To put it again: the simple, almost foolish types were easier. Far more comfortable than the ones who hid dozens of snakes inside their bodies. And people like him neatly sorted into only two categories, which made them easy to think about.
"I have no idea where that confidence comes from. I'm mana-manipulation type."
They either developed into pure evil—like that arrogant bastard—or into pure good, like that guy from Britain. One or the other.
"Oh!! So you trust me too! That makes me happy!"
When I revealed part of my unique ability, Kim Ha-jin lit up, threw an arm around my shoulders, and laughed loudly. The sight made me snort as someone from before my regression came to mind.
For now, is this guy the closest to him?
—I believe in you! Why? Because even though you look different on the outside, you carry a pure color!
In the war against the Celestials—when no one could trust anyone—he had treated me, a foreigner to this country, the moment he first saw me. Not as an enemy, but by healing me on that battlefield.
I wonder what Arthur is up to these days.
Arthur Pendragon.
One of the few men in the entire world who could, to some degree, stand against Seol Si-yun.
Before my regression, when I had gone to Britain and been on the verge of death at the hands of the then-Knights of the Round Table, he had protected me. Aside from Imir, he was one of the very few who had almost become a true friend.
And the one who had dealt with "Black," one of the four Celestials those damned bastards had unsealed—Kim Ha-jin resembled him somewhere.
Back then he trusted me for no reason at all. Maybe I should try it once myself.
Looking at Kim Ha-jin's smile, so similar to Arthur's, I decided I might trust him a little.
My usual self would never have done it. But the nostalgia of the time before regression, and seeing a smile so much like the man who had thought of others right up until the moment he died, made me want to imitate him just once.
Practical Combat Studies began exactly as I remembered: sparring so the combat professor could accurately gauge the cadets' skill levels.
But the professor's face looked familiar.
Where have I seen him? I'm sure I've seen him somewhere.
I wasn't the type who remembered people well, so even though I was certain I'd seen him before, I couldn't place where or who he was.
Hm? Does he know me?
While I was turning it over in my mind, our eyes met. In his I could feel welcome and delight.
Practical Combat Studies wasn't a required major at the Academy, but it was popular enough. If its professor knew me, there had to be some significant point of contact—yet I still couldn't recall what it was.
"Alright, everyone! Good to meet you! Last week Practical Combat Studies wasn't on the schedule, so this is the first time for most of you. Some of you may already know me, but I'll introduce myself!"
A wooden practice sword spun in the instructor's hand before he slammed it hard against the floor with a sharp thwack and spoke in a booming voice.
"My name is Aren! My current rank is mid-Highest. From now on, I'll be the professor teaching you practical combat."
His golden hair swayed as his deep, resonant voice made several female students flush and the male students marvel at the presence he radiated.
Ah. It's that guy from back then.
The name Aren and the way he gripped a sword finally let me place him.
He was the professor who had been swapped into my group during the Academy's third entrance exam—the same one who, when he moved to attack Yuna at the end, had irritated me enough that I used Blazing Storm after he told me to show my real skill.
Most of that memory had been clouded by the way Cheon Yu-seong had screwed me over, so it had stayed hazy. The name and the way he held a sword brought it back.
Ha. This is going to be a pain.
Professor Aren had been the examiner for my group, but more than that, he was the first bothersome professor to take an interest in me when I wanted none.
It didn't matter as much now, but I still preferred as little attention from Academy professors as possible. Aren's gaze—still clearly fixed on me with deep interest—was even more annoying than Magran's.
On top of that, every part of Practical Combat Studies affected grades, so I couldn't half-ass it. There was literally no way out.
Why were Academy professors so desperate to take an interest in me?
And those eyes of Aren's.
Weren't they the eyes of a starving predator that had just spotted prey, drooling?
Was it just my imagination that today seemed packed with far too many bothersome things?
I hoped it was only my imagination—yet I already felt that hope being denied.
"Alright~ For the first class, I need a simple look at your skill levels, so we'll spar. That means you!"
Aren's hand pointed straight at me. When I pretended not to notice, he finished me off by calling my name at full volume.
"Cadet Lee Cheon-seong! You'll come out first as the demonstration and start the spar with me!"
Fuck. Of course it would be me.
"Ohhh! Cheon-seong, go for it! Land one on the professor!"
"Please just shut the hell up, you bastard."
At the sound of my name being called so precisely, Kim Ha-jin got excited and told me to land a hit on Professor Aren. But what would happen if I actually knocked Aren flat here?
The flies already swarming me after mana theory would only multiply if I did the same in combat studies.
And combat studies was the one subject where I desperately wanted zero attention.
Practical Combat Studies.
It was a class that taught the act of combat itself, and among combat studies it specialized solely in combat actions.
A subject that taught humanity's desperate thrashing just to survive—against villains, against monsters. Nothing about fairness or underhandedness. Only survival.
Who exactly took a class like that?
Naturally, it was packed with muscle-brained bastards who went crazy for fights and loved nothing but brawling.
Not all of them, of course, but the guy next to me, Kim Ha-jin, definitely counted—and more than anyone, the biggest reason was that vacant-looking Seol Si-yun.
If my fight with Aren drew Seol Si-yun's attention?
If he took an interest in me as Cheon-seong rather than my other identity as Hanwol?
Seol Si-yun would absolutely come charging at me. Even if I refused, he would cling on with relentless persistence. Then I would become the one receiving the full attention of both the top and second-ranked students—and that attention would drag in people from every other class I didn't even take.
To avoid that, I would have to lose to Seol Si-yun rather than win—that would at least prevent the worst outcome. But I hated that idea.
To fight Seol Si-yun properly I would need the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. Without it, my chances of losing to him were high—and lose to Seol Si-yun?
Especially with a high probability of it happening right in front of that dogshit Cheon Yu-seong.
Sparring between cadets required a professor's involvement, so the news would spread to everyone. Cheon Yu-seong, who knew Seol Si-yun's skill, would definitely show up.
No matter what I did, the starting point of a chain of events completely against my nature was this spar with Aren.
All I could think was that my luck was pure shit.