The Nurse's Unwilling Admission
Ten minutes had passed. The closed door to the infirmary opened, and Seong Yu-ra slipped in with an embarrassed smile on her face while Aren entered with a nasty, gleeful grin.
“Ahem, hah. H-had it… ended, you all?”
The question had no clear subject, yet the pervert’s face flushed bright red and he averted his gaze as he asked it. Anyone with half a brain could guess what had happened.
“No, ever since you left, it’s been nonstop like this.”
“T-t-theo… Why? I mean, no matter how much it interfered, the person who treated you is still you.”
Ever since Seong Yu-ra and Aren had shown up, Cheon Seong and Yuna had no choice but to stop their affectionate behavior.
Someone had seen them acting like lovers, yet no one had stopped them, promising to give them space to continue. Where could they have possibly taken things further? And most of all, he didn’t want to show anyone else this side of himself—the ruthless muscle-headed loser who could only fight by beating down the pervert feeding on Yuna’s loosened-up body, then fleeing like a cowardly professor. What else could he do?
“Hee hee hee~…”
“…Why are you laughing like that?”
“Well~ It’s just that I can tell your eyes as a disciple are pretty sharp.”
“I never said I was your disciple, Professor.”
Cheon Seong asked Aren why he was acting so creepy. The man had clearly seen him as his own disciple, even though Seong had never actually agreed to it.
“So you’re not going to? Even though I look like this, I’m quite the amazing person, aren’t I?”
“Sorry, but I must decline. I already have a master.”
Who on earth thought they could just pick him as a disciple?
Cheon Seong had only one master, and only one person who could stand above him.
He had zero intention of becoming the disciple of anyone other than Beatrice, and that would never change—no matter what happened.
“Besides, I have no desire to become the disciple of someone who beats up students without power regulation and then runs away.”
“Ugh, that, that is—wait—”
“Professor Aren. Stop the excuses and just apologize. Aren’t you embarrassed being a professor? Look at that kid over there.”
Seong Yu-ra pointed at Yuna, who was sitting beside Cheon Seong, and said it.
“If you don’t apologize, that child will probably kill you right now.”
“Haha~ No way that would happen… Wait, if I apologize now, will you forgive me?”
Aren looked at Yuna in disbelief at Seong Yu-ra’s threat, then saw the genuine killing intent in her eyes and awkwardly smiled while asking her the same thing.
Nod.
Kind Yuna nodded at Aren’s words. Seeing her willing to forgive him if he apologized, Cheon Seong walked over and bowed his head.
“I’m truly sorry. I tested you unfairly and caused you great trouble. Can you forgive me?”
Even with the title of academy professor and the power of a Highest-rank hero, Aren had bowed his head and apologized for his mistake. Cheon Seong paused for a moment, then nodded.
“I’ll accept your apology. On one condition.”
“A condition? H-heh, alright. What is it? I’ll grant anything within my power.”
Aren was stunned yet strangely amused by the condition Seong placed on the academy’s own professor. He asked what it was.
“…From now on, if there’s a sparring match in Practical Combat Theory, let me choose my opponent. And exactly once—please grant my request as the professor. That’s my condition.”
Aren listened silently, then raised two fingers.
“Hmph, I don’t know why you need my help, but fine. I’ll grant your request. But I can’t let you choose the opponent yourself. That would break fairness.”
No matter how foolish or cowardly the student had been, he was still a professor of the academy. A man who valued equality between disciples above all—status, money, nothing—there was no way he could accept something that broke that equality, no matter how much he liked the student.
“So tell me something else. I can’t accept anything that breaks student equality.”
Seong Yu-ra accepted Aren’s refusal to negotiate on that point without hesitation. Cheon Seong thought it was impossible, so he simply nodded.
“Then give me one healing potion. I’ll accept the apology.”
“Good. If it’s a healing potion, I’ll bring you a good one.”
Aren accepted the changed condition, chuckled, walked over, sat on the empty seat, and slung an arm around Seong’s shoulder.
“Hey, you really aren’t going to become my disciple? I’d make a fine teacher, right?”
“I’m grateful for the high praise, but I only have one master. I must decline.”
“Hmph, alright. If your mind changes, come find me anytime.”
Aren felt no anger at Seong’s repeated refusal. In fact, he found it more interesting and intriguing.
The academy certainly valued equality among students, but it was not without factions. There were those who had everything and those who had nothing, split by an invisible line. The rich and the poor. Those who could never resist the quiet discrimination, terrified of revenge after graduation, had no choice but to endure it in silence.
He could no longer fully evaluate the guy after seeing him twice, but watching him properly lead his teammates in the first test suggested he wasn’t stupid. If that was the case, he probably knew some people. From his own investigation, though, there was no one he could call a hidden backer. His uncle worked at a big hotel in a high position, but when Cheon Seong contacted his parents, they hung up immediately and told him the boy had no support. The relationship clearly wasn’t good.
‘Still, it’s interesting that he refused my offer.’
That’s why he refused to become Seong’s disciple, even though a hidden backer would be created, yet still accepted the apology and demanded conditions. Other strong people just thought the strongest were the strongest. But Seong thought differently.
Of course strength was strength, but he believed real strength required courage. The courage to stand against stronger opponents—even if weaker than yourself. Without that courage, no matter how strong the power, it was just defeat.
If heroes only protected the weaker, and when facing stronger foes they simply gave up and ran, that made them weak and defeated. That was how he saw it.
By that measure, Seong scored a perfect 100 out of 100.
He had talent and versatility. His swordsmanship was excellent, and even the staff he used in the test had been as skilled as a sword. His judgment in magic usage and situation assessment was outstanding.
And most of all, he liked the courage to demand conditions even after the Highest-rank hero himself apologized.
‘This is someone whose master I envy.’
He had thought himself envyless, yet the master of such a student was extremely enviable. He kept thinking how much fun it would be to teach someone like that.
“Hmph… You have no intention of accepting another master?”
“Yes. I only have one master.”
“Then don’t become my disciple. Just come whenever you have time and learn my swordsmanship.”
“…What? Are you serious?”
Seong’s expression finally changed at the rare words from the usually calm man.
“Are you serious, Professor Aren?”
Of course he was.
Even if Aren had shown an embarrassing side for a short time, he was still a Highest-rank powerhouse. Not like the immature Ryu Se-rin, who had only just reached that rank— this man had spent years honing his power through experience.
Learning someone’s swordsmanship was learning the accumulated essence of their life and the passage of time.
Everything has a reason. To make life easier, to fight, to kill, to survive.
The things passed down only through sects, families, and schools all existed because their creators had a purpose behind them—and Aren was no different.
Whether for killing or surviving, every reason behind Aren’s swordsmanship could be called Aren’s swordsmanship itself.
And yet, without any conditions, before even the entrance exam, he was offering to teach it to a complete stranger. How could anyone not be surprised?
“Professor Aren. Are you serious?”
Seong Yu-ra was also shocked at Aren’s words and asked if he really meant it. Aren nodded.
“Yes. I’m serious.”
“Why? I rejected your offer to become your disciple.”
“The reason…”
When Cheon Seong asked for the reason, Aren hesitated, his eyes curving into crescent moons, then laughed.
“It’s just that teaching you sounds fun.”
Seong stared at Aren in utter disbelief at the words that would give everything away for nothing but fun.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Seong’s answer was so absurd that he simply stared in silence. But of course he accepted.
More than half his power was the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, which could not be used at the academy. He had only been able to live there by relying on body memories, crisis senses, and magic. If he learned Aren’s swordsmanship, he would have other attack methods besides basic body techniques in the academy.
Moreover, he didn’t even have to become a disciple. The more attack options he had, the better. The condition only benefited him.
“Alright~ Then come to my office whenever you have time.”
“Yes. I’ll come this week.”
Aren stretched and stood up with a refreshed look.
“Ah! I forgot something.”
As he turned to leave the infirmary, he remembered something and faced Seong again.
“Make sure the principal doesn’t hear about what happened today. If she does, I’ll get in trouble.”
Even injuring a student by not regulating power was a problem, but if Principal Eira learned he had fled to avoid the situation, she would be furious. He winked and reached for the door handle, pleading with Seong.
“Professor Aren.”
“Hm? What, something to ask?”
Cheon Seong stopped him from opening the door and said he needed today’s events kept secret.
“It seems it’s already too late.”
“Huh? What do you mean by—?”
Squeak. Clunk!
Shwaaaah—
Before Cheon Seong could answer, the infirmary door opened and a wave of freezing cold air rushed in.
“Umm~~ Professor Aren. You certainly did a big job today.”
“P-principal…?”
The principal of the academy, and one of the very few people Cheon Seong recognized as the Snow Witch, Eira stood before Aren.