Open for Business

The moment the door closed, the grid pattern of the floor melted into weathered flagstones, and the scenery around her flipped over in the blink of an eye.

Song Min-ji found herself standing in the middle of a dense forest.

Then, a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠monster came walking out from between the trees.

According to everything she'd studied, that was without a doubt an E-rank monster — an Ash Wolf.

She remembered the teacher who loved EDS's educational programming rapping his pointer against ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the blackboard, warning them to fear the claws more than the fangs.

"Claws, people. Claws. What was that? Claaaws. This is on the exam!"

But the monster was far bigger than she'd imagined. It hadn't looked small from the outside, either, yet standing face to face with it, she got the distinct feeling that her whole arm would slide right into that mouth.

"……"

The tip of her sword trembled. She'd thought gripping it with both hands would help, but instead the shaking spread all the way down to her knees.

It's okay. It's fake. It's not real.

Even as she repeated that to herself again and again, the numbers in front of her kept steadily falling.

You can do this, Song Min-ji.

She was still trying to get a proper grip on her sword when the wolf hit the ground and launched itself ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at her first.

Here it comes.

I have to dodge.

"Ah…!"

By the time she staggered back and hoisted the sword, the wolf was already right in front of her. Its claws grazed her shoulder, and a short warning chime rang out.

No. It hasn't even been ten seconds.

She swallowed hard. At this rate, forget the one minute she was aiming for — she wouldn't even last thirty seconds.

The wolf wheeled around and lunged again.

This time, she didn't raise the sword. She lowered the trembling blade and instead used the only skill she had.

Mana flowed naturally down to the tips of her feet, and her whole body felt far lighter than before.

She threw herself sideways with all her strength.

Whoosh — her body shot forward, and sharp claws snapped shut in the empty air where she'd been standing.

"…I dodged it?"

The instant she turned, her eyes met the beast's. The wolf twisted its landed body around and, this time, dropped low and drove in toward her legs.

It's coming again!

She kicked off the ground and fell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back. Sharp teeth clacked shut just in front of her knee, but this time too, they never touched her.

'Huh…?'

After dodging a few more times like that, something became clear to her.

'I can dodge it…? I can do this…!'

With this skill active, she was far faster than the thing.

"Grrrrr—!"

She wound mana around her body once more.

*

'She's pretty quick.'

The supervisor watching the capsule reopened Song Min-ji's applicant file.

Strength, vitality, mana — all of them bottom-tier. But her agility sat at the very top of the range.

Only when he saw Nimble Movement written beneath it did he nod.

An ability that granted seven extra points of Agility at the moment of awakening.

It was classified E-rank because its advantage shrank the more the holder grew, but in an exam that gathered nothing but fresh recruits, the story was different.

When it came to raw movement, she was bound to be far faster than most of the other examinees.

And on top of that body, the acceleration from her skill was piling up.

Just then, inside the capsule, the girl running from a goblin's club saw an arrow come flying and twisted her body to match.

Once again, it was a hair's breadth.

Even cutting her direction sharply, the mana at her feet didn't break — she kept her speed and slipped clean past the goblin's flank.

"…Hmm."

The reason for her speed, he understood now. She even seemed to have a genuine talent for combat, beyond what the numbers on paper said.

The problem was the skill she was using.

Performance like that had to be at least C-rank. The mana requirement to learn it should have exceeded 10 at the very least.

And yet the mana listed on Song Min-ji's file was unmistakably 1.

The supervisor set the file down and studied the inside of the capsule more closely.

The timer had already passed the seven-minute mark.

Every other examinee had long since failed out.

Which only drew more eyes, and glances laced with disbelief flew at the capsule from every direction.

Among them were Cha Seo-rin's.

"Hey, look at her. She's insane— she's so fast."

"What? Whose kid is she? Some guild's?"

The trainees beside her leaned toward the capsule.

"But why isn't she killing a single one? She's just running."

"No idea. But check the clock. It's already past seven minutes."

"…It really is."

A faint crack ran through Cha Seo-rin's expression.

Her own record was six minutes thirty-four seconds.

She'd thought she had no reason to care about a mere E-rank, but the sounds of admiration coming from beside her, over and over, had been grating on her for a while now.

"…Would you keep it down a little?"

"Oh — sorry."

"Sorry."

The trainees shut their mouths at once. There was nothing to gain and everything to lose from getting on the wrong side of the only daughter of a famous hunter family.

So, under everyone's attention, Song Min-ji dodged attacks coming from every angle — until, at last, the ever-growing swarm of monsters overwhelmed her, and she failed out.

Wiping sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes, Song Min-ji stepped out of the capsule — and even then, she kept glancing back at her own record as if she couldn't believe it, until the supervisor called her over.

"Excuse me — one moment."

"…Yes?"

Looking for all the world like she'd been caught doing something wrong, Song Min-ji clasped her hands together politely.

"The skill you just used. What's it called?"

"My skill?"

Catching her breath for a moment, she answered.

"Um… what was the name again. Oh! It's a skill called Gale Footsteps."

"Gale Footsteps?"

Hearing her answer, the supervisor tapped at the tablet in his hand a few times — then frowned.

"It's not in the database…. You're sure about the name?"

"Yes, positive."

"Where did you learn it?"

At the supervisor's question, she answered without giving it much thought.

"An older friend of mine gave it to me."

Late Saturday evening, I sat at the counter of my shop as always and pulled out my phone.

The entrance exam should have ended ages ago, and still there'd been no word.

"I wonder if the test went okay…."

She'd reach out when it was done, surely. Don't tell me she bombed it?

I opened a message, typed out a few characters asking how it went — then deleted them.

What would I even say if she really had failed?

She'd taken a skill off me and everything; she'd probably feel guilty enough just reporting bad results. There was no need to poke her first and pile on the pressure.

Well. I'd wait.

Leaving the phone where it lay, I turned my eyes to the glass display case that filled one whole wall of the shop.

The premium NEW PRODUCT I'd splurged on this time.

Inside, three C-rank skill books and one B-rank sat nestled in a row.

"Heheh…."

Looking at that thing really does lift my mood every time.

Everything in there was the fruit of the last few days of burning passion.

The moment I'd awakened, I'd been so wired that "I'll just analyze one more" had turned into night after night of no sleep.

Whenever I was reading the runic script and found a spot to fix, I literally could not sleep until I'd corrected it myself and rewritten the page.

Truthfully, I wanted to pack that entire display case wall to wall with my own skill books. But there was one small problem standing in the way….

Namely, my pathetic mana reserves.

Because from B-rank onward, the production difficulty is a completely different beast.

The lowest, E-rank, runs three to five pages. D-rank, around seven or eight.

But C-rank crosses twenty pages, and B-rank routinely blows past a hundred.

"I thought once I'd deciphered it once, I could read it without the ability."

Since the amount of runic script I could read in a day was limited, the number of skill books I could produce was limited too.

"Maybe I should brew up some mana-recovery tonic and drink it…."

All the products I'd searched on Goupang earlier drifted through my mind.

"I'll order one before closing time."

Oh — and one more thing. There was a new fact I'd learned.

Skill books crafted with this ability come out Supreme quality, pretty much without exception.

For reference, "quality" here refers to a skill's mana efficiency.

Simply put, the better the quality, the less mana the same skill consumes when you use it.

Of course, my master's degree in mana studies helped too.

As long as I could read the runic script, hunting down the places where mana was being wasted and patching them was my actual field of expertise.

"Six years of study weren't for nothing, it seems."

I was smiling contentedly at the books in the display case when, out of nowhere, the shop door burst open.

Ding-a-ling. Ding-a-ling.

Along with the first chime of the day, one hulking middle-aged man shuffled hesitantly into the store.

"Welcome."

I rose from behind the counter and addressed the customer.

"Looking for anything in particular?"