What the Hell Is This?

It was a highly suspicious letter. There were even two of them. One addressed to me, and the other to Cheon Mari. Both ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been sent by the academy. Tilting my head, I tore open the packaging on the letter meant for me first. As if to prove it wasn't just some random video tape, a disposable device and a single sheet of paper tumbled out.

"Isn't this a Hunter Watch module?"

The disposable device was a kind of module and terminal that plugged into a Hunter Watch. Since nothing was written on it, I scratched my head and opened the letter to read it.

The letter contained a fair amount of grandiose nonsense. Still, that wasn't what mattered right now. What mattered was that this sugar-cube-like object was a status window module—one that held data capable of overhauling the status window I'd been using until now.

I kept reading.

"Although some may prefer to stick with the existing adult model, academy exams use the academy model rather than the standard adult or adolescent models as the baseline. We would appreciate it if you could resynchronize using this module. From then on, you can set your goals and live your academy life accordingly."

Within the academy, evaluations were based on the academy's own model rather than the standard adult model. Honestly, it felt like some kind of yard-pound-level nonsense, but if this was the exam standard, there was no helping it. If I didn't want to get expelled or fail, I'd just have to grit my teeth and follow the rules.

"Huh, there's more on the back."

- For reference, after resynchronizing with this module, you will also be able to view analysis results based on your exam data. These results will be displayed in your status window.

"They should've put this part at the front……"

I'd nearly missed it. Setting Cheon Mari's letter back down, I headed to my room. Amid the neatly organized luggage, I picked up the Hunter Watch from the desk and strapped it onto my left arm.

"Let's see……"

The moment I turned it on, a hologram asked whether I wanted to load the module. I answered without hesitation.

"Confirm…… security check…… no issues, so apply immediately……"

I yanked the module out, crushed it, and tossed it into the trash. Now there was only one thing left to check.

"Status window."

The word still felt awkward every time I said it. Yet it also lifted my mood. It was a term that belonged in novels and games, but this world's status window wasn't quite the same. It was merely a tool that displayed a user's level based on accumulated data—not some omnipotent being's plaything that could shake the earth with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a single cough. It was something humans had created to quantify themselves. In other words, it was impossible to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠raise stats or skill levels like in an MMORPG. Furthermore, the numbers fluctuated wildly depending on updates or server errors. Scenes of S-rank hunters screaming because the organic-potato-level update servers had wiped their data were common these days.

It was a bit disappointing, but still better than nothing. Following my voice command, the Hunter Watch projected a fresh hologram.

"The numbers got completely overhauled……"

Some values had risen sharply while others had dropped. It was supposedly based on exam results, but it felt more like my old stats had simply been recalibrated to fit the academy's system. That wasn't exactly ideal. Before, I'd had a rough idea of my level, but now everything felt vague. If I wanted to understand where I stood, I'd probably have to scour the internet.

At least as far as the status window went, this was clearly a downgrade. Still, one new entry caught my eye.

"Academy rank? That's not the hunter ranking."

It hadn't existed before. It must have appeared during resynchronization, but its purpose was unclear. The name suggested it indicated ranking within the academy, yet…… why would it say 50,000th? That number was suspiciously round.

"I don't get it."

I'd have to look into it later. For now, there was nothing else to see, so I closed the status window. Then my finger paused. A strange new option had appeared in the menu hologram.

"Hmm……"

It must have come with the academy module. After a moment's hesitation, I spoke.

"Skill window."

The main skills I'd listed on my admission documents were now quantified and displayed. Aside from swordsmanship being grotesquely over-ranked, everything else was fairly average. That alone made me doubt the academy's grading standards. I stared intently at the swordsmanship entry.

"C-rank or B-rank would've been more appropriate."

It felt like an overvaluation. On the other hand, the other skills made sense. Physical arts weren't particularly powerful, my esper ability was rare and niche, and magic was self-explanatory. Swordsmanship was my one and only specialty—a cannon with very little ammunition.

As I looked at the skill window with that thought, a wave of bitterness washed over me. The result of years of hard training was just an absurdly strong cannon. Even if it had been the best choice at the time, it still left me with regrets.

BOOM!

"Kang Siannnn!!! I dropped all the way to 50,000th!!!"

It wasn't quite regret. I simply thought I'd over-polished my one and only means of competing with monsters like Cheon Mari. I should've paid more attention to balance.

"Jojo-nim, what the actual fuck!!! The academy bastards have lost their minds! How?! How the hell did I get first place and still end up like this!!!"

I set my thoughts aside at the repeated shouting. Standing in the doorway was Cheon Mari, channeling Munch's The Scream. Her Hunter Watch, complete with the module still attached, was strapped to her wrist. From what she was saying, it seemed she had also been ranked 50,000th. Probably an initial setup issue. Everyone else was likely in the same boat.

"Well, at least there's no real problem."

I felt slightly relieved. Cheon Mari, of course, continued screaming without knowing any of that.

* * *

A few more days passed. A full week had gone by, and the start of the semester was slowly approaching.

"Oh, the internet works great here."

Before the semester began, there was one essential task: course registration, a battle fought for the sake of a single semester.

"Mari, what kind of coffee do you want?"

"A warm iced americano."

"What about you, Shannon?"

"I'll take anything……"

Under a city where not a single ray of sunlight reached, Cheon Mari, Shannon, and I had gathered at a café to select our classes before registration.

"……"

"……"

"Um……"

I hadn't expected Shannon to join us after I'd contacted her yesterday, but here we were meeting again today. The way fate worked really was strange. My curiosity got the better of me, and I stared at Shannon.

"Shannon, is there a reason you're trying to take classes with us?"

"Well…… I don't have any friends……"

"You don't have what?"

"N-no! I heard it's disadvantageous to take classes alone, so I contacted you!"

A truly deep, dark rumor. Any thought I'd had of ditching Cheon Mari to take classes alone vanished instantly. At the same time, I understood her situation—she needed to earn a scholarship. Getting good grades was essential, so taking classes with the people who had tied for first place wasn't a bad strategy. I just hadn't expected even Cheon Mari to agree to it.

"Anyway, since we're all here, let's pick out some decent classes!"

We opened our laptops and began scrolling through the academy homepage's nightmarishly long course list, which resembled some kind of Buddhist canon.

"There are fewer required first-year courses than I expected……"

"They had to cut back after the academy terror incident. We'll take some of the required ones and fill the rest with classes that give good grades."

"Then how about this one?"

[Basic Hallucination – Fernanda Zapata]

It was the professor we'd met during the placement exam. Given our connection, there was a high chance she'd give good grades.

"Oh, let's check the course reviews right away."

We immediately searched for the class on the student-only community site. A flood of reviews poured out.

"Is this actually about hallucinations?"

"Doesn't seem like the kind of hallucinations we're thinking of."

"We probably shouldn't sign up for this……"

The reviews raised some fundamental doubts. In the end, after a quick exchange of glances, we reached a tragic but unanimous decision to betray our conscience.

[Removing 'Basic Hallucination' from the list.]

Sorry, Professor. This class just isn't going to work.