5. Certification Exam? Charging Straight Through with Barbarian Spirit, y'know!
"Uoo... what is this place, y'know."
Everyone streaming through the corridor looked hale and solid as oak.
I wove my way through the Tanker Association building, hunched down as small as I could make myself.
"Training Room B-3... here it is, y'know."
Screeeech. I slid the door open and stepped inside—every desk was already packed with people.
Scrawny anchovy-types and hulking mountains of men, plain-faced girls and head-turners, kids and middle-aged folks alike, all sat clustered in little groups, chatting or scrolling their phones, each minding their own corner of the room.
"'Scuse me, y'know..."
The glances drifting lazily around the room tried to slide right past me—and latched on instead.
No, seriously, why is everyone staring at me?!
I barely managed to hunt down an empty seat, set my admission ticket on the desk, and started bouncing my leg. Being this worked up, every stray thought under the sun came parading through.
Is this really the right thing to do?
The world runs on all kinds of rules.
Rules made so that people could live alongside other people.
Most were born of good intentions, but the moment they lost sight of their original purpose, they got hijacked for other ends or hollowed out into nothing at all.
The Tanker certification was exactly that kind of useless rule.
Wasn't it the very certificate that got written off as pointless every single year?
On Tanker Gallery, Awakener Gallery, and Hunter Gallery alike, it was treated as dead weight—not even juicy enough to use as thread bait.
And I had to enroll in a cram school to earn that useless certificate? It felt so unjust.
I'm an A-rank Hunter! Take me to America and I could pass for S-rank! I've got three passive skills, and an EX-rank on top of that!
"I am an A-rank Hunter, y'know. Someday I'll be S-rank, y'know."
"Right now, though, you're an A-rank Hunter with no experience and no certificate. It's a shame, but that's the world for you."
"KYAAAAH! As a member of the Porter Labor Union, I hereby protest!"
"It's okay. Just study hard for two months. I'll help you."
Where is a greenhorn with zero experience supposed to find work, huh?!
This was unreasonable old-fogey culture, plain and simple.
Right. Unreasonable.
Therefore.
"Hey, hey, look at that kid."
"Whoa, he's adorable. But he's kind of..."
"Fucking hot, is what he is. That a kid?"
"Crazy kid-lover bastard. Called it."
So wouldn't it be perfectly fine for me to smash this unreasonable system to pieces?
And what would be so wrong about bulling straight through this tyranny called "tradition" in my own way?
That was precisely why I'd put on a boxy tee and dolphin shorts.
"Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing."
"Watch this. Hey, kiddo, are you OutStar famous or something? One photo with unnie, pleeeease?"
"P-please don't look at me... I don't do OutStar, y'know..."
An atrociously gorgeous blonde gyaru It-girl bore down on me like she meant to swallow me whole, and a black-bobbed delinquent girl trailed after her, pretending to hold her back.
"Wow, listen to how he talks. His voice is so cute too."
"Let's get our baby to hold his exam ticket like this, 'kay? Peace~ like this, little V under your chin. Aigoo, your hands are so squishy."
I'm not a baby, I'm a 2001-liner!
Click-click-click. Cameras snapped away at me from every direction.
My face was burning up.
I hunched as small as I could go, but the stares kept hammering into me all the same.
"Wanna snuggle up to unnie like this? Such a good boy."
"OMG, he's like a living doll. So glad we came today."
"Hey, you're seriously warm, you know that?"
Uuu... the squishing feels weird...
Boobs, stop it... stop...
The gyaru's eyes had gone distinctly hazy.
"Oh, right—our baby, you're a boy, aren't you? Where'd you learn your fashion? You're so pretty."
"Hey, rein it in. You're gonna have him stuffed and mounted."
"Are you doing that on purpose to win me over? Want me to introduce you to a little brother I know? He's fourteen and adorable. I've got photos and everything."
"I'm a legal adult, though..."
"There, there~ Ohh, so you're an adult? Then wanna date unnie, hmm?"
"Hey, hey..."
Ding-dong-dang~ Ding-dong-dang~
Screech.
"Examinees, please return to your assigned seats."
"Aww, c'mon, let's hit a cafe after the test?"
"Hurry up and get over here, you bitch. You're actually out of your mind."
"Boo, whyyy~"
Phew... A breath of relief spilled out of me.
A flap-flap and a pat-pat to straighten my clothes, and when I finally raised my head, a woman with a coldly impassive expression was sorting through the exam papers.
Slim-fit suit. Razor-cut bob. Sharper eyes.
"I am Kim Yiyeon, a B-rank Hunter with the Tanker Association, presiding over this examination."
She dipped her head in a brisk bow, then immediately began passing out the test papers.
"Once you receive yours, please pass them backward. We begin in five minutes; the exam lasts sixty."
As the papers traveled hand to hand, the anti-cheating warnings came down the line with them.
No electronic devices. No mana use. No active skills.
Exactly what I'd read up on beforehand.
Before flipping my paper face-down, I let my eyes skim the questions.
A few rang a bell; most of it was a haze.
Figures. No way around it, then.
Right—I decided I was going to make money.
Unlike my old self, I'd resolved to live giving everything my best shot. So as long as it wasn't against the law, I had to use every tool I had.
Remember, Barbarian Spirit. There's no such thing as cowering and running. Give it everything you've got.
Resolve hardened; I fixed my glare on the proctor.
Tap. Beeeeep—
Kim Yiyeon produced a mana detector, set it on the lectern, and spoke.
"We will begin when the chime sounds."
Ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump
My heart was pounding like a lunatic.
Hoo— hoo— My breathing had gone ragged.
The proctor, still watching me, ventured gently,
"Examinee No. 28, you're looking a little pale. Are you quite alright?"
"I-I'm fine, y'know. No problems here, y'know."
"If you feel unwell in the slightest, please don't push through it—just tell me."
"Sorry, y'know. Thank you so much, y'know."
"No need to apologize. It's my duty."
Oh-my-GAD!
Don't say things like that, y'know!
The little triangle in my chest busted out a headbanging windmill.
Clutching my chair, I snuck a peek at the clock.
Almost time. Under thirty seconds.
Let's end this as fast as humanly possible.
Pop. I'd already cracked the cap off my cheap ballpoint, pen gripped tight, OMR answer sheet squared up and ready.
Ding-dong-dang~ Ding-dong-dang~
NOW!
"Huh? T-Test-taker No. 21?! W-Wait just a moment—!"
BARBARIAN SPIRIIIIT!
Rolling and tumbling—tip-tap-tap, tip-tap-tip-tap. I rolled all over my mattress topper, mashing away at the keys.
The written exam pass certificate was already hanging up in the Sarangbang group chat.
What should I write to get praised absolutely silly?
"Uhoohoo~"
Ma-talk! It was Chungyeon-noona! I mashed down on her icon and the chat popped open.
"Uhoohoohoot! This is it, y'know!"
Praise is the best! It zings, every single time!
I told you I could do it!
The corners of my mouth were trembling.
And here I thought two weeks of prep was way too short.
Looks like I worried over nothing.
All that's left now is the practical. There's nothing hard about the practical, so you'll pass in no time.
Once your certificate comes out, I'll buy you something tasty!
"Kyaa~ People really are meant to live on praise, y'know."
My chest swelled up something grand.
To me, armed with Barbarian Spirit, meaningless trivialities like process were of no importance whatsoever.
If the result was a hundred out of a hundred, it was perfect.
Tap-tap-tippity-tap.
I scrolled way, way up and savored it all from the very first message.
"This is it, y'know~"
Once my praise reserves were fully restocked and I left the chat room, the Sarangbang was already stuffed full of messages.
Grandpa, Grandma! I passed the written exam, y'know!
Sharp as can be!
That exam couldn't have been easy.
"Uhoohoo-hoot-hoo!"
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. My legs swung wildly back and forth through the air.
This is it—this is ME! The Smart Barbarian!
All that's left is the practical! I'll smash it bam-bam-BAM, y'know!
How about that meat house we went to before?
You two hardly touch meat, y'know.
Sorry I was the only one stuffing my face, y'know.
Was it, though?
The ice cream had been so good that everything else had slipped my mind.
"Sulp— drooling, y'know."
The ajumma at the grill had fussed about this and that, but oh, that meat had been incredible.
Not just shoveling it in and yelling "This is SO good!"—no, this was sitting back and musing, "So this is what 'delicious' truly means," while swirling salt and wasabi around in a grand waltz!
The way it blushed red, then paled white, then deepened into a lovely brown was beautiful in its own right.
Sulp—
"Ngyacha!"
I plucked the cardigan wedged against the floor and pulled it free.
I need to go study for the practical, so I'm getting off now, y'know!
Boop. I pressed the home button and the chat slid away.
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.
It's fine. They won't find out.
Grandpa and Grandma don't browse the galleries, and anyway it's all just... digital whatsit stuff!
One press of the menu button, and the Gwome window hiding behind the chat popped up.
[ Have a new idea? ]
[ Ask Gemini ]
'Gemini, this is about a friend of mine, y'know? What happens if someone takes their clothes off during a certification exam? It's not for anything weird, y'know? It's necessary to do better on the test. A real, genuine, irrefutable fact, y'know.'
Oh-my-GAD...
The question I'd never worked up the courage to send was still sitting right there.
My eyes clamped shut.
I inched the notification shade down just enough to peek—Tanker Gallery, Hunter Gallery, and Awakener Gallery had all gone thermonuclear.
An avalanche of concept-post notifications.
Brrr. Just how many are there, y'know.
One, two, three, four! Over a hundred thousand of them, y'know!
"Hiiiieeeek! There are even more than before! This defies all reason, y'know!"
My hands and feet shuddered, and tears sprang up for no good reason at all.
But I couldn't spend my whole life running.
It was time to face the seeds of sin I had sown.
Barbarian Spirit—remember it, y'know!
Eyes screwed tightly shut, I pressed down hard on a single notification.
"Gyaaaaaah, y'know!"
What kind of a title is that, y'know!
My hands and feet twisted up like dried squid.
Why are you people documenting this, you jobless layabouts with nothing better to do!
I thought we were friends! I thought we were comrades!
"S-something else. Looking at something else, y'know."
Unable to bear another glance, I tapped a notification from a different gallery instead.
The second the exam started, some little kid hurled his shirt off and began marking the OMR sheet at a completely unhinged speed.
That hand was god-tier fast. Thought the OMR sheet was about to be drilled clean through lolol.
Everybody thought he was fully naked—the proctor freaked out, people were shrieking and gawking, total chaos—but on closer look he was wearing these insanely sexy dolphin shorts.
He submitted in a blink and shot out the door.
After seeing that, my brain went static-white and I couldn't focus on a single question.
Prepped my ass off for that certificate, then bombed the exam and failed lololololol
The others probably got screwed over too.
Hey, Tanker Association, how about a retake or some compensation? Give me back my 4 months, dammit T_T
Tremble, tremble.
Oh-my-GAD!
This is a dream! It has to be a nightmare!
My arms and legs rattled, and my body curled up tight as a shrimp.
"GRAAAAGH, it's all over for me, y'know! Everyone knows now—I'm going to become the most infamous broke-ass hunter of all tiiiiiime, y'know!"
...
...
But still—you did your best.
The little barbarian inside me gave my back a couple of consoling pats.
It was summer.
Rrrring—
— Yes, Elder. I'm here.
"It's been a long time. Keeping well?"
— Getting by, more or less. Is something the matter?
"Since when have the two of us only ever called when something was the matter?"
— ...
"Honestly, how cold of you. Not what you were in the old days. Nothing major—I'd just like a few gallery posts taken down. And while you're at it, swat away those broadcast-station vermin that keep buzzing about."
— ... Does Master know about this?
"Something at this level, you handle on your own end."
— The press these days isn't what it once... No—never mind. What exactly do you need?
"I'll send the materials over, so take a look. And let's meet face to face before long."
— Understood.
I lowered the phone, then brought it back up.
"By the way—that damn Tanker certification exam of theirs. Can't you do something about it? Everyone says it's useless."
— That's... going to be difficult, I'm afraid. Those exams are the kids' rice bowls; touching them is no simple matter.
"Fine, understood. Hanging up."
Click—
"Haah... barely any time has passed since I retired, and already there's a ring through my nose."
Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap.
Having ordered the materials sent by DM, I tossed the phone aside.
Fwump.
Honestly, for all that they're grown men, there wasn't one who didn't kick up a mess of some kind.
The kid, the grown men—no difference.
Come to think of it, anger came bubbling up my throat.
"These old coots know nothing but stuffing the boy with food. Do they actually care about him, or don't they?"
It seemed they ought to take in a child of their own, or come up with some proper plan.
...
...