Demon and Mala Tang
The conference room door closed. Before the lead professor could even sit down, he opened his mouth.
"Let's check the measurement devices first."
Another professor pulled out two devices—the same ones that had read zero at the exam hall earlier.
The lead professor took one and aimed it at his own Angel first.
"It's working."
The second device gave the same result.
The female professor aimed hers at the Spirit Knight.
Finally, her own Gryphon.
The three professors exchanged glances.
"No malfunction, then."
"So that summoned beast's mana is really zero."
"Not exactly."
The lead professor corrected them. "These devices measure the mana exchange from the summoning contract."
A summoned beast draws mana from its summoner to maintain its existence in this world. The device quantifies that mana flow.
"So... does that mean there's no mana consumption at all?"
"...Theoretically, yes."
The room fell silent.
"Which means that summoned beast..."
The female professor continued. "It's existing on its own, without drawing any mana from student Seha."
No one responded.
A summoned beast could only exist in this world by feeding on its summoner's mana. That was the fundamental principle of a summoning contract.
Zero mana consumption implied it existed independently, without any contract.
It wouldn't be a summoned beast at all.
"Maybe."
The second professor ventured cautiously. "What if it's an awakener with illusion abilities? Making it look like there's a summoned beast when there isn't."
The female professor shot that down. "That doesn't explain the Salamander."
The lead professor nodded quietly. "My Angel detected no illusions either."
"......Hmm."
The professor crossed his arms and sighed. "Why did the Gryphon freak out, though?"
He glanced at the Gryphon. It was sitting calmly now.
"Probably got sensitive with all the people around. It tends to react to unfamiliar summoned beasts anyway."
"I see."
The professors brushed it off. Gryphons weren't exactly known for easygoing temperaments. A freakout here and there was par for the course.
"Speaking of which, it was a demon-type, right?"
The lead professor steered the topic back. "Records show the highest controllable demon rank is mid-tier."
He gestured to his Angel. "Unlike Angels or spirits, demons are inherently hostile to humans. They consume far more mana to control, and even skilled summoners struggle with anything mid-tier or above."
"The key phrase is 'controllable.'"
"Exactly."
There were records of summoning higher than mid-tier demons—but only three cases. In every one, the summoner died.
Killed by their own summoned beast.
Thus, no practical precedents for using upper-tier or higher demons as summoned beasts.
"Anything above that gets eaten the moment it's summoned. That's why mid-tier is the practical limit."
"And that appearance screams low-tier anyway, doesn't it?"
"Right. Higher ranks get bigger and more monstrous-looking. Low-tiers can pass for humanoid sometimes, but..."
The other professor trailed off.
"A low-tier demon erasing a Salamander in one shot."
"......"
The female professor crossed her arms and muttered. "So appearance and combat power don't match at all... Can't measure it, unclear affiliation."
"Too many anomalies."
The lead professor recalled the exam hall scene. White hair. Red eyes. White suit. Yawning amid flames exceeding thousands of degrees. That perpetual look of boredom. The bizarre reactions from the Salamander and Gryphon.
"......"
Practical limit for demons: mid-tier.
Records mentioned up to great demons.
But what if...
Something above that existed?
"......"
A chuckle escaped him. Getting old—too many wild thoughts.
If such a thing existed, why would it obey a seventeen-year-old kid? Absurd.
"We should report to the Summoners' Association anyway."
The professor stood as he spoke.
"What do we say?"
"Just the facts. Unmeasurable summoned beast with current methods. Need new measurement tech."
"That enough?"
"They'll decide."
"Fair point—that's their job."
"Good work, everyone."
The professors filed out one by one.
Only the two devices remained on the table.
It happened the moment they passed through the academy's main gate.
Seha said in a daze, "Dahong-ssi."
"Yeah?"
"I got first place."
"I know."
"First place. Me."
"Yep."
"Never once since entering the academy."
"Uh-huh."
"Failing student up until yesterday."
Dahong didn't reply.
Seha kept going, unperturbed. "Written exam first, practical first... that's overall first, right? You know that? I'm overall first right now."
"Congrats."
"Feels like a dream."
Seha murmured. "Not actually a dream, is it? Failing student yesterday..."
Then Dahong reached out and pinched his cheek lightly.
"Ow!"
"Real enough?"
Seha clutched his cheek, face flushing as he jumped. "...What was that for, all of a sudden."
"Not a dream, huh?"
"......"
Seha started to say more but shut his mouth. Instead, he quickened his pace.
Dahong watched him for a moment.
How long had it been?
That kind of joyful face.
Nothing like it in hell.
Everyone there hid something—desire, fear, schemes.
No raw, unfiltered emotions.
She'd forgotten faces like this existed.
Not bad.
Dahong mused inwardly.
Why she stuck by Seha's side.
Nothing grand.
His reactions were just fresh. Fun.
Plus, she needed a place to crash.
That was when she felt eyes on her.
"......"
They'd killed their presence well enough.
But not enough to fool senses honed in hell.
Dahong didn't slow.
She glanced around casually.
Four behind, two in the building.
Tail.
Didn't really care who or why.
This level of stealth wasn't worth engaging.
Even hell's rabble hid better.
They'll get bored and leave.
Swatting every bug got old fast.
She rarely hunted in hell anyway.
Unless truly bored.
But right now, watching Seha chatter away kept boredom at bay.
"Dahong-ssi, are you listening?"
Seha said from beside her, still buzzing about the day.
"Yeah, listening."
"You see Sangjun's face? Like, huh? Huh?"
"Yep."
"Even the professors. Standing up then sitting back down. So how'd you do it anyway?"
"Hmm, who knows."
Dahong hummed a tune as she walked.
The moment they got home, Seha whipped out his phone.
"Dahong-ssi, what would you like to eat? My treat today. First place celebration!"
Dahong sprawled on the sofa. "Something tasty."
"Most places nearby are good. Lots of famous spots near the academy."
"Like what?"
"Uh... chicken? Pizza?"
"Sounds good."
"Chinese too."
"Jjajangmyeon, jjampong. Tangsuyuk."
"That's everything... Tteokbokki too?"
"Whatever."
"Oh, this place's sundae and twigim are killer. Add those?"
"Sundae guts too."
"Got it!"
Seha excitedly showed her options, asking about each. Dahong greenlit everything.
Thus.
Ding-dong!
"Delivery!"
It came in five waves. The table overflowed with food.
Seha finally snapped out of it and grinned sheepishly. "Oops, ordered too much..."
"Eat leftovers later."
"Cold food's a waste."
Dahong sat anyway, ignoring him. Delicious aromas assaulted her nose.
Then she glanced around.
Living room. Kitchen. Hallway doors at the end.
She'd noticed on arrival: spacious for a kid living alone.
Furniture wasn't cheap either.
Prime spot near the academy—not cheap land.
And now this feast on the table...
"Seha."
"Yeah?"
"You got money?"
Pure curiosity. Faint human memories from modern Korea suggested delivery wasn't cheap.
Seha set utensils, chuckling awkwardly. "Parents send it. Plenty."
"......"
Dahong scanned the place again. Spacious home. Well-stocked. Pricey spread.
"Rich kid?"
"Nah, not like that. Just... generous."
"Where are they?"
"Out in the provinces. Busy with business. Been solo since middle school. They okayed the academy, but... without you, I'd be heading home this time."
"Hmm..."
Dahong eyed him.
Middle school on.
Alone.
In this big house.
Reminded her of hell days.
She picked up chopsticks. Surveyed the table.
Chicken. Jjajangmyeon. Jjampong. Sundae. Twigim.
And.
"What's that."
A disposable container held red, oily stew. Topped with all sorts.
Stimulating smell.
"Mala tang."
"Mala tang?"
"Chinese dish. Popular with girls, so I tried it."
"......First time seeing it."
Seha blinked. "You don't know mala tang?"
"Nope."
"You know ramen, though. Weird."
Dahong ignored him, peering in. Tofu. Glass noodles. Fish cake. Mushrooms. Lamb. Seemed thrown together.
"Like budae jjigae?"
"Kinda similar, kinda not. Try it."
She knew tteokbokki. Street vendor red broth packed with rice cakes. Meh.
But.
"......?"
Dahong paused mid-chopstick.
Not like she knew. Rice cakes plumper. Broth richer, glossier. Cheese on top.
Feels... premium.
Practically a different beast.
She speared a rice cake. Bit in.
"...!"
Chewy, soft. Spicy-sweet exploded on her tongue. Cheese inside melted smooth with the broth.
Dahong's eyes widened slightly.
Seha caught it. "This place is popular with girls too."
No reply. Chopsticks dove back in.
Seha smirked.
Another bite. Not the dingy street stall stuff.
Something different.
Not bad.
...No, honestly.
Pretty good.
Dahong demolished the tteokbokki, then eyed the mala tang. Spooned some up.
Stoic face, into her mouth.
"......!"
Mala's numbing, spicy kick spread. Novel flavor. Deep, rich broth. Tender lamb. Chewy glass noodles.
Taste undreamed in human days.
Second spoonful. Third. Fourth.
Seha asked, "How's the mala tang?"
"......Gulp. Decent."
Fifth. Sixth.
Seha noticed the spoon never stopped. From indifferent scoops to rapid emptying.
He covered his mouth, stifling a laugh.
She's got a cute side.
Dahong paused, eyeing him. "Why the laugh."
"Nothing."
Seha hid his grin, reaching for chicken.
Dahong stared a beat, then plunged her spoon back into the mala tang.