The Unscheduled Exam

"Mmh..."

Morning already, huh.

Warm sunlight was slipping in through the curtains. A low, traitorous rumble answered from my stomach.

Mmh... something smells good.

Still half-asleep, Shan smacked her lips with that soft little tongue of hers.

"Hmm, hm-hmm~"

I stepped out into the living room and found Dorothy standing on a little chair, an apron wrapped around her, humming under her breath as she cooked. A pot bubbled softly on the stove. The table was already half-set.

She had her tawny hair gathered loosely at the back. Dipping a ladle into a small bowl, she blew across the surface and took a careful sip of soup.

"Mm~ that's just right!"

The corner of her mouth lifted, and a look of deep, quiet satisfaction spread across her face—the expression of someone who had just pulled off something important. She gave both of her flushed cheeks a pleased little pat, and the sight was so unbearably cute that a smile slipped out of me before I even noticed.

Wooaaaah! What is all that?!

No kidding. To put out a spread like this, she must have gotten up a full hour ahead of us.

"Angel-nim~ are you awake?"

She'd caught the sound of me coming. Dorothy whipped her head around and beamed.

Pretty sure the angel in this room is you, not me.

Unlike Mary, who hadn't a domestic bone in her body, Dorothy could clean, do laundry, and cook to perfection even at her age. When she'd worried that Mary would live on instant food every day without her, it hadn't been an exaggeration in the slightest.

"I just need to set these out, right?"

"Ah—yes. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You did all the hard work cooking."

We ferried every dish to the table, and by the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time we were done, it looked like a proper meal.

Heheh... food. It's food.

"You've been at it since morning. We could've just grabbed the hotel breakfast and left."

Dorothy gave me a bashful little grin.

"But today's the practical exam, isn't it? I just... I wanted you to go in with a proper home-cooked meal in your stomach, Angel-nim. Something filling."

After slipping out of the Abandoned Factory at the last possible second, we'd absorbed the Ichor and still kept to the schedule—written exam, physical test, a simple ability inspection. It had been closer to a culling than a real trial, and both Dorothy and I had passed without much trouble.

And today was the day of the 1st Exam, the one described in the original game's prologue.

Dorothy had to sit this exam herself. She'd still gotten up and made breakfast this carefully, for me.

"Thank you."

Truth be told, after we'd come back from grocery shopping yesterday, I'd been hoping for this, just a little. We had been getting by on night-market snacks for days. Ever since we'd last gone out for spicy rice cakes and blood sausage, we'd been touring the city's street food whenever we had a spare moment, wandering around together.

"Angel-nim, come sit over here."

A Western-style breakfast had been laid out with painstaking care. Crisp bacon and fried eggs were stacked in a golden heap. Beside them sat a glossy scramble of tomato and egg, the yellow of it shining enough to make my stomach tighten all over again. With a soft clink, she set down a bowl of onion soup—onions caramelized slowly in butter until the flavor ran deep and dark. Fresh-baked bagels and cream cheese were arranged neatly to one side, and a bowl of bright salad waited with its dressing. Last of all, on a little plate, sat fresh apple slices carved into the shape of rabbits.

It had been a while since I'd had a Dorothy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breakfast.

Drool...

Shan. The drool—wipe the drool.

Huh...? Oh. Right, it's morning?

No. I mean wipe your mouth.

A thin string of it kept going anyway. Dorothy waited until I was seated, then poured orange juice with both small hands, careful not to spill a drop.

"Angel-nim, eat up!"

"Thanks. I will."

The moment the hot soup spread across my tongue, a deep, mellow sweetness of onion unfolded behind it.

"Oh. This is really good."

I-it's delicious...! That's Dorothy's soup, all right.

Shan looked genuinely moved. Her eyes had gone round and shining.

I-I want to cook like Dorothy too.

The image of Shan as a round little ball of fluff, standing at a stove, did not come easily. I'd only ever seen her eat. Maybe if she used the Ichor and turned tentacles into arms, she could manage somehow. Or maybe the better way was to let her take the controls when it was time to learn.

When it comes to cooking, it'd probably be better to do it with a human body, right?

I-is that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how it works?

Dorothy clapped her hands together, lit up by the praise, and laughed that bright, cloudless laugh of hers.

"Angel-nim, your tail's wagging."

"That's because your food is that good."

Swish, swish. I hadn't even noticed it going. I'd already told Dorothy the truth about the ears and the tail, so at least at the table I could let them be.

"Right? Big Sis Mary said my onion soup was the best she'd ever had!"

"Thank you."

I leaned over, meaning to put that gratitude into a pat on the head of the girl sitting beside me.

Huh?

It didn't reach the way it used to. My hand had to travel up now. I came up onto my toes and closed the distance until our foreheads were nearly touching before my palm finally found her hair.

Pat, pat.

Hehe. Dorothy shut her eyes like she'd been waiting for it, a contented little smile on her face.

"You've gotten a lot taller, Dorothy."

"Have I? I guess it's my growth spurt—I'm shooting right up."

Two years ago she'd still tucked neatly into my arms. Now we were nearly the same height. No... was she taller than me? I couldn't quite tell. Anyone looking at us would have taken us for the same age, not an older sister and a younger one.

I-if you stood back to back, you'd know for sure, wouldn't you?

I don't want to know.

As if I needed a cold truth like that. Dorothy had gone to all this trouble. Better to eat before it got cold.

We finished every last bit of the meal she'd made so carefully, and then we got ready to leave for the exam hall.

The exam hall was packed.

Even after the written test, the physical, and the simple ability inspection had already filtered the crowd once, a thousand or so applicants still remained. I couldn't see them, but Siwoo and Sia had to be somewhere in this crush of people.

Ahem.

"Well met. I am Lionel, one of the examiners charged with overseeing this entrance examination."

The Lionel I'd seen at the terminal had taken the microphone on the dais and was addressing the hall. In the game it had been a scene I'd always skipped past, but the moment an A+ Rank hunter with a lion's head appeared in the flesh, the entire atmosphere snapped taut.

"Listen well!"

His voice rolled out deep enough to reach every last applicant in the hundreds.

"I shall not waste words. If you have no wish to die, it is not yet too late. Turn back now."

His first words were not encouragement. They were a warning, delivered without a crease of softness.

"The gates of the Academy do not open for the unprepared."

There were no safety nets here for hopefuls. People died in this exam. They died every year. The door did not open for anyone who was not ready.

"From the moment you set foot in the Academy, training indistinguishable from actual combat shall begin. The names Hero and Hunter are never borne lightly."

A Hunter was someone who hunted the beasts that ate people. A Hero had to subdue and arrest villains whose abilities—and whose strength—were unknown.

"What that requires is one thing and one thing only. Overwhelming strength. That is all. A righteous heart? Conviction? Those are privileges granted only to those who have already met the minimum requirement—and they can be taught at the Academy besides."

From a powerless mouth, it would have been empty noise. But Lionel had personally cut down Upper-grade Hazards, and his words carried the weight and the tremor of a man who had walked off a real battlefield.

"Let the undistinguished fulfill their duties as ordinary citizens, within the safe fences the city provides."

That lion's growl of a voice dropped more than one applicant to shaking knees. Not a single person opened the door and walked out. After everything they'd given up to get this far, how could they turn back now? Everyone here had come ready to smash their heads against whatever came, if nothing else.

"That will be quite enough."

Every gaze in the hall—Lionel's included—swung as one toward the newcomer.

"No need to sweet-talk these mutts so kindly, kitty. They're the sort who have to take a bite before they can tell shit from soybean paste."

They do say a bad feeling is never wrong. I'd wondered. Of course it was her.

Tiss, it's Baba Yaga. Just like you said—she really is the chief examiner for this exam...

Shan, brace yourself a little. This might not be as easy as we thought.

A murmur ran through the crowd.

"What's with the little kid?"

"Who's that supposed to be?"

Baba Yaga climbed onto the dais beside Lionel, and a low rustle of whispering spread among the applicants.

"Isn't that Baba Yaga?"

"A Hero from Central is here? Don't tell me she's a proctor too?"

A few in the back recognized her. Most did not. They only stared up at the dais, baffled.

Baba Yaga stopped at the edge of the platform, bared a row of white teeth like a Cheshire cat, and smiled in a way that promised nothing good.

"Whether they're fools who won't know bitter from sweet until they've swallowed it, or seedlings whose sprouts have already gone yellow—that's what an exam is for."

She peered out over the hundreds of applicants, turning her head this way and that, looking for all the world as if she were shopping.

"Huum~ there are so many of you."

Some of them caught her interest. Some of them did not, not even a little. And a few looked, to her eyes, distinctly suspicious.

Caw! Caw!

She flicked her fingers, and a three-eyed crow tore a hole in the air and settled on her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulder.

"We can start by culling half of them."

A low hum rolled through the hall. The enormous magic circle carved into the examination floor began to shine.

The murmuring swelled.

"Lady Baba Yaga?"

"Weed out the chaff and leave only those with real potential. Have you some complaint with my exam rules, Lionel?"

"...No, ma'am. I shall defer to the Chief Examiner's judgment."

"Good. What a well-behaved child."

A look of satisfaction spread across Baba Yaga's face.

Green fire roared up around her and wound itself about her body.

Dread. In every applicant's head, at the same moment, the same thought took root: something here had gone wrong.

Nyahahaha!

Baba Yaga rose slowly into the air, bursting into a witch's laugh.

The instant she snapped her fingers—

Space warped. Everyone standing there vanished.

I blinked.

When I opened my eyes, a sudden blast of cold wind needled into my skin.

And then.

An enormous Snow Mountain stretched endlessly before me, a blizzard raging across it sharp as blades.