A Bet Against All Odds

Time passed, and the day of my appointment as an instructor drew near.

"We're here."

The car that had been racing nonstop finally came to a halt. We had arrived at our destination.

Arena Academy.

So this was what a prestigious academy looked like. Its sheer size and visual presence would not have looked out of place among actual skyscrapers.

"Something urgent came up at the guild, so I'll leave the send-off here."

"Understood."

I opened the door at once and stepped outside. Watching me go, Ma Seong-yong offered a few more words.

"I've already handled all the complicated procedures on my end, so Master, you need only take care of yourself."

"Right. Good work."

"Ah, and one more thing. Your appearance is so sudden that the other instructors will be quite confused. Please keep that in mind."

I answered roughly and sent Ma Seong-yong on his way. Withdrawing my gaze from the departing sedan, I looked up at the academy. It was so vast I could not take it in at a single glance.

"Just memorizing the routes is going to take a week."

From today onward, this place was also my workplace. Adapting would clearly require a great deal of time. I walked toward what appeared to be the main building. Before long I was indoors—and that was where the real trouble began.

Where did he say the faculty office was again?

The faculty offices at a hero training academy were split into two kinds: professors who taught theory, and instructors who taught practical skills. I needed the instructors' exclusive office.

"Damn it. Why is the building so uselessly huge. Confusing people on purpose."

The path was rough going. First-time routes are always hard, but this place had such a labyrinthine layout that it was even worse.

"Oh."

Just then I spotted a woman ahead. I picked up my pace and hurried over to her.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?"

"Do you happen to know where the instructors' faculty office is?"

She glanced at me with open suspicion. Fair enough—I could have been a villain trying to infiltrate, so caution was only natural. She frowned for a few seconds before speaking.

"Ah. You're an outside guest. Follow me."

"Thank you."

I simply trailed behind her reliable figure. Before I knew it we had reached the faculty office.

—Waaaa!!

Loud cheers poured through the door. What on earth were they doing in there to make that much noise?

"But what business brings you here? Is there a particular instructor you're looking for?"

"Ah, actually I—"

—Ugh!

—No match at all!

—Hey, keep it down a little!

My words were completely drowned out by the cheering. The woman gave an awkward smile and gestured for me to follow. I nodded and stepped inside the faculty office.

What are they doing?

The scene inside was strange. A cluster of instructors had gathered in one spot and were cheering wildly at a TV screen. Perhaps because I was staring so intently, the woman approached and explained.

"They're watching the Hero Olympics together."

"Hero Olympics?"

"Yes. It's causing quite the uproar. For reference, Instructor Lee Dae-sik was offered a spot on the national team and turned it down."

Hero Olympics, huh. It never carried huge weight in the story, but it had been responsible for one entire episode. The name was clearly borrowed from the modern Olympics. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠If the original Olympics had been an international festival held under the pretext of preventing endless war, then the Hero Olympics was the superhuman version—held to prevent wars fought with mana. After all, once humans get their hands on unknown power, they tend to repeat the exact same mistakes.

"If you're free, feel free to watch. Oh—right, you had business."

"No. Looks fun."

"Alright then. I have to go manage the dorm kids, so I'll be off."

There aren't many spectacles better than the Olympics. I naturally turned and walked toward the gathered crowd. Just as she had said, they were watching a live broadcast of the Hero Olympics. The event looked like a swordsmanship duel, and the opposing countries were—

Huh? South ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Korea and Germany?

Ah. That one.

I watched with a fond smile as old memories rose to the surface. But the conversations around me were starting to grate.

"It's basically over. Overwhelming victory for Germany."

"Yeah. Ugh. That Kim Young-jun looks like he'll lose without even landing a counter."

"Dae-sik teacher really should have been on the national team."

"Are both of them really the same S-class heroes? The gap is ridiculous."

"...?"

What is wrong with these people? Am I misremembering?

No. I'm certain. Korea wins this.

I casually tossed out a single remark.

"Doesn't Korea win that?"

"?"

"What?"

Every gaze that had been fixed on the TV swung toward me. And those gazes were strange—exactly the look one gives a complete lunatic.

"What did you just say?"

"Who wins?"

The reactions around me were off. Was I wrong after all?

No—back then the narration had clearly stated that Korea pulled off a dramatic victory... ah, right. The present situation was one in which Korea's defeat was considered a foregone conclusion, yet they had not actually lost. The result would of course be Korea's win. The instructors who did not know that fact were treating me like a madman.

"But who even are you? Not a student? Don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you know assembly is any minute, you punk?! Get back to class!"

"Look at those clothes, ugh. Hurry and change into the student uniform. Time's almost up."

After each of them had thrown in a remark, they turned their eyes back to the screen. I wanted to protest, but right now their only interest was the TV. I had no desire to make a scene either, so I simply tried to watch quietly along with them.

"Which class are you from? Korea wins? You don't know a thing, do you. Seriously."

"Excuse me?"

"Kid. Anyone can see it's Germany's total domination. Did you mix up South Korea with Germany? Or is this some patriotism thing. Aww, so cute~"

If only this woman hadn't suddenly decided to pick a fight.

"I'm not a student."

"Even a student shouldn't be this clueless about a tide this obvious."

"I said I'm not a student—"

"Who taught this kid? What kind of garbage instruction is that. Hey, enough—get to class already."

I fixed her with a dissatisfied look, and in that moment the teacher ID hanging around her neck caught my eye.

Son Ga-yeong?

Long hair and eyes dyed a vivid red; in stark contrast, her skin was pure white. One of the few named instructors who actually participated in the main story. Son Ga-yeong.

Was she also connected to Na Eun-sol? Pretty face—why so arrogant.

Her repeated dismissals finally pushed me to push back.

"Korea will win."

"What. Still here? Hey, move it! Do you actually want to get chewed out?"

"I'm certain."

"Ha... seriously. Completely impossible to talk to. What would a little chick like you even know! Get lost already!"

She lunged at my single sentence. Like a predator locking onto prey, Son Ga-yeong's presence turned outright threatening. Even so, my conviction did not budge.

"Ah, he's ruining the Olympics. Someone get this kid out of here!"

"Eh, leave him. How is he even interfering."

"He is interfering! That brat keeps getting on my nerves!"

She kept treating me like a child. My appearance did look a bit young, sure, but I should at least have passed for early twenties. Had my words really been that irritating? Or did I just look like a know-it-all? Why was she so desperate to tear me apart?

What am I supposed to do when it's the truth.

Somehow the whole situation felt identical to that World Cup day. Before the match, Baek Seong-hun had insisted until he was blue in the face that Germany would win. After it ended, the look on his face... perfect drinking snack material.

I opened my mouth, dredging up those old memories.

"What will you do if I'm right?"

I scratched her nerves with a deliberately provocative tone. She would love this.

"Oh for crying out loud. So absurd I can't even speak."

Son Ga-yeong's face twisted; she stepped forward.

"If you're that confident, what—want to make a bet?"

She took the bait perfectly.

Son Ga-yeong. She's going to pick up Moncle's Hungry Sword soon, isn't she?

A legendary-grade item—Moncle's Hungry Sword. Son Ga-yeong would discover it in an unidentified dungeon and use it as her exclusive weapon, only for it to fall into the hands of a Main within a few months. Preventing that in advance would be ideal; I would take the sword as the stake of the bet.

"Fine. A bet."

"What? For real?"

"Yes. If South Korea loses, I'll grant one wish of yours. You name one wish as well."

The moment I stated it so flatly, bewilderment flickered across Son Ga-yeong's face. Then she snorted.

"I only said it as a joke, and you're actually jumping on it, pfft..."

"Are you in or not?"

She hesitated for a beat, then finally nodded.

"Ugh. Fine, alright. You brought this on yourself, kid. Don't come crying later."

She clearly believed Germany's victory was locked in. With the bet sealed, I turned my attention back to the match and focused.

At the commentators' words, the instructors piled on one after another.

"Tsk. Barrier breaks and it's over."

"That Kim Young-jun—his mental method is completely wrong. That's why the barrier strength is so low."

"Exactly. No matter how tired you are, breathing like that, how is mana supposed to circulate? He doesn't even have the basics down."

"Look at him just backpedaling. At this rate he'll get an out-of-bounds loss."

And there they were—the armchair experts who always insist they could do better. Olympics and World Cups never lack them. Every instructor present was tearing Kim Young-jun down and predicting defeat.

Then it happened.

Mana condensed beneath Kim Young-jun's feet; in an instant his body sprang upward like a coiled spring. The face of the opposing player, Thomas—who had let his guard drop—flashed with pure shock.

The commentators who had been keeping their voices low suddenly erupted. The instructors were just as stunned.

"Wh-what? That super speed? Did he take something?"

"H-he must have been conserving mana the whole time without using it?"

"Whoa... he even deliberately lowered the barrier strength to match the exact timing of Thomas's sword strike. It was a feint!"

I turned my head to look at Son Ga-yeong. She swallowed hard and tried to deny reality.

"E-even so, he hasn't lost yet."

The momentum had already flipped. Thomas had luckily dodged the surprise attack, but the dodge left his stance in complete disarray. Sword strikes flew back and forth again; this time the one applying pressure was Kim Young-jun.

"What the— Thomas just drops in one hit?"

"Wow...... what?"

"Please, please...! I put money on Thomas with toto...!"

Ah. So that was why this woman Son Ga-yeong had completely lost it when I said Korea would win.

Can't stand losing a bet......

There had been an upset—and after the upset, no further upset. The whistle announcing victory and defeat soon rang out.

Somehow the television was still roaring, yet the room around me had fallen as silent as a library. A few seconds passed. Then every pair of eyes in the vicinity locked onto me.