The Second Exam
The first woman to kill a death row inmate.
I quickly scanned the name tag on her chest. I hadn't bothered checking the tags on those two I sent packing earlier—they weren't even worth interviewing anyway—but if I was handing out bonus points, I needed to know her name, right?
Let's see... Choi Do-ah?
Once I confirmed the woman's name, I immediately jotted it down on the paper atop the podium, along with a +5.
Your typical pleasure-killer types? You could spot them just from their eyes. The Back World was crawling with them. But Choi Do-ah? No bloodlust in her gaze, just steely resolve. And she took him out efficiently, without unnecessary suffering. Plenty of reason to award her points as a solid assassin candidate.
Plus, no major freakout after killing him. No fear at the sight of the corpse. That alone was worth the +5.
She broke the ice, so now the others are following suit.
Right after Choi Do-ah claimed the first inmate, more assassins stabbed their daggers into theirs. All around the exam hall, death row lives were snuffed out one after another.
I noted down everyone who killed, assigned scores, then checked the time. Fifteen seconds left.
Thanks to Choi Do-ah kicking things off, a few followed her lead and offed their inmates, but it wasn't that many. Maybe a hundred in total? The rest still couldn't get comfortable with the act, even with the precedent set. No resolve, no guts, but plenty of fear. Put nicely, they were ordinary folks. Put harshly, they didn't fit the assassin mold at all.
What's the point of being a good fighter if you can't kill? I twirled my pen, staring at those wannabes.
Time dragged on endlessly until finally, only five seconds remained. As the timer beeped into its final countdown, the assassins—who'd been too tense to even glance at it—snapped their heads up to the scoreboard in panic.
"T-The time, when did...!"
"Q-Quick, k-kill, gotta kill..."
"Fuck...!"
But staring at the board didn't stop the clock. Merciless seconds ticked by as they alternated glances between the display and their inmates. Their actions split two ways: some steeled themselves and stabbed hearts or throats; others dropped or sheathed their daggers, resolve crumbling.
And at that divide, the timer blared its end.
> BEEP———!
Time's up. The sound announced their failure to those who hadn't killed. The would-be assassins—no, interviewees—hung their heads in gloom.
A bit pitiful, sure, but this was an assassin selection process. No proof of skill? Tough luck.
"Alright, first exam over. Anyone who didn't kill their death row inmate, you're free to leave."
Harsh verdict or not, no one argued or protested. That fresh weight of ending a life still gripped their minds and bodies, keeping them compliant. Watching them file out quietly, I scanned the hall again.
About two hundred left, give or take.
Just the first test done, and we'd already cut more than half. I let out a wry chuckle but wasn't surprised. Turning into an assassin wasn't easy for folks who'd lived normal lives unscathed.
Talent's what matters here. Can't be helped.
If anything, two hundred out of four ninety-seven—exactly two hundred five survivors—was a decent haul. Shoving aside any regret, I moved to clear the first exam site. Couldn't run the second amid living inmates and corpses.
"Those still here: congrats on passing the first test. Second exam in ten minutes. Rest up till then."
I declared a break for the shaken assassins, buying time to prep round two.
"Haaah..."
"Urp... My stomach's churning..."
"Hey! Don't crowd me! I'm wrecked too!!"
The moment I announced the ten-minute break, assassins collapsed to the floor everywhere. Clutching heads or clamping mouths, they vented the aftershocks of their kills.
Choi Do-ah, watching them, could only tilt her head inwardly.
Is it really that tough...?
She wouldn't know firsthand. Piercing living bone and stabbing a heart? Unpleasant sensation, no doubt. But first times were always the hardest—do it again, and it'd be no big deal. And it wasn't some innocent civilian; these were death row inmates slated for execution anyway. No reason to agonize like that. She just puzzled over it silently.
"Phew... Somehow scraped through the first test."
Turning from them, Choi Do-ah sighed in relief and sank to the floor. Better rest while she could—who knew when the next break would come? She loosened her tense body, savoring the ten minutes.
Time up, the hall reset to its bland state. Bloodstains lingered on the floor, proof it wasn't a dream. The metallic tang of blood felt oddly familiar now—was that her imagination?
Baek Se-rin spoke as the flat floor steadied.
"Okay, rested enough? Everyone up. Second exam starts now."
Assassins rose from their spots. Choi Do-ah sprang up quick, focusing on her words.
"Two hundred five left. I'm picking about fifty. That means only a quarter of you survive."
Murmurs rippled through the survivors. Cutting this crowd to a quarter? Expected reaction.
But amid the buzz, Choi Do-ah's expression tightened slightly.
Why say that?
What was the point of announcing it? Stoke competition? Choi Do-ah wasn't a Baek Ya-seong veteran—only a few years dreaming of this from the arena circuit, so her basics weren't razor-sharp. But her instincts? Top-notch.
She said it on purpose...
Before she could ponder why, the floor rumbled.
Rumble———!!
"Whoa...!"
"Watch your step—don't fall!"
"This is dangerous..."
Like before with the metal plates, something rose from the floor. When the shaking stopped, cover objects dotted the hall—realistic street battle setup.
As assassins gawked in awe, the doors opened. Someone entered.
At first, they thought office staff, but no—full-body metal hulks weren't desk jockeys.
"Assassin bots?"
Choi Do-ah muttered at the robots marching in, armed lightly with training daggers and pistols. Unmistakable Baek Ya-seong assassin models.
Other assassins clocked it too. Nearly three hundred bots filled the space, overwhelming everyone.
Baek Se-rin spoke up.
"Second exam rules: real-combat response test. Use cover to take down the assassin bots. Simple. Heads up—each hit deducts points, varying by body part."
Deductions per hit, worse for vitals. Clear message: dodge the kill shots.
"To boost scores? Take down bots. Each one downed adds points. But one caveat..."
She trailed off, drawing all eyes.
"...?"
Choi Do-ah tilted her head like the rest, meeting Baek Se-rin's stare. Amusement and expectation gleamed there—too vivid for illusion. Choi Do-ah flashed an awkward smile.
They locked eyes briefly before Baek Se-rin turned away.
"Solo takedowns score higher than group efforts. Oh, and no friendly fire."
Personal kills valued over teamwork. That's why she mentioned the numbers—Choi Do-ah got it now.
Ah, so that's it...
Glance around: chatting assassins now eyed each other warily. Baek Ya-seong's second exam. A brutal showcase of individual prowess. No holds barred.