Chapter 14
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Status Abnormality: Drug
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Status Abnormality: Drug
Deal with it within 25:57:43.
Side effects may occur after 24:00:00.
I had no idea what the side effects might be, but one thing was crystal clear.
‘Something bad is going to happen to me.’
That much was certain.
The status abnormality's name alone was vicious enough.
A drug, of all things?
‘Roughly two hours until the side effects kick in. Even if I chalk it up to some random event... I don't have a ton of wiggle room.’
How much time could one syringe buy me?
Scratch that—was extension even guaranteed?
What if I nailed it and nothing happened anyway?
Or worse—what if it backfired and made things worse?
My head throbbed.
To top it off, I wasn't exactly the brainy type...
‘Checkpoint.’
First things first, I set a checkpoint. No way was I letting time rewind me back to that alley.
Low odds, sure, but the side effects might hit at the exact moment I croaked.
‘Too impulsive with that one.’
All the intel on Ivy Lane, the syringe, the clue about my death coming up soon, the note tallying my regressions, one full status rank-up.
Back then, I had five reward options to pick from.
The Ivy Lane dossier was essential for pulling off the impersonation.
If the syringe was key to fixing my status abnormality, I'd obviously need a spare.
The death clue and regression note? Dispensable...
‘One lousy status rank-up.’
It was my Hail Mary to die fast without Ja-an catching on... but damn, that was reckless.
No, not reckless.
Just plain stupid.
It was a choice I'd earned at the price of Han Ye-seo's death.
I couldn't afford to blow it like that.
‘Next reward needs 10 people...’
Eight more unique deaths to witness before the next one unlocked.
From here on out, caution was the name of the game.
Grind.
My molars ground together from the pressure.
My throat ached.
I raked my nails across it.
A little refreshing, at least.
Hoo.
Deep breath in, then I pushed open the dorm door.
Business as usual.
Hopped the elevator down from the dorm building. Hit ground level, and there was the long hallway leading to the main gate.
The blue sunlight pouring through the glass doors was blinding. Squinting hard, I shoved the door open and stepped outside.
Maybe because first period was closing in, the more impatient students were already breaking into a sprint.
I figured walking would get me there with time to spare, so I took it slow, soaking in the scenery.
My agility was C+.
Meant that with a blade or a gun, I could drop anyone Class C or lower before they even twitched.
No real combat under my belt yet, no instincts honed, but yeah—probably.
Top drawer of the lone desk in my dorm room held a pair of hair-trimming scissors.
A few of the slower students rushing to first period caught my eye.
Grab the scissors. Kill eight. Claim the reward.
That was an option on the table.
‘...What the hell am I even thinking?’
No. This wasn't it.
Least of all, I couldn't cross that line.
I had to hold onto why I'd chosen suicide in that alley—right up to the bitter end.
First period, finally.
Irene Rock was scanning the seated students' faces one by one.
"Roll call done. Everyone sit."
Seats full, she grabbed the chalk and started scribbling on the board.
Practice 5.
Theory 5.
"Your classes are gonna run like this from here on out."
...Not according to plan.
In the game, practice only hit half the schedule mid-semester.
Term just starting, and already half practice? Straight-up abnormal.
Sure enough, one student raised a hand.
"Mind if I ask one question?"
"You just did."
"...How about two?"
"Nope."
The student's words caught in his throat at Irene Rock's reply. He sheepishly lowered his hand.
Looked pissed.
Irene Rock gauged the mood and spoke up.
"Kidding. Kidding. So, what's the question?"
"Why slot in half practice already...?"
"Recent academy security breach."
"Pardon?"
"Figured you'd all benefit from learning to fight ASAP. I pushed for it myself."
Academy security breach... that masked weirdo?
‘The guy who slipped a syringe in my pocket. Stabbed one into my neck last loop.’
Ja-an reported it, right? Already going public to the cadets?
‘Hold up—no such event in the game.’
How'd Ivy Lane keep the masked guy from tracking her down? What fix did she pull?
A few things weren't adding up.
Head starting to hurt.
The questioning student piped up again.
"How's the practice gonna work?"
"Not shipping you to the frontlines yet. Not trying to get you killed off the bat."
"Training or sparring, then?"
"Likely? Probably drag in some other teachers and retired heroes for lessons."
Words barely out, and a few students shot her suspicious glares.
Irene Rock scowled.
"What's with those looks?"
The students went quiet, schooling their faces.
No way A Class had someone dumb enough to pick a fight with a teacher...
One shot his hand up like a rocket.
‘Spoke too soon.’
This guy's nuts.
"Yeah?"
"We're suspicious."
"Of?"
"Whether you qualify to teach us."
Irene Rock burst out laughing.
"Pfft... you nuts?"
"Your ability isn't combat-related, right? Can't wrap my head around why you're A Class homeroom."
"And?"
"We cleared brutal selection just to get in the academy. Internal rankings put us top 21 for A Class."
Irene Rock's smile froze into a blank mask.
"So?"
The kid sensed the chill, swallowed hard.
But pride wouldn't let him back down.
He spat out the final line.
"Prove it."
Bang—!
Gunshot rang out.
Irene Rock hadn't moved.
Or looked like it.
In a split-second blur too fast to track, she'd drawn a pistol from her coat, fired, and holstered it.
"What if I'd aimed for your head?"
"...Sorry."
"That proof enough?"
Irene Rock pressed on.
"Abilities don't need to be combat-type to pack a punch. Hell if I know why you think mine isn't..."
She scribbled on the board.
Chekhov's Gun
"My ability, Chekhov's Gun. Remember me saying it's a deduction power that hits conclusions from enough clues?"
Students hung on every word.
"Those clues? Micro muscle twitches, tremors, tension, flexing, relaxing, eye movements, even pupil dilation. Get the picture?"
Fragmentary future sight.
Reading opponent moves ahead of time and countering.
Pre-firing bullets right where they'll be.
She'd survived the frontlines against humanoid foes.
No way that's pure luck.
‘Kill beasts on the front, magic builds up in your body, stats climb. Superhuman territory even without an ability.’
Kid was an idiot.
A Class material should've meant brains, but...
Does he just not think?
Academy and government wouldn't stick an incompetent with prime A Class homeroom.
Irene Rock tacked on one last bit.
"Oh, and FYI? I was top entrance student. Academy."
Conversation over.
Slide.
Someone flung the classroom door open in a panic, poking their head in.
Pink twintails.
Ritta.
"What happened?! Heard a gunshot...?"
A few guys' eyes drifted straight to Ritta's cleavage.
Problem with the nurse rocking a slutty uniform like she was working a brothel.
Over-30 hag angling for young studs?
Ritta flashed a sleazy grin.
"Hehe... teacher's a looker, huh? Back in the day, guys'd fake injuries just to peep."
Irene Rock chimed in.
"No one's doing that now. Hit 30, they ghosted naturally."
"Hey!"
"Sorry, not letting my students be your future hubbies. Poor bastards."
"Can't help a friend when she's hurt?! How many times did I drag your ass out of frontline hell?"
"I'm here as a teacher now, not soldier or hero. No plans on killing my own students."
Ritta huffed, slammed the door shut, and vanished.
The guys stared at the closed door, some looking more awake.
A few seemed into it—creepy as hell.
Clap!
Irene Rock clapped loud, yanking eyes back to her.
"Out of 399 students and teachers cleared to enter the academy, only the top 21 cadets and top 1 instructor qualify for A Class."
She flashed a grin.
"Got it? Gym assembly. Practice time."
And that's when something in her words pinged wrong.
‘Students and teachers cleared to enter the academy... total 399...?’