223 - Defeated by Philosophers. Utterly Powerlessly.
Shin Yeon-ho had no intention of whining about handicaps at this point. Honestly, just tweaking the friction coefficient to trip someone would make most elementary second-graders burst into tears. But what the hell was this? He’d clumsily dropped his wand from his hand onto the floor. He’d been so focused on the marble particle shield that he hadn’t even anticipated a strike from Nami’s side.
Putting everything else aside, he absolutely shouldn’t have broken the rules he himself had boasted about. Please... What kind of abuse was pouring out in Nami’s stream right now? He desperately hoped she’d at least explain properly, but his plea didn’t seem to reach her. Nami was casually inspecting and evaluating another group’s wand alongside Professor Bae Seo-jin.
“Oh, you added a variable resistor to the Wheatstone bridge circuit formula?”
“Yeah. As you go from quarter bridge to half bridge, then full bridge, the sensitivity increases relatively, so it solves the accuracy issue.”
“Such a creative idea. You’ll have to give this group high marks too, Professor.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Good job, Group 2.”
“Yes!”
That’s right. There was no sparring to be seen anywhere—just a simple review of whether they’d improved properly.
“Why aren’t you sparring?”
At Shin Yeon-ho’s exasperated question, Nami shrugged.
“I never said I’d spar with everyone here, did I?”
“What are you talking about? If you want good grades, prove it with sparring.”
“That was just my suggestion because your group claimed to have made the best one. Did you really expect an elementary kid to do a wheel battle against eight of you?”
“No...!”
“I’m human too. You know better than anyone how exhausting a single spar is—why would I do that?”
His words failed him. And worse, she was completely right, which only made his gut burn more.
The chat scrolled down one letter at a time. Even Yeon-ho, who didn’t check the stream much, could guess what it said. Probably alternating between “na” and “rak” or something.
“Please spare me! I’m begging you like this, Nami! No, NoName-nim!”
Desperate, Shin Yeon-ho even got on his knees in front of Nami. His group mates clutched their foreheads, as if they couldn’t stop him.
* * *
Watching the Korea University students, I realized they all seemed a bit lacking and clumsy, but they made up for it with incredible quick wits and senses. I’ve never worked a real job, so I’m not sure if the analogy fits, but they struck me as fresh hires who’d clawed through a hundreds-to-one competition rate. Their flashes of creativity and knowledge often surprised even me, making me understand why they’re called Korea’s top talents.
“It was just a prank.”
“A prank... Yeah, you’re at that age for pranks... But do it twice, and my heart won’t survive...”
Shin Yeon-ho and my stream viewers reached an amicable agreement. Following Twitch culture, he did a “grand bow”—a handstand apology to show his sincerity. I refused to answer viewers’ questions about who gave me the portable transmutation circle writer. Saying it was Professor Cheon would just rile up teen viewers and turn me into a parental wallet-breaker again. I still remember the alienation from my past life when North Face and Canada Goose parkas were all the rage among delinquents.
“I can’t stop it if it hits internet news.”
“What?”
“Reporters hang around my streams sometimes. They even offer me variety show gigs occasionally.”
“Hey! Then what do I do?!”
“What do you mean? Suck it up. You’re the one who hit first—why take it out on me?”
“Uwaaaaaah! My social reputation!”
A bit sorry, but it was fun. Neither of us went all out, but it let me feel that old freedom again. The problem? My body was too frail. My hip ached from over-rotating that back kick earlier. Even basic 1st and 2nd Circle spells gouged huge chunks of mana, and they weren’t even perfectly executed. The wide-area spell Eye of the Storm I’d mustered the courage for was embarrassing to show again. I clenched my fist.
Getting stronger comes first. With my own power alone, no cheats from my past life. Modern magic had cumbersome casting processes, but it came with treasures amassed by countless scholars. Getting far stronger than before shouldn’t be impossible. I just hoped this peace lasted.
“Haa...”
Beside me, Shin Yeon-ho sighed deeply while searching the main portal site, alternating his name and school. As if it’d show up already. He looked pitiful, sighing like the ground was caving in.
“Want me to grant a wish?”
“You’d actually do it if I asked?”
He bit immediately.
“You know business is all about exchange, right?”
My VTube revenue had been slow lately. Can’t let that slide—Seo Yu-na’s family depended on it.
* * *
Hello, this is Maru, the editor for NoName's VTube channel. First, sincere thanks to all who support NoName. As subscribers know, several main games have suspended operations, making streams and uploads irregular. NoName is now exploring diverse content beyond those two games, including real-life streams. For stream fun, featured guests have pre-approved no-mosaic appearances, but please remember they are civilians. Secondary creations are limited to VTube and Shorts; using civilians risks portrait rights lawsuits. Thank you.
"Losing to an 8-year-old~♡ Loser loser~♡ Hurry up and do your grand bow~♡"
[Views: 1.46 million]
The next day, I reviewed the full footage. Somehow, it captured the crude, embarrassing assignments from the Korea University students. Including scenes of the professor and me critiquing them harshly. Wasn’t this promo video supposed to highlight the university’s excellence? Showing such shameful flaws—what were they thinking? But the promo team insisted it was fine. These days, human sides resonate more with the public.
“What’s wrong? It’s Korea University.”
Fair enough—maybe no big deal. The footage was longer than expected, so I decided on just one more class. Thanks to Shin Yeon-ho’s pleading, the next stop was obvious.
Philosophy’s curriculum is quirky too. Only those fulfilling all graduation requirements by junior year are forced into massive senior-year courses: 16 credits first semester, 17 second. Rivaling law or med in busyness, their summer session attendance is insane.
“In Philosophy’s Symbolic Logic class, there’s Ban So-wol from Aspen Academy. Long brown curls, about 165cm, slim face, pale skin.”
Shin Yeon-ho, who’d tailed us despite it being a holiday, explained her features at the Humanities Building 7 entrance.
“You want me to get her number?”
His comma hair bobbed up and down. At least wax it down.
“You like her?”
“...! No, not like that...”
“Getting it yourself means more—why ask me?”
“You’ll see when you go...”
He’d said it glumly. Back then, I had no clue what he meant... but
Screeech— Cautiously opening the small lecture hall’s back door unleashed a wave of stuffy heat on the fan breeze. I’d tipped off the professor, but students didn’t know. We stared blankly for a bit until one recognized me and exploded into standing ovation claps.
“Eureka!”
“Exploded” is literal—his palms boomed like bombs. Other guys awkwardly rose, rocking their desks.
“H-hello...?”
I ventured carefully. Guy, guy, guy. Why so many guys? Philosophy’s supposed 1:1 ratio? As the young male prof cleared his throat, a tanned giant grinned with perfect teeth, waving.
Where were the philosophers? Just beastly iron men. The man reached for a handshake, then yanked back.
“We just played soccer—still sweaty.”
Felt like a boys’ high school, not college.
Ha... haha... I awkward-laughed and responded suitably. The frail-looking Philosophy prof finally introduced me late, unlike the students. Up close, clear now: not many guys—only guys. Except one.
“Everyone probably knows her, but NoName’s here for another Symbolic Logic day class. Welcome. Sit anywhere—any preference?”
The front center of three joined desks had two taken. Right end: muscle monster like the first guy, typing furiously. Center: a woman with unfocused narrow eyes smiling brightly at me. The class’s lone flower.
“Ah! Next to Ban So-wol? Okay with you?”
“Yes, I’d like that. Nami, sit here?”
The beautiful woman tapping the desk lightly wafted shampoo scent amid the sweaty room. Through the translucent window, Shin Yeon-ho’s lovesick face peered. Ah... so that’s why he couldn’t approach. This woman had an army of bodyguards. Touch wrong, and Philosophy guys’d snap his spine.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Model student Ban So-wol sat ramrod straight, attentive. As prof wrote logic symbols, the guy beside typed busily. So-wol fixed eyes forward but stroked my hand on the desk like petting a puppy.
“Such pretty hands.”
She whispered.
“Ah, thanks...”
Kid hands, duh. Suddenly, her palm clamped mine, interlocking fingers hard.
“...?”
“Arm wrestle later?”
“Pardon...?”
Ban So-wol giggled softly, smiling. Real tomboy?