Conflict
[Did you think raising kids was easy? Even raising one Se-min was such a grueling ordeal.]
[But Father, I get where you're coming from, but it just feels like it's getting in the way of forming a proper attachment with the child.]
Professor Cheon Kyujin had been pacing the living room with his hands clasped behind his back for a good ten minutes now.
Is it really for Nami's own good to just let her run free like this?
He despised the word "restraint" more than anything in the world. Forcing a child's life into someone else's mold based on their values was the most horrific thing imaginable. That's why Professor Cheon always prioritized Nami's opinions above all else, believing a guardian's role was simply to quietly support from behind, ensuring the child didn't stumble too badly.
But the video Nami had uploaded this time had gone far beyond anything he could control.
Click.
Nami, freshly discharged from the hospital, emerged into the living room after changing into her loungewear. There was no way sorting her luggage and changing clothes had taken a full ten minutes. Her expression betrayed a tangled mess of emotions.
"Nami, come here for a moment, would you?"
"...Wasn't that conversation over and done with in the car?"
Nami squinted one eye, openly showing her displeasure.
On the drive home, Professor Cheon had asked her to take down the video. For a solid half hour, neither side had budged an inch. Nami had logically explained her intentions behind uploading it, but this time, even he couldn't back down. This was about her safety.
"I'd really appreciate it if you took it down now."
"No. I told you, it wasn't some impulse upload. I put real thought into filming and posting it."
Professor Cheon pressed his temples as if nursing a headache. Had Nami always been this stubborn?
There was that one time. When she contested her final exam scores.
But back then, it had been her rationality overridden by mana withdrawal symptoms. This was the first time she'd shown such intense emotions in everyday life.
Maybe his persuasion hadn't gotten through yet. Professor Cheon slowly walked her through the situation again.
"I'm not saying what you said was wrong, Nami. You had your reasons, I'm sure. But not everyone's as smart as you. Why do ski racers wear safety gear? Because they might get hurt if they fall?"
"..."
"It's because some beginner who can't ski might crash into them. Even I have limits when it comes to protecting you. That's why you need to be careful yourself, right?"
"I don't really know much about skiing."
"Haa..."
Nami deliberately turned her head away, pretending ignorance. The conversation looped back to square one, and Professor Cheon clutched his head in frustration.
Walpurgis was a terrorist group of fanatics. He knew she harbored a thirst for revenge, but Nami was still young and weak. He was dissatisfied that this child, who kept forgetting she was under his protection, was letting things escalate beyond control.
"NoName."
At his low, stern tone, Nami flinched and looked up at him. She clearly hadn't expected him to get this firm.
"Yes."
"Delete the video."
"No."
"Am I asking too much of you right now?"
"No..."
"This is way more serious than you think, Nami. Do you even realize what you've done?"
"I know pretty well—"
Professor Cheon's phone on the living room table buzzed loudly in vibrate mode. Nami glanced at it and confirmed the caller.
All contacts regarding Nami had been handled by Professor Cheon up to now. She couldn't even imagine how many calls had come in lately. Feeling unnecessarily guilty, Nami's resolve wilted a bit.
Professor Cheon flipped the phone over to silence it and resumed his lecture.
"The world isn't a game, Nami. You only get one life."
"I know that much. I'm not an idiot."
"Can you take responsibility for your words? The military's been on high alert since yesterday. Why? Nations always prepare for the worst. The world doesn't flow conveniently on whims. What if war breaks out and people blame you—could you handle that?"
"..."
"Nami, if you could just be a little more humble... So many people around you already recognize your talents. There's no need to drag in outsiders and stir up friction."
"Professor, I'm not trying to cause friction. If anything, since I don't know what they're scheming, I was just saying we should all stay vigilant—"
"NoName! Get a grip!"
In the end, Professor Cheon raised his voice in a sharp rebuke. No matter what valid reason Nami cited, he could only see it as stubbornness. There were dozens of better ways to raise awareness that came to his mind.
[Student Nami tends to ignore pain to a certain degree unless it's a serious illness, given how low her results came out.]
[The child reported experiences of derealization where things didn't feel real, delusions of control where someone was manipulating her, and occasional auditory and visual hallucinations.]
The kid seemed genuinely convinced she was strong. Like holding the number one rank in a game. Never having tasted a crushing defeat might have her drunk on a sense of power.
She'd put on a little weight recently on her slender frame, but Nami was still the smallest in her class. And whether from VR games or not, her personality was surprisingly aggressive.
What she'd said in the video wasn't meant that way at all.
Does she secretly wish Walpurgis would actually come for her?
He had to give her a proper scolding. He couldn't lose family again for the same reason.
"Don't delude yourself, Nami. You're just eight years old. An eight-year-old patient with a frail body! Do you understand what I'm saying, Professor? Out in society, you're still nothing but a fragile child!"
A vivid blue aura seeped from Professor Cheon. The cold, rage-tinged aura spread, pressing down on Nami for a moment—until she unleashed her own signature golden aura, mercilessly evaporating his.
Her unyielding gaze, straight and unwavering in twin braids, was a clear act of defiance.
"NoName, withdraw your aura."
"Professor Cheon, you first."
"Don't make me say it again. Put it away now."
"I'm not weak. I know myself better than anyone—even you, Professor. Don't judge me arbitrarily. We've only known each other a year."
Nami's final words were the trigger that set Professor Cheon off. A pure white aura erupted from him like a blizzard, fierce and unrelenting. The beautiful blue from before was gone.
The golden energy froze solid in the storm's grip. Drained of light, Nami's aura scattered into the air, vanishing without a trace.
An alarm blared through the apartment, and clear liquid sprayed from the living room ceiling sprinklers. It didn't wet their clothes or skin—likely mana in liquid form. The atmospheric mana density snapped back to normal in seconds.
Nami ground her teeth silently, eyes unblinking. She spotted her uniform on the sofa, grabbed the entire hanger, and bolted for the entryway. She crammed her feet into her fluffy chick-yellow shoes and glanced back briefly.
"I'm off to school."
It was 2 p.m.—long past dismissal time for others—when Nami left the house.
Sneaky bastard, pitting raw aura output against me. Now it feels like I lost the stare-down.
I couldn't hide my sulkiness. I fully understood he was lashing out from worry. But when he called me weak, I couldn't hold back the boiling emotions.
In my past life, I had no real friends. So my achievements with sword and magic were the fruits of my lifelong efforts—lifelong companions.
Starting over from scratch is great? If some idiot spouts that nonsense, I'd barge into their house and delete every game account they own.
After the fight with Professor Cheon, nothing much happened. I ran into academy kids here and there, exchanging cheerful greetings as if all was well.
I soothed my gloomy mood in the empty 2nd-year Class A classroom with Jacqueline Carol, who hadn't left for the day yet. She didn't ask why I was at school. Maybe she'd guessed from my face right away.
Academies were perfect hideouts for runaways. The small classrooms with lockers doubled as dorms, complete with fold-out beds, blankets, and pillows.
I sat by the window where warm sunlight poured in like stars, idly watching the scenery outside.
"Teacher, you should head home by now... Don't you need to go too, Nami?"
"Just a bit longer."
"Hmm... How about the principal's office?"
Considering her position as homeroom teacher who had to lock up, I took her suggestion.
When I knocked on the principal's door, Gu On-yu greeted me with a bright smile. That's when I realized Professor Cheon had tipped her off beforehand. She offered the small bedroom next to her office.
I spent the time flipping through comics in a binge-read marathon, enjoying my minor rebellion. Eventually, even that got too bothersome, so from the next day, I just plopped down on the principal's office floor.
"Principal, how come you've never read these fun comics?"
Gu On-yu's hand paused mid-paperwork.
"You think they're fun, Nami?"
"Yeah, there's a reason they're called masterpieces."
"What scene did you like best while reading?"
I personally hated it when people answered questions with questions, but since I hadn't asked expecting a reply, I brushed it off.
"Not a scene, but a line that really hit home. Humans get depressed if they don't talk to someone every day, even if it's just chit-chat. And conversing naturally builds bonds, making you grateful to be alive."
"That's a great line."
"Yeah."
At my age, it felt kinda cringy to enjoy, but there was that unique Japanese manga charm in slipping in those heart-tickling dialogues.
"Do you... think I'm not humble enough too, Principal?"
"Why? What makes you say that?"
"Just... I feel like I've heard stuff like that a lot before."
The hate comments on my VTube lately hammered words like "elitist mindset" or "showing off."
Hearing similar advice from the closest person, Professor Cheon, doubled the hurt.
"Your friends say that about you?"
"Not friends... Just overheard from acquaintances."
Reflecting on past-life relationships, it was always the thing that tripped me up. I never got truly close to anyone. Either blind loyalty like Luri, or disappointment and departure like Cloud.
Even high-society ladies said it. I'd dismissed it as jealousy of my skills, but lately, I wondered if it wasn't entirely that.
Trapped in superficial ties. Was I just flashy on the outside?
Thud.
The sound snapped me out of it. Gu On-yu shoved her paperwork aside and stood. Her heels clicked rhythmically.
She sat behind me, gripped my shoulders, and leaned me back until my head rested on her lap.
"2nd-year Class A, NoName."
"Yes?"
"Just say you're lonely, honestly."
"Lonely... Feels a bit different, but maybe in the broad sense, yeah."
"Really? To me, it's all the same."
I opened my mouth to explain precisely, then shut it. She didn't seem to want my trivial ramblings.
Suddenly, she leaned forward and pulled a thick book from the bottom shelf. She dusted off the heavy layer of grime and showed it to me. It looked ancient at a glance.
"Academy yearbook?"
"Doesn't this look way more fun? Professor Cheon Kyujin's in here too."
"Whoa!"
Cheat code unlocked...! My eyes sparkled, and I nodded vigorously.
The principal smirked meaningfully and slowly turned the cover. Thus was it confirmed: Cheon Kyujin and Gu On-yu had been sworn enemies in their youth.