Praise: A Golden Spring Blooms in Early Autumn
In early autumn, a brilliant yellow spring seemed to blossom. Watching Nami shove the children beyond the boundary line one after another, Professor Cheon couldn't tear his eyes away from the fluttering petals. Azaleas are supposed to have pink petals. That's why, amid her golden aura, faint pink sparks flickered through.
'Chorong's aura...'
The reason he hadn't been able to stop Ham Chorong at the national physical education tournament, even knowing about her, lay in her bizarre aura manipulation. Every attack from opponents generated rotational force in the same direction as Chorong's, forcing you to deflect the fist or bounce it away in another direction. But in the chaos of complex combat, reading every move she made was nearly impossible. That was why she always claimed victory.
Could Nami have replicated it just from hearing Principal Gu On-yu's story? Professor Cheon could only marvel once more at her genius. Nami had a knack for surprising people like this every time.
But it wasn't just Professor Cheon whose heart skipped a beat.
"No, Hangeol!"
The parents shot up from their seats, calling their children's names one after another. The kids flew toward the mattresses like falling autumn leaves. Strangely, though, their faces were full of joy.
"Whoa! Nami, do me next, me!"
"Send me even farther!"
"Hey, I'm first—no cutting!"
"...? Wait, this isn't..."
Nami's pre-announced rules were completely ignored. Led by Yoon Si-hu, a few kids screamed "Kyaaak!" as they soared through the air, landing softly on the mattresses before thumbs-upping triumphantly. They'd gotten the full thrill of an amusement park ride. Oblivious to their parents clutching their chests, the children kept begging Nami for the same treatment. It finally took the teacher to step in and stop them.
"Nami, can't you do it normally? Normally! Just give them a light push like this."
"Ah, that... Yes, ma'am."
Having tried to show off and earned a scolding from the teacher, Nami deflated and pushed the kids out of bounds plainly. Only then did the parents relax and return to their seats.
"Hoo... I thought she was amazing from TV, but seeing it live leaves me speechless."
"True geniuses are on another level..."
"Even twenty kids charging at her, and that little girl holds her own. Or maybe it's more shocking that she shows such grit right in front of them."
The parents praised Nami in unison, though even those words barely made it past their lips. Their brains struggled to process the scene or why the homeroom teacher remained so nonchalant.
The Raon Clan's magic scholar kept bouncing one leg, scrutinizing her every move.
'No matter how I look at it, that's not the boldness of an eight-year-old.'
Unless you're a well-trained fighter, it's natural to flinch when a fist flies at you. Yet Nami didn't blink, predicting and countering the kids swarming from all directions. Holding her ground amid the disorder was nothing short of impressive. That wasn't something effort or training alone could forge—it was pure talent.
"Nami could hold her own against the upperclassmen, no problem."
"Father must be thrilled for the inter-academy tournament. I thought she was just a study whiz, but she's got talent here too."
Beating Nami was impossible for their kids anyway. So the parents emphasized their shared Seferon Academy affiliation, hyping her future performance in the tournament.
Professor Cheon glanced at Nami. She was flicking the forehead of a classmate tugging at her clothes. It was in these ordinary moments of play that you could glimpse the innocent expression fitting her age.
Before long, the game ended, leaving Nami alone in the arena. The homeroom teacher gathered the eliminated kids with the parents and explained the lesson's purpose.
"Second-years, when casting magic, holding your position is crucial. That's why today's class is about enduring even if someone pushes you from the side. Everyone, pair up in twos and face each other."
If the caster's position shifts significantly mid-spell, the gathered mana dissipates instantly. Coordinate transformation is key in magic circles, but it was too advanced for second-grade elementary kids. That's why national academies used this curriculum.
"Nami, help me clean up the cones on the floor."
"Yes, ma'am."
As the fifth-period sparring practice wrapped up uneventfully, Professor Cheon turned and refuted the parents' earlier words.
"Nami won't participate in this year's inter-academy tournament."
"Pardon?"
"What? Why not!"
"Isn't this the perfect chance to make a name for her, Father?"
"Exactly. If it's a health issue, we know a renowned doctor who could—"
"It's not that."
Of course, Nami's body wasn't perfectly healed, so such concerns weren't unfounded. But the fundamental reason she couldn't compete was something else.
[For participants' safety, children under 120cm in height are prohibited from competing.]
It was the moment everyone learned of the foundation's internal rule, which had never been relevant before.
* * *
"NoName, want my milk too?"
"Nah, I'm good."
"You gotta drink lots of milk to grow tall fast."
"More and it'll hurt my stomach. I'll take the thought, thanks Se-ri. Okay?"
"Tch..."
"Tch?"
"Nothing!"
After the open class, the class kids had been offering me milk more often than usual.
"Kids, are you embarrassed that I'm so short?"
Kids aren't clueless about face. If anything, they're more obsessed with appearances than adults. Was it embarrassing that a tiny kid like me was already in second grade, word getting out to other academies?
"No, no! It's just my mom and dad said they hope you grow tall soon."
"Why are they worried about my height? Ohhh..."
The tournament? It matched the principal's reaction before, so I could guess.
If the goal was just winning the academy tournament, I could've soloed low or high years alike, easy. But this explained why the principal assigned me to train the competitors. With my damn height barring me, Seferon was down half—no, most of its firepower.
[Can't we just ignore that rule?]
The height limit stemmed from a major accident ages ago. A small kid got crushed under one 30cm taller and twice as heavy, tearing their knee ligament. Even if Seferon pushed to amend it now, Alteer Foundation wouldn't approve. So I was benched for the whole year.
"So Nami, what's your height now?"
"Around 113cm?"
"Exactly! You measure every morning."
"You guys force me to. I hate it."
Another change post-open class: Every morning on the way to class, the kids dragged me to the back and measured my height with a tape. Each time, I endured the humiliation.
"So, how much?"
"112.4 cm."
"Whoa, 1mm taller? Right?"
"Yeah! Yesterday was 112.3, I think."
"Kids, people don't grow overnight like that. 1mm fluctuates daily."
"Really? Too bad..."
"You ace studies but why won't your height grow?"
"Seo Yu-na, if you're serious, today marks your funeral."
"Ahaha, kidding! Eek, save me!"
Academy life flowed like this mostly. I'd stay quiet usually, then banter back when they pranked me.
"Uwaaaak...! It hurts...! Nami, ouch ouch!"
I was massaging Yuna's temples—she'd been stressed from recent classes.
"NoName! Come look at this!"
"No way! Give back my notebook!"
"Jjun tzzi euneureugu. Then why's NoName's name in it."
"Doesn't matter. Hand it over!"
"NoName toss!"
Suddenly, a notebook flew toward my face. Kim Hangeol had chucked Bae Yo-han's notebook to me. A friend from early semester, Yuna's former desk neighbor. After I spread the air game, he'd gotten chummy with the class.
Yo-han snatched it back from Hangeol and stuffed it in his bag.
"It is! Bae Yo-han, you confessed, right?!"
"No!"
Bae Yo-han flushed beet-red, denying vehemently. I narrowed my eyes, and he flinched, averting his gaze like he'd been caught. Seemed about right.
"Whoa, Bae Yo-han, savage. Total manly man."
"I saw you write her name in Korean and English from the side."
"Whoa, what? Someone confessing to our Nami right now?"
"Was it you? You wrote that letter?"
Seo Yu-na, our class's new number two after beating Hong Jun at arm-wrestling, menaced him. Properly cowed, Yo-han trembled pitifully without a word.
"Yo-han, come here. Let's chat, just us."
I beckoned him out of the classroom. Enduring Yuna's murderous glare and the kids' cheers, he followed obediently—he always listened to me.
I led him downstairs to avoid eavesdroppers, settling on a bench behind the academy amid piled fallen leaves, patting the seat beside me.
"Yo-han, why sit so far? Hate me?"
"No!"
"Then you like me?"
"Uh..."
"Why? This love letter's yours. I hate liars."
"..."
Finally admitting his crime—er, mistake, er, whatever this was—he confessed to writing the letter.
"Why no name on it?"
"I messed up... Meant to toss it, but put it in the wrong shoe locker slot."
"Sounds like a half-lie?"
"No, really! No lie at all..."
"Then why not give it to me?"
"You wouldn't like me back... Right?"
"Why? Want me to accept?"
His face turned radish-red. His voice shrank to an ant's whisper, barely audible.
"What do you like about me?"
"Y-You're... cute... And nice..."
"No, nope. Again."
"Cute and..."
"Again. Think different."
"...? Um, mature."
"Eh, vague. Anything else?"
"Short, though."
"Not praise. Buried alive here?"
"No no, short but super strong."
"Yes, correct."
Bowing dogeza-style is tough.
"You like being called strong?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Means you see my effort. Good or bad."
"Hmm..."
"If you studied hard, aced a test at 100, you'd feel good, right?"
"Yeah, obviously."
"But if no one praised you? Still try for 100 next time?"
"I'd be sad. Probably slack off."
"Same for me. I reward myself to get stronger."
Yo-han pondered deeply, trying to grasp it. Too advanced for his age. Even mature Yuna might not fully get it.
"Why get so strong?"
"To protect precious people."
"Then I'll praise you strong every day."
"Whoa, scheming for points so obvious, you're rotten. Boy, huh?"
I pinched his cheeks, grinning.
"Sorry, but I don't like boys. Truly sorry."
Like a hammer to the back of the head, he froze, speechless.
"Th-then... you like girls?"
"Nah? Don't like girls either."
Frontal KO this time. Only two options in his head, apparently.
"You just hate everyone?"
"Maybe. I'll get strongest, destroy Earth."
"..."
"Kidding, why so serious. So, what now, Yo-han? Tell kids you didn't write it?"
Confessing isn't bad. Getting rejected isn't either. I empathized to show him that.
"Yeah... Say I didn't, please."
"Okay, no worries."
"Sniff... Hic..."
"Aww, crying again? C'mere. That sad I rejected you?"
"N-no... You're just... so nice... Sob..."
Spending time with second-graders reveals this: They sound like twenty-year-olds usually, but get brutally honest with emotions sometimes. So his sudden tears made sense.
I hugged his head to my chest, patting his back till he calmed. In front of me, he held back snot and tears, just sniffling moderately.
Now, how to soothe his heartbreak? Me rejecting and comforting felt weird, but oh well. He asked to keep it secret; I'd help.
"Ah, Yo-han, check this fun thing."
Guys usually drown sorrows in booze or smokes. But for second-grade, I went wholesome. Pulled my pencil-sized wand, cast engraving magic.
Engraving: Heat Transfer - Coil
Bit the wand tip, pursed lips. Puffed cheeks, exhaled the steam I'd held.
"Hoop."
A donut-shaped steam ring followed my lips skyward.
"Whoa! But isn't smoking bad?"
"Nah. Magic-made, harmless. Tasteless too. Fun, right? Other shapes?"
"Yeah! Awesome."
Hadn't used liquid potion since quitting, but handy now. Upped wand output for more steam.
"Fuuuwaaa."
With my flashy vaping finale, Bae Yo-han's confession fiasco wrapped neatly.
Until a middle-school teacher over the fence spotted us, switch in hand.
"Yaaaaaaa! Elementary brats, what the hell! Drop that cig now? Stay put! Move and die!"
"Ah."
"Gasp... What now, Nami?!"
"What? We're screwed."
Pay for confessing to me, sweetly.