The Rigorous Interview
“The kid coming in today is the daughter of a Korea University professor?”
“Looks like he wrote a recommendation letter for his own daughter. She's going up to second grade this year.”
“I always think this, but it's a problem how privately they abuse recommendation letters. Not even a cousin or distant relative—his own daughter? Isn't that too obvious?”
“Doesn't that just mean he's that confident? Writing the letter gets recorded in the archives anyway.”
“I still don't like the principal who approved it. Is this even a recommendation letter?”
“Yes, Supervisor. We've all seen them once before, so you can review before the interview.”
Kim Si-hyeong, the supervisor from the Ministry of Education, slowly scanned the recommendation letter stamped with Professor Cheon Kyujin's seal.
This guy's a famous figure who pops up on the news sometimes.
But unlike his reputation, the letter itself was bland and ordinary—claiming she'd been interested in magic since childhood and self-studied, mentioning her favorite spell, and so on. It was practically identical to the hundreds or thousands he'd read daily as an admissions officer before.
“The recommendation letter's nothing special. We'll have to verify the report during the interview.”
With recent cases of parents ghostwriting transfer reports exposed, he planned to scrutinize it even more closely.
“I'll handle that thoroughly, so no worries.”
The professor dispatched from the Seferon Foundation confidently eased the supervisor's concerns.
“Ah, right. With Professor Hwang here, what could there be to worry about?”
“Haha. This transfer candidate will either bring great expectations or deep disappointment.”
Professor Hwang narrowed his eyes, reading the report carefully, a layer of skepticism in his gaze.
The modular group was a niche topic even among mathematicians—most didn't know it outside their field—let alone applying it boldly to transmutation circles. Plus, perfectoid spaces were the pinnacle of 21st-century modern math from about 40 years ago; even Professor Hwang had looked up related papers before coming to the interview.
As admissions officers, they each handled different areas, so info on students was fragmented. The Ministry supervisor checked recommendation letters, the vice principal and academic affairs head verified personal details, and Dr. Hwang Jeong-hoon from the Seferon Foundation evaluated the attached report proving the student's magical achievements.
The only info Professor Hwang had was the student's name as first author.
But why's the surname different from her father's? It's No, not Cheon?
“Time's up. Is the student waiting outside?”
“Yes, shall we bring her in now?”
“Please do.”
The interview room at Seferon Academy was far from warm and welcoming. Especially for kids experiencing this for the first time, the pressure from four adults often left them speechless and exiting early—not uncommon at all.
Of course, the interviewers didn't aim for pressure tactics; that defeated the purpose of assessing capability.
The classroom front door slid open with a drurk.
The supervisor and Professor Hwang, learning the transfer student's identity for the first time, felt a twinge of surprise.
It's a total baby.
Smaller even than his own youngest daughter, who still threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a hat. But her steps were confident, showing no hint of shrinking as she sat in the center chair.
“Welcome to Seferon Academy, NoName student.”
The secrecy spells on the various documents lifted. Most striking was her name.
“Yes, nice to meet you too.”
The student, with jet-black long hair neatly tied in low twintails, sat primly like a doll, staring straight ahead. Her eyes were unusually large for her face, giving a beastly intimidation with every blink.
“The weather's quite cold today, isn't it? How did you get here?”
“Professor Cheon Kyujin brought me.”
“So, your father did?”
“Yes.”
The student answered the academic affairs head without panic or rushing her words. She didn't seem tense at all, nor did she show comfort in the greetings. A somewhat emotionless response.
Everyone inwardly agreed: NoName gave the impression of a child with a highly unique temperament.
“The interview will last about 15 to 20 minutes. Shall we start with identity verification, Vice Principal?”
“Yes. Now, NoName student?”
“...”
The vice principal read her personal details from top down.
“Born June 11, 2043, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother passed away when you were young, and Professor Cheon Kyujin is your adoptive father now?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago was the adoption? Roughly?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks? Hmmmmm...”
Despite being routine procedure, a chill settled over the room.
“Then how long have you known your father?”
“About two months.”
“Hey, Head? Pass me the family register extract?”
“Here.”
“Let's see... You were at Merlin Orphanage before? From June 2050 to January 2051... Is this an error? Why no prior records?”
“I don't know either...”
The academic affairs head awkwardly confirmed no errors on the extract, but the vice principal couldn't shake his doubts.
“Probably because she's a missing person.”
“Missing person?”
“Yes. I think the details are irrelevant to this interview, so I'll refrain.”
NoName answered stiffly. Not even a polite refusal. With her past records spotlessly absent, there was no leverage. She was like someone who fell from the sky or sprang from the earth—her background a complete mystery.
The vice principal asked a few more questions to no avail and passed to the supervisor.
The supervisor tossed prepared questions, but NoName answered dryly and precisely every time.
“The recommendation says you have an exceptionally outstanding level of magical knowledge and understanding; we'll have Professor Hwang verify that later.”
“Yes.”
“You listed the 5th Circle spell Alchemist as your favorite. Any reason why?”
“Because it's pretty.”
“Pretty?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, yes, pretty. No other reason?”
“Aren't you done venting now, Estasha? And Niobe's death wasn't your fault. No need to feel guilty toward me.”
“No... no other reason.”
“Understood. Finally, why must NoName student attend Seferon Academy?”
“Reason? Never thought about it. You should think why you need to grab me.”
“Hahaha. Thinks the academy's some orphanage taking anyone. Nothing more to ask, Professor Hwang. Your turn with this overconfident kid.”
Here it comes.
The other officers wondered just how impressive her report was to act so boldly.
“Let's start with the title: Complex Analytic Structure of the Modular Group and Local Solutions for Perfectoid Curves with n ≤ 3. What's the modular group here?”
“The group of Möbius transformations generated by elements of SL(2,Z) acting on the complex upper half-plane.”
“Meaning of SL(2,Z)?”
“2x2 matrices with integer coefficients and determinant 1.”
“Oho... Then some questions on the body. Paragraph 2: when R is an integral perfectoid ring, open subschemes of Spf R are perfectoid. Can you explain?”
“May I use the blackboard?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
Her hand with the chalk filled the board relentlessly with equations.
“My god...”
“Know what that says, Mr. Heo?”
“No... total alien language.”
As teachers murmured, only Professor Hwang stroked his chin, frowning.
“Remarkable... nothing else to say. Now, name all the runes used to match this quasi-homeomorphism?”
“Three-syllable: Arhen, Gernum, Psyche. Four-syllable: Hyphrit. Five-syllable: Rahibesche, Luminestin, Estrendal, Creseiem, Dalefrey.”
“Why specifically Hyphrit?”
“Even for circle dimension shifts, a fixed timeline reference is needed. Hyphrit suits time attributes perfectly.”
“As NoName says, in specific situations, local solutions let 1st Circle magic induce 3D trajectory shifts. Can you demonstrate?”
“You want a magic show?”
NoName's lips curved up. Her eyes caught an abandoned empty PET bottle by the corridor window.
She undid the hair tie from one twintail, looped it on her middle finger, and raised her palm toward the interviewers.
"1st Circle Advanced Chant: Polar Coordinate Imprint."
⟨ Adella ⟩
The rubber band snapped from her hand in a blink, reaching the nose of the distracted supervisor.
“Gyaaaah!”
But defying physics, it grazed his hair by a hair's breadth and boomeranged back to NoName.
She tilted her head aside in perfect sync—thwack! The PET bottle behind her toppled limply with a cheerful pop.
Bam! Total disaster.
They'd been calling me a parachute kid, fraud enrollee, shoving biases from before it even started—did they think I couldn't hear from the hall?
Especially the mustached guy on the far right; his attitude grated from the start. He'd ask questions then ignore answers, later sniping at my background. Gave him a little scare to teach him a lesson—his face at the end was priceless.
On the flip, the elder on the left, seeming the real power, eyed me favorably, so they couldn't outright object.
I might get rejected.
Whether he's a school teacher or outsider, if he's affiliated, it'd be disappointing. Such a level academy would be predictable anyway.
As I pondered what to tell Professor Cheon, who'd trusted and waited for me, two girls scurried up and stood before me.
“Hi!”