Stripped of Garments, Mourning in White (1)
"Alright, everyone, eyes front. Focus up."
Tuesday—my second one since enrolling.
Instructor Seo Ha-shin clapped his hands, his panda eye-patch firmly in place. Our location was, naturally, the platoon room in the Grand Hall, where morning formation took place.
"First, let me explain the situation regarding our vacancies."
Counting everyone in this room—even including the instructor and the newly assigned assistant instructor—there were only seventeen of us. Three spots stood empty.
"Due to the unfortunate incident that took place recently, the cadets in question have been expelled. I trust none of you will give me cause for more empty seats."
Huh…… The group that had tried to jump me in the dead of night had definitely included no one from the 1st Platoon.
I pieced together the instructor's words with what I'd heard from the instructors who'd come to recruit me yesterday, and only one answer remained. Those three had been in bed with the people who'd smuggled out the Phantasm.
They had a smooth road ahead of them. They didn't have to go this far.
What could possibly have been so urgent that they torched everything for it?
While pitying them in one corner of my mind, I listened dutifully as the instructor fired off the scoldings, warnings, and admonitions that followed any incident like a rapid-fire barrage.
"Also, with our numbers reduced, we will be temporarily restructuring the fireteam assignments."
Instructor Seo Ha-shin dragged over the whiteboard that had been shoved into the corner, wrote out Fireteam 1 and Fireteam 2, then lined up the existing members beneath each heading.
"We're dissolving Fireteam 3 and redistributing its members into Fireteams 1 and 2. Unless the 1st Platoon receives replacements, this arrangement will stand—so adapt, and adapt well."
The name added to our fireteam was Yeo Woo-jung. At the instructor's gesture, we reshuffled our seating.
"Cadet Pyo Do-seok."
"Yes, sir."
Just when I thought he was done, the instructor singled out Pyo Do-seok.
"I've noticed you spending a great deal of time with the expelled cadets. I consider it fortunate you weren't implicated. From now on, choose your friends more carefully."
"Yes, sir."
Was I being paranoid, or did that sound like a thinly veiled jab? Not that I felt particularly sorry for Pyo Do-seok, so it hardly mattered.
I simply filed it away as the instructor not liking him much either. What on earth had he done to get on his homeroom instructor's bad side by week two?
"You all know this already, but today marks the opening of club registration. By Friday, decide which club you're joining and submit your application to the assistant instructors. They will relay the list to me by Friday afternoon, before class."
"Yes, sir."
"That concludes the announcements. Study hard."
With his usual wave, the instructor left alongside the assistant instructor. And that was that.
We dug our textbooks out of our cabinets and prepared for the morning classes.
"I look forward to serving with you all. Yeo Woo-jung here."
And so we exchanged introductions with our new fireteam member.
"And you're…… Yahui, was it?"
"Huh? Yeah, that's me."
He was a cadet with striking platinum-blond hair and long, narrow eyes. He wore a generally clean short cut, but his bangs and side hair hung long enough to hide his ears.
"I've been quite curious about you, actually. I heard you were caught up in this whole affair, so I'm relieved to see you looking well. I look forward to working with you."
"Uh, yeah. Likewise."
Another distinctive trait—his gestures and speech were remarkably soft and gentle for a guy.
His already narrow eyes folded into his smile until his pupils were practically invisible.
"And everyone else as well—pleasure to meet you."
"Oh, yeah! You too!"
"Mm."
"Well, well, the pleasure's mine. Hahaha."
The overall effect was something you'd call a hidden-master smile…… which was why the existing members, myself included, received his greeting with a somewhat lukewarm air.
Would Yeo Woo-jung actually turn out to be a good friend? There was no way of knowing until we'd been through something together.
"Hey. Which club are you going for?"
By the time we'd scraped through afternoon classes, Seong Gwon tugged lightly at my sleeve and asked. The height difference meant my head tilted down toward her of its own accord.
"Me? Probably…… either the Martial Arts Club or the Phantasm Research Society."
The instructors who'd invaded my hospital room had run the whole gamut of club pitches, but only a handful seemed genuinely useful.
The general fitness clubs would build endurance but had zero practical application, while the academic societies were all research and no movement—you'd never actually do anything in them.
"Practical as ever."
"Well, if I'm going to pick one, I'd rather it be something that pays off when I commission."
It wasn't that I had no romantic notions about the band club or the book club. But those were closer to hobbies than anything that would materially help a military career.
This wasn't some ordinary army—this was the Hwadam Army, where you fought with your life on the line. I wanted to learn as much as I possibly could while I was still a student.
The Rear World Recon Unit and the Dimension Gate Assault Unit would be ideal, but they only accept third-years and up.
Fortunately, the Hwadam Military Academy was remarkably lax about switching or leaving clubs. As long as you belonged to at least one, you could change your affiliation as often as you liked.
Dual membership was even possible, provided you got the sign-off from the club's supervising instructor.
"Your arm—is it going to hold up?"
"Of course. It healed ages ago."
"Then you're fine. You'll do well."
"Thanks."
Which meant the best move was simply choosing the best option available to me right now. I grinned.
"What about you, Gwon?"
"The Gardening Club or the Marksmanship Club."
"Nice. Suits you."
Come to think of it, one of the manga's bonus slice-of-life panels had shown Seong Gwon tending a vegetable garden.
Maybe that hobby of hers went all the way back to her cadet days.
"What are you two whispering about?!"
Kim To-eun barrelled into the conversation. There was nothing to hide, so I explained it all good-naturedly.
The topic on everyone's mind—clubs—started drawing the others in, one by one.
"I'm joining the band club!"
"I intend to go with the book club."
Kim To-eun's choice surprised me a little at first, then struck me as a perfect fit—and Sa Seo-yeon's was so on-the-nose I couldn't imagine her anywhere else.
It fit her so well that even Yeo Woo-jung, fresh off the boat, nodded along immediately.
"I'm torn between the cooking side of things."
"Ohh…… if you make something tasty, share."
For a brief moment I wondered, is it safe to let a guy who handles insect Phantasms anywhere near food? But voicing that thought would earn me a headlock from Lee Hoe-uk, so I just cheered him on with unlimited hype instead.
"It's only Tuesday and everyone's already decided. Impressive."
That was when Yeo Woo-jung chuckled and held us up for admiration.
It was a compliment delivered with a smile, yet somehow it refused to land as one—that was its own talent. Pyo Do-seok was at least openly hostile about it; Yeo Woo-jung wasn't even that.
"Uh…… you're still deciding, huh?"
At Kim To-eun's question, Yeo Woo-jung's narrow eyes folded unusually long.
"Well, there are simply so many clubs to choose from."
"So you haven't thought about it at all?"
"Fortunately, that isn't the case. I do so love playing with gossip and truth alike."
Yes. That expression. That expression was the problem.
"I may, perhaps, end up in the newspaper club."
As I recalled the fact that all three expelled cadets from the 1st Platoon had belonged to Fireteam 3, an uneasy feeling crept over me for no good reason.
"It's here? The Phantasm Research Society clubroom?"
"Yep. This is it."
Club activities generally took place in the club building.
That said, clubs like the athletics and book clubs tended to rent out more suitable buildings elsewhere instead.
"Oh, it's way closer to the entrance than I expected."
"And you're the one who couldn't find it."
"No, seriously, it wasn't there……"
The Phantasm Research Society fell into that same category.
Studying Phantasms meant, by definition, needing Phantasms to study. And if you had Phantasms, you needed people to manage and supervise them.
So the Phantasm Research Society's clubroom wasn't in the club building at all—the club building was simply too far from the Phantasm Management Zone.
Their clubroom, incredibly enough, was in the Otherworldly Sciences Building—the same building as our lecture halls.
"Huh. There's barely anyone here, though. First-years barely get any exposure to Phantasms, so I figured this would be a pretty popular club."
"Probably because of what happened on Friday."
"If one incident scares people off, maybe they shouldn't have come to the Hwadam Army in the first place……"
Anyway, Pyo Do-hyeok and I had come to the Phantasm Research Society together after leaving everyone else in the dust. The silent corridor belonged to the two of us alone.
Knock knock.
"Hm? Yeah?"
"What? Huh?"
The instant my knuckles touched the door, absolute chaos erupted inside. For a moment I genuinely wondered if I'd knocked on the wrong door.
Phantasm Research Society clubroom. That's right, isn't it?
I tilted my head and reread the sign to be sure. No—we were in the right place.
Knock knock knock knock.
"WaaAAAH!"
"Th-that's definitely knocking!"
"Hey! Someone messed up!"
"Don't tell me it's the instructor?!"
Was there really any reason to descend into this much pandemonium just because someone knocked? Or had I committed some taboo by knocking at all?
"Why aren't you opening it?"
"No, they're panicking in there. I don't think we should open it."
"What?"
"Huh?"
Pyo Do-hyeok and I looked at each other. Our conversation had crossed wires again—I was sure of it. Before that instinct could even settle, his brow creased almost imperceptibly.
"……You can hear what's going on inside?"
"You can't?"
"This room has top-grade soundproofing. How could you possibly hear anything?"
Uh…… wait.
Sliiide.
"Wh-who is it……"
The sliding door to the clubroom opened. Through the narrow gap, a single person peeked their eyes out at us.
"We're, uh, here for the Phantasm Research Society orientation."
"……First-years?"
"Yes, sir."
I showed them the name tag stitched onto my uniform. The tags were color-coded by year, so the color alone was proof enough that I was a first-year.
"How—how did you?"
"Sorry?"
"No, I mean, how did a first-year get through the maze—"
"Cadet Yahui?"
And then a familiar voice cut into the exchange. I turned my head. There stood the instructor who'd desperately pitched me on joining the Phantasm Research Society.
My hand snapped up in a salute on reflex.
"Officer Cadet #196."
"No, how on earth did you get here? Did the Twin Dragon Blades do it? No, surely not—that grade isn't someVersatile pass, but still……?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
Truly, none of this made any sense.
Worried I'd missed something, I turned the words over slowly in my head. First-year. How. Maze. Maze?
"Could it be that you installed a Phantasm as some kind of gimmick on the way here, sir?"
Pyo Do-hyeok, evidently walking the same logical path as me, asked the question. The club instructor nodded like a man in a trance.
"In order to convey the true essence of the Phantasm Research Society, we did set up a single manifestation-type Phantasm, you see……"
"Is that manifestation-type Phantasm of the variety that interferes with finding one's way, sir?"
This time it was my question. Thanks to the manga and fan book, I had a rough idea what manifestation-types actually did.
Simply put, manifestation-types were Phantasms that deployed fields or field effects. Forming a maze, creating zones of endless rain, summoning miscellaneous terrain features—things along those lines.
"That's correct, yes."
"……So it wasn't my fault!"
The instant the instructor's answer landed, the first emotion to seize me was indignation. At my outburst, Pyo Do-hyeok, the instructor, and the senior who'd been peeking out from the door all turned to stare.
"Hey, retract the 'no sense of direction' remark! I told you it wasn't my fault!"
"You—you're saying that now?!"
"Hold on. Are you certain you didn't find the room yourself?"
"No, sir. I didn't find it."
This was exactly why I hadn't made a fuss about "it's right by the entrance," of all things.
After a full five minutes of bouncing between floors, I had thrown my hands up in surrender. The one who'd actually tracked down the clubroom was Pyo Do-hyeok.
"He found it."
My finger pointed at Pyo Do-hyeok, and a light flickered to life in the instructor's eyes.
"……How lost were you, exactly?"
"Sorry?"
"How many minutes did it take you to find it?"
"……I found it the moment we came down to the first floor."
"Good grief!"
"Whoa. Insane."
At Pyo Do-hyeok's answer, the instructor clutched his head, and the senior flung the door wide open in sheer astonishment. Behind him, more seniors were frozen in meerkat poses, craning their necks to see.
"Talent! We've got talent walking in!!"
"What brings such a precious soul to this humble abode?!"
"Manifestation-type—manifestation-type aptitude! We must test his manifestation-type aptitude this instant, Instructor!!"
"Should we recall the Phantasm right now?!"
"……!?"
After that it was just…… bedlam, plain and simple. It was bedlam of such magnitude that the very instructor who'd once danced courtship for my benefit was now treating me as background furniture.
"Of course! We recall it and head straight for the Management Zone!"
"Instructor! He's a first-year! He has to submit his application first!"
"Damn it all! Why did you have to be a first-year, of all things!!"
Then again, I wasn't the one getting dragged off, so from a spectator's standpoint, it was simply entertaining.
"Hey—Yahui! H-help me……!"
"Oh, so now you use my name? Sorry, though. Even I can't help you with this one. Good luck."
"@#$@%&$!!"
And that was how Pyo Do-hyeok got hauled away.
"Hmmm. So what am I supposed to do now?"
Needless to say, I'd been left behind alone.
No—choosing to be left behind, rather. I could have followed if I'd wanted to; I just didn't see the point.
Even if I tagged along now, I'd never get to make my actual pitch. So why bother?
I wasn't planning on making the Phantasm Research Society my main club. The goal was simply a bit of support for handling the Twin Dragon Blades.
And that could wait. With every eye in the room glued to Pyo Do-hyeok, deferring the matter for later was far more efficient than forcing my way in.
"Which leaves exactly one option, doesn't it."
So I left the Phantasm Research Society clubroom behind me.
"The Martial Arts Club it is."
The club where, by my assessment, I stood to gain the most right now.
My feet carried me briskly toward it.
❝Oh. You actually came?❞
"……I'm terribly sorry, but may I leave and come back later?"
❝You know what they say—no takebacks. Get in here.❞
For the record, the Martial Arts Club's clubroom…… or "activity space," I suppose? Anyway, that place was set up in the Training Zone.
And standing in the Training Zone with its gates flung open was the instructor in charge of both the Live Combat curriculum and the Martial Arts Club—a woman whose entire body had been pumped full of Phantasm: Instructor Shim Jae-gyeong.
❝The Martial Arts Club's activities are simple.❞
BOOM!
Instructor Shim Jae-gyeong wrenched free the massive piledriver that had been embedded in the ground. The sheer weight of it was evident from the crater it left cracking apart behind.
❝You'll learn close-quarters combat that goes properly beyond the martial techniques you're picking up in your general coursework. We're talking about fighting with firearms completely stripped away—combat premised from the start on cold steel and nothing else.❞
Thud. The enormous piledriver came to rest on the instructor's broad shoulder.
Overall, her appearance evoked a dokkaebi—or rather, an oni from the Japanese tradition. One of those beings that harm and devour humans, decidedly unfriendly to mankind.
❝Considering how little weight close-quarters engagement carries in the modern battlespace, you could reasonably call all of this a meaningless exercise. And yet the Martial Arts Club receives the most wholehearted support of any club in this entire academy. So why do you suppose that is?❞
I swallowed hard at the sight of her. It wasn't that I didn't know the answer—it was the pressure Instructor Shim Jae-gyeong was radiating directly at me that sealed my lips shut.
The corners of that white-haired face split upward, stretching all the way to her ears.
❝You can give me your answer after we've gone one round. Get in here, chick!❞
Ah. So this is karma coming back around for abandoning Pyo Do-hyeok.
I resolved to accept my karma with dignity.