Kkwaengcheol Gets Chased (5)

The Phantasms — the entities that filled the role of supernatural abilities in Codename: Baby — were not beings visible to just anyone.

Much like the spirits, fairies, and monsters of ordinary fiction, a Phantasm could only be perceived by those born with the innate gift for it — what was known as Phantasmal Aptitude.

And so this country, the Republic of Korea, had instituted something called the Phantasmal Aptitude Test for every citizen across the nation at the age of sixteen.

There was exactly one reason why sixteen, of all ages. Every human being was born with Phantasmal Aptitude to some degree, but that talent dwindled sharply at around age fifteen.

Contracting with a Phantasm in advance did nothing to help, either. If anything, the contract would either shatter outright or simply eat away at the Phantasm's power.

Hence, sixteen. The Phantasmal Aptitude Test was administered at the age by which it was confirmed that a verified talent would never vanish.

Those judged to possess Phantasmal Aptitude were, as a bonus, granted eligibility to enlist in the Hwadam Army.

Please, please let me pass…….

Ah, my heart's pounding…….

That said, possessing Phantasmal Aptitude did not automatically guarantee enlistment.

More precisely, it was easy enough to enter the ordinary Hwadam Army Military Academy, but getting into its superior institution — the Hwadam Army Special Military Academy — required meeting additional conditions.

If I can just pass the third round, I'm in the Special track — come on, Special……!

Please let me join the Rapid Response Unit, please……!

You had to sit all three rounds of the examination and score above the cutoff on the final third round. Only then could you enter the Hwadam Army Special Military Academy — and only those who passed were immediately granted dormitory housing.

That was why I absolutely had to pass today's test. Same-day dormitory placement was a privilege reserved exclusively for Special Military Academy qualifiers.

Next, prepare to enter.

For what it's worth, I'd already sat the first and second rounds before possessing this body — the original Yahui had taken them. That was possible because Phantasmal Aptitude Test results were officially delivered only to the examinee themselves.

Of course, "only to the examinee" was the official line; in practice, rumors spread through the grapevine anyway. And I doubted things were any different for Yahui.

Which led me to my current theory: the very fact that Yahui had been able to take the first two rounds was probably part of some scheme at the orphanage. Something along the lines of letting him nurture the hope of escape, letting that desperation build to its absolute peak — and then savagely snapping it in two. That sort of picture, anyway.

Frankly, nothing else made sense. The first and second rounds both required missing school to sit them, which made sneaking through undetected nearly impossible.

Move out.

Anyhow — it was now Seong Gwon's turn to enter. For the four-person group test, of all things, our teams had been split by a single tick of the draw.

I watched her stride forward toward the entrance. The cherry-red hair glanced back at me once, then she exited the indoor gymnasium that served as the temporary staging area together with her group members.

They'll probably head into the annex building outside. That's how it went in the manhwa, after all.

Unlike the first round, a written exam, or the second, a physical fitness assessment, the third round tested Phantasmal Aptitude itself. Similar to the aptitude test taken at sixteen — only far more intense.

They gave the same instruction, too — record every sight you see and every thing you encounter while passing through the test course in the notebook you've been issued…… So I'd bet there's an artificially constructed Rear World inside that annex.

If the test at sixteen merely determined whether you had Phantasmal Aptitude at all, this one's purpose was to measure its magnitude.

It went beyond whether you could perceive a Phantasm — it confirmed how much you could witness, and how far you could interact with what you saw.

And that could be measured simply by walking through the annex's interior. Considering my body was in nearly the worst possible condition, that was a genuinely fortunate detail.

Thank goodness the method is the same even though this is fifteen years before the original. If it had been different, I'd have been a little worried.

I'd managed to doze during the hour of travel, and I'd replenished what I could at the water fountain visible after arriving at the staging area for those on the knife's edge of death.

But the aftereffects of practically spending the night outdoors were considerable. My body shivered with chills and my hands and feet were still numb. Better than having no sensation at all, but not good news either.

Next group!

At least it wasn't a physical test. Some thirty minutes later, my group's turn to enter finally came.

I followed the proctors assisting with the exam toward the annex. The warmth I'd barely coaxed back into my body drained away again during the walk.

I raised my hands to my mouth and huffed warm breath into them. The issued notebook and pen got slightly in the way.

Creeeak.

The annex door opened during that time. The interior was so unnaturally saturated with light that I couldn't make out what lay within.

Please enter.

Yes, sir……!

Yes, sir!

All four of us examinees, myself included, stepped inside.

The instant we crossed the door's threshold, the glare that had been stabbing at our eyes receded with unnatural abruptness — and the scene inside slammed into my vision.

……Oh.

I blinked. I had no other choice.

There was simply far, far too much to see.

Somehow this feels even more intense than what the manhwa depicted.

The manhwa Codename: Baby had begun with the original protagonist Baek San's third-round exam. Thanks to that, I knew exactly what the test course looked like through the protagonist's eyes.

It was nothing like this.

This is…… I can barely even walk through it.

Had I not known about the Rear World and the nature of the test, I'd have doubted this was a test site at all — doubted we were even inside a building.

That was how extraordinary ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the scenery before me was.

This was less a building interior than an extravagantly landscaped corridor garden. And not just any garden — one so choked with potted plants and flowers carpeting the ground that walking through it was a struggle.

It was mentioned that Yahui's aptitude was even greater than the protagonist's, but……

I hadn't expected it to be to this degree.

I raised my notebook.

At this level, worrying about passing is off the table.

Though perhaps because there was so much to record, I found myself agonizing over where to even begin.

My stream of consciousness had spilled straight out onto the page. I stared at what I'd written.

Was it fine to scribble corrections in and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keep writing, or even if I left the questions as questions, should I avoid leaving cross-out marks?

I glared at the notebook with a rather grave expression.

Why is this taking you so long?

Huh? Oh — sorry.

One of my group members hurried me along. Apparently I'd been putting far too much effort into my descriptions.

I hastily wrapped up my notes.

Let's go.

The group member who had taken the lead without hesitation at the entrance moved ahead again. And then his foot came down, mercilessly, on the potted plants and flowers. Or — did it?

……I think he just walked through them.

The plants that group member had trampled were perfectly intact. I honestly questioned whether they'd been stepped on at all.

Because at the moment his foot met the flowers, they neither pushed aside nor bent away — they simply overlapped with his foot, exactly as they were.

For a split second, I thought I was looking at a 3D game render.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

So even among people with Phantasmal Aptitude, what you can actually see and touch differs this much……

Just to be sure, I brushed against the flowers along my own path as I walked.

They swayed aside normally. The sensation of grass against my shoes came through clearly and unmistakably.

There's supposedly nothing here, so what the hell am I supposed to be looking at and writing down……

the group member ahead muttered. The others didn't say it out loud, but their manner of walking was growing steadily more suspicious ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by the step.

All three pushed forward without hesitation, walked straight into the mud wall — and passed right through it. To them, that mud wall simply did not exist.

If I stop to write as I go, this will take forever.

Would they complain that I was falling behind? Well, that was my problem, not theirs.

My hand moved quickly. Whether or not they rushed me wasn't really something I owed them consideration for — but I did want to minimize the occasions on which I picked a fight.

Tap.

Had I walked a step forward while writing? I felt something brush against my foot.

……?

When I looked down, there was a translucent purple stone fragment at my feet. The same kind as the one in the birdcage…… but had these been on the ground too?

Tilting my head, I added only a line to the notebook and moved on. By then my feet had already reached the arched doorway in the mud wall.

Swish.

I rested my hand against the frame of the arch, almost leaning on it. The texture of the mud wall was astonishingly vivid. From the grass growing up its surface, drops of dew fell now and then, wetting the bridge of my nose and the crown of my head.

They're already all the way over there.

Seeing and touching nothing themselves, they seemed to have taken the shortest route. Of course, if I wanted to follow, I'd have to clamber over a fountain, a statue, and shrub hedges that came up to my chest.

There was no clause saying all four of us had to exit together, simultaneously, so it shouldn't matter.

If I skipped descriptions to chase after them, I'd lose points — and I certainly couldn't afford that.

Leaving the others to go ahead, I turned my head carefully, trying to take in the garden's overall layout.

And then, quite suddenly, a strange feeling pinned my gaze in place. All I could see in that direction were shrubs and the columns of a corridor — and yet somehow, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

It felt as though something was there. I stared at that spot, unblinking and thorough.

Hey, you! Why aren't you coming? Are you not leaving? Standing your ground here won't get you anywhere.

One of the group members ahead called back to me. Whether they were standing overlapping with objects or not, their figures didn't register in my field of view at all. A thoroughly uncanny sensation.

……Sorry, go on ahead. This'll take me a while.

What?

From where I'm standing, I've got quite a bit to write down.

There's nothing there. What is there to write?

Well. Even looking at the same thing, everyone's perception differs, after all.

I hated stirring up friction. I waved my hand with an awkward, back-and-forth smile. A few scornful huffs of laughter — heh — drifted back to me.

Playing at being an artist won't get you a passing grade.

Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind.

One of the group members tossed off the blunt remark and walked off. I couldn't see them, but I could hear their footsteps receding, so I knew they'd gone.

The moment their footsteps faded, I buried myself in the notebook again. If I wanted to record everything, I had to keep that pen moving.

Tap.

But when I took a step forward, once again something touched my shoe.

My head turned down of its own accord. The purple stone fragment I'd seen earlier — and the conch shell from the table — were, for some reason, lying at my feet again.

That's odd.

I knew it for certain, because I'd checked. Up until moments ago, there had been no purple stone fragment or conch shell on the ground here.

My hand picked both of them up. When I took hold of the stone, I had the feeling of a faint light flickering somewhere inside it; when I lifted the conch, I heard the ghostly echo of a shell horn.

Given that this place, however artificially constructed, was unmistakably the Rear World, the odds that this was mere illusion were low.

So would these count as Phantasms, then?

Phantasms didn't only take living forms. Calling them object-type Phantasms more or less covered it.

I turned the stone fragment and conch over in my hands, examining them from every angle.

Considering what I'd read in the manhwa and its fanbook, the purple stone was almost certainly a Ghost-Alerting Stone. The conch shell…… I wasn't certain, but it looked like a Highmountain Snail-Bee.

Once you're finished examining them, please set them back down on the ground.

A voice that belonged to neither me nor my group members cut in.

My gaze snapped back — reflexively — toward the direction where I'd felt that vague wrongness earlier. Not because I'd located the sound.

Well, that influenced it somewhat too…… but before my ears could judge anything, instinct had already told me it would be there.

Take them outside, and you fail.

Correct answer.

A person stepped straight out of the spot where I'd sensed that strange feeling moments ago. The surrounding scenery warped slightly, and someone strode out as if they'd been hiding there all along.

……Examiner, sir?

Yes.

Well, whatever had been lurking there, all that mattered was that it wasn't a Phantasm or something hostile.

The instant I confirmed the man was exam personnel, I set the conch and stone fragment down.

Vmmm.

Just before I released them, the two objects vibrated as though lodging a complaint. I briefly agonized over whether that belonged in the notebook too.

Um — Examiner, sir.

Is there a problem.

Less a problem than something I'm curious about……

Having first explained the vibration the two objects had just shown, I then pointed to the pale, wispy haze that hovered around the examiner.

Should I write that down too?

The examiner looked at me with slightly startled eyes. Since nothing like this had happened in the manhwa, I couldn't read the reaction with any precision. I could only guess it wasn't a bad sign.

Write it down.

Yes, sir.

At this point, I figured my place in the Special Military Academy was all but confirmed. The protagonist had been assigned there even at a lower level than this.

My body turned back toward the direction it had been advancing, buoyed by news heavy enough to lighten my leaden limbs. Tap. The moment I lifted my foot, another faint impact registered — this time against my shin.

Only my head swiveled back over my shoulder.

Good grief.

I looked back, letting the examiner's strangled shock wash past as background noise.

There stood a single sword. It had been driven shallowly into the ground, and unable to bear its own weight, its body had begun to tilt — in the process, the guard seemed to have knocked against my shin.

I added that to the notebook as well. The proctor watched me with an expression beyond description.

Uh, sir — stepping on these things would be bad, right.

……As long as it isn't deliberate.

By the time my walk reached its latter half, the number of object-type Phantasms trailing in my wake had swelled to several dozen.

With every single step, they tapped and prodded at my body as if begging to be noticed, and there wasn't a stretch below my belt that didn't prickle. I genuinely wondered whether this was right.

But it's almost over now, so……

I followed where the stone path led. The examiner let out a hm? of a sound right around the time I drew near the arched doorway that connected out to the garden's edge.

Wait — why are you going that way?

Sorry?

What was that supposed to mean? Isn't this the path?

Isn't this the way out?

I pointed at the arched doorway leading beyond the garden. Just as when we'd entered the test site, light pouring in from outside was unusually dense, making the far side impossible to see.

Wait, step back this insta—

Or was it not the way out after all? The examiner lunged to grab me in alarm. I registered the ominousness too and yanked my foot back in haste — but it was already too late.

Something coiled around my forearm. The ambush was so abrupt that there was no reacting, no resisting.

Why are you over there?

Come here.

Before the sensation of having heard some voice could even reach my brain, I was dragged bodily toward and through the arched doorway.

It felt exactly like having my genre forcibly changed to Hap□y Poin□.