The Jealousy System Activates—My First Victim Was Yoo Arin
I sat with my legs crossed on the bed and stared fixedly at the status window’s special trait section.
[Special Trait: Envy (시기)]
[Jealous of those stronger than you and turn that envy into power. When you express that feeling out loud, jealousy becomes strength.]
[Jealousy Points 10 → Increase any one stat by 1 point]
“......”
I read it again. Three times in a row.
Jealous of others and become stronger?
Below the trait, a list of skills continued to scroll.
[Owned Skills]
[Flawspotting Lv.1 (Passive): The flaws and weaknesses of superior opponents appear automatically. The more genuine the jealousy, the clearer they become.]
[Backstabbing Lv.1: When you disparage a target to a third party in their absence, gain +1 Jealousy Point.]
[Face-to-Face Harsh Criticism Lv.1: When you criticize a target in their presence with an audience, gain +5 to +10 Jealousy Points (scales with the size of the crowd).]
[Putting Others Down Lv.1 (Active): While disparaging a target and declaring “I am better,” double Strength and Agility for 5 minutes.]
The moment I read the skill names, I automatically pressed two fingers to my forehead.
Backstabbing, Face-to-Face Harsh Criticism, Putting Others Down.
This wasn’t some elementary-to-middle-school bully-training simulation.
“......No, still...”
There was a growth path. The fact that the System had attached itself to an F-rank extra was already a miracle.
What if the name sounded a little flashy? After all, it was a special trait reserved for transmigrators.
Earn points, raise stats, raise mana ranks, raise survival probability. How simple and beautiful was this structure?
I decided to test it right away.
I scanned the room to confirm no one was around, then faced the empty wall directly opposite and spoke seriously.
“Ah... I’m jealous. Yoo Arin. The genius of the swordsmanship noble family, the Yoo Clan. I’m really jealous. I’m seething with envy.”
I pulled out the name of the most popular character from the original early chapters—the number-one student in the first year, direct descendant of the Yoo Clan, a walking embodiment of talent itself.
Then I checked the status window.
[Jealousy Points: 0]
“......I’m jealous. I’m actually so jealous it makes me angry. I’m F-rank, but she had everything from the moment she was born. Unfair. The world is wrong.”
[Jealousy Points: 0]
Not a single twitch.
I kept ranting at the empty wall until my face gradually cooled, then reread the skill descriptions.
‘When you disparage a target to a third party in their absence...’
To a third party.
......The audience was necessary. Monologue was useless; no matter how much you envied in your head, it didn’t count.
You had to say it out loud where someone could hear.
And there was also the clause “the more genuine the jealousy.”
The words I’d just spoken had probably been fake emotionally before even reaching the audience problem. How could I genuinely envy a character I’d never even seen?
In short:
I had to feel genuine pain in my stomach, and I had to blurt that pain out in front of others.
“......”
I quietly pulled the blanket over my head.
I designed this trait. I was an idiot.
***
The time to hide under the blanket was short.
Cadets had a strict schedule. The morning session was a combined practical exercise for all first-years.
The training ground was enormous—large enough to fit two soccer fields. An indoor facility big enough for two fields and packed with first-year cadets. At the front, a line of impact measurement devices stood ready.
“Today is basic impact measurement. Anyone who fakes it will be easy for me to spot.”
A woman with her arms crossed spoke from the podium.
Instructor Han Jiwon. My homeroom teacher.
From the memories carved into my body, she was an A-rank active hunter who caught cadets hiding things like a ghost. She had a fearsome reputation.
I naturally slipped into the corner near the wall at the back of the cadet group, where I was least visible.
That was the basic etiquette of an extra.
Especially in front of such an instructor. My life savings had been nonexistent to begin with.
“Yoo Arin. Show us.”
The training ground seemed to hold its breath at the instructor’s call.
A girl stepped forward from the front row.
Straight posture, untroubled gait. The way she held her neck made the surrounding air feel tidied up.
Yoo Arin.
The same Yoo Arin I had just sold my name to on the empty wall.
She stood in front of the measurement device, neck held high.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Three consecutive strikes. The heavy impact sounds rang all the way to the back of the training ground, and low gasps rose from the cadets checking the numbers on the screen.
“More than three times the first-year average,” someone whispered from the next row.
“That’s a person...”
“Even the Yoo Clan direct descendant is something else.”
I crouched in the corner and watched.
And my chest hurt terribly.
This time it wasn’t forced. I didn’t need to squeeze out any emotion. It just twisted inside naturally, very naturally.
We were both eighteen. She was clapping in the spotlight, while I was here worrying about dying in two years.
She had been born into the bloodline of a swordsmanship noble family, while I had opened my eyes to an F-rank mana level.
Envious.
Envious enough to hurt.
In an instant, my vision sharpened.
Yoo Arin’s movements became unnaturally clear. The rise of her shoulders when she lifted her neck, the firm stomp of her foot on the ground, and then...
The third strike.
Just before the sword hilt fell, her left heel rose a fraction.
At that exact moment, the strength in her lower body leaked away, and her upper body forced it back up.
The first two strikes had been perfect; only the third lost half its power.
A flaw hidden behind overwhelming numbers that no one saw. But to my eyes, it was as obvious as if it had been highlighted with a highlighter.
‘......So this is flawspotting.’
And I immediately recalled the skill description.
Face-to-Face Harsh Criticism. When you criticize a target in their presence with an audience, gain +5 to +10 Jealousy Points.
At this moment, every condition was perfectly met. Genuine envy. An overflowing audience. The target herself right in front of me on a perfect public stage.
Ten points for one stat point. That one stat point was worth my life in two years.
Ah, I didn’t want to.
I really, really didn’t want to. I just wanted to live quietly.
I had never once wanted to become the type of person who picked a fight with a genius who earned applause from his classmates.
But the points were there. My life was on the line.
Yoo Arin finished her last strike, lowered her neck, and applause erupted.
As the clapping gradually died down and a brief silence fell over the training ground, I spoke up.
“The left heel rose on the third strike.”
My voice carried farther than I expected. Heads turned in the rows beside me.
I couldn’t stop. If I hesitated here, I’d just be the weird guy.
I forced a straight face, narrowed my eyes, and continued.
“Because the heel rose, strength leaked out, and she forced it back with her shoulders. The first two strikes were a waste.”
The moment the words left my mouth, fear hit like a bell.
‘Have I lost my mind? What did I just say? To a Yoo Clan direct descendant? In front of my classmates? A waste? Where the hell did that rude tone come from!’
Inside, I screamed, but I didn’t change my expression.
No, I couldn’t. My face had frozen solid from the humiliation.
Silence.
Every eye in the training ground turned to me.
Even Yoo Arin in front of the device looked up with wide eyes.
At the end of my vision, Instructor Han Jiwon on the podium slowly turned her head.
[Skill ‘Face-to-Face Harsh Criticism’ activated! Criticized a genius on a public stage!]
[Jealousy Points +7]
It had worked. It had come through.
Before all those stares could lock onto me completely, I stood up from my seat.
“......I need the bathroom.”
I muttered it casually as if to no one in particular and walked toward the training ground entrance with as natural a gait as I could manage.
The stares stabbing at my back felt like arrows. I desperately suppressed the urge to quicken my steps.
Casually. Walk casually. If I ran, I’d lose.
***
In the shade behind the training ground building, I slid down the wall and sat down. My heart was still pounding like crazy.
“Hah... hah...”
I opened the status window.
[Jealousy Points: 7]
Seven.
I had never found the number seven this heavy. Seven out of ten for a single stat point.
It felt like collateral on a loan taken out against my entire social life.
Now what? The rumor would spread by now. “The crazy F-rank extra who started a fight with Yoo Arin.”
From today on, my school life was over. The plan to quietly fade away had collapsed at the very first class.
Thud. Thud.
Impact sounds came from the direction of the training ground. The same rhythm as before. Yoo Arin’s strikes.
And the third.
Thud——!
“......?”
The sound was different.
Last time, only the third strike had been subtly lighter. The number had been high, but there was an odd echo to the sound.
But the strike I heard now was even heavier than the first two.
She had planted her heel. Exactly as I said, in one clean movement.
A much louder exclamation came from deeper inside the training ground than before, carried over the wall.
Someone shouted from inside, “What number is that? A new record?”
“......”
I leaned my head against the wall in the shade.
She really was a genius. The moment she heard her flaw, she fixed it immediately. That was true genius.
My chest hurt again. This time even more than before.
Then a sinister thought crossed my mind.
If she fixed it that perfectly, what exactly did my stupid one sentence become?
Not the ranting of a crazy person, but someone who had seen a flaw no one else could see in a single glance. What was that kind of...?
No. Don’t think about it. It probably wasn’t. Everyone would forget it in a second.
I stared at the 7 flashing on the status window and counted on my fingers.
Ten points for one stat point. To raise mana rank from F to E, I needed 12 mana stat points. Another twenty to go from E to D.
How many thousands of points would I need to reach a survivable rank, and how many times would I have to repeat a stunt like today——
‘Two years. To survive... it seems I’ll have to do that kind of thing at least several hundred times more.’