Chapter 5
"Kyaaak!?"
About two seconds after tossing the knife upward. For something that happened in a flash like that, the person who screamed upon realizing the blade might actually nick my head had some seriously quick wits. Kim Yujeong sunbae, standing next to me, let out a shriek too. People like that would probably have a high survival rate even if they suddenly got dropped into another world, right? The ones who seemed even more likely to survive were those who clearly grasped the danger of the blade potentially embedding in my head, got startled, but didn't scream—trusting my claim of it being a magic trick, they just kept their eyes glued to it until the end. Staying calm in any situation is a huge asset for survival.
I had these random thoughts as, right before the blade touched my head, I raised my right hand and casually pinched the knife's edge between my thumb and index finger.
I could deflect a barrage of poison arrows blindfolded, so something this simple was easier than catching a kerong lying down. Kerongs were these cute little critters overflowing in Astasia, classified as monsters but so slow-moving it was ridiculous—turtles would get pissed off at how leisurely they were by comparison.
Luckily, only a few people had closed or covered their eyes when the knife fell; most had screamed or gasped in shock but watched closely enough to see I was unharmed, letting out sighs of relief and gasps of awe.
For a clean finish, I held up the hand gripping the knife to emphasize it, then made a wrapping motion with my left hand—swapping the pen I'd tucked into my sleeve for the knife's position.
Not bad for a talent show stunt, if I do say so myself.
"Thank you."
I gave a slight bow in greeting, but got no reaction, so I looked up at the crowd again. Slowly, cheers and applause started pouring in. Among all the acts so far, it was the biggest response since Kim Yujeong sunbae's. Technically, what I did was more circus stunt than magic, but I couldn't top that sunbae's massive popularity anyway. Still, the delayed reaction compared to others suggested everyone was pretty shocked.
The girl in the front row, Shin Chaewon—my classmate—was still trembling slightly in her hands and lips.
Before heading back to my seat, I stepped toward Kim Yujeong sunbae to return the pen, bowing my head as I offered it.
"Thank you. Worked great."
"Ah! T-thank you... That was really amazing!"
Someone who'd been so smooth up until then was stuttering? Guess even this sunbae was pretty rattled... A twinge of guilt started creeping in.
Think about those famous magic shows on TV—they're loaded with all sorts of dangerous-looking gimmicks. For an underwater escape, there's a tank full of piranhas set to open after a timer. For a box escape, massive blades inch closer until they pierce right through. Everyone who's watched knows the weight of "life-risking magic" and the catharsis when it succeeds.
And of course, those tricks always have some final safety measure. No amount of practice eliminates freak accidents entirely—though they never mention the safeguards to maximize the impact, naturally.
Me? After returning to Earth, I vowed to live a peaceful life, so I never do anything risky, no matter what. Catching a knife on a fixed trajectory without looking? I could do it 100—no, 1,000 times without a single failure. Even if it somehow hit my head (impossible as that is), since it wasn't infused with mana or killing intent, it wouldn't leave so much as a scratch.
That line of thinking made me realize something. I was veering a bit from normalcy right now.
Back in our party, even Sharl and Alice—who weren't melee fighters—could've caught a thrown knife by the blade. In Astasia, blunt blades like that would've snapped on impact with our bodies if uninfused with mana. My sense of "normal" was all twisted.
TV magic shows feature pros, and knowing it's broadcast means viewers subconsciously assume safety. But a random 20-year-old nursing freshman suddenly pulling a stunt where a blade drops toward his head without even looking? Of course they'd freak out.
Sorry for startling you all so much...
I'd thought nothing much had changed since returning, but that notion had been proven wrong multiple times already. From now on, I had to stick to Earth's common sense. Keep going like this, and I'd get labeled a total psycho—no surprise there. Getting called a chuunibyou was just teasing material, no big deal. But seen as actually dangerous? Peaceful life over.
As I returned to my seat, Kim Junwoo stared at me with an indescribable look in his eyes. Another thing to explain later, but for now, I ignored it—time to watch the others' intros. I didn't mind, but plenty of people hate it if you're not paying attention during theirs.
"Next up, Shin Chaewon hoobaenim? Come on up!"
"Yes."
Ga-na-da-ra-ma-ba-sa. Her turn right after mine, huh. The nice-looking girl I'd chatted with briefly in front of the building earlier.
"Nice to meet you all. I'm Shin Chaewon, class of '23."
Clap clap clap. I applauded a bit more enthusiastically than before. Her reserved speech suggested she wasn't outgoing, so it was partly encouragement—and yeah, we'd spoken a tiny bit.
Going to Astasia didn't turn me into a social butterfly, but it sure taught me the value of connections. Wonder how everyone's doing. Feels like forever since we parted, and I miss 'em already.
"Truth be told, the guy before me did something so incredible, I have no idea what to do now..."
Light laughter rippled through the lecture hall. Sorry, Shin Chaewon classmate.
Maybe I'd made it even tougher than following Kim Yujeong sunbae.
"So, guess you'll have to take some responsibility."
I felt bad, but not that bad. Curse my assumption she wasn't outgoing. As an asocial type myself, I knew ad-libbing like that in front of a crowd took serious social skills.
And between new acquaintances, wasn't "take responsibility" a tad inappropriate? Sure enough, "Ooooh~" echoed from spots around the room. With this hyped crowd, they weren't missing juicy bait like that.
As eyes flicked my way, I pulled an awkwardly embarrassed face.
"It's not a big deal—just help me out a little."
If it wasn't important, why not ask Kim Yujeong sunbae standing right there? But I lacked the guts to say it, and the justification compared to her request. Couldn't handle the awkward vibe if rejected anyway.
I lightly ignored Kim Junwoo's gaze—now laced with all sorts of negative vibes—and quietly stood, heading to the front.
Shin Chaewon stared at me with wide eyes. I'd thought she was nice, but... nice people don't force you in front of a crowd like this. Dropping the "nim" honorific in my head.
"I noticed earlier you seem really athletic."
"Not bad, I guess."
Three years ago standards, that was spot-on. She'd hear "you're pretty good" at any sport, but that was the ceiling.
"Nothing tough—just give me a slight lift when I jump. Won't take much strength."
No way, but... she was from PE? I could kinda guess what was coming, and for a normal person, wasn't that super hard? You'd need gymnastics club experience or something.
She stepped up, hung her jacket on the podium, and spread her arms wide. Her stance screamed gymnastics background. And yeah, this meant grabbing under the arms, right? For a second, I wondered if Earth had changed while I was gone. Korea was the land of no sitting together past seven, wasn't it? Even if she asked first, was casual guy-girl contact this okay? Or do college kids just roll like that?
With justification, it'd be fine to grab—but as a married man touching another woman? Bad manners. My killing intent was way too dangerous for humans, so instead, I wove a dense thread of pure mana, wrapping it about 2cm thick around my hand before supporting her underarms.
This way, my hand never actually touched, but it handled the physics fine. To onlookers, it just looked like I was holding her—no biggie.
She wouldn't show off if she wasn't confident, so no worries. Worst case, I'd catch her—zero risk. But unaware of that, the crowd tensed up again after my act.
"One, two, three!"
I counted down and gave the mana clump a gentle flick. Perfect power control—and her reflexes were sharp; she nailed a full aerial turn and landed cleanly.
Do college kids these days all know how to do backflips or whatever? Cheers and applause rained down. Everyone here had just witnessed two rare spectacles back-to-back.
A bit more time passed like that. The nursing freshmen intros and talent show wrapped up successfully, and Kim Yujeong sunbae grabbed the mic again.
"Wow, this freshie event talent show felt like a full circus! Great job, everyone—and you're probably starving, so let's grab food. Seniors got it all, of course!"
Not the end, huh. If anything, this was just the real start.