Rumi

Having Nam Da-eun — first in practicals — in the same group was a pretty decent break, though I had a feeling they'd only stuck her with us because of me and that deadweight Lee Byung-hoon.

They'd told us to gather by group, so I headed over to where Group 7 was forming.

"No way, for real? I'm from there too."

"Let's do well this semester. I fight up close, so…"

The room was a restless shuffle of people working their new teammates, laying down the first thin layers of rapport. We'd be stuck with these people for at least a semester. The more comfortable you got, the more you could trust someone at your back.

"Wow, Lady Nam Da-eun — I'd only ever heard the rumors. What an honor to be placed in the same group."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Ah — I forgot to introduce myself. I happen to be the eldest son of a storied warrior guild, and…"

So why was our group like this?

From the moment the groups were set, the guy named Lee Byung-hoon had been running his mouth without a pause — and he wasn't even glancing at me or Rumi. Every word was aimed straight at Nam Da-eun.

"Alright, that's it for today's class. As I said earlier, your first assignment is to have a meal with your group and bring back a photo. A professional hunter has to be able to fall in sync with people they've only just met."

I wasn't sure what eating and taking pictures had to do with any of that, but an assignment was an assignment. The question was how to actually pull it off.

The other groups were already clustered in twos and threes, deciding what to eat or heading out the door. Lee Byung-hoon kept talking at Nam Da-eun. Nam Da-eun ignored him to the bitter end, packing her bag. Rumi, with no idea what she was supposed to say, kept whipping her head back and forth between the two of them, fidgeting in place.

And then there was Lee Ho-yeon, watching the whole thing unfold in real time.

I think I'm going to have to be the one to say something.

After a moment's thought, I committed.

"Hey, guys? What do we want to eat?"

She shot to her feet.

I'd picked the most inoffensive line I could think of, and Nam Da-eun was out of her chair before I'd even finished it, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door.

"Nam Da-eun. Do you know a place?"

"...I have no interest in playing along with kids' games."

"Huh?"

That was all she left us with. What kind of person was that? We were trying to do the assignment — since when was that a kids' game?

Lee Byung-hoon flicked a sidelong glance at the two of us once she was gone, muttered, "Ahem. Truth is, I have a prior engagement myself," and vanished.

"..."

The rest of the class had already filed out with their groups. Rumi and I were the only ones left sitting in the lecture hall.

That was when the quest bloomed in front of my eyes.

Cheer up the downcast Rumi?

"My first attempt at making friends… it's ruined… You idiot. Why couldn't you just say you like tteokbokki. Hngh."

I glanced over. Rumi was staring into the middle distance, muttering something strange under her breath with a look of utter devastation.

The more I thought about it, though, the less this seemed like a loss. Nam Da-eun couldn't be pursued until past the mid-game anyway, and that guy whose name I could barely keep straight was disposable.

"Hey, Rumi? Those two already left, so let's just go eat, the two of us."

"Y… yes? You want to eat with me?"

"Yeah. The assignment was to eat with the group and take a picture, remember?"

"B-but Miss Nam Da-eun already left…"

Why was Nam Da-eun coming up right now? And she wasn't even sparing a thought for that Byung-hoon guy, I noticed.

"People who leave, leave. You like tteokbokki? I know a great place. Want to come?"

"Y… yes! I want to go!"

Across from me sat Rumi, eyes wide, stuffing tteokbokki into her mouth until both cheeks ballooned. She looked like a squirrel packing acorns, her face perfectly round on either side.

"You can take your time. I'm not going to steal any."

"Ah — yes. I'm sorry…"

"No, no, nothing to be sorry for. It's nice, watching you enjoy it."

"Hehe… but it really is so good! We're both freshmen — how do you even know a place like this?"

Because this tteokbokki shop was a mandatory stop on every date route with Rumi in the game. I kept waiting for her to eat something else, and she was still on tteokbokki when the credits rolled. A place she loved that much was bound to be good.

Her affection had jumped twenty points. If four more bowls of tteokbokki would wrap her route, that would've been ideal — a shame it didn't work that way.

Appetite had dropped from forty down to fifteen, so she was probably finished.

"Looks like you're about done. Should we grab a picture? My camera's terrible — mind if I use your phone?"

"Ah — yes. Go ahead!"

I took her phone, stood, and shifted around the table. Then I sat down right against her, close enough that our sides touched.

"W-wait? Th-that's a little close, isn't it?"

"We both have to be in the shot for it to count."

Click.

"Two of the four of us are missing, but the picture came out well."

When the subject looked like that, even a careless snap came out like a magazine spread.

"Ah — yes. It came out really well…"

I'd just said the photo looked good. Why was she staring at the floor?

Either way, I was running out of excuses to linger. Time to make my play.

I handed the phone back and spoke as if I'd only just noticed.

"Huh? Rumi. That phone case — isn't that Idol Party?"

"Y… yes? Um… how did you know?"

"I like it too, actually. You're a fan?"

"Yes! I really, really love it! I even hit pity on the last limited banner, I've watched the whole anime, and, um… I've seen all the movies too!"

The same girl who'd been stumbling over every other word suddenly started talking a mile a minute the moment anime came up.

I didn't fully follow what "hitting pity on a limited banner" was supposed to mean, but that wasn't the point anyway.

"Then want to go see the new movie together? It's out this week. I was trying to figure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out who to go with, actually — I don't have anyone."

"Ah — a… a movie?"

"Yeah. If it's too much, I can just go alone. Don't worry about it."

"No, no — no. I really want to go with you!"

"Then let's go this weekend. Can I get your number?"

"Y… yes!"

I held my phone out. She took it with both hands trembling.

Rumi typed each digit with painstaking care, as if a single mistake would end the world, whispering under her breath the whole time. "Exchanging numbers… exchanging numbers with a friend…"

Kind of cute.

"H-here."

"Thanks. I'll text you later. We're done eating, so shall we get going?"

"Yes!"

Tuesday evening.

After parting ways with Rumi, I headed to the training center. Real classes started tomorrow. I needed to know where I actually stood.

I scanned my smartwatch and stepped into a private room.

In the original game, the protagonist specialized according to how you trained him. Mage meant mana. Swordsman meant stamina and strength. Assassin meant agility. You built around a fixed stat spread and grew from there.

The most orthodox route — and the easiest — was swordsman.

That had everything to do with the protagonist's Unique Authority.

A Unique Authority was a power that belonged to one person and one person only. Most people never awakened one at all. Lee Ho-yeon, being the protagonist, had a fairly good one.

Combat Sense.

A combat-type Unique Authority — the talent to bring an innate combat instinct and battlefield feel to every action related to fighting. Since it corrected everything that counted as combat, it favored close-quarters fighting most of all, the kind of work that demanded the sharpest combat instincts.

And later on, you'd be fighting humans or humanoid monsters more often than not. A swordsman, with the edge in personal combat, was the strongest choice on paper.

I chose mage anyway, for two reasons. The first was that I'd taken Mana Sensitivity as a perk, which gave me a massive advantage in handling mana. The second was that I knew exactly how vile the villains of this world really were.

Crossing swords with bastards like that at arm's length? That was a dead end with no exit. This wasn't a game. There were no retries. Better to stand at range and blow holes in them before they ever got close.

"Magic proficiency test."

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

I needed to know where I sat in game terms before I could decide how to move forward. The proficiency test the training center offered would pull from Victoria Academy's database and give me a comprehensive read — strengths, weaknesses, current level, the whole picture.

The system voice had barely finished before thin walls of mana bloomed into being on every side. Those would be what measured me, then.

Project mana thinly and widely?

I'd never tried it, but it didn't seem hard. I lifted both hands and pictured mana rolling outward the way a quiet wave spreads across a shore.

A low hum gathered in my palms. Blue light unfurled from my hands. Because I'd imagined a wave, the mana sheeted out thin enough that the training hall floor showed clearly underneath it.

I'd been projecting for maybe a minute when the completion chime sounded.

Targets bloomed into existence down the firing lane ahead of me.

"Hey — you're supposed to give me time to get ready."

The system ignored the complaint completely and kept counting, as flat and indifferent as ever.

Of the spells I can think of right now, what's the fastest way to wipe the targets?

No time to think further. I reached for the Wind Arrow I'd seen in a book yesterday.

Mana rose above my head, converted into wind, and gathered into the shape of arrows with a hard, rushing hiss.

They strained on my shoulders like hounds at a leash, kicking up gusts, eager to fly. Then the Wind Arrows launched.

A sharp, shattering crack rang down the lane.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five… ten.

All ten arrows slammed home in a riot of noise, blew the targets apart, and scattered back into raw mana.

"Wow."

Not a single target was left standing on the lane.

"This is actually pretty fun."

"Hnnnnngh…"

Back in the dorm after parting with Lee Ho-yeon, Rumi sat at her desk and stared at the phone lying there, locked in the gravest dilemma of her life.

Would it be okay to text him? Just to ask if he got back alright?

"We ate together and even exchanged numbers, so that makes us friends, right…? No, but we only met today… is that too fast?"

Rumi had been withdrawn for as long as she could remember — a homebody who preferred the inside of a house to anything beyond the front door. Her chest had developed far ahead of her age, and other people's eyes had always sat heavy on her. Combined with a timid nature, it had turned her into someone who simply stayed in.

Her twin sister Lucy had gone everywhere with her, wrapping her in a layer of overprotection. It had kept the worst kind of people at a distance, but it had also meant Rumi arrived at the academy without a single real friend to her name.

She had been determined to claw her way out of those gray days and make a brilliant academy debut. And then her very first group had fallen apart, and the gloom had started creeping back in — and that was when Lee Ho-yeon had appeared.

"He definitely said we should ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠see a movie this weekend. That means we're friends, right? Ugh, I don't know. Maybe I should just look it up."

Rumi unlocked her phone and typed into the green search bar: a guy asked me to see a movie.

"Oh! This is it!"

Someone out there had been wrestling with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the exact same question.

"F-… feelings?"

Rumi had never properly made a single friend. The idea that she might have dated anyone was absurd. To her, that question and that answer read like a law of the universe.

"That's true, if you think about it. You wouldn't go to a movie with someone you didn't like. Ugh… does Ho-yeon have feelings for me?"

Lee Ho-yeon. The truth was, today had been the first time she'd ever eaten alone with a boy, and she'd been so flustered she hadn't managed a real conversation. Midway through he'd told her she could speak more casually, and she hadn't been able to do even that. It had felt like too much.

"But why would a guy that handsome want to be with someone like me… Ah, whatever. I'll just text him."

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

It was nothing as a reply. Even so, Rumi's heart was racing. She had never texted a friend before. That alone was enough.

"Ugh, what am I supposed to say back? Maybe I should search again…"