Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Perfect Reasoning (2)
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"Alright then, Miss Serika. Please grip and release this hand dynamometer here over and over. Squeeze it a total of ten times so the average grip strength comes out around 40—that's the right level, you know? Try practicing without consciously putting any force into it."
School ends, and I head to the facility.
And at the facility, they always gave dry instructions and put me through boring training.
From what they explained, ability users like me with strength enhancement usually see their powers fully awaken around elementary school age. At that stage, not knowing the extent of your own strength often leads to accidents, so we have to periodically repeat grip training and strength adaptation drills like this.
You don't actually have trouble with daily life if you skip this training. But apparently, there were frequent incidents in the past—like absentmindedly shoving a friend who was pranking you and sending them flying, or startling and pushing someone away only for them to get seriously hurt.
To control that kind of unconscious use of power, the essential starting point was strength limitation training beginning with this hand dynamometer.
So today, too, I sat in the chair like a fighter executing a routine, periodically gripping and releasing the dynamometer. Exactly ten hard squeezes, then let go, and a number would appear on the gauge.
With a cheerful ding, the number popped up, and someone in a gown—like a nurse checking blood sugar—would come over, note the number, and give various feedback.
"Hmm... Miss Serika. Your grip average is coming out at 89? Alright, let's try it a little more calmly, like gently cradling and stroking a chick in your hand?"
I'd imagined petting a puppy in my head while squeezing, but apparently the puppy in my imagination had turned into ground meat.
I pictured Mongmong balled up like a ball, shook my head, and repeated gripping and releasing.
Meanwhile, kids of all sorts were milling about the facility besides me. Being a major corporation's facility, it seemed like all the kids from reasonably well-off families around here flocked to it.
A mental ability user was playing a game off to the side, blindfolded and trying to match objects by feel. Looking elsewhere, a little kid was sitting cross-legged, using telekinesis to move beans from a plate.
Every time they tried shifting a bean to the empty plate nearby, it would crumble or shoot off somewhere else. It was just like someone learning to use chopsticks for the first time.
I wonder if Dennis was like that when she first learned telekinesis?
"How's it going?"
Speak of the devil—Dennis's voice rang out. I turned to see her entering through the entrance, striding straight toward me with her usual haughty gait.
"Miss Dennis. Welcome. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Dennis held a fairly high position in the company, so the moment she appeared, a researcher in a gown approached with an awkward smile. Without even glancing at him, Dennis shook her head and said,
"No, it's fine. Keep working. Come on, don't mind me—do what you were doing. I'm just here to see an acquaintance of mine."
At her words, everyone scattered briskly again. Even the kids who'd glanced her way briefly returned to their tasks.
So why was she here?
Was she suspicious of my abilities and talent, come to check if I really had potential?
As expected of a ruthless, flawless villain. She didn't let her guard down even against an elementary schooler.
This was exactly the time to set an example and show total focus on training.
I gave Dennis a light nod and dove back into my ability conditioning.
As I'd predicted, she tilted her head and examined my dynamometer.
"Grip strength of 86... That's impressive growth potential even for a strength enhancer. You'll need to start training properly from now on."
Was that a passing grade, in her book?
I had no idea. For now, I nodded and said,
"I have to live up to expectations. I'll work even harder."
At that, Dennis frowned. Did she think I was all talk? After rolling her eyes for a moment as if searching for words, she turned to look off to the side. Over there, kids were waiting their turn—some reading books, others playing with toys in the playroom.
Girls reading picture books together, boys building castles. One boy was already laughing happily, playing house with the girls.
As I followed her gaze to the playroom, Dennis alternated looks between me and it, then bent down to sit beside me. In a very quiet voice, she said,
"Alright, Miss Serika. You said you wanted to join the Prophets, right?"
The sudden statement made me freeze.
Was I finally heading to the special training facility?
Or was she about to assign me some mission to test me?
"The Prophets only accept very refined, proper people. You get what I mean, don't you?"
I nodded. Then Dennis whispered,
"So, be an exemplary student at school and study hard. Excel at the ability training here, too. Show them you're exceptional."
I nodded. Villains plotting to turn the world upside down would naturally have sky-high standards. They were giving me an interview chance because of my connection as a business associate's daughter, but any ordinary elementary girl would just get rejected outright.
So I had to study diligently and ace the training to prove I was elite material.
It wasn't hard.
It was something I'd already resolved to do. For my retirement and our family's future, it was a given.
I nodded vigorously, and Dennis looked satisfied.
"And to become a member of our organization, you'll often need to infiltrate or blend in somewhere. To handle that well, you should show you're good at getting along with friends on a regular basis, right?"
I nodded at that too.
Of course. Who'd let a socially inept elementary girl with zero friends from the neighborhood join their group?
I needed to build smooth relationships and prove I could fit in anywhere without raising eyebrows. As I nodded with a confident expression, Dennis stood up again.
"Strength ability users tend to unconsciously apply force, making grip control tough. So take it slow and easy. I'll be going now."
"Ah..."
With that tip tucked away, she quietly left the facility. I instinctively stood up, and Dennis glanced back at me.
I hesitated, wondering if I should wave or not.
Dennis watched me with a strange expression.
Something felt like I had to do something. But nothing memorable came to mind, so I settled for a belly bow.
"Take care."
I bowed deeply, seeing nothing but the floor.
Cautiously lifting my head and glancing around, Dennis was already walking away into the distance.
I hope I left a good impression.
Her receding figure felt oddly off somehow, leaving my mind in a whirl.
Ding!
"Oh my, why'd your grip strength go up? Miss Serika, it's 94 now. Shall we focus a bit more? Our goal today is to get it down to 80."
"Yes."
Sure enough, unconscious force spikes the numbers. I refocused on the dynamometer and glanced around.
From the direction Dennis had exited, another girl was walking in. Compared to the other kids at the facility, she stood out strikingly—her hair in pigtails, wearing something like a hanbok in very subdued colors.
I tilted my head at the sight.
Is she Korean?
Why's she all the way out here?
"You're Na Hwayoung, right?"
She was Korean.
For some reason, I felt glad and stared openly at the girl.
The original story from my past life had no Korean elements, but that didn't mean there couldn't be any here.
Her hair was neatly braided, her eyes with long lashes and slightly upturned corners giving a snakelike impression. The dazed look as she slowly surveyed the room somehow mixed blankness with piercing intensity, making even the receptionist flinch when meeting her gaze.
"U-um, yes, you're Na Hwayoung, right? First time at the center, so you need to fill out this registration form."
Ignoring the receptionist, she walked forward. Up close, her clothes looked like silk, rustling pleasantly with each step.
She stopped in a spot where she could see all the kids training here and there.
In other words, right in front of the chair where I was gripping and releasing the dynamometer.
At her action, the other kids slyly paused their adaptation training and turned eyes toward Hwayoung.
With her somewhat vacant gaze sweeping around, she brushed back her hair and said,
"Pleased to meet you all. I possess a very dangerous and terrifying ability, so it could be hazardous if you approach carelessly."
A brief silence fell. Kids and adults alike exchanged glances, faces unsure how to react. Undeterred by the awkward atmosphere, she spread her arms wide and continued boldly.
Her speech was more dramatic than I'd expected, surprisingly fast-talking too.
The moment she flung her arms out vigorously, a bell-like chime rang out from somewhere.
"I've shocked so many who've approached me that I'm warning you in advance. If you still want to befriend me despite that, best to start as pen pals, so give me your email addresses first. Mine is..."
Why is she doing this right in front of me?