Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Wrong Meeting (1)
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“Haa... Haa... U, ugh.”
“Hey, Fuyuno Tsubaki. Just how little exercise do you do normally that you're collapsing after running that little?”
“Mi, hek. Sorry. Hoo. F-from now on, I'll work really hard...”
“...Tch. Well, at least you ran farther than yesterday. Not bad. Here, drink this.”
“Hek!”
Under the crimson sunset, as I handed her the sports drink, Fuyuno Tsubaki bobbed her sweat-soaked face up and down in thanks before chugging it down refreshingly.
I watched her pale white neck bobbing and sank into thought.
This peace is coming to an end in about a week.
A week had passed since the day I joined Blast Dragon.
In other words, one week until the midterm evaluation—and not much time left to enjoy this leisurely pace.
After the midterms came the promotion matches for Jincheon Class. Win those, get into Jincheon, and I'd be swept up in the main storyline.
The only reason I could go jogging so leisurely with Fuyuno Tsubaki right now was because we were in the general class, not Jincheon.
If I'd started in Jincheon from the beginning, I wouldn't even have time to think about peace.
Jincheon Class was where all the main characters of this world—the ones you could call protagonists—gathered.
Human presence is like gravity. When super-heavyweights in terms of sheer impact cram into one place, it's no wonder incidents and accidents get pulled in like they're caught in a gravitational field.
It's on a whole different level from the general class, where all the average Joes hang out. A whole different dimension, really.
And since this world's true protagonist was in there too, Jincheon was basically a hotspot for events and chaos.
“To survive in a place like that, average stamina just won't cut it...”
Watching Fuyuno Tsubaki collapse after a measly 10km, worry suddenly hit me hard.
Getting promoted to Jincheon should go according to plan without issue, but the real problem was enduring once I was there.
This world seemed built on 'Truth' difficulty, so the incidents would come as random encounters.
I'm a veteran of Reverse Hero Saga, not a prophet who can see the future. I could only respond once something happened.
“...Hmm.”
Could this girl hold out while I detected and reacted to incidents?
“U-um, Yang Woo-bin? Why are you muttering to yourself with such a scary look...? Is it because I drank too much of the drink...?”
“...Haha.”
No way in hell.
I reached out to Fuyuno Tsubaki, who was sitting on the ground, looking up at me with anxious eyes.
Break time's over. Get up.
“Huh? O-okay...”
You'd think she'd be used to it by now, but Fuyuno Tsubaki hesitated again before timidly grabbing just the tip of my finger.
How does she expect to stand up like that?
I grabbed her wrist like snatching prey and yanked her up in one smooth motion.
“Kyaa!”
Once I'd accomplished my mission and let go, Fuyuno Tsubaki stared at her hand—red with the mark of my grip—her face flushing bright.
I glanced at her for a moment, then spoke.
“Hey, Fuyuno Tsubaki. You're gonna get pulled up by me like this a lot from now on. Time to get used to it, don't you think?”
“H-huh? A lot from now on?”
“I'm gonna be standing longer than you. I don't wanna waste time on little things like this, so get accustomed. Got it?”
“O-okay, I'll try...”
Man, she's got that Extreme Yin Body, which is why I'm keeping her around, but in terms of reliability, she's world-class at making me doubt.
She lacks confidence even in something as simple as holding hands. We've got a long way to go.
But whether she likes it or not, whether she doubts herself or not—doesn't matter one bit.
Because if I say do it, she'll do it.
That's why I told her, still blushing up to her ears and shyly fidgeting.
“Got somewhere to be. Follow me.”
“Huh? W-where?”
“Our clubroom.”
“Clubroom? Okay... Huh? W-wait a sec? Your clubroom means Po, Po, Blast Dragon...?”
The moment I said we were heading to the clubroom, Fuyuno Tsubaki's flushed face drained to pale blue in an instant.
Watching her change colors like some octopus, I couldn't help but smirk.
“Yeah. Blast Dragon.”
Just Yang Woo-bin’s fried rice and a light shoulder massage had thoroughly satisfied the depths of her lower abdomen, but that night, Ryu Jia lay trembling on her bed in shame.
“I can’t forgive that...!”
It was the first time in her life she'd been put in such a position.
With her innate talent, free-spirited nature, and the backing of the Ryu family, she'd always done whatever she wanted— so she simply couldn't accept what happened that day.
“That insolent underclassman... That scrawny little guy...!”
No one was allowed to stop Ryu Jia from doing what she wanted.
Because she was Ryu Jia.
Dabcheon's strongest cadet and worst delinquent. Vice-captain of Blast Dragon.
Doing whatever she pleased freely was one of the massive pillars supporting her very existence.
Yet he'd forced restraint on her, kept her from doing what she wanted, tried to instill discipline—and worst of all, satisfied her against her will...!
“I was just caught off guard today. Tomorrow, when we meet again, I’ll definitely put him in his place...!”
Ryu Jia clenched her fists tight, vowing to crush that sharp-nosed Yang Woo-bin under her thumb.
“Hello.”
“Hmph!”
The next day after classes, the moment Yang Woo-bin entered the clubroom, Ryu Jia swept a gloved hand along the windowsill like she'd been waiting.
“Hey, newbie! How the hell did you clean this place? There's dust on the sill... Wait, there isn't? What?”
She panicked at the sight of her white glove—pristine, without a speck of dust.
A full day had passed since cleaning; there should’ve been dust, but the sill was spotless.
“What else? My cleaning skills are top-tier. Anyway, were you standing by the window the whole time waiting for me just to do that?”
“H-huh? N-no, that's not it!”
“Sure it is. You even prepared the glove. One hundred percent.”
“Ugh.”
Stabbed right in the gut by Yang Woo-bin’s deadpan words, Ryu Jia clutched her chest and averted her eyes.
Yang Woo-bin let out a chuckle and landed the follow-up.
“Vice-captain, got no friends?”
“Guh!”
She’d never felt the slightest discomfort about not having friends before, but for some reason, those words from him hit like a punch to the solar plexus.
It hurt more than getting swatted by a beast’s massive paw.
But Ryu Jia wasn’t the type to curl up whimpering. She was the type to smash the one who hurt her.
“This damn newbie, talking to your vice-captain like she’s...!”
She opened her mouth to vent her rage at the cheeky rookie who’d dared mock her as a friendless loser.
“No friends? Hang out with me then.”
“Huh?”
But his next words scattered her fury like smoke, replaced by fresh curiosity.
“H-hang out...?”
To Ryu Jia, who’d lived freely doing only what she wanted, friends had never been necessary.
But ‘let’s hang out’ from Yang Woo-bin piqued her interest.
“How about we hang out while you make that... fried rice? And a massage too—that’d be even better...”
Her stomach and shoulders had already been perfectly conquered by yesterday’s fried rice and massage.
She’d trembled in prideful fury on her bed last night, but that was just mental. Having tasted his new realms of cooking and massage, she could never go back.
“That fried rice was that good? Alright, I’ll put in extra effort today.”
“Yes! Let’s go, hurry!”
Last night’s resolution had already vanished without a trace from Ryu Jia’s mind.
One week.
“That newbie said he’s training with his one friend for midterms today? I’m starving... Hope he gets here quick...”
It was more than enough time for the world’s freest girl, Ryu Jia, to shackle her own ankle with the chain called Yang Woo-bin.
“How does that guy always nail my exact tastes with his food? I can barely eat anything that’s not his cooking now.”
In just one week, Ryu Jia’s stomach had been utterly conquered; nothing but his (cooking) could satisfy her anymore.
“I told him I wouldn’t eat dinner till he got here. Even with training, he’ll hurry, right? Heh heh, wonder what he’ll make today. Hng~”
Knock knock knock.
“He’s here!”
Ryu Jia, who’d been waiting endlessly for Yang Woo-bin, bolted up from the sofa at the knock and dashed to the door like a puppy.
“Hey! What’s with the knock, knocking’s not your style! Hurry up and come i—”
She flung the door wide, but the mouth she’d opened to greet Yang Woo-bin froze midway.
“A-ah. H-hello. Hello there...!”
A gray-haired girl was trembling, tightly huddled behind Yang Woo-bin.
“...Who.”
Ryu Jia’s voice, directed at Yang Woo-bin, was chillingly cold—unprecedented.