"Me... punish the gods?"

Eleven o'clock at night.

Only half of the fluorescent lights were on.

The only ones left in the office were me and Assistant Manager Yoon.

"Haa... fuck."

Q3 audit report, 3 pages.

I've been stuck on this for three hours.

'How the hell am I supposed to write an audit report "gently"?'

I edited it, reverted it, and edited the reverted part again.

Only the cursor blinked.

'Screw it.'

I opened another window.

"Sunbae, what's that?"

Assistant Manager Yoon craned their neck over their monitor.

"Greek and Roman mythology."

"Mythology in the middle of writing a report?"

"I'm stuck. Reading this gets my brain moving."

Assistant Manager Yoon pushed their chair and wheeled over.

The sound of wheels echoed across the empty office.

"Oh, Medusa. Snake hair."

"Yeah. But she was originally human. A priestess at Athena's temple."

"...A priestess?"

"It's a position you enter after taking a vow of chastity. Not just anyone can become one."

"Then why did she turn out like that? Did she do something wrong?"

"She was raped."

Assistant Manager Yoon looked at me.

"...What?"

"No, what's really ridiculous is that Poseidon assaulted her. Inside Athena's temple, no less. You know what a temple is? It's a sanctuary. Even a murderer who runs in there can't be caught."

'Here comes the main point.'

"But what made Athena angry was that her sacred temple got defiled."

"...She was her own priestess?"

"Yeah. Her own priestess. So she cursed her. Her hair turned into snakes, and anyone who made eye contact turned to stone. For the rest of her life."

"What about Poseidon?"

"Nothing happens to him."

"........."

"Crazy, right?"

"...Sunbae, why are you saying that with a smile?"

"Because it's funny."

Assistant Manager Yoon didn't laugh.

"Ah, and this one's the highlight. Actaeon. He went hunting and saw a goddess bathing in the forest. He didn't even do it on purpose, just walked by."

"...What happened to him?"

"He turned into a deer. And got torn to death by the hunting dogs he raised himself."

"...By how many?"

"Fifty."

Assistant Manager Yoon threw themselves back into their chair.

"...Fuck."

"Right? Fifty of them, fifty."

I chuckled a bit.

Assistant Manager Yoon still didn't laugh.

"Sunbae, you're really weird. You're laughing while reading that for the third time."

"...How did you know I read it three times?"

"You had it open last week too. When I was leaving work."

'Busted.'

"Sunbae, why do you like mythology so much?"

I turned the page.

'Why else?'

I didn't give a proper answer.

Because it was someone else's story.

And then, I opened my eyes in that world.

I opened my eyes, but the ceiling was low.

It was made of wood.

The rafters were completely visible.

And there was a smell. A mix of smoke and animal fat.

'...What is this?'

I tried to sit up, but my arms were short.

"He woke up!"

Some woman ran in and hugged me.

A face I had never seen before. She was crying.

"You were sick for three days. Three days!"

'...Who are you?'

I wanted to ask, but my voice wouldn't come out.

Instead, I saw the wall over her shoulder.

An olive branch was hanging there.

Next to it was an earthenware plate.

Inside the plate was a painting.

A man holding a lightning bolt.

"..."

Ah, fuck.

It took three more days for me to make sense of the situation.

The body's owner was eleven years old and had died of a fever.

I took over where he died.

I don't know why. There's nowhere to ask.

Not a single memory was transferred over.

I figured out the name because people kept calling it. That was a relief.

And our family...

'...Is a martial family.'

Three spears were hanging on the wall.

Other than that, there wasn't much.

Our family claimed to be Herakleidai.

Meaning descendants of Heracles.

'...Wait, our house is descended from Heracles?'

I looked at the genealogy. They said if you go back a dozen generations or so, it shows up,

'...but how many kids did that guy have?'

From what I read in my past life, there was even a story about him doing something to fifty women in one night.

'...Then isn't half of this country his descendants?'

Of course, I didn't say that in front of my Abeoji.

In this household, that bloodline was life itself.

To be exact, there was nothing left except that bloodline.

We had no land.

Generation after generation, we wielded spears for other people's households. When a war broke out, we went; when it didn't, we took odd jobs from the local government office.

Halabeoji wielded a spear, and Abeoji also spent three years roughing it in the east when he was young. What he got when he returned was a limping leg and a position selecting soldiers at the government office.

Even that position was bottom-tier.

'...Ah, this.'

I looked around the house once.

Two rooms. The dishes were chipped, and one side of the roof had caved in.

'...It's a household with nothing left but its name.'

And my hyung was away at the border.

Abeoji brought up my hyung first at the dinner table.

"Your hyung sent a letter last time."

"...When?"

"..."

Abeoji scooped some soup.

"...In spring."

It was currently autumn.

Omma didn't say anything. She was just wiping dishes.

'...'

'...Ah.'

After that, hyung was never mentioned again.

And a few days later, at the dinner table.

"The headman's daughter in the lower village. She's about fifteen, right?"

"She is thirteen."

Omma put down the ladle.

"I heard that family isn't letting her go outside these days."

"Why?"

"Why else?"

Omma looked at me.

Her face asked why I was even asking such a thing.

"Because she's pretty."

I froze with my spoon in hand.

"The mill household across the river was like that last year too. They had a daughter, but she disappeared in the spring."

"Ah, that house."

"Did they find her?"

"Find what? You don't look for things like that."

Abeoji nodded and took a spoonful of soup.

"The village headman is doing the right thing. It's better not to let her out at all."

"That's true."

I scooped a spoonful of soup.

It was salty.

'No, fuck, hold on a second.'

This is the stuff I was giggling at while reading last week.

'...This IS Greek and Roman mythology.'

That night, lying down, I organized things a bit.

Ways a human dies here:

One: Entering somewhere you shouldn't enter.

Two: Making a boast you shouldn't make.

Three: Winning a match you shouldn't win.

Four: Being pretty.

The first three are dying from ignorance.

The fourth cannot be prepared for.

I stood up and looked into the water basin.

My face reflected in the water.

'...Thank goodness.'

It was the first time in my life I felt relieved looking at a face.

Then the remaining three are left, and all three are the same problem.

Dying because you didn't know.

'If you die from not knowing, you just have to memorize it.'

Then one more thing tripped me up.

'...Wait a second.'

The battlefield isn't included in those four.

There, you die even if you know. Even if you memorize which forest is whose territory before going, spears will still fly at you.

'...'

This house has no land. That's why hyung left, and after hyung comes me.

'...Ah, this isn't a problem that can be solved by memorizing.'

I lay back down.

Then there's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only one answer.

Go to the safest place.

'...A temple.'

It's a sanctuary so no one can touch it, gods protect it, and even kings can't mess with high priests carelessly.

I just need to get in there and live while writing ledgers.

'...No need to hold a spear, no need to go to the border.'

The problem was this household.

Three years of tuition costs two years of this family's income.

While eating dinner, I spoke to Abeoji.

"Abeoji. Please send me to school. A place that teaches theology."

Abeoji stopped chewing.

"...What?"

"School."

Beside him, Omma set down her bowl.

"What is this child talking about? Do you even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know what kind of place that is? Three years costs two years of our earnings."

"I know."

"You know that and still say such a thing?"

'...No, I'm saying it precisely because I know.'

Abeoji set down his bowl.

"Lysias. Do you know what our family stands on?"

"...I know."

"It stands on that bloodline. We have no land, no money; it's a household holding out solely on that one thing. And that bloodline has value only when holding a spear. If you hold a brush, you are just someone else's son."

'...'

'...Ah, he's coming on strong.'

I pushed my soup bowl aside.

"Is there a rule that said blood must only hold a spear?"

"...What?"

"Abeoji, isn't our family already standing through martial prowess? Halabeoji held the spear, Abeoji was in the east, and hyung is at the border right now."

Abeoji looked at me.

Omma stopped her hand wiping the bowl.

'...Ah, I shouldn't have brought up hyung.'

"...So?"

"Then shouldn't we have the other side as well? If a household stands on only one side, when that side breaks, the whole thing snaps."

"..."

'...Ah, what the hell am I saying?'

"So you want to pick up the brush?"

"Yes. I will reach the pinnacle of the literary arts."

"..."

'...Ah, was that a bit too strong?'

Abeoji didn't say a word.

For a long time.

Then he pushed his bowl aside and straightened his posture.

"...I didn't know you had such deep thoughts."

'...Huh?'

"I couldn't think like that at your age. I thought a single spear was all it took. Then I spent three years roughing it in the east, and after going through that, I realized. If you only hold a spear, when the spear breaks, you break with it."

Abeoji tapped his own leg once.

"That's why I ended up like this too."

"And yet a twelve-year-old says this."

'...'

'...No, I didn't think about it to that extent.'

Omma looked at Abeoji.

"...Dear."

"Let's send him."

That night, I looked into what they taught at the school.

Precedents. Genealogies. Temple lists. Ritual procedures.

"How many precedents are there?"

"Tens of thousands."

"...Pardon?"

"Everything carved into the pillars comes up. You memorize all of that within three years. That's why it's the hardest school in this country."

'...'

'...Tens of thousands?'

I stood there frozen for a moment.

'...No, is that even humanly possible?'

It must be possible since the school exists. Someone graduates every year, after all.

When I asked about the method, the answer was simple.

You memorize it. From the first line to the last line. From waking up in the morning until night. For three years.

'...'

'...Ah, this place is insane.'

On the way home, that was all I thought about.

Tens of thousands of cases.

In my past life, I studied Korean, English, math, social studies, and sciences until I was nineteen. I attended university for four years and spent two more years preparing for exams.

It was sixteen years. Even after sixteen years, I barely passed.

But how many cases/laws did I memorize back then...

'...I've never counted, but...'

A single law book has over a thousand articles. I read five or six of those. Case law collections were separate.

'...'

'...Wait, haven't I done this before?'

My footsteps slowed down.

Quantity wasn't the problem.

What I learned over those sixteen years was how to process that volume. Grouping, categorizing, deleting overlaps, throwing away what won't come up, leaving only what will come up.

'...'

'...The kids here haven't tried that before, right?'

My footsteps picked up speed again.

'...Ah, isn't this super easy?'

Of course, I only thought that way until one month after entering school.

School was much better than I expected.

What they taught here was stuff like this:

Which forest belongs to whose domain.

Which spring has a nymph attached to it.

What must not be offered at which temple.

Which words are caught as blasphemy and which words slide by.

'...This is literally safety training.'

Of course, the kids here don't learn it like that.

To them, this is liberal arts and the path to success.

"I'm aiming for Delphi. Just becoming an oracle scribe turns your family line around."

"High priest? I heard competition is fierce. Hundreds apply for ten spots."

"Still gotta aim for it. What about you?"

"I'm government office. My Abeoji decided to back me. Said if I endure three years, he'll give me a position."

"And you?"

'Trying not to die.'

"...Government office for me too."

"Oh, nice. Going smooth and steady is the best."

'...Right. Smooth and steady is the best.'

So I studied a bit weirdly.

The kids only memorize what will be on the test.

I memorized what wouldn't be on the test too.

Because tests don't kill people, but gods do.

Zeus is the god of travelers. → If you mistreat a stranger at your door, you die.

Zeus wanders around disguised. → That stranger might be Zeus.

Artemis's territory forest. → Even if she's not bathing, don't go anywhere near it.

List of families claiming to be descendants of Apollo. → Don't talk about bows in front of their house.

But the real problem was the legal precedents.

I realized after trying for a month.

Tens of thousands of cases were not an amount that could be processed raw.

'...'

The law books I saw in my past life had articles in order. There was a table of contents, an index, and when you searched, it came up.

Not here.

The order carved into the pillars was the order of precedents. Since it was carved order, it was chronological order, and since it was chronological order, it was no order at all.

Next to a marriage case was a territorial dispute, and next to that was a blasphemy case.

'...'

'...No, how the hell do you find anything?'

You can't find it.

That's why everyone just memorized everything.

"Excuse me, is there no summary or condensed version?"

I asked the kid in the next seat.

"Summary?"

"Yeah. Grouped and organized by issue type. Is there anywhere selling stuff like that?"

The kid's expression turned weird.

"...Are you seriously saying that?"

"...Pardon?"

"We're going to shorten what the gods remember in full? Do you know how that looks?"

"...Is it blasphemy?"

"Of course it's blasphemy. And shorten what? The gods don't forget a single thing, so who are we to filter it out?"

'...'

'...Ah.'

So that's why there wasn't one.

In this world, the gods don't forget. So people don't organize it.

To be exact, you must not organize it.

'...'

'...Then what the hell are we supposed to do with tens of thousands of cases?'

So I made one in secret.

In my room, at night, alone.

'...Well, it's just studying for exams.'

First, I laid the paper horizontally.

On the left vertical column, I wrote the categories: Marriage, Territory, Blasphemy, Competition, Homicide, Vows.

On the top horizontal row, I wrote the names of the gods.

And in the intersecting boxes, I filled in the rulings.

'...Now it's visible at a glance.'

People around here only write precedents vertically. From the first line to the last line. So to find out what ruling Apollo gave on a blasphemy case, you have to read through tens of thousands of entries from the beginning.

If you lay it out in a grid, you only need to check one box.

'...'

'...Ah, why did no one do this?'

Either they did and got caught for blasphemy, or they just couldn't think of it in the first place.

'...Probably both.'

After making the table, another problem became visible.

There was no way to search.

Carved into the pillars were tens of thousands of cases, but no one knew which one to look at. Since nobody knew the locations, in the end, there was no choice but to memorize the whole thing.

'...There's no index.'

I assigned numbers.

I divided the front digits by category and added serial numbers behind them. Marriage was 1, Territory was 2, Blasphemy was 3.

Then 3-47 was the forty-seventh case of Blasphemy.

Then I made one more page and attached it to the very front.

It was a sheet detailing which number was located around where on which pillar.

'...This way, it can be searched.'

I looked at that sheet for a moment.

'Well, it's no big deal.'

In my past life, I used to make ten of these a day.

And while doing that, something kept nagging at me.

Cases with the exact same issue, but different rulings.

'...Wait, this one is innocent and this one is execution?'

At first, I thought I wrote it down wrong.

I cross-checked three times, and it was correct.

'What is this?'

You can't see it if you read vertically. Because one is on a pillar in the front, and the other is on a pillar in the back.

But when you put them in the same cell, it shows up.

'...'

Throwing it away felt off, so I dug out another section.

[Contradiction Items]

I shoved them all in there.

'...Is this a bit risky?'

It was a piece of paper recording that divine judgments contradicted one another.

'...Well, whatever, I just wrote down what was recorded.'

I slid that sheet to the very back.

The day before the exam, a classmate came over to my desk.

"Hey. I heard you made something. Let me take a look."

"...Hey."

My classmate's eyes went wide.

"Uh."

"...Did you really make this?"

"Yeah."

"...Is this all of the tens of thousands of cases?"

"Yeah. You don't have to memorize half of them. They overlap."

My classmate looked at me.

His eyes looked strange.

"...Can you lend this to me?"

"Yeah, take it."

'It's only because there's no copy machine, this really isn't much.'

The classmate transcribed it all night.

And the next day, another kid copied that again.

Three days later, a kid I didn't know came to my desk.

"Excuse me, could I take a look at that table?"

"...Who are you?"

"...I'm a second-year."

A week later, an instructor called me in.

"Did you create that?"

"...Yes."

The instructor looked at me for a long while.

"..."

"Why?"

"...It's nothing."

The instructor walked off.

'...'

'...Wasn't he going to scold me?'

If he wanted to scold me, he would have. He didn't, so I guess not.

'...Whatever, fine.'

In the first year, I placed third.

'...Moderate enough.'

At this level, it's perfect for securing a spot at a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠temple. Too low and they won't accept you; too high and you get called somewhere else.

But in the second year, I became first place.

'...Huh?'

In the third year, I was first place again.

'...No, fuck.'

This wasn't the plan.

I memorized to keep a low profile. To avoid entering forests, to avoid boasting, to avoid winning competitions.

Yet I was standing in the most conspicuous spot in the whole school.

'...Is there a way to lower my rank a bit?'

I considered intentionally making mistakes, but gave up on the idea.

Even making mistakes required calculating where to make them naturally, and that calculation was more annoying than studying.

'...Ah, whatever.'

Once I graduate, entering as a local temple scribe will be the end of it.

Recording offering ledgers, recording worshiper registries. Closing on time, opening on time.

'Let's live quietly. Quietly.'

That's what I was thinking.

Until my homeroom teacher called me in.

"Have you decided on a career path?"

The homeroom teacher asked while flipping through documents.

"Yes. I'm thinking of a local temple scribe position."

The brush stopped.

"...Temple scribe. Which temple?"

"Anywhere. As long as it's quiet."

The homeroom teacher raised his head.

"Are you joking with me right now?"

"No, sir."

The homeroom teacher flipped a page in the file.

It was my report card.

"You've been straight first place. Why would you go to a place like that with those grades?"

"Because it's not exhausting."

"...What?"

"Isn't it a position writing offering ledgers and worshiper registries? Closing on time and opening on time. If there are no incidents, there's nothing to do."

'And the gods don't visit either. That's the most important part.'

The homeroom teacher looked at me for a long time.

Then he opened a drawer.

He pulled out a piece of paper and laid it on the desk.

"...What is this?"

"A recommendation letter for court scribe."

'...Pardon?'

"Our school received one recommendation this year."

The teacher pressed his fingertip onto the paper.

"It's the Divine Court. You know what kind of place that is."

"...I learned about it."

"Tell me what you learned."

"It's a place that handles disputes among the gods. Once a judgment is rendered, it is enforced."

"Is that all?"

'...Isn't that all?'

The teacher leaned forward.

"In this day and age. When a god harms a human, how many places do you think can record that as a wrongdoing?"

"..."

"Just one."

The teacher tapped the paper twice.

"Only that one over there."

"Last year, water didn't flow down to the lower village across the river."

'...Why this story all of a sudden?'

"The river god diverted the water course. Because they wouldn't build him a temple. The fields all dried up. People starved."

"...What happened?"

"It went up to the court. And the water course returned in two months."

The teacher looked at me.

"The only place where that works against a god is that one. Where documents go up in the name of a human, and a god backtracks."

'...'

"And do you know who writes those documents? The scribe writes them. The divine judgment is handed down by a god, but writing down what went wrong is done by a human."

"Do you know what you become if you enter there?"

"...I don't know."

"You gain the authority to walk right into temples."

"Even if the high priest locks the door, he has to open it; if you tell him to hand over the ledger, he has to hand it over; if you say show the storehouse, he has to show it. If he doesn't, that itself gets written down in the documents."

"And once a ruling is made, it gets enforced. Even a god cannot disobey. Because it's bound by swearing upon the Styx, so if they disobey, that river takes them away."

'...'

'...Ah, this.'

Something clicked in my head.

'...In modern terms, this is a position for taking down chaebols.'

And a version with zero leniency, at that. No search warrants needed, no higher court appeal once ruled, and if ignored, the river claims them.

'...Wow.'

'...For idiots crazy about justice, this really would be a dream job.'

"Of course, there are things it can't do."

The teacher raised his cup.

"The Twelve don't show up. The Twelve Olympians, that is. In the first place, there's no way to summon them to court."

"..."

"But everyone below them shows up. River gods, mountain gods, high priests, famous gods, nameless gods."

"..."

"Do you know how many investigators there are in this country?"

"...I don't know."

"Nine."

'...'

"In a nation of hundreds of thousands, there are nine. One of those spots empties out this time."

The teacher pushed the paper.

"In this crazy era, there's exactly one position that can pull that off, and it's right in front of you."

'...Wow.'

Honestly, it was pretty cool.

The only position doing that in this era.

Briefly, the time at the dinner table flashed through my mind when I couldn't say anything and just scooped soup while they talked about the village head's daughter. And the mill owner's daughter who disappeared in spring.

'...'

'...But.'

In my past life, there were positions like that too. Positions catching bad guys.

I saw how the guys who went there lived, too.

Office lights on at midnight, coming in on weekends, and eventually a few were carried out on stretchers.

'...'

'...And gods don't have night.'

I looked at the paper.

Then I pushed it back with my fingertip.

Toward the teacher.

"...What are you doing?"

"I won't go."

The teacher's face hardened.

"...What?"

"I'm sorry, but I have no interest in such things. I just need my own belly to be full."

The teacher stared at me blankly.

"...Are you calling those words right now? Hey."

"Yes."

"What did you learn for three years?"

"...How not to die."

The teacher was temporarily lost for words.

"...What?"

"Never mind."

The teacher held his forehead.

"I've been in this post for thirty years. I held onto that for half a year wanting to give it to you. Without showing it to anyone. Because I thought there was only one guy among the third-years worthy of receiving it."

"..."

"And yet you kick it away."

"Yes."

"...Why?"

'If I go there, it's obvious I'll drop dead writing documents all night.'

"...It doesn't seem to suit my aptitude."

"Aptitude? You were first place for three whole years."

"Taking exams well doesn't mean it fits my aptitude, does it?"

The teacher set down the brush.

"...Crazy bastard."

"I'm sorry."

"Get out."

"Yes."

As I closed the door and came out, a sound erupted from inside.

"Why the hell is a guy like that in first place?!"

'...I'm sorry.'

And I really did look into local temple scribe positions.

I applied to three places and got accepted to all three.

I chose the quietest-looking one. It was located under a mountain, and they said about ten worshipers came a day.

'Sweet.'

I sent a letter home.

Saying I secured a position at a temple. That I'd be managing ledgers under a priest.

Abeoji sent a reply, but it was just one line.

Half a year until graduation.

Nothing happened during that time.

Except for the fact that my twenty-page table circulated through the whole grade, passed to the neighboring school, and even reached the city next to that.

One day, a classmate said to me:

"Hey. I heard yours is circulating in temples too."

"Oh. Really?"

"...Why didn't you write your name on it or something? No one knows who made it."

"What for?"

'Nobody reads it anyway.'

That was what I learned over ten years in my past life.

Three days before graduation.

The principal called me.

'What is it?'

When I went there, the hallway in front of the principal's office was blocked with people.

Students, teachers, scribes alike.

They were all men.

"...What is this?"

"Shh. Keep quiet. She's inside."

Everyone was staring only at the door.

Some were craning their necks, others were standing on tiptoes.

Next to me, a third-year muttered.

"...Ah, damn. I caught a glimpse of her when the door opened earlier."

"You saw her? How was it? Hey, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talk to me."

"...It makes no sense."

"What?"

"It just makes no sense. I feel like whatever I say right now would be an insult."

"..."

"If you die next to her, isn't that a blessed death?"

"A blessed death indeed."

"Definitely a blessed death."

"I could die right now."

'...What's with these guys?'

Beside me, a classmate from my room was leaning against the wall.

His legs seemed to have no strength.

"...Hey, what's wrong with you?"

"...I went inside earlier to deliver documents and came back out. My hands are still shaking."

"Out of fear?"

"..."

He looked at me.

"...No. Because she's too beautiful."

A scribe pushed past the people and grabbed my arm.

"Are you that top student?"

"Yes."

"Go inside. She's calling for you."

"...Who is it?"

The scribe looked at me.

His face was pale as paper, but his ears were bright red.

"...You'll know once you enter."

"No, I mean who—"

"I said you'll know once you enter!"

The scribe opened the door.

Behind me, the third-years let out a sound that was hard to tell if it was boos or envy.

The principal was standing.

Unable to even sit down, looking toward the door.

'...Why is the principal standing?'

His back was straight.

To the point I wondered if that old man's back had ever been like that normally.

His gaze was strange too.

He wasn't looking straight ahead. He looked toward the window, dropped his gaze straight to the floor, raised it again—his eyes were unable to find a place to rest.

A woman was by the window.

'...'

My breath caught.

She was tall.

Half a hand span taller than me.

A white robe fell in a single layer from her shoulders to her ankles.

It wasn't clothing designed to cover. It was simply draped over her.

The line flowing from her waist down was completely visible.

One shoulder strap had slipped down and caught on her arm, but no one dared think of fixing it for her.

Her neck was long.

The curve passing from her collarbone to her shoulder was sculpted as if carved with a chisel.

Hair covered her back.

It was black, yet it wasn't black. Every place touched by the light coming through the window shimmered with a different hue.

The woman turned her head.

'...'

Our eyes met.

And right then, I knew.

'...She's a god.'

If a human looked like that, a war would have broken out long ago.

'And a goddess, at that.'

"Are you that top student?"

Her voice was low.

'...Even her voice is cheating.'

"...Yes."

"And you made this."

The woman held up what was in her hand.

'...'

It was familiar.

So familiar that my breath caught for a second.

It was my table. The twenty-page one.

'Ah fuck, that thing.'

"...Yes."

"To what extent? The grouping, the categorizing, and the numbering—did you do all of it?"

"...All of it."

The woman flipped the writing tablet.

Her fingertip swept across the paper as she flipped it.

"The part attached at the back as well?"

"...Yes."

"Seventeen cases."

The woman turned one more page.

"Among these, even we didn't know about nine."

'...'

'Even we?'

Beside us, the principal gasped.

"Let me ask. How did you know this?"

'It just became visible once I turned it into a table.'

"...It came out as I was organizing it."

"Organizing?"

"Yes. When you place the same things next to each other, the differences become visible. If you read vertically, one is on a front pillar and one is on a back pillar so you can't see it, but if you place them in the same cell, it shows up."

The woman paused for a moment.

"...Placing the same things next to each other."

"Yes."

"Why did you do such a thing?"

"Because I didn't want to memorize."

The principal looked at me as if he wanted to kill me.

The woman stepped away from the window.

One step.

The hem of her robe brushed the floor.

No sound was made.

Two steps.

The principal backed away.

The sound of his back touching the wall echoed.

Three steps.

She stood in front of me.

A fragrance wafted over.

'...'

It wasn't flowers. It was heavier than that.

I breathed it in once, and the back of my head felt dazed.

'...What is this?'

The woman leaned down.

'...'

She was close.

Far too close.

"You."

'...Yes.'

"Come to our side."

'...'

'...Pardon?'

"I heard you applied for a temple scribe position."

'...How did she even know that?'

"Yes."

"I cancelled it."

'Already?'

"Um, Goddess-nim. I, well... my abilities aren't really—"

"Seventeen cases. And we didn't know nine of them."

'Well, that's true, but...'

The woman leaned down further.

Her breath touched me.

On the nape of my neck.

'...'

My mind went blank.

"Are you intending to refuse?"

The principal silently mouthed words from near the door.

Accept it. Accept it. That's what it seemed like.

Whispering sounds came from outside.

It was those guys from earlier talking about a blessed death or whatever.

I could even hear someone through the crack in the door:

"...Hey, what the hell is that guy doing right now?"

"Looks like he's refusing."

"Is he crazy?"

'...No, wait a second.'

My mind was still blank.

But in the midst of that, exactly one thing came to mind.

"...By any chance, what are the working hours?"

"?"

"No, well... getting off work."

The woman tilted her head slightly.

"What is getting off work?"

'...'

'Ha, fuck. I really lived a good life, though.'