The Sparring Opponent: Min Jae-hoon

The day before the midterm evaluation, the air throughout the entire academy had changed noticeably. Even after morning assembly ended, the classroom remained quieter than usual. Some students sat staring blankly at open textbooks without reading a single word, while others stood up for no reason, wandered toward the windows, and returned to their seats. The laughter and pointless pranks that normally erupted during breaks were nowhere to be seen.

“Tomorrow, huh.”

Someone muttered quietly, and the surrounding silence deepened. The midterm evaluation. In this school, those words carried a simple meaning: a stage to prove one’s ability. And the day grades would be assigned.

For most students, the midterm evaluation was close to a turning point. Do well and rise; fail and fall. Receiving a failing grade meant supplementary classes and another chance. It would be tougher, but the path wouldn’t be completely severed. Perhaps that was why everyone was tense, yet still carried a trace of composure.

Class A, in particular, felt that way. The very air in their hallway was different. Tension existed, but it was mixed with certainty. They were thinking about condition management, opponent analysis, and skill checks—not how to survive, but how to win cleanly. An unspoken belief lingered that this evaluation wouldn’t decide their entire lives.

Class D, on the other hand, had a much harsher atmosphere. Some were anxious, some pretended nothing was wrong, and some already had the look of someone who had reached a conclusion in their hearts. Failing. Supplementary classes. Being left behind. Even those words alone carried heavy weight in this class.

And I stood somewhere in between. Same classroom. Same midterm evaluation. But the meaning was entirely different. For the others, it was a matter of scores. For me, it was a matter of qualification. If I lost this time, there would be no supplementary classes, no next chance. Defeat in the midterm evaluation meant immediate expulsion.

That was why I was quieter than anyone. I simply accepted, calmly, that once this evaluation ended, it would be decided whether I could remain in this school.

It happened after lunch, when I stepped into the hallway. Students poured out of classrooms all at once, briefly crowding the corridor before scattering again. That was when a familiar presence blocked my path.

Min Jae-hoon.

His face showed no intention of hiding anything. There was a smile, and ease. The expression of someone who already knew the outcome.

“Hey.”

He called out without caring that people were around. If anything, he didn’t lower his voice, as if he wanted to be heard.

“Tomorrow, huh.”

That single sentence carried multiple meanings. The midterm evaluation. The match. And expulsion. His face had already bundled all of it into one word.

“Honestly, it’s just a formality,” Jae-hoon said, tilting his head slightly, as if he were simply processing a document that had already been decided. “You haven’t awakened, and I have.”

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“It’s already over, isn’t it?”

It was a conclusion too embarrassing to even call logic. But in this school, that was everything.

I gave no reply. There was no need. I knew that excuses or rebuttals had already lost all meaning.

That silence seemed to strike exactly at Jae-hoon’s nerves. His eyebrows twitched faintly.

“Why?” he asked. “Why’ve you been so quiet lately?”

He took a step closer. The distance was deliberate.

“Up until yesterday, you at least had some fire in your eyes.”

There was mockery in his voice, but the stronger feeling was that he was trying to confirm something.

I looked straight at him. Just for a moment. In the past, I might have averted my gaze here. But not now. I met his eyes and said nothing. Just calmly. Then slowly turned my head away.

In that instant, the corner of Jae-hoon’s mouth trembled ever so slightly. He was clearly smiling, but it was different from before.

“Ha.”

A short laugh—half mockery, half irritation. He passed by me and spoke.

“Well, doesn’t matter.”

His voice was still light.

“It’ll all be over tomorrow anyway.”

There was still certainty in his tone. But it was just a little too much, as if he were saying it to convince himself.

Jae-hoon walked toward the end of the hallway as if nothing had happened. His back looked confident. Yet I could feel it—that confidence was wavering. Just a little. Just slightly. And that fact made me even quieter.

Because tomorrow wasn’t a day to prove anything with words.

After school, the hallway wasn’t as light as usual even though classes had ended. Some students laughed loudly on purpose, others made pointless jokes and chattered. It was all an act. The midterm evaluation was tomorrow. The usual noise was like a thin cloth draped over anxiety.

I walked through the crowd toward the training grounds. Normally, I would have met up with Tae-geon today and checked my senses one more time. But my feet, my body, and my mind were all strangely saying the same thing.

Not today.

On the bench near the training grounds, Tae-geon and Eun-seo were already waiting. Tae-geon sat as nonchalantly as ever, but his legs were trembling ever so slightly—so faintly he probably didn’t even notice. When Eun-seo saw me approaching, she blinked once. That was all. No “Are you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠okay?”—just a quiet confirmation that I had arrived.

None of us spoke much. From inside the training grounds came the sound of someone swinging a sword. Metal cutting through air. Feet striking the floor. It was a night when everyone was trying to hold on to something one last time.

Tae-geon scanned my posture. Shoulders. Hands. Breathing. Then he spoke.

“Let’s not do it today.”

I looked up.

“Do what.”

“Practice.”

He said it briefly.

“If you push any more today, you’ll just fall apart.”

He was right. This wasn’t the time to add anything new. I couldn’t refine anything further, nor could I change anything. The tactics I had built ran on resolve, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not perfection. If I got greedy here, even one beat would break. And that single beat was everything tomorrow.

I stared at the lights inside the training grounds for a moment. They were bright, and people were moving busily, yet strangely, inside me, everything was quiet.

“I know,” I said.

My voice was calmer than I expected, which surprised even me.

Tae-geon simply nodded.

Then Eun-seo spoke. Standing beside me, she asked quietly,

“Are you okay?”

That single question pressed strangely against my chest. Asking if someone was okay usually came with the expectation that they would say yes. But Eun-seo didn’t force it. She simply asked, as if it was fine even if I wasn’t okay.

I hesitated for a moment. Then answered honestly.

“I’m scared.”

Once the words left my mouth, I felt a little lighter. I had almost never said I was scared before. Especially not in front of my friends. I was afraid that if I broke, they would break too.

Eun-seo looked slightly surprised. But she nodded right away.

“Of course you are,” she said. “It’d ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be weirder if you weren’t.”

Her words were strangely realistic. So it became easier to breathe.

I lowered my gaze for a moment, then spoke again.

“Still,” I said, my voice a little lower, “I’m not going to run.”

The moment I said it, something inside me hardened. What scared me wasn’t losing. It was running away. Because if I ran, there would be no next time.

Tae-geon let out a short laugh.

“Then that’s enough.”

He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling once.

“Tomorrow’s your fight.”

It could have sounded cold, but when Tae-geon said it, it felt different. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t fight in my place. It was closer to saying he wouldn’t let me fight alone. That was always Tae-geon’s way. His words were rough, but his principles were clear.

Eun-seo took my hand without a word. Suddenly, yet without hesitation. Her grip was stronger than I expected. She held my entire palm, not just my fingers, as if she had no intention of letting go.

I didn’t pull away.

Still holding my hand, Eun-seo spoke.

“I won’t tell you not to get hurt tomorrow.”

I turned to look at her. She bit her lip lightly, then continued quietly.

“You might get hurt during the match no matter what. But still…”

She took a breath and said,

“Show everything you want to show, all the way to the end.”

That was such an Eun-seo way of cheering. I gave a short laugh.

“I’ll show it properly.”

Tae-geon let out a laugh that sounded like a cough.

“Hey, but,” he said, “you seem strangely fine today? Better than yesterday, even.”

I thought for a moment, then answered.

“Because I’ve decided.”

That was all. When tomorrow came, I would fight. Win or lose, I wouldn’t run. Once I reached that conclusion, everything else became a little less important.

From inside the training grounds, the sound of swords clashing rang out again. Like someone’s final struggle. I listened to that sound and quietly exhaled.

“Let’s go home,” Tae-geon said, standing up. “You should really rest today.”

Eun-seo stepped a little closer without letting go of my hand. Then, in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very small voice, she said,

“After it’s over tomorrow…”

A brief hesitation.

“Let’s all go eat tteokbokki together.”

“Yeah.”

I nodded.

The three of us started walking side by side. None of us spoke loudly, but strangely, I didn’t feel alone. Tomorrow was my fight. But if I was about to fall, there were already hands holding mine.

When I got home, I showered and organized my bag. Even as the water ran down my back, my mind remained strangely quiet. It wasn’t that there was no anxiety. It was just that there was no room left to waver anymore.

After roughly drying my hair with a towel, I sat at my desk. I took the sword out of my bag. The familiar weight. The faint scratches on the hilt. Silently, I began wiping the blade. I cleaned the edge, the handle, and even the sweat stains on the guard. These motions had become almost unconscious by now.

Only after finishing did I open the status window out of habit.

A blue light appeared before my eyes.

Name: Han Do-yoon

Skill: Awakening conditions not met

There was no change. Not a single subtle phrase. Not even a strange afterimage. Truly, there was nothing.

I hadn’t expected anything. So there was no disappointment either. It was just confirmation.

‘Right.’

I summarized it briefly in my mind.

‘As expected, nothing today either.’

I closed the status window and sat still for a moment. Sitting on the bed with the sword on my knees, I stared blankly at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. The midterm evaluation. It wasn’t the day I would awaken, nor the day a miracle would happen. It was simply the day to confirm the result. Whether I could stay here, or whether this was the end. The day I would confirm that difference with my own body.

Strangely, that thought didn’t weigh me down. I had already decided to fight without awakening. I had already finished all my preparations based on that premise. There was nothing more to wish for, and nothing more to delay.

I slowly closed my eyes.

I won’t run away.

That was the first thought that came to mind.

And right after—

I’ve done everything I can.

With that sentence, I ended the day.

That was enough.

The next day. The day of the midterm evaluation.

When I opened my eyes, the light coming through the window was unusually clear. Nothing was different from yesterday, yet the air itself felt strangely clean.

I put on my uniform, tied my shoes, and left the house. The commute wasn’t much different from usual. There were students laughing, students walking in silence, and students staring at their phones for no reason. But the closer we got to school, the quieter the voices became.

In front of the training grounds, students had already gathered. When the match order was announced on our phones, breathing changed in various places. Some let out small sighs of relief, others bit their lips. I didn’t turn on my phone. There was no need to check. It wasn’t a spot I could avoid anyway.

A little later, the instructor’s voice rang out.

“The midterm evaluation matches will proceed in the announced order.”

Names were called one by one, starting from the front. Some matches ended quickly, while others dragged on longer than expected. There were cheers, and there was silence. As time passed, the air inside the training grounds grew heavier.

And then—

“Final match.”

At those words, the surroundings grew distinctly quiet. Everyone knew whose names were left.

Only then did I take a deep breath. Slowly, I looked down at my phone.

The last line.

Han Do-yoon vs Min Jae-hoon

Even at this moment, there was no sign of awakening anywhere. That fact, strangely, calmed my mind. Because now, there were no other options left.

I gripped my sword.

This time, I would truly go all the way with the method I had prepared.

All that remained was the result.