Conditions 0/10
Seo Yu-ri closed the report and exhaled slowly. “Hmm…”
This was her private reading room, a space inside Korea Academy where even outsiders were denied access. Beyond the soundproof glass, the academy grounds stretched out below. It was the first day of regular classes resuming. On the surface, the academy moved as though nothing had happened. Students had returned to their lessons, and the training grounds operated as usual. The word “death” left no official trace anywhere.
“Clean,” she murmured. She liked that. The incident had been buried, the responsible party dealt with, and the school restored to normal. It was exactly how the White Night Group handled things. Remove the problem. Leave no trace.
The White Night Group, ranked second among the conglomerates. In Area 82, it had its hands in everything: magic stone refining and distribution, Hunter equipment, dungeon management subcontracts, and private Hunter contracts. And she was its youngest daughter, the one pushed farthest from the succession line.
She opened the report again. The name at the top read Han Do-yoon. The record beneath it was strangely simple.
— Father: 1st-generation S-class Hunter (deceased). Mother: 1st-generation S-class Hunter (Mana Depletion Disease). Extremely low mana capacity. Abnormally high mana operation efficiency. Selected for the national gifted education program in elementary school. Failed to awaken. Grades plummeted after middle school. Entered Korea Academy High School. Assigned to Class D, Year 1. During the midterm evaluation, an Awakener death occurred in a sparring match.
“…Unusually honest,” Seo Yu-ri said, the corner of her mouth lifting by the smallest fraction. In cases like this, there was usually a hole somewhere—parental influence, grade tampering, forged recommendations. This record had none of that. His scores sat exactly on the baseline, and his admission followed the rules to the letter. The variable no one had expected: a non-Awakener.
“That makes it more interesting.”
She turned another page. This one contained the internal records from the day of the incident: sparring logs, mana residue analysis, barrier reaction data. Everything had been labeled an “accident.” But she saw it differently.
“This is…”
Her finger traced the mana residue graph slowly. Opponent skill activation record. Output values. Then a tiny blank space right after the skill ended. In a normal Awakener sparring match, that interval would flow seamlessly—output to recovery, recovery to the next action. Here, the transition was noticeably longer. Brief, but unmistakable.
“Right after the skill…”
She enlarged the graph. The mana flow had cut off once, then shifted in a completely different direction. Not the residue of the opponent’s skill—something else entirely.
“Not a skill trace.” Her judgment was close to certainty. Instead, the moment the opponent’s skill finished and left them completely defenseless, a non-Awakener’s attack had landed. The barrier reaction records proved it. The fatal damage had been registered not while the opponent’s skill was active, but after it had fully ended.
“…He aimed for it.”
Seo Yu-ri let out a small breath. It wasn’t coincidence. He hadn’t overpowered with raw strength or overwhelmed with awakening. He had waited for the opponent’s skill to finish, then struck at that exact timing. The fact that a student had made that judgment was almost unreal. And then came the next part.
The result—“someone died”—and the fact—“awakening occurred.” There had been no skill between them. Only attack, death, and awakening.
She rearranged the sequence in her mind once more.
“Hmm…”
Only then did the pieces fit.
“…As expected.”
She spoke quietly. Between the Do-yoon before awakening and the Do-yoon after awakening, there was only one event. Someone had died. And immediately afterward, his awakening had been confirmed.
It was cruel. But it was also brutally efficient.
“In the White Night Group…”
She leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping the table. Tap. Tap. The inside of the White Night Group was already a battlefield. On the surface, it was a perfect family-run enterprise. Inside, there was no shortage of bloodless wars over shares, subsidiaries, Hunter contracts, and dungeon rights. The straightforward path would never reach the top. Clean hands could never stand at the summit.
What was needed was someone who could move without hesitation beyond the boundaries of law and rules. Not a subordinate who waited for orders, but a person who could judge for themselves and cross the line. And someone who could bear the consequences.
“Han Do-yoon.”
She spoke the name again. He had lived as a non-Awakener yet never abandoned the fundamentals. He had observed the world of Awakeners to the very end. And in the end, he had crossed the line—whether he had intended to or not.
“A useful tool.”
She gave the assessment with complete honesty. He was still unrefined. No control, insufficient experience. But that was precisely why he held value. An uncut gem could be shaped in any direction. Its edge could be sharpened toward any purpose.
Seo Yu-ri rose slowly from her seat. Her gaze shifted beyond the glass wall, toward the training grounds. A student was there, alone, swinging a sword. Sweat-soaked uniform. Relentless, repetitive motion.
“Seeing it in person would be faster.”
A faint smile touched her lips. The value of an uncut gem was decided the moment it was obtained. How it would be cut and polished to increase that value was entirely her choice.
Her eyes had already made the decision.
It was lunchtime. Even after the incident, the cafeteria remained noisy, but the sound felt separated from me by a layer. I sat in the most inconspicuous corner. The tray held an ordinary meal. My mind was too cluttered to taste anything. I lifted the spoon, then set it down again, repeating the motion.
Rumors still circled around me.
“Did you see? That kid from Class D.”
“He beat an Awakener, they say.”
“Not just beat him, but…”
“They just called it an accidental death.”
The voices were deliberately low, but I couldn’t help hearing them. I tried not to care. Right now, I had only one concern.
Conditions 0/10.
That number kept circling in my head.
Then the chair across from me scraped quietly. I looked up.
And recognized her at once.
Seo Yu-ri. Youngest daughter of the White Night Group. Second-year. A-grade mage-type Awakener. Top of the class. Perfect looks, skill, and background. There wasn’t a single person in this school who didn’t know her name.
In person, she was colder than the rumors. Long black hair. A perfectly arranged uniform. No unnecessary emotion on her face. She sat as though she had already known this seat would be hers.
“…Is there something you need?”
The polite register came out first. There was no particular reason. I simply thought she was someone I didn’t need to deal with.
Seo Yu-ri’s eyes lifted ever so slightly at the corners as she observed my reaction.
“As expected,” she said, almost to herself. “You recognize me.”
“White Night Group. Senior Seo Yu-ri.”
A name that needed no explanation. I nodded.
“You’re famous.”
That was all. I had no intention of continuing or asking questions. That seemed to pique her interest slightly.
Seo Yu-ri glanced once at my tray, then at my face.
“You’re calmer than I expected. Most people either avoid eye contact or try to strike up pointless conversation.”
“There’s no reason to.”
My answer was honest. We had no connection whatsoever, aside from attending the same school.
She paused for a moment, then naturally shifted the topic.
“I heard you awakened.”
The spoon in my hand stopped, just barely. I tried not to change my expression, but it probably wasn’t perfect.
“…Rumors travel fast.”
“Not fast. This academy is just small.”
She spoke as though it were nothing. “Especially when someone dies.”
The air sank for an instant. I set the spoon down slowly. Seo Yu-ri didn’t miss the reaction.
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not here to reprimand you.”
She leaned back, crossing her legs. “I’m only interested in results.”
“…What do you mean?”
Seo Yu-ri tilted her head. “The awakening condition.”
The words struck straight into my chest.
“Most people don’t care. That’s why I’m curious. Why now, of all times?”
I said nothing. Seo Yu-ri didn’t smile. Instead, she spoke quietly.
“You seem a little different.”
She stood up. Then she leaned slightly toward me. Close enough that I could smell her scent.
“If you’re interested, come find me later. I have a feeling you and I would get along quite well.”
The words were so light that they felt all the more dangerous. As she turned to leave, she added one last thing.
“I haven’t told anyone yet.”
She walked away. The cafeteria grew noisy again, but I heard none of it. The awakening condition. Someone who knew about it.
I stared at the empty tray.
‘…Why me?’
And another thought rose in my mind.
‘Should I go find her?’
Or should I not?
Conditions 0/10.
The number surfaced again. This time, it carried a slightly different meaning.