The Unqualified Freshman
Mornings were always the same. I opened my eyes before the alarm could sound, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then forced my body upright. If I kept my eyes closed, it felt like I might steal a few seconds of thoughtlessness, but my body was already moving on instinct. …More accurately, it was dragging itself forward against my will.
Today was the first day of school. Korea Academy’s high school division. The name alone sounded impressive. The nation’s premier hunter training institution. A place where awakened gathered, talented children competed, and the state itself oversaw an elite curriculum. From my perspective, it was simply the place where I would be reminded daily of how little I belonged.
Even if a message like Congratulations! You have been admitted to the high school academy! had appeared, it would have meant nothing. I still… couldn’t awaken.
No one had literally stuck a sticker on my face that read “Failed to Awaken.” Yet whenever I stepped into a new space, I felt as if that sticker was flashing first. Because I already knew it before anyone else could say it. I was still different. No. I was lacking.
“Do-yoon, are you awake?” Mother’s voice drifted through the door. I answered briefly and climbed out of bed.
“I’m up.”
I splashed cold water on my face at the sink. The mirror showed a reflection that still carried the haze of sleep. As I fastened each button of my uniform shirt, I rolled my shoulders once for no particular reason. The Korea Academy uniform was crisp, well-tailored, and clearly made from fine material. On most people it would have looked quite respectable. The problem was that on me, it only made me appear more shabby.
Do you belong here? The uniform seemed to ask. I had no answer.
“Ha…” A sigh slipped out before I could stop it. Starting the day like this would only make the hours stretch longer. Still, on a day already guaranteed to feel endless, one sigh wasn’t going to cost me anything.
I left my room. Breakfast was already laid out on the table. Steam rose gently from the doenjang soup, and the side dishes were the usual ones. Mother, wearing an apron, stirred the pot and glanced over at me.
“First day of high school today, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Being nervous will only make you more tired. Make sure you eat properly before you leave.”
…Just as I expected. Mother never uttered the word “awakening.” Even though she knew exactly what kind of day this was, even though she could see the expression on my face when I stepped out of my room. What mattered to her in this moment wasn’t what I had failed to do. It was whether I ate my rice, whether I finished my soup, whether I wasn’t heading out on an empty stomach. Those things were more important to her.
Honestly, I was grateful. And at the same time… a little afraid.
The gratitude came from the breathing room it gave me. In front of Mother, at least, I didn’t have to keep proving that I still hadn’t awakened. The fear came from how firmly she saw me as simply “Do-yoon.”
I had failed to become the proud hunter she could brag about. I couldn’t enter dungeons like my father, couldn’t leave a mark on people’s memories like my mother, and couldn’t even manage the awakening that children my age accomplished as naturally as breathing. Yet Mother still loved me. That love left me nowhere to run. It bound me even more tightly.
My mother, Kim Mi-kyung, had once been a 1st Generation Hunter. She had been active from the moment dungeons first appeared on Earth. By the standards of those early days, she had been one of the most prominent S-class Hunters. But not anymore. During a dungeon raid she had received a curse, and now she suffered from Mana Depletion Disease. A condition in which the mana inside her body slowly, yet irreversibly, drained away. Once it ran out, even walking became difficult. There was no complete cure, no solution. The only method was to continually replenish her mana with magic stones.
Mother received one C-grade magic stone from the state each month. That single stone let her endure thirty days. The word “endure” was precise. Her daily life was too cautious to be called living. Yet Mother pretended nothing was wrong. Especially in front of me.
“More side dishes?”
“This is plenty.”
I lifted a spoonful of rice and, without meaning to, glanced at Mother’s hand. Sometimes her fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly. When that happened, I never asked. Because if I did, she would surely say it. I’m fine. Those were the words I hated most. Watching someone insist everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t turned out to be more painful than expected.
Mother checked once more that I was eating well, then nodded. She never once mentioned awakening, or when I might manage it. What mattered to her was that I ate breakfast and left the house today like any other day.
“Be careful out there.”
“I’ll be back.”
When I looked back after stepping through the front door, Mother was waving just as she always did. …Exactly as always.
“Since it’s the first day, don’t come home too late.”
“Okay.”
“And—”
“Yes?” Mother hesitated for a brief second. My heart sank slightly. For a moment I thought she might finally bring up the subject of awakening. But she simply said,
“For lunch… maybe I should have packed your favorites after all?”
“…It’s fine. The cafeteria serves meals.”
“As if cafeteria food would be any good.” Mother smiled as she said it. The smile was so natural that I suddenly felt even more awkward.
“Have a good day.”
I closed the door. The early morning air outside was crisp and chilly. After taking a few steps, a familiar voice reached me.
“Hey, Han Do-yoon.”
“Do-yoon, over here.”
It was Tae-geon and Eun-seo. They were waiting for me in front of the house. …Right. We had agreed to go together today. First day of high school at Korea Academy. Tae-geon had suggested it, Eun-seo had immediately agreed, and I had answered, “Sure.” Inside, however, I had thought, Please, just let me go alone…
Of course I couldn’t say that out loud. If I tried, Eun-seo would open her eyes wide and ask “Why?” while Tae-geon would say something like “What do you mean, alone on the first day?” And I had no confidence I could win against either of them. I didn’t need to.
“I figured we might be late if we didn’t coordinate,” Tae-geon said first.
“I just came out too.”
“Your face says you weren’t just ‘coming out’—you were dragged out.”
“Shut up.”
Tae-geon gave a small laugh and casually draped an arm around my shoulder. The line between awakened and non-awakened didn’t seem to matter to him. …Or more precisely, it probably did matter, but he pretended it didn’t. Tae-geon never said the things I hated. He tossed out plenty of casual jokes, but he avoided crossing the line with eerie precision. That was the most frightening part of his kindness.
Tae-geon had awakened back in middle school. He had always drawn attention, but after awakening, the way people looked at him changed completely. Combat-specialized skills, quick judgment, and a personality that always took the lead whether in real drills or mock battles. At some point, students at the academy began calling him the “Academy Hero.” It wasn’t an official title. It certainly wasn’t one he had chosen. His skill, his actions, and his unnecessarily proactive nature had simply led people to call him that.
Tae-geon grimaced whenever he heard the nickname, yet whenever someone was in real trouble, he was the first to step forward. So the name refused to disappear. But in front of me, he remained the same Tae-geon as always. I was grateful for that. Sometimes it also made it hard to breathe.
Eun-seo stood beside him, smiling quietly.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah. You two?”
“I was too nervous and kept tossing and turning.” Eun-seo smiled faintly as she spoke. That smile always had the power to put people at ease. After awakening, she had gained abilities focused on recovery and protection. She was better suited to looking after others than to fighting. The type who noticed injured people first, organized things from the rear, and sensed who was struggling before anyone else. Her appearance stood out as well. Her tone was gentle, her actions always a beat ahead. She took care of those around her and never missed small changes. That was why, at the academy, she was called the “Saint of Pure White” or simply the “Academy Saint.” It wasn’t an official title either. People had simply given it to her because of how she carried herself.
Still, I sometimes thought the nickname weighed too heavily on her. Eun-seo was used to taking care of others, but that didn’t mean she was always okay. When nervous she fidgeted with her fingertips. When worried, her smiles lingered a little too long. When people treated her like someone extraordinary, she would briefly look away. Yet everyone wanted her to stand there with that comfortable expression. Even I sometimes wanted that. Which only made me feel more sorry.
“Do-yoon, does the uniform fit all right?”
“Yeah. Better than I expected.”
“That’s a relief. Discomfort shows immediately on your face.” Eun-seo spoke softly. I reflexively asked, “Me?” then realized what she meant when I saw Tae-geon laughing. …Ah. So it really does show. It had been showing all morning.
“You look a bit…” Tae-geon began.
“What.”
“Never mind.” He cut himself off immediately. The fact that so many meanings were packed into that “never mind” only irritated me more.
“Just say it.”
“You don’t look like you want to go.”
“…That’s accurate.” Tae-geon shrugged. “I like the honesty.”
“Like my ass.” The moment I muttered it, Eun-seo covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“Do-yoon, still… it’s the first day.”
“I know.”
“Today let’s go with ‘Here we go’ instead of ‘Here we go again.’”
“What is that even supposed to mean?” When I answered flatly, Eun-seo made a slightly pouty face.
“It’s not weird, you know.”
“Then explain it.”
“It’s cheering.”
…Cheering. The word was both amusing and strangely painful. Eun-seo sometimes held onto people like this while pretending it was nothing. She didn’t say “Do your best” or “It’ll be fine.” She chose words that would keep someone from crumbling quite so easily. I was grateful. And a little troubled.
I knew she paid special attention to me. There was no way not to notice. But I still didn’t know what name to give that attention. I was afraid that naming it would make everything that had continued so naturally suddenly feel awkward. So I always brushed it aside. As if joking. As if it meant nothing.
“That’s a strange way to cheer someone on.”
“Even strange cheering is still cheering.”
“Who decided that?”
“I did.” Eun-seo answered shortly. Tae-geon nodded beside her.
“Makes sense. If Park Eun-seo decided it, then it’s basically law.”
“Why are you siding with her?”
“Sticking close to the strong is a valid survival strategy.”
“You look pathetic.”
“The one who survives is the strong one.” Tae-geon grinned shamelessly. In the end Eun-seo couldn’t hold back and let out a small laugh. Hearing it made my chest feel a little lighter.
The road the three of us walked together was familiar. We had done the same during elementary academy and middle academy. Tae-geon walked lightly ahead, Eun-seo offered various topics from the side, and I answered from somewhere in the middle with words that didn’t carry much weight. The shape of our morning commute hadn’t changed much. The only difference was that I alone had still not awakened. But at least in this moment, none of us mentioned it. I was grateful for that. And because I was grateful, I hated it even more. Gratitude let me breathe. Hatred came from knowing that if I grew used to breathing this way, the day that breath finally stopped would terrify me even more.
In the distance, the main gate of Korea Academy came into view. Tall walls, orderly buildings, a vast campus, and coldly gleaming windows. A space where awakened came and went as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Looking at it, I felt an indescribable pressure. No, not pressure. A familiar premonition.
It’s going to be the same again.
“Well, we’re here,” Tae-geon said with a smile.
“Finally, high school at Korea Academy.”
Eun-seo was quietly steadying her breathing. I slowed my steps for just a second, so briefly that no one would notice. Awakening was not a choice here. It was a qualification. And I had not yet proven mine.
As I began walking again, I whispered inside myself, very quietly.
Today too… is a day of enduring.
The morning of the first day of school began like that. Nothing had happened yet. But I already knew. This ordinary calm would not last long.