The Unawakened's Place
The moment the principal stepped off the stage, the air in the auditorium visibly loosened. Until then, even breathing too loudly had felt like drawing attention. Now, it was as if some invisible pressure had lifted, and small sounds began to leak out from every corner. The creak of chairs as people leaned back. Careful exhales. The rustle of uniforms as stiffened shoulders relaxed. And then the murmurs.
“Wow… that presence was no joke.”
“That’s why he’s a legend.”
“I thought I was going to suffocate halfway through.”
The voices weren’t loud, but they carried a strange sense of shared relief. The principal’s address hadn’t been a speech to listen to so much as a warning to brace for. Nation. Devotion.淘汰. Those words felt completely out of place at a high school entrance ceremony.
Without realizing it, the tension drained from my shoulders. I breathed. That was when someone else climbed onto the stage. The emcee offered no introduction, but none was needed.
A female student in uniform. Hair neatly tied back. Posture perfectly straight. Above all, her gaze didn’t waver. She simply stood there, and the eyes of the entire auditorium naturally gathered on her.
‘Ah.’
I finally understood. ‘She’s the student council president.’
The hand holding the microphone was light, and her expression held an easy composure. It wasn’t a forced smile, nor was it an attempt to project authority. It was simply the face of someone who belonged in this kind of setting.
“Hello.”
Her voice came through the microphone, clear and steady. If the principal’s voice had been like solid steel, hers was like a well-honed blade.
“I’m Cha Yun-seo, president of the Korea Academy student council.”
The moment she finished, the auditorium stirred once more.
“Whoa…”
“That’s really the student council president?”
“I heard she’s the top student in the second year.”
“First time seeing her in person…”
Whispers spread through the room. Respect and admiration, mixed with a hint of distance. She was a student like the rest of them, yet clearly occupied a different position.
Cha Yun-seo gave a slight bow. Even that small motion was free of any unnecessary flourish.
“I sincerely congratulate you on your admission.”
Her tone was gentle, but not light. “Today might feel longer than you expected.”
Laughter rippled through the auditorium. It was the kind of remark that eased tension without trying too hard. Some nodded; others let out quiet breaths. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward without meaning to.
‘She really is different.’
She hadn’t tried to forcibly change the atmosphere. She simply spoke in a way that made people accept it naturally.
“While you’re here, you’ll compare yourselves to others a lot, and you’ll probably get tired faster than you think.”
At those words, my heart gave the faintest reaction. Comparison. Exhaustion. It was too accurate, and I felt oddly exposed.
Cha Yun-seo paused, then continued more softly. “Still, don’t rush yourselves too much.”
“Everyone has their own pace.”
In that instant, the air in the auditorium shifted again. Some swallowed; others straightened their backs without thinking. The strength I hadn’t realized I was holding in my hands loosened.
It was a voice full of conviction. Not baseless comfort or formal encouragement.
‘…Someone who’s survived in this school.’
That was the feeling I got. Not someone who had only heard about it, but someone who had lived through it.
Cha Yun-seo smiled faintly one last time. “Once again, welcome to the academy.”
“I hope your high school life here, even if it’s difficult, becomes something you’ll remember.”
This time, applause broke out naturally. Not forced clapping, but the kind you’d expect at an actual high school entrance ceremony—sound mixed with both excitement and nervousness.
Once the instructions for moving to homerooms were given, students began rising from their seats one by one. The sound of chairs scraping, bags being picked up, people calling to each other. The auditorium had taken on a completely different face from moments ago.
Standing amid the movement, I paused to catch my breath and thought, ‘Could I ever become someone like her?’
No. ‘Even if not quite like her…’
At the very least, could I manage to hold my ground here?
Carrying that thought, I slowly made my way toward where Class D was gathering.
The whispers behind me were quiet, yet they reached my ears with strange clarity.
“That’s supposed to be Class D.”
“Wow, the vibe is already different.”
“That place is just… well.”
They didn’t need to finish the sentence for the meaning to come across. The distance was awkward enough that pretending not to hear felt pointless. My steps naturally quickened. I didn’t lower my head or glance around. I just wanted to get past this stretch as fast as possible.
When I reached the Class D classroom, several students had already claimed seats. Without hesitation, I chose the corner seat at the very back. Far from the blackboard, far from the teacher’s desk. A spot that wouldn’t draw attention. A familiar place. It had always been that way, even back in middle school and before.
‘This should do.’
A short while later, the classroom door opened, and laughter came in first.
“Hey, hey, did you see the student council president?”
“She looked insane up close.”
“Is she even human?”
I knew who it was just from the voices. Min Jae-hoon’s group.
Jae-hoon was walking in when his eyes flicked toward me. He stopped mid-step.
“…Huh?”
His expression changed after that short sound. The corner of his mouth slowly curled upward.
“Han Do-yoon.”
The way he said my name already sounded halfway to laughter.
“Seeing you here makes it even funnier.”
The guy behind him immediately snickered.
“Whoa, we’re actually in the same class?”
“Fits right in with D Class.”
At those words, the air in the classroom shifted slightly. Jae-hoon walked over to my desk like it was nothing and tapped it with his finger.
Tap.
The sound was small, but it somehow grated on my nerves.
“Did you hear what the student council president said earlier?”
Jae-hoon tilted his head. “Something about everyone having their own pace, right?”
He smirked. “For you, it’s not a matter of pace. You don’t even have a starting line, do you?”
A brief silence. Then laughter erupted.
“The fact that someone who couldn’t even awaken made it this far is a miracle.”
I didn’t say anything. Not because I had no rebuttal, but because this pattern was far too familiar.
‘Ah, here we go again.’
Just then, the classroom door opened.
A middle-aged man walked in. His steps lacked energy, and his expression held no enthusiasm. He looked like someone whose only thought was to finish quickly and leave.
“Alright, everyone sit down.”
His tone was low and dry. “I’m Kim Young-soo, homeroom teacher of Class D.”
He set his bag on the teacher’s desk and spoke as if it were a bother. “Today’s the first day, so there’s nothing much to do.”
“When the bell rings, go straight home. Don’t stick around and cause trouble.”
His gaze swept over Jae-hoon’s group. Just for a moment. But that was all.
“I don’t like troublesome things. Figure it out among yourselves.”
With that, Kim Young-soo left the classroom again. The door closed. A short silence. Then—
“Phew.”
Jae-hoon burst out laughing. “See that? Even the teacher doesn’t care.”
He stood much closer to me than before. There was nowhere left to retreat.
“But you, though.”
His eyes scanned me from face to fingertips. Not the look of someone observing a person, but of someone confirming something.
“I’m genuinely curious.”
He paused, then gave a twisted smile. “If your family pushed you that hard, shouldn’t at least one thing have come out of it?”
A beat later. “Ah, right.”
His voice dropped slightly. “Your mom’s a retired Hunter, wasn’t it?”
The words lodged in my ears. I didn’t lift my gaze. Reacting here would be a mistake. I knew that. But Jae-hoon spoke as if he’d been waiting for exactly this moment, adding the next line with perfect nonchalance.
“Your dad died in a dungeon, right?”
In that instant, my mind went completely blank. Only a ringing sound remained in my ears. Thought couldn’t keep up. My body moved first.
I drew up my mana. Not a skill. Just basic manipulation. Not just at my fingertips—spread thin across my entire body.
My fist shot out. It grazed Jae-hoon’s abdomen. Not a clean hit, but not a complete miss either.
“Guh—!”
Jae-hoon stumbled back a step, caught off guard and briefly losing his breath. The classroom erupted into murmurs. Not because of the pain, but because of what had just happened.
Han Do-yoon, who couldn’t even awaken, had hit Min Jae-hoon.
Jae-hoon’s face flushed red. Shame came before anger.
“This bastard…!”
In that moment, his mana surged explosively.
Parts Break
Temporarily enhances physical abilities by selecting a specific body part.
Jae-hoon chose his right arm. The next instant, his fist slammed into my solar plexus.
Thud.
Air rushed out of my lungs.
“Kuh…!”
I couldn’t breathe. A follow-up kick knocked me off balance, and I rolled across the floor. My vision flipped for a moment. Jae-hoon looked down at me from above.
“Look at that.”
His voice had calmed again. “This is the difference between an Awakener and unawakened trash. You should know your place. I don’t get why someone who couldn’t even awaken is acting up.”
They laughed as they left the classroom. The door closed. Only I remained.
My body hurt. My solar plexus throbbed, and I couldn’t get up for a while, lying there on the floor. But what hurt more was the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it. The reality that this was my limit, all because I hadn’t awakened.
I clenched my fist, but nothing happened.
‘…Damn it.’
What disgusted me most was that I couldn’t even sustain my anger to the end.
I lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling for a long time. My breath still wouldn’t come properly. Even so, I didn’t close my eyes. The moment I did, it would feel like I had truly lost.