Chapter 23
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Taking the Exam
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We were standing in line with them, clutching our academy entrance applications, when Yang Cho-gun quietly asked,
"Did you bring that thing?"
"That thing? What's that?"
Yang Cho-gun whispered right in my ear, wary of anyone nearby overhearing.
"...You know, that letter of recommendation from the general back then."
"Oh, that? Why are you asking about it?"
"He went out of his way to write it for us. Wouldn't it be rude not to submit it?"
"Really? Well, too bad. I threw it away."
Yang Cho-gun, who had been whispering so softly a moment before, suddenly bellowed,
"Th-threw it away?!"
"Yeah."
"Why the hell would you do that?"
"Because submitting it would just make things a pain for us."
"A pain for us?"
"Think about it. We show up with a recommendation from a high-ranking general, and they bend over backward to 'take care' of us. How much hassle do you think that'll be? And if we keep getting that kind of favor, turning down their recruitment offers—no, enlistment proposals—will get more and more awkward."
"I-is that so?"
"Obvious as day."
Right then.
Kiiiiiik—
The doors to the entrance application desk flew wide open, and out strode a man trailed by a gaggle of subordinates.
At a glance, he screamed high-ranking official.
He started scanning the line of applicants.
Like a hyena hunting for prey.
I felt a twinge of unease.
Then he called out to the personnel officer.
"Personnel officer!"
"Oh heavens! Director! What in the world brings you down here in person?"
"What, is this off-limits to me?"
"N-no, sir! That's not what I—"
'Director?'
I jolted at the title. The head honcho himself, coming down here for paperwork?
Then an astonishing name popped from his mouth.
"Any chance candidates named Hwang Tae-seong or Yang Cho-gun have come to register?"
"Hwang Tae-seong and Yang Cho-gun? Let me check right away."
'No friggin' way?'
The personnel officer rifled through the applications, didn't find who the director wanted, and bellowed,
"Over here! Any applicants named Hwang Tae-seong or Yang Cho-gun?"
Yang Cho-gun shot his hand up high and shouted back.
"Right here! I'm Yang Cho-gun, and this is Hwang Tae-seong!"
The director's face lit up like Christmas.
"Oh~ You two, eh?"
Affection oozed from his gaze as he eyed us.
He bustled right up, grabbing my hand then Yang Cho-gun's in turn, welcoming us like a grandpa reunited with lost grandkids.
"Well, well~ If it isn't our young heroes right here."
'What the actual fuck? This guy?'
He was giving off the same vibe as our old battalion commander, right before that promotion screw-up.
The look in his eyes? Pure reverence, like we were holy relics.
"Come on, come on! Not here—follow me to my office. We'll have some tea."
"We still need to submit our—"
"Bah, forget that. Hey! Personnel officer!"
"Yes, Director!"
"You handle it."
"Pardon?"
"Pardon? Deaf or something?"
"N-no, sir! On it!"
"Good man. Carry on, everyone. You two, this way."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd instantly.
"What? Those pricks? Eunuch spawn or something?"
"Eunuchs got kids?"
"You think they don't? Plenty sow wild oats before the chop..."
"...Quit with the nightmare fuel."
"Damn! Always some connected asshole everywhere. Came here to escape that shit."
"Tell me about it~ Us nobodies gotta grovel just to breathe."
"Kaak! Ptui!"
"..."
Yang Cho-gun shot me a look after catching the whispers.
His eyes practically screamed, 'This what you meant?'
I just nodded wordlessly.
And that's how we ended up—willing or not—in the director's office, facing him over cups of fancy tea.
I couldn't figure why he was rolling out the red carpet without even seeing the letter.
Turns out, I didn't have to wait long.
"General Won Dong-gi was so impressed by your feats, he sent me a personal letter begging me to look after you. Honored, right?"
'Called it. That bastard's handiwork.'
"No, sir. Just did what anyone should."
"Modest, but come on—talk is cheap. How many walk the walk?"
"Haha... Yeah, well."
"Speaking of, tea to your liking? Iron Goddess oolong—rare stuff. Top-shelf 청향 grade."
Tasted like bagged green tea to me.
"Ignoramuses like us wouldn't know fine tea if it bit us."
"Plenty of time to learn. Door's always open—I'll keep the good stuff brewing."
"That said, we should prep for the entrance exam."
"Exam? What exam? You're in."
"Say what? Why?"
"Why? Obvious."
"We don't want special treatment."
"Special? This is elite treatment~ You've earned it with your service to the nation. Little perks are standard."
"Grateful for the thought, Director, but we want a fair shot. Earn our spot in the Imperial Palace Martial Academy properly."
"Heh, straight shooters, eh? No wonder the general's fond. Fine! Take the damn exam."
"Much appreciated."
"Adjutant!"
"Sir!"
"Escort these lads to the test site."
"Yes, sir! This way, gents."
"We'll be going, then."
"Heh, off you go."
We gave the director a proper fist salute and headed out to the exam grounds.
Unease gnawed at me the whole way.
I'd overheard his "whisper" to the adjutant.
No fancy Heavenly Ear bullshit needed—he'd hollered it for all to hear.
The whisper? Pure theater.
Translation: Delegate your authority. Give 'em every convenience.
What "every convenience" meant? We found out quick.
First stop: physical fitness arena. We gawked.
'A-a tent?'
Vast training field, candidates milling about.
And there, beside them—a fancy-ass canopy tent. VIP inspection model.
Why the hell now? Unbelievable.
Yang Cho-gun, face twisted, transmitted,
-When'd they pitch that crap?
-Beats me...
Clueless, the adjutant beamed and ushered us in.
"Watch in comfort here."
This wasn't kids' play—I flat-out refused to step inside.
"Th-this is overkill. We'll stand with the others."
Yang Cho-gun backed me hard.
"He's right. Unfair as hell."
We griped at the adjutant, but he begged,
"Think beyond yourselves! Director's orders: max convenience. You two sweating laps out there? Me and the examiners look like idiots. Our necks on the line!"
"F-fine, then at least ditch the tent?"
"Done."
So we joined the candidate line.
Examiners skipped us cold.
Protest time.
"Why no call for us?"
"You blew past our numbers."
"Oh, special admits. Passed already—no test needed."
"What?!"
"Gotta spell it out twice? Accepted. Done."
"Ha... ha..."
Other candidates slogged 10 laps in sandbag-laden armor, drenched in sweat.
Us? Arms crossed, back-row spectators.
They shot us death stares, obviously.
Hard labor for them, joyride for us.
"What the fuck? Those assholes just sightseeing?"
"Fuck if I know. Director fetched 'em personally, word is."
"Highborn brats? Who?"
"Hidden eunuch whelps, they say."
"Eunuchs? Pfft~ Kaak! Ptui!! Nasty! Lucky fucks!!! Daddy's neutered~."
"Wahahahaha!"
"Kekekekekik!"
"..."
"..."
Heard it all.
Bed of nails, thorny as fuck.
Couldn't buck the director's say-so, though.
Finally, one candidate snapped.
Unorthodox sect pro—disciple of the notorious Black Star Sect, no less.
"Instructor! This is bullshit among candidates!"
Instructor scowled, bit back.
"The hell you on about?"
"Why they lounge back there while we bust ass?"
"Special admits. Passed."
"Even so, over the line."
"Defying orders?"
"Fairness issue! Special or not, here for the test? Everyone tests!"
"Damn right!"
"Hear, hear!"
"Make 'em test!"
"Wooo~ No spectators! Fair play! Fair play!"
One voice sparked a revolt—grousing everywhere.
Momentum building, instructor sweated.
I'd had enough. Time to step up.
Yang Cho-gun nodded—same page.