A Physical Union (1)
Three days after the first exam, Hwayang-gwan Hall was packed with students. Today marked the announcement of the freshmen’s initial rankings based on their performance in the Cheongong Basin practical exam—and it was also the day of the mentor designation ceremony.
They chattered among themselves about the accident that had unfolded during the training. A considerable number of students had been injured that day. It had been a serious enough incident that it was a relief no one had lost their life. Yet the academy’s official statement that followed left a lingering sense of unease, as if something didn’t quite add up.
The investigation had concluded that higher-ranking monsters, displaced by territorial disputes, had crossed into the northern sector and attacked the students, but swift response measures had resolved the situation with minimal casualties. Some witnesses claimed to have seen the shadow of something enormous, yet no concrete evidence emerged. In the end, it was ruled that the chaos had led to exaggerated interpretations of what they’d seen.
Although the exam had been halted midway, the academy announced that they would assign rankings to the new students using internal evaluation criteria based on all observations recorded up to that point. Still, this first ranking would serve as a crucial milestone in their future life at Yolam. The students waited with eager expressions—except for three who looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“What the hell was that guy, really?” Woojin muttered, casting a quick glance behind him. His eyes landed on the masked male student standing alone. The brown-haired girl who was usually at his side was nowhere to be seen.
“He just got lucky and found an injured monster? He looked completely drained for something that simple. Covered in fluids, too. So does that mean he actually…”
“Hey. I told you to stop spouting nonsense,” Yeseo cut in sharply.
“This isn’t about skill level. Aitheranos is a monster that gives even veteran hunters a hard time. And that one was a variant. It even earned itself an identification name—something like Tentacle Serpent. How could a student possibly take down something like that? Alone, no less?”
Her face was etched with unresolved questions. It was a doubt the three of them shared. The image of that masked student lounging casually atop the massive monster’s corpse remained burned into their minds.
“The monsters we saw on the way could have been ones he hunted. Even Seoyeon unnie and senior Yeon Minha said they could handle that much without trouble last year. Fine, let’s say we simply failed to recognize real talent. But killing the Tentacle Serpent? That’s impossible! How many times do I have to repeat the same stupid—”
“Enough, enough!” Seungheon interrupted from between them, cutting Yeseo off. “It’s already over. Stop dwelling on it. We even swore a secrecy pact not to breathe a word about what we saw that day. And yet here you are…”
“Tsk…” Yeseo clicked her tongue but reluctantly fell silent. Seungheon sighed at the sight.
“Huu. Besides, senior Baek Seoyeon said the same thing last time. That he must have entered through recommendation because of his ability. And honestly, from what I’ve seen, Jinhyun seems genuinely…”
“Well, everyone must have rested well these past three days?”
A voice suddenly boomed through the amplifiers, cutting Seungheon off. The appointed time had arrived, and the event was about to begin. The group stopped talking and turned their attention forward. Professor Song Dae-won, monocle glinting, had taken his place at the podium as master of ceremonies.
“First, I wish to express my deepest condolences to the students who sustained injuries during the exam. Yolam will provide every possible support for their recovery and ensure they suffer no future disadvantages…”
He summarized the accident, offered an apology, and outlined future preventive measures before moving on to the individual freshman rankings.
“…Although the test was discontinued midway for safety reasons, it had already reached its final stages. We calculated the rankings based on the data collected up to that point. The process was conducted with complete fairness under the observation of the entire education committee. Objections will be accepted for three days following this announcement…”
He began reading the rankings one by one. The first name called—the student in last place—could barely lift their head, flushed with shame. The bi-weekly ranking boards were posted all across campus. While there was always room for a comeback in future evaluations, it still couldn’t have felt good. I wasn’t entirely familiar with the system, but pitting students against each other through rankings didn’t seem particularly educational. It was hard to imagine it sparking any true passion for learning. Someone’s claim that the system simply made it easier for corporations and powerful families to scout talent felt far more believable.
“Two hundred seventeenth…!”
“One hundred eighty-fifth…!”
The monocled professor continued down the list.
“Ninety-seventh… Guk Jae-ryong!”
A familiar name suddenly rang out. For a student from a prestigious family, it was a rather dismal rank. Neither Muyeong’s nor Yena’s names had been called yet. In the distance, I saw him hanging his head, body trembling. It looked like his pride had taken quite the hit.
The announcement pressed onward. Soon, the names of those who had earned the highest ranks—and with them, the right to designate a mentor—began to be called. Unlike before, small cheers erupted across the hall each time one was announced.
“Twenty-seventh… Shin Muyeong!”
“Twenty-third… Ha Yena!”
They had both managed to crack the top ten percent. When I turned, I spotted Yena shyly accepting congratulations from friends who were jumping around and making a scene in the distance. Our eyes met for a brief moment, but she only puffed out her cheeks and whipped her head away.
“…”
I felt the need to speak with her privately once the ceremony ended.
“Now then, tenth place…!”
By the time the professor’s voice had grown hoarse, only the single-digit ranks remained.
“Fourth place… Ryu Seungheon!”
A particularly loud cheer erupted from the front at his name. I caught sight of a good-natured boy smiling awkwardly beside a girl with a delicate, almost ladylike face who was making a fuss.
“Third place… Choi Woojin!”
Despite securing such a high rank, he wore a strangely displeased expression.
“Second place… Jin Yeseo!”
I immediately understood the reason for his discontent. The blonde, green-eyed girl was staring at the seat beside her with open contempt. Even from where I stood, I could see the back of his neck flush red and his fists tremble.
Now only one name remained—the glorious first place. Students glanced around, searching for whoever had yet to be called. After a long, deliberate pause, the professor finally spoke.
“First place… Yu Jinhyun!”
“Yu Jinhyun?”
“Isn’t that the weird masked guy? The one who had that whole thing with senior Baek Seoyeon…”
“No way…!”
Hwayang-gwan erupted into chaos in an instant. Unlike the other top-ranked students, a great many seemed unable to accept the ranking of the person just announced. Guk Jae-ryong, in particular, looked ready to burst a blood vessel in his neck.
Professor Song Dae-won quelled the uproar through the amplifier.
“Silence! I clearly stated that these rankings were determined by absolute and fair standards. I will not entertain objections about anyone else’s scores. Furthermore, let me inform you that student Yu Jinhyun was the only one to reach the recognition device and successfully stamp his identification tag. That alone should suffice as explanation.”
Once he finished, the commotion gradually died down.
“…So the recommendation admission wasn’t just for show after all…”
“Yeah… His skills must be the real deal…”
“Seems settled now. Yu Jinhyun, please come up to the podium.”
At the professor’s call, someone standing at the very back row began walking forward. His pace was neither rushed nor hesitant—leisurely and brimming with confidence, as though the spot had been reserved for him all along. The gazes fixed on him varied wildly: jealousy, envy, admiration, faint goodwill, competitive spirit, hostility. Even through the mask, I could feel them all.
When I finally stepped onto the podium, I turned to face the crowd. Hundreds of eyes pressed down on me with oppressive weight. Without the mask, I might have actually retched. The hall was so quiet that even the faintest whispers carried clearly.
The mentor designation ceremony began with the first-place student from the initial exam naming their chosen mentor. Those in the top ten percent would then each select a second-year to serve as theirs, while the rest would seek suitable partners through mutual agreement during the subsequent banquet.
Everyone present waited for my mouth to open.
“So. Our glorious first-place student, Yu Jinhyun. Which senior do you intend to designate?”
“…”
The monocled professor asked the question, but a long silence passed before any answer came. The left half of the venue was filled with second-years, ostensibly here to encourage the new students. Yet their eyes gleamed like predators sizing up prey. They were no doubt assessing each freshman’s ability and background, calculating who would be the most suitable junior for them.
I didn’t bother looking in their direction. Just knowing they were in the same space made my chest tighten painfully. I couldn’t imagine what fresh torment would grip me if I saw that smiling face again.
“I…”
Besides, my answer had been decided from the very beginning.
“I designate Senior Yeon Minha.”