Academy Midterms: The Class 1 Prodigy
“Oppa, are you sure you’re okay?”
Despite her sister’s protests, Kim Jihye pushes herself upright and smooths out her heavily wrinkled clothes. She runs her fingers through her hair, making sure no strands are tangled.
“Oppa, you only woke up three weeks ago. You should skip the match and go home to rest. I hate to say it, but… you weren’t even in your right mind until a little while ago.”
She slips on a pair of shoes sized perfectly for her small frame, then taps the floor with her toes to check the fit.
“It’s just a midterm test. It’s not more important than your health.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m worried.”
At those words, Jihye finally turns her head. Jiah’s face is twisted with concern.
“I don’t know exactly what caused you to end up like this, but it’s definitely because of your lack of mana. Even if they’re just freshmen, they’ll have to use mana in a duel. What if you collapse again? How long this time? A few days? A week? A month?”
Kim Jiah had already risen from her seat and was now blocking the door to the arena.
“Last time the Halo System just overloaded because I hadn’t used it in a while. I won’t use it against students, and I’ll avoid magic as much as possible.”
“You think a duel is that easy? Even freshmen can create unexpected variables. How does it make sense for a magical girl to fight without using magic?”
“…There are hand-to-hand fighters. I’ll just do what they do.”
“Even they reinforce their bodies and techniques with mana. If anything, they probably use more mana than casting spells.”
“……”
Jiah grabs both of Jihye’s hands tightly. The grip carried a fierce determination that said she wasn’t letting her go anywhere. Faced with her sister’s stubbornness, Jihye lets out a sigh.
“Haa. I told you, I’m fine.”
“I’m not fine with it.”
“If I skip the midterm test, won’t I get held back?”
“You won’t. I checked the rules before I came. If you miss the test due to illness or family circumstances, you won’t be held back. Besides, you collapsed while stopping a demon from a gate, so it counts as an injury from field duty. You’ll actually get bonus points on your grade.”
“…Jiah. You said it yourself earlier. The reason you sent me to the academy was because you wanted to give me something.”
“But not if it means pushing yourself this hard…!”
“I’m not pushing myself. I’m fine. So stop worrying. Hwaaaam.”
A sudden yawn escapes her. The physiological reaction contradicts her words, and Jihye looks momentarily flustered before brazenly brushing it off.
“…I’m perfectly fine except for being a little sleepy.”
“See? That’s proof you need more rest.”
At that moment, Cha Seoyeon, who had been quietly watching, steps in to mediate.
“…She’ll be all right, Blossom.”
“What do you mean by that, Iron Fist?”
“It hasn’t been long, but from what I’ve seen, Jihye always holds back during academy matches. She fights without any desire to win. …If you’re still uneasy, why not set a restriction? For example, she can’t use more than a certain amount of mana.”
Jiah falls into thought, then finally relents.
“Just promise me one thing.”
“Got it.”
“Don’t overdo it. Beating a bunch of kids won’t do you any good anyway, right?”
And so, Kim Jihye’s participation in the midterm test duel was decided.
Yun Yuri lightly warmed up. Her hair, which reached down to her shoulders, swayed gently with her movements. The shackles of pressure didn’t exist for her. Her body felt light as a feather, and her condition was at its peak.
“I’m definitely taking first place.”
Her voice was filled with confidence. Yet no one could refute her. In less than three months, Yun Yuri had already proven why she was the top of her year—and that the title of “magical girl prodigy” reported by the media wasn’t just empty words.
At first, there were people who doubted her. The average academy entrance age was 15.3, but Yun Yuri had entered at fourteen—twelve in Korean age. It must have been irritating. Before questions about whether she had bribed high-ranking officials could stick to her, she crushed her talented peers in duels and showed everyone that she had every right to be at the academy.
Even before enrollment, she had already stood out at the mandatory magical girl basic training institute. She showed exceptional potential not only in basic magic but also in hand-to-hand combat, and she quickly mastered various weapons. Her mana reserves were considerable, and her magical power was strong. One of the instructors at the institute had evaluated her like this:
‘You were born with the fate of becoming a magical girl.’
But Yun Yuri hadn’t liked those words. Nor had she liked the nickname “prodigy” that a magazine had given her before she entered the academy. Prodigy. A child with outstanding talent. Did it mean they were dismissing her as nothing more than a child? The adults’ ignorant tyranny was deeply unpleasant. The word choice that refused to see her as a full-fledged magical girl and instead labeled her simply as “a talented child” annoyed her.
She had to become a magical girl—the greatest magical girl. It wasn’t fate. It was a mission. A vow and promise she had to keep. She had pushed herself through grueling effort beyond her given talent. While her peers were attending elementary school and acting spoiled under their parents’ care, Yun Yuri had thrown herself into a ruthless world of competition and survived there with determination.
Talent and effort combined had allowed her to enter the academy at a young age, but people didn’t understand her effort. They simply attributed all her achievements to the single word “talent.” Yet even talent and effort alone couldn’t fully explain what Yun Yuri had accomplished. No matter how great the talent and effort, without an excellent teacher, one couldn’t go far.
In that sense, she had met a remarkable being—or rather, a remarkable lifeform. Her partner and teacher.
“Even so, don’t let your guard down, yo.”
“I won’t make that mistake. But it’s still true that I’ll take first place.”
“Your confidence has gone way up because of all your successes, yo… This is bad, yo.”
A small red-headed bird perched on Yun Yuri’s shoulder. Though it looked like an ordinary bird, it spoke like a human and conversed with her without hesitation.
“Overflowing confidence is only natural for someone who’s worked as hard as I have.”
“Even so, yo. I’m still worried, yo.”
“You? Or me?”
“I’m the one feeling anxious, but… sigh. There’s no point in saying it, yo.”
The red-headed bird—insisting on being called “Omoknuni”—let out a heavy sigh and flew around Yuri.
One year ago. The day she first met Omoknuni. Yun Yuri had brought the unconscious bird home from the roadside. Unlike now, she had been emotionally drained and lacking in will, so she couldn’t just walk past a creature in a similar state.
This encounter had been an enormous stroke of luck for her. She had planned to feed the bird a few grains of rice once it woke up and send it on its way, but it had shocked her by speaking like a human. Introducing itself as a “mascot,” it had asked if she wanted to become a magical girl. Then it boldly declared that, as her mascot, it would make her the greatest magical girl.
Though hard to believe, the desperate Yuri of the past had trusted those words—and now she had come this far. Even with her outstanding talent and physique, she would have hit a wall without them. It was Omoknuni, her mascot, who had shown her the right direction for growth.
“Enough. It’s about to start, so let’s get ready.”
“Just do it like we practiced, yo!”
“You activated the concealment spell, right?”
“Of course, yo! The concealment spell is always active except for special occasions, yo. It’s the most basic thing for a magical girl mascot, yo!”
Omoknuni said it was using a concealment spell so that no one except Yun Yuri could see it. Thanks to this magic, only Yuri knew Omoknuni’s true identity.
Yun Yuri had scored perfect marks on both the written and practical exams for this midterm test. If she did well on this final duel exam, her position as the top of her year would become even more secure. But her goal wasn’t something as trivial as being the top of her year. She aimed to be the top of the entire academy—including the third-years—the greatest magical girl in the school.
The opponent before her would be just one stepping stone toward realizing that dream. With pride in her effort and skill, plus the fortunate presence of her mascot, she couldn’t even imagine the possibility of losing.
Perhaps that was why.
“Sorry, but I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. Haaam.”
A girl with cherry-blossom pink hair, soaked in fatigue as if she hadn’t slept properly, spoke while yawning.
“So… I’ll end this quickly.”
“Eek!”
The moment she heard those words, Yun Yuri lost consciousness.
Yun Yuri had been defeated in a single strike by an opponent she had never expected.