Academy Midterm Test: Facing Class 1's Magical Girl Prodigy?! (10)
“Ugh… I’m beat.” I rubbed my lower back as I stepped off the stage. That last surprise attack had left my muscles twitching. Nothing serious—a quick massage would fix it. Actually, no… I’d probably wake up tomorrow feeling completely fine, as if nothing had happened. This body was endlessly vulnerable to sleep, yet physical injuries healed in no time. No matter how many times I thought about it, it was an absurdly convenient physique.
“Haba-babam. I tried not to overdo it, but I’m still exhausted. Guess it can’t be helped.” I yawned widely, opening and closing my hands. The silly sound it made was oddly entertaining, so I did it often. After playing around with the yawn for a bit, I wiped the expression off my face.
“So, why’d you follow me?” I looked up into the air. There, as if a curtain had been drawn aside, a bird gradually revealed itself. A long-tailed tit, wasn’t it? The round, soccer-ball-shaped bird approached hesitantly, glancing at me nervously. I knew this bird’s name. Its appearance was far too familiar.
“Salbyeol. It’s been a while.”
“I-It’s been a while… yoyo… Cosmo-nim.”
The long-tailed tit—Salbyeol—spoke to me with formal respect. It felt overly polite, but that was probably because it felt guilty. Its nature had always been courteous anyway.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
“Yes… I managed to survive somehow, yoyo.”
“It’s nice to see your face after so long.”
Quite some time had passed since I’d last spoken with Salbyeol face-to-face, so the warmth of reunion welled up. But it didn’t last. I gave a quick farewell and started walking again.
“Well then, take care.”
Salbyeol grabbed me as I tried to leave, its panic obvious.
“U-Um… Cosmo-nim?”
“What?”
“Didn’t you tell me to come find you earlier, yoyo?”
Oh. Now that it mentioned it, I had said something like that during the match. I’d completely forgotten in my rush to get back and sleep. I turned to Salbyeol.
“That was… Ah, I’m sleepy. Let’s talk next time.”
“H-Huh? What do you mean, yoyo?”
“I’m tired, so let’s talk later. Haaaaam.”
“Cosmo-nim? Cosmo-nim!”
I walked away like that. I could hear it calling after me from behind, but I ignored it. Sleep was more important.
After that, I sat in the class-exclusive stands for a while, showed my face briefly at the awards ceremony, and dozed through the principal’s speech. Unlike the first day, I’d brought my neck pillow, so I managed a decent nap even in the audience seats.
“Jihye, it’s over now.”
“Mmmgh… Really?”
The class president shook me awake, so I rubbed my eyes and stood up. The other kids were already tidying up and getting ready to head home. Once the president calmed the excited students, the teacher arrived. The homeroom was ridiculously short—just a few sentences—before we were dismissed. As expected of a combat instructor, the teacher had the good habit of keeping words short and to the point.
I waved goodbye to the class president and Miju as they headed back to the dorms, then made my way to the parking lot as usual. The old compact car was waiting there, as if it had been expecting only me.
“You worked hard this week. Let’s get home and rest.”
The engine started the moment I got in. As we slowly picked up speed, the academy grew smaller in the rearview mirror. My eyes half-closed, I stared out the window for a while. The neatly paved highway asphalt rushed past. By the time we passed the sign marking the city limits, Jia spoke up.
“…Did you lose to her on purpose?”
Her voice was lower than usual, layered with complicated emotions. I opened my mouth to offer a non-excuse.
“On purpose? I tried pretty hard, you know.”
“You didn’t attack even once, Oppa.”
A sudden silence. It was true that I hadn’t attacked. But it felt a little unfair. There was something that needed correcting. I hadn’t chosen not to attack—I simply couldn’t. Jia glanced at me while gripping the wheel. I answered while looking out the window, avoiding her gaze.
“Because you told me not to overdo it.”
“Ah…”
“I only used mana to modify the defense artifact. For attacks, I just swung the staff without using any mana.”
Jia fanned her face with her hand.
“Um… It’s a little warm. I’ll open the window.”
“Go ahead.”
The sound of rushing wind was pleasant. It wasn’t cold at all, as if announcing that spring was coming to an end.
…Was she embarrassed?
For a while, Jia focused only on driving, unable to meet my eyes.
“Still, using my body like that makes me tired. Nngh! Hah.”
Stretching made every muscle in my body scream. They were all demanding I get into bed as soon as possible. Right on cue, we turned onto a familiar road. We’d arrived home. Since it was the weekend now, I could sleep in. Roll around in bed, snack on chips… Hmm. It sounded ridiculous even to me, but after staying awake this long, falling asleep right when we got home felt a little strange.
The engine cut off, and I felt the floating sensation of being carried on someone’s back. It was… a little embarrassing.
Over the weekend, Seyeol and Miju quietly replayed the finals of the practical exam in their minds. Jihye had been incredible, but so had her opponent, Yun Yuri. The image of Yuri’s relentless, nonstop assault still lingered in their heads.
Seyeol, with her wide network of friends, had known from the start that Class 1 had a prodigy. She’d made friends across all classes since enrollment, so she often wandered into other classrooms. Every time she did, she’d seen Yun Yuri standing apart from everyone else. Seyeol had overlapped Jihye’s image onto that lonely figure. That was why she’d wanted to become friends. But they never grew close. Maybe it was because she’d entered the academy at such a young age—Yun Yuri had been sharp-edged, full of inferiority and obsession.
“Hmm…”
Seyeol closed her mouth and let out a long sigh. Friday’s final match had stirred up too many thoughts. She’d always taken pride in herself. It hadn’t been intentional, but having dipped a toe into the boundary between life and death, she believed she and Miju had grown tremendously. Naturally, she’d thought that growth meant they possessed skills far superior to the other students. Of course, it wasn’t arrogance. Seyeol and Miju hadn’t simply rested on that experience—they’d kept working hard. So the pride that had taken root in their hearts was, in truth, a natural result. But looking back now, even that felt like it might have been hubris.
After all, there were people in this world who grew explosively without risking their lives or pushing themselves to the brink of death. We usually called those people geniuses. Seyeol had felt that gap firsthand this time. Jihye was an existence beyond comparison to begin with, but through Yun Yuri—someone younger than herself and in the same year—she felt it painfully.
The Astra badge in her hand sparkled under the fluorescent light.
“There’s still a long way to go…”
Lying on her dorm bed, Seyeol stared blankly at the white ceiling and murmured softly. The end of the road was still far away—too far to even see. At least Jihye’s light made it possible to gauge the distance.
“If I keep trying, I’ll get there someday, right?”
Seyeol looked at the sticky note on the dorm wall. ‘Join the Magical Girl Association!’ Written in round, clear letters, it was Seyeol’s goal. At first, it had been someone else’s dream forced upon her. But after meeting Jihye, she’d gradually realized that she, too, had been dreaming that dream.
After gazing at it for a moment, Seyeol suddenly sat up in bed.
“Thinking about this while lying around is too much of a luxury if I want to make it happen.”
She grabbed her phone from the desk and called Miju.
“Hey, Miju. What are you doing? Yeah. I was thinking of heading to the training grounds before dinner. You coming too? Then let’s meet in the first-floor lobby.”
No matter how many geniuses stood in her way, Seyeol wouldn’t give up.
“You really like it that much, yoyo?”
“Hehehe… Huh? Like what?”
“Is the practical exam trophy really that great, yoyo?”
Seyeol had left the dorm building. In one of the rooms, a girl was hugging a trophy tightly and smiling brightly. Ever since the awards ceremony, she’d been living with that trophy in her arms, except when eating or washing up. Haah. What could anyone say? The girl’s name was Yun Yuri. The long-tailed tit—Salbyeol—was exasperated that Yuri’s behavior, which it had assumed would last only a day, showed no signs of fading.
“Of course I like it! It’s a trophy I worked super hard for, you know? I’m not giving it to you!”
“Haa… Understood, yoyo.”
Watching her like this, it was clear Yun Yuri was still just a kid. Especially since this victory had been earned by tearing herself down, it must taste all the sweeter. It was both endearing and admirable. Salbyeol was glad it had become Yuri’s mascot. Especially seeing Yuri this happy for the first time, it wanted to let her bask in the joy of victory a little longer.
But Yuri’s dream was too distant and too high for her to have time to drown in this happiness. As a mascot, it was time to make a decision. After much thought, Salbyeol spoke to Yuri, who was still hugging the trophy.
“No matter how I think about it, this won’t do, yoyo!”
“What won’t?”
“Yuri-nim, you need to get close to Cosmo-nim as soon as possible, yoyo!”
“…Eh?”