I Knew This Would Happen
I knew this would happen the moment I activated the Halo System. As expected, it was a heavy burden. After telling the little kid who asked if I was okay that it had been perfect, I could only quietly watch as the fatigue I’d tried so hard to hide came crashing down on me.
“Ugh…”
Normally, the wave of exhaustion, laziness, and boredom would hit all at once and I’d lose consciousness completely. But this time was different. I still had work to do.
That work was calculations.
Even if the mana had been neatly sorted, an amount this large would have taken considerable time. What I’d absorbed, however, was the kid’s Unique Magic. Unique Magic alters the very nature of mana according to the laws of one’s Root, so digesting it all was incredibly difficult. No—difficult didn’t even begin to cover it. It was downright arcane.
I had to sort the mana, which had been transformed to match that magical girl’s Root, in ascending order, then convert it again to suit my own body. Allocation. Distribution. Insertion. Sorting. Extraction. Storage. Repeating the entire process. The calculations required for all of it.
If I made even a single mistake, the Halo could run wild and generate a massive mana storm in the area. There was also the possibility that my body would simply collapse. Because of those risks, I almost never used the Halo System. If he were here it might be different, but he wasn’t present in this place.
I collapse.
That doesn’t mean I fall completely asleep. Thanks to the mana gained through the Halo, I’m recovering little by little. But if someone asked whether I was truly all right, the answer would still be no. There were definitely parts of me that had been pushed too far just to activate the system.
To put it simply, my current state was like… receiving an advance on my wages. I’d borrowed against my body to obtain a larger sum, and now I was repaying that debt with the earnings that followed, yet I still hadn’t fully recovered. Something like that?
At this point my thoughts weren’t even working properly. I couldn’t come up with a decent metaphor. Was that only natural when every function of my brain was devoted to calculations?
Anyway, even if I did fall asleep, I wouldn’t sink any deeper than a day’s worth. That was why I’d told the kid I was fine. Whether I’d even manage to fall asleep at all was still up in the air. How could I possibly let go of my consciousness and sleep peacefully when I was this busy calculating?
Even though I thought all that, I had already collapsed. My eyes were closed and I couldn’t move a single finger, so to everyone else I must have looked fast asleep. Of course, I didn’t have the spare energy to care what they thought.
In any case, my job was to stabilize the Halo as much as possible. So I calculated.
…Maybe right now I’m dreaming of nothing but numbers.
Kim Jihye’s homeroom teacher, Cha Seoyeon, felt a headache coming on.
She had told herself the girl would do her best without pushing too hard, but she never imagined Jihye would go all out like this. She was already worried enough, and now the girl had given her even more to worry about.
On paper she was listed as the guardian, but in truth she would have to explain this somehow to Kim Jiah—Kim Jihye’s actual younger sister. Her head already ached just thinking about it.
A memory from a previous conversation on this very subject floated up.
“Sick…?”
It had been in the counseling room, where multiple layers of soundproofing magic overlapped. The day the two of them had spoken alone. Perhaps it was thanks to the room’s design that their privacy had been protected so well. Or maybe it was because the topic was her own family.
Either way, the person before her had not been the usual cool-headed and composed Blossom that Cha Seoyeon knew.
“It’s nothing. Still, aren’t you placing rather too much faith in me?”
At those words Kim Jiah had smiled faintly while sipping her coffee.
“That bond was between comrades. It’s different when it comes to being a teacher, isn’t it?”
Cha Seoyeon had been thinking about it for a long time. She wasn’t the type of person who was good at teaching others. When she had been recommended for the academy instructor position she had refused, saying it wasn’t her place. Yet life had a way of surprising you. She never thought she would end up sitting here giving student counseling.
She had been teaching the children, drawing on her own experience and knowledge, helping them grow in her own way. But she couldn’t stop the doubts from creeping in every single time.
Did she truly have the qualifications to be a teacher? Did she possess the ability to guide these children?
Kim Jihye’s situation was an extreme exception, yet the girl herself wanted nothing more than to be treated as an ordinary student like everyone else. Every night Cha Seoyeon lay awake, tormented by those thoughts.
Just as her doubts about herself as a teacher had been growing, Jiah had spoken those words.
“That was only because Blossom handled things well on her own. It wasn’t even proper instruction to begin with…”
Hearing about one’s own past from another person felt incredibly strange, yet it was like a torch that illuminated sides of oneself one had never noticed.
“…Hearing it phrased that way is rather embarrassing.”
It had been a long time since anyone had praised her like that. The words felt both ticklish and embarrassing. Cha Seoyeon turned her head for no particular reason, trying to soothe her awkward feelings. Kim Jiah watched her with a satisfied smile.
A brief silence settled over the counseling room.
“Ahem. So what exactly did you want to talk about?”
The meeting that day had not been a formal interview. Kim Jiah had stopped by the academy on official business, happened to run into Cha Seoyeon in the corridor, and said she had something to discuss, leading them here.
She really ought to return to her original duties. She shouldn’t take up too much of a busy person’s time.
Kim Jiah clapped her hands together.
“Keep him in check… how?”
The sudden request made Cha Seoyeon ask for clarification.
Was that how she saw it? For a moment all Cha Seoyeon could picture was the girl dozing off, so she couldn’t quite connect the dots.
“That does sound like her.”
Cha Seoyeon recalled the various times Kim Jihye had collapsed from fatigue. There had been quite a few.
“Not at all. Caring for students is obviously part of a teacher’s duty.”
…She had definitely received that request.
Yet now, looking at Kim Jihye lying on the arena floor, the headache returned with a vengeance. A pathetic teacher who couldn’t even fulfill a guardian’s earnest plea—that was who Cha Seoyeon was right now.
“Haah…”
Her feelings were complicated, but cleaning up the situation came first. The selection duel was over anyway, the winner had been decided, so all that remained was to look after the collapsed girl.
“The selection match ends here. I doubt anyone has objections to the outcome. I’ll take the fallen student to the infirmary.”
“Mm… I have plenty I’d like to say, but…”
It seemed Class 1’s instructor, Eun Chaekyeong, wanted to intervene, but—
“The student’s health takes priority, so please go ahead. We’ll speak in detail another time.”
“Thank you.”
“Teacher… is Jihye unnie really going to be okay?”
Just as she was about to leave the arena and head for the infirmary, a student who had followed after her asked the question. It was Yun Yuri, the prodigy from Class 1 who had dueled Kim Jihye moments ago.
“She’ll be fine. Her breathing and pulse are both normal.”
“Is it… because of me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I went all out for no reason, so Jihye unnie pushed herself too far…”
The words were thick with guilt and apology. Cha Seoyeon thought to herself that this child had done nothing wrong. On the contrary, giving her all in a duel was simply a student fulfilling her duty.
The one at fault was the homeroom teacher who had failed to prevent the situation. Even if there had been a risk of getting caught in the magic, she should have stepped in midway.
Carrying that regret, she spoke to Yun Yuri.
“No. None of you did anything wrong.”
“…Pardon?”
“If there is fault, it lies with none other than me…”
Once again Cha Seoyeon felt it clearly.
She was still not fit to be a teacher.