Proving Myself (2)
A soft whoosh. A square clock materialized in midair.
A stopwatch.
It was exactly the tool needed for a hands-on demonstration.
Lee Yoo-seong's confidence shone through. Under his command, they could take down even more monsters in even less time.
Stopwatch activated
Yang Sae-rom gripped her sword. Focus. Focus.
Something felt off. Normally, she'd have slapped her own cheek by now.
Her body was trembling—no, her heart was racing.
The risks of losing focus in real combat fell squarely on her own shoulders.
But...
Three Hell Hounds detected.
“...”
She awaited orders. Her mind went blank. Cooperating fully was the right call.
And just like that, an astonishing calm washed over Yang Sae-rom. Was it the subtle charisma in that man's voice? He told her exactly what to do...
Charge first.
“Yes.”
Middle one first. Slash the throat. High strike.
The first sensation was trust. The command incorporated what they'd just reviewed, as if it were the most natural thing.
“...Hup!”
My god. It was like he'd seen the future.
Of the three approaching Hell Hounds, the middle one lunged first.
It leaped through the air.
High strike. Her blade followed its trajectory, severing the Hell Hound's throat. Red mana rippled.
Joseon Strong Sword.
Her downward thrust carried immense pressure. It was already a devastating attack—and striking the weak point made the Hell Hound's body explode, like shattering a gem.
“...It worked.”
Right one. Slash straight through.
Her sword plunged toward the ground. But Lee Yoo-seong chose an option even she might have picked—truer to her style.
It should have hit the dirt. The strike was so powerful she could barely control it.
But...
Whoosh!
“Kyak!”
She twisted her body, readjusted her grip, and swung right...
Boom!
With a thunderous impact, another Hell Hound burst apart.
“...!!”
Her eyes widened in shock. She'd just pivoted and swung with all her might—pure instinct.
It felt like magic. Like the Hell Hound had been placed there on purpose.
Throat first, then heart. The fluid motion snuffed out its flames.
Keep rotating.
The path flashed in her mind. Her body knew the motion from training—it became reality.
As she slashed right, she spun.
And at the end of that arc...
Pop!
“...”
A chill ran through her. Goosebumps everywhere.
One minute? No, less than thirty seconds.
Normally, dodging and attacking for minutes might net one kill.
This was different.
Her body flowed like water. Trust the voice, move—and the blade's tip met the enemy's weakness every time. She couldn't tell if the sword arrived first or the foe's throat did.
Like seeing the future. Lee Yoo-seong's words led straight to victory.
“H-how... how did you do that?”
Analysis.
“Analysis...?”
Pack animals.
“...”
They have strong pack instincts. They won't ignore a comrade's death.
Opportunistic biters at the neck. Instinct over ability—like their lava spit. Their bodies moved first.
Lee Yoo-seong brushed it off with a casual smile. With the right info, his skills covered the rest.
Breath steady?
“...Yes.”
Next. 3 o'clock direction, five Hell Hounds.
Her feet moved on their own. Like an addict chasing a fix. Her body craved that rush again.
“Hah... hah...”
16 minutes 57 seconds
“Hoo... ha...”
Good work. That's it.
“M-more... none...?”
Ah. Only now could Yang Sae-rom look around. The battle thrill had faded.
Her heart pounded. Oxygen surged through her veins.
16 minutes and 57 seconds. 27 monsters slain.
A relentless march. No different from the gate she'd challenged days ago.
Her body unchanged—no extra growth, no new gear.
Only one difference.
Lee Yoo-seong's presence.
“...”
“H-how was it...?”
Shimmer. The world brightened. The hologram vanished, leaving only the new training hall.
Clap, clap, clap.
“Congratulations, Junior Yoo-seong... no, Professor Lee Yoo-seong.”
“Ahaha...”
“Impressive.”
The principal smiled. The administrative assistant nodded in awe.
It was like witnessing a new paradigm in gate clears. Something only he could do, but imagine if every raid had solid intel and strategy—how safe and efficient it could be. Unimaginable.
“Can't say you're unqualified.”
“Um, th-the simulation's over...”
Whoops. Yang Sae-rom looked sheepish. They'd switched to casual speech mid-fight.
“...You're not that much younger than me anyway, right?”
Question marks. More question marks.
All three stared at her, heads tilted.
“Y-younger? No way...!!”
Lee Yoo-seong wagged his head. The principal and assistant stifled chuckles.
“Ms. Yang, h-how old are you...?”
“Twenty-eight this year...”
He mumbled timidly.
“I'm twenty...”
“...Pardon?”
“M-my daughter turns twenty this year...”
“...”
Pardon? Yang Sae-rom gaped. The principal looked intrigued—a new expression after two years.
“Th-then your age... I mean, how old...?”
“...”
Lee Yoo-seong puffed his cheeks slightly. Hamster-like. His innate timidity deflated it quickly.
“Forty-five...”
“S-sorry. Oppa.”
“J-just call me ajusshi. It's fine.”
“Yes...”
Unbelievable. A 45-year-old ajusshi? That soft skin, pale neck...
Yang Sae-rom shook off the demon. No—he was married.
Her face burned red. Thinking of him as a young brother? It matched her hair, beet-red.
Anyway. The principled Yang Sae-rom bowed politely.
“P-please take care of me, Professor Lee Yoo-seong.”
“M-me too...”
Lee Yoo-seong. Self-proof achieved!
Oh yeah. Landed the job. Things worked out great. Peak condition, peak mood.
Because of the job? Not really... it was the self-affirmation that his skills hadn't rusted.
Ahem. He'd been somewhat famous back in the day.
Anyway. He wandered the academy. Principal and staff all gone.
Vacation time—few students around. Even dorm kids headed home. Only the real diehards remained.
“Hm hm...”
Mid-hum, heading out, he spotted a woman.
Hanbok-like fabric. Entourage of secretaries. Golden hair, black eyes.
Most striking: tiger ears and tail. Brown-black stripes swishing.
A face he knew well—from TV.
Hwagwon-gwak clan, Kwak Ha-rang. Golden Tiger. Mountain Army Guild Master at the academy.
“Sh-she's here...!”
His body moved instinctively. Hesitate, and he'd be caught.
He yanked his robe hood down tight. T-turn back. Side exit... plenty of ways out.
Why avoid her?
...Awkward.
Pure agoraphobe issue.
But not just that. As he turned and stepped, memories surfaced.
Last memory: her confession. Sweet girl. Overly intense personality was the issue.
Not really an issue. He had Seol-ah, so he politely declined, saying they'd likely never meet again.
She never contacted him after. Made it even more awkward now.
She'd honored his final words.
“...Gone?”
Good. Just eye contact—she had her schedule, didn't pursue.
Relief. One step forward—
Whoosh.
Wind stirred. A woman appeared before him.
“Oppa...?”
“Ah, h-hello...”
He raised a hand slowly. Kwak Ha-rang looked unchanged from academy days.
The Golden Tiger. Mountain Army's Kwak Ha-rang gazed down at him.