Just One Remark

Kwak Do-jin came up behind Baek Yu-yeon as she headed into the dormitory.

"Yu-yeon?"

At the familiar voice she turned, greeting him with a bright smile.

"Oh — senior!"

Faced with that cheerful expression, Kwak Do-jin cleared his throat for no particular reason.

"No more contact from Hwang Min-woo since then, right?"

"None. I heard he even gave up his room."

Whether for the police investigation or because his family had summoned him home, Hwang Min-woo was no longer at the Academy.

"Good. That's all thanks to Professor Kang, you know."

Baek Yu-yeon smiled faintly.

"I owe you as well, senior."

"Me?"

"You put a fist in his face. That's what got the disciplinary committee involved."

Kwak Do-jin felt a little swell of pride and pressed his mouth shut to hide it.

"Ahem. Well — yeah, that's true too."

A brief silence settled between them. Kwak Do-jin scratched the back of his head. The real reason he'd come was stuck somewhere behind his teeth.

Ah, screw it.

Just say it straight.

"You ever think about sitting in on Professor Kang's class?"

When you weren't sure you could persuade someone, a frontal assault ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't a bad option. Once you collided, a way usually opened up.

"Pardon? I'm majoring in martial arts medicine. From what I understand, Professor Kang Hyun's special lectures are about getting stronger, aren't they?"

"They are."

"Then why?"

Hell if I know! I don't know why the professor wants me to drag you in either!

Honestly, that made it harder. Shouldn't he at least be able to give her a reason?

"Studying takes stamina too. If you work out while you study, it sticks better in your head—"

He stopped.

Even as he said it, it sounded wrong. This was the girl they called a walking encyclopedia, famous for a memory that bordered on the absurd.

"…Okay, more like — if you're learning martial arts medicine, you still need to know martial arts, right?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"It's only three hours starting at six in the morning. Won't mess with your schedule."

Baek Yu-yeon thought of Kang Hyun for a moment. He was clearly no ordinary professor. But was that enough of a reason to take his class?

No. It isn't.

"I'm sorry, senior. I appreciate the offer, but I don't have room to spare right now."

She drew the line cleanly. Kwak Do-jin was her benefactor, and she was grateful — but that did not give him the right to choose her path or her future. That was her honest thought.

"I'm preparing to enter Professor Hwang Ye-rim's research lab. The selection exam is coming up soon, and every minute counts."

Hearing that, Kwak Do-jin couldn't push any further.

"Right. Exam prep. Sorry for getting in the way. Go rest."

"Yes. Have a good class tomorrow, senior!"

She bowed and slipped into the dorm. Watching her go, Kwak Do-jin let out a long breath.

This is not going to be easy.

The next day.

After finishing his class, Kang Hyun arrived at a certain building.

The Martial Arts Library.

Before he wrote out the Tendon Changing Classic — the greatest medical text in Murim history, attributed to the Great Master Bodhidharma — he had come here to do some preliminary research.

Oh. It's bigger than I expected.

High on the heavy exterior hung a single phrase.

True enough.

Even among Murim factions, secret manuals were managed more carefully than anything else. The leak of a single line of a formula had been enough to wipe out entire houses more times than anyone could count, and blood had been spilled between sworn brothers who had shared decades of hardship. Whoever possessed the superior martial art decided whether a group lived or died.

Rumble—

He pushed open the heavy automatic doors and stepped inside. A middle-aged man greeted him — the caretaker, by the look of it.

"You're a professor?"

"Yes."

"Present your faculty ID, and place all personal belongings in the lockers on the left."

Behind the caretaker, the rules were posted.

Look with your eyes, cram it into your head, and leave. That was the message.

As it should be.

Some people thought Murim folk were nothing but crude sword-swingers. In truth they were sharper than most scholars, and their memories were formidable. You had to decipher and memorize thousands of characters of dense classical Chinese. You couldn't afford to memorize ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roughly, either — a few misread characters in a martial formula and you were halfway to qi deviation.

Beep!

The caretaker tapped the ID against the reader. An alert chimed.

Thorough.

The barrier opened. Beyond it, towering shelves revealed themselves. The manuals were classified with systematic care — sword arts, saber arts, fist and kick techniques, footwork, internal cultivation methods…

As Kang Hyun walked the aisles, scanning the placards, an intrigued smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Korean annotated editions?

The display method was rather distinctive. At the center of each shelf, the original text was sealed behind special security glass under heavy protection. Around it, the space was packed with copies and countless interpretive editions.

What made it interesting was that even for the same original, the so-called manual interpreters had all come to different conclusions.

Kang Hyun pulled a basic-grade heart method from the shelf.

In the Murim, this was a breathing technique you could buy for a handful of copper coins at any marketplace bookstall.

He flipped through the copy. Classical language from the Murim era filled the pages — the modern equivalent of ancient Chinese characters.

Clean work.

He slid it back and opened two interpretive editions side by side.

"Hm?"

For the exact same line of formula, the two books offered different readings.

He closed them with a soft tap and clicked his tongue.

What is this nonsense.

To understand a secret manual properly, you first learned the language, then worked out the context and meaning of the original for yourself. And yet people were learning martial arts from translations other people had slapped together however they liked?

Not as a last resort when they were stuck — from the very beginning?

Martial arts branched in a thousand directions depending on insight and interpretation. If you never tried to open your own path and only walked the road someone else had marked out for you, what happened?

If the direction is right, fine. If it's wrong… you wander forever.

Dean Seo Il-hyun came to mind unbidden.

The Cheongheo Mind Method, was it?

Now he understood why the man had been stuck at the triple bottleneck. He had almost certainly been reading a garbage interpretation.

Kang Hyun returned the books to their places and headed for the second floor — the medicine and alchemy section, his original destination. He needed to gauge the level of martial arts medicine here.

What good was writing the Tendon Changing Classic if no one could understand it? He intended to survey what they had and fill the gaps one by one.

Not for the cadets in general, of course. For Baek Yu-yeon.

Hm?

Speak of the devil — she was sitting at a corner desk.

So much for coincidence.

Kang Hyun suppressed his presence and watched what she was doing.

Alchemy?

Four thick alchemy texts were fanned out in front of her. Writing tools were forbidden, so she seemed to be rearranging the books slightly and combining their contents in her head. A solid method.

Wait.

But Baek Yu-yeon had a perfect memory, didn't she? Why was someone who never forgot anything doing this?

He checked the titles.

Kang Hyun's eyes narrowed.

He didn't know what medicine she was trying to make, but those four volumes alone would never give her a complete answer. From the start, those manuals only became whole when five of them were brought together.

Kindle the fire and condense it. Master the clash of medicinal natures. Fuse the energies. Shape the form and seal it.

All fine — except the most important stage is missing. Stabilization.

One of two things: either she hadn't obtained that manual yet, or modern alchemy was so underdeveloped that no one even knew it existed. Baek Yu-yeon was sitting there fretting over a dissonance she could feel but couldn't name.

The corner of Kang Hyun's mouth lifted.

This would make recruiting her even easier.

"What are you trying to make?"

She jumped. Every scrap of her attention had been on the books; she looked up in shock.

"…Professor?"

"You've got four alchemy texts open. I'm asking."

Baek Yu-yeon grew wary. Kang Hyun was a martial arts professor — he had no reason to know anything about alchemy. She answered vaguely.

"I was working out a formula for a Qi Circulation Pill."

A Qi Circulation Pill. A basic elixir — one that aided the flow of qi and blood and gently opened the channels. Useful to take before circulating energy.

"A fine pill."

"You know the Qi Circulation Pill?"

"Of course I do. I've refined one or two myself, years ago."

Her pale blue eyes flickered.

This professor knows alchemy?

In Korea's hunter world, professors who had gone deep into alchemy could be counted on one hand. Even Professor Hwang Ye-rim had given the field up. And this drunk of a professor claimed he'd refined pills?

"When you roll it into a sphere at the end, the color doesn't come out right, does it? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Comes out a little red?"

"…!"

Baek Yu-yeon's mouth fell slightly open. He was exactly right. That was the single greatest problem she had been wrestling with for days, combining those four books every which way. According to the texts, a Qi Circulation Pill was supposed to be blue — yet every time she finished one, it came out red.

"The moment fusion is complete, pull the fire entirely and leave the cauldron open for two hours. You do everything right and then fail to bleed off the heat, so it turns red. All the good components inside die with it."

"But the books don't—"

No such process was written in them. The stabilization stage was simply missing.

She was about to argue when she realized Kang Hyun was no longer standing there. He had tossed out that single remark and was already browsing the martial arts medicine corner, working through the books one by one with a serious expression that looked nothing like the professor of the rumors.

That's impossible.

If something that simple could solve it, why hadn't a single line of it been written in the books?

Her reason wanted to reject what he'd said. Her curiosity would not allow it. The Kang Hyun she knew was not a man who made empty claims.

She hurriedly stacked the alchemy texts, left the library, and headed for the laboratory.

Two hours later.

"I-it worked?"

When she lifted the lid of the alchemy furnace, her eyes went wide.

"This actually works?"

Instead of the scorched smell she had always known, a clear, head-clearing fragrance rose into the air. And the color — of course — was blue.

She swallowed hard. Kang Hyun's image flashed through her mind: the man who always wandered around with a bottle of whiskey and a half-lidded gaze. The force that had torn up a contract and driven out a Taewang executive with presence alone had been astonishing enough. And now alchemy, too?

Who is he, really?

That he was no parachute hire — that much was certain now. Why else would even the notoriously difficult Cha Yu-sik follow him?

Doubt turned into fierce curiosity, and a voice from the day before drifted through her thoughts.

— You ever think about sitting in on Professor Kang's class?

After a moment of hesitation, Baek Yu-yeon picked up her phone.