The Butterfly Summons a Typhoon (2)
A colossal penthouse spanning some five hundred square meters, monopolizing the entire top floor of the Fourth Dormitory Building.
A space that could only be described as a royal palace.
And here lived a woman who, though no princess of the Empire, wielded an authority to match.
Daughter of the Kujou family, the Empire's foremost martial house — and a warrior of the Super-Peak Realm.
Kujo Kisara.
Her right hand, the assassin Tadano Ansatsusha, sensed the hostile air in the corridor the moment the elevator doors slid open.
Far from bracing himself, however, he merely curled his lips into a smirk and strolled calmly down the hall, opening the door and stepping inside.
Crash—!
A wine bottle came flying straight at his forehead.
Drip… drip…
Red liquid trickled down his face, but Ansatsusha simply brushed his soaked hair aside as if nothing had happened and made his way toward his master.
Empty bottles lay scattered across the floor, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with wine's cloying sweetness. At the very center of that room of sensory debauchery and lavish furnishings, a woman sat alone on the sofa, glowering.
His underling knelt properly before her and recited his report.
"I have a report. We intercepted five in the Training Building district, but failed in yet another assault."
At those words — words daring enough to speak of failure aloud — Kisara did not bear down on her subordinate. She merely rotated the bottle in her hand and let out a dry laugh.
"That's rich."
Kujo Kisara — Deputy General of the Empire, ranked fourth in the Combat Department — asked with an expression of utter boredom.
"Ansatsusha, why did you fail? I expected you, of all people, to manage it. Explain the reason for your failure with your own mouth."
Tadano Ansatsusha answered without a flicker of hesitation.
"She was far stronger than the data suggested. The Young Cult Leader doesn't keep that one at her side for nothing."
"…Hmm. So it's one of that woman's underlings."
Only then did Kisara straighten her slouched posture and look directly at the underling kneeling at her feet.
Rank fifteen in the Combat Department — Tadano Ansatsusha.
A blade she had raised with her own hands, intending to appoint him commander of her special task force once she ascended to the post of General.
True to his nature as an assassin who forever concealed his cards, apart from his freshly wet hair, he stood there in impeccable attire with a mask-like calm upon his face.
At a glance, nothing seemed different from usual.
But Kisara could see it clearly.
Her eyes — capable of peering into another's body at will — showed the unmistakable sign of his interior qi flow thrown into disarray.
'…Left side of his chest. A muscle rupture?'
Kisara tilted her head.
"Even if you clashed head-on, I never imagined you, Ansatsusha, would be bested by some mere First-rate student."
"He was no mere First-rate. I would say he's on par with the upper-ranked students, if not better. I sincerely apologize for falling short of your expectations."
"…Well, I suppose it was strange for someone serving as a Young Cult Leader to go without a guard. So she had a hidden card. Whatever — your use was never in a head-on fight in the first place, so I won't hold this against you. Be grateful."
"I am deeply honored."
As her underling bowed his head, Kisara smiled pleasantly, took the bottle, and drank the wine straight down in one long swallow.
By Academy regulation it had been stripped of all alcohol, but even so, the finest batches carried a genuine taste worth savoring.
Yet Kisara found the bitterness clinging to her tongue soured by a thought that had suddenly surfaced.
"…So, the Korea Hometown Association. You think those lunatics will get scared and back down? Or will I have to go and shake hands with that demon cult woman myself?"
"I believe that if anyone can defeat the demon cult's devil, it is you, Lady Kisara."
"That much is obvious. Give me your opinion as an intelligence agent."
"They'll hold out stubbornly. They may even intend to pick representatives and face us. No — they will come out that way."
"Oh? You seem to know your classmates rather well."
When Kisara asked with a mischievous look, Tadano Ansatsusha twisted his mouth into a crooked grin before replying.
"They're lunatics who'll throw eggs at a boulder."
It was a voice full of certainty.
"Then in the end, we have to fight, don't we?"
Hearing it put so plainly, Kisara accepted that she, too, would have to steel herself.
She disliked uncertain battles — she was always the one leading others, after all — but her decisiveness was far from lacking.
"Can't be helped, then. We'll have to wring their necks first."
Either way, this was a fight in which the loser fell from the sky.
Kujo Kisara answered the call willingly.
The next morning.
Having finished a private negotiation with Cheon Yuha, I stepped out of the dormitory dining hall.
Since we'd be meeting for lunch anyway even on a Saturday, I'd figured I might as well use the occasion.
"…The sun's really starting to beat down."
But not everything on my schedule was done. Part of me wanted to lock myself in a cultivation room for some wager training, yet one crucial appointment remained.
The final settling of every dispute.
After walking a long while across the sprawling campus with a hand shading my eyes, my destination finally came into view.
Come to think of it, the distances between the main buildings were always awkward — too far to comfortably walk, but not far enough to justify riding something. I'd leave thinking I'd walk, immediately crave a taxi, and then arrive before I knew it.
'Maybe I should dig up some kind of transport device somewhere.'
Lost in that thought, I stopped in front of a facility that stood unrivaled even in Seondo, a place dense with majestic, luxurious buildings. And I marveled all over again.
"…Wow. It's still breathtaking, even after all this time."
One of Seondo's Three Great Mystic Sights — the World Tree Yggdrasil of the General Student Council Building.
Before width or height even entered the equation, it was a colossal mystical tree whose crown pierced the stratosphere and bored through dimensions themselves.
A single trunk, summoned from another dimension, was so generous and abundant that an entire building — the Student Council Hall — had been carved out of it.
'Should I have learned magic spells after all?'
As I experienced the phenomenon of my vision flooding entirely with tree trunk the instant I crossed the barrier, the stray thought crossed my mind.
Me, who'd only ever thrown punches — secretly a magic prodigy all along.
"Yeah, right."
I shook my head and moved toward the café right beside the General Student Council Building.
The accursed World Tree Student Council Building was such a hostile environment that anyone below the Peak Realm could barely breathe inside it, making it utterly unfit as a meeting spot.
Truly, this school despised anyone below First-rate to the very end.
Ding—
Stepping into the café called Inn of the Rose, I found its interior quiet and utterly without customers.
Since nearly every convenience facility had set up shop inside the Student Council Building, this was effectively a store for those who couldn't enter it — outside visitors, say, or lower-ranked students about to be expelled.
And apparently, being Saturday lunchtime, there wasn't a single customer today either.
"Oh, you finally made it! Welcome, welcome!"
Thanks to that, the assassin waving cheerfully was the first thing to catch my eye.
Just as I was about to frown and wonder what he was so happy about, I spotted a most unexpected figure sitting beside him.
"…Huh?"
Blue hair swayed. A slender white hand extended. Her smile deepened.
"Hello there."
Vice President of the Seondo Student Council — Lee Chung.
My master from my past life greeted me with a fresh, radiant smile.
These days I could manage just about anything, but when I'd first entered the Academy, I had been, in the truest sense, a weakling.
No talent, no master — a half-pint of a fighter.
I'd only barely reached First-rate with the Samjae Breathing Method and Six Harmony Fist I'd picked up at a neighborhood dojo.
Perhaps someone had looked kindly on that effort, because I'd been unexpectedly scouted into Seondo as a freshman.
But I was still weak.
As a result, I was sprinting headlong toward expulsion with every passing day, on the verge of leaving school having gained nothing at all.
My internal energy, my technique, my body — all of it was substandard.
To that version of me — with no future knowledge, no enlightenment, no real skill — she had approached.
"Your name is Choi Gangjun, isn't it?"
That was why I could never understand it.
"Will you be my disciple?"
What did you see in me, back then? What made you take me in? Even now, I still cannot fathom it.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Lee Chung, the Vice President."
The greatest genius of martial talent in all history.
A Grand Master who completed her own martial studies at the age of eighteen.
Lee Chung, Vice President of the Seondo Student Council.
My master from my past life greeted me with a fresh, radiant smile.
"I look forward to knowing all of you, juniors."
A courteous yet firm bearing.
She wasn't deliberately projecting her aura, and yet there was a presence no one could dismiss.
"…Uh."
And I, caught off guard by this sudden meeting, could do nothing but look back and forth between her face and her outstretched hand.
I was glad to see her.
Glad, and gladder still after so long apart.
If only this weren't technically our first meeting, I might have embraced her without a second thought.
At the same time, another thought occurred to me.
'What is she doing here?'
I'd heard a student council officer would be dispatched for the club negotiations, but never in a hundred years had I imagined it would be the Vice President herself.
Setting aside the absolute powerhouses of the headmaster and vice-headmaster, she was effectively the number two of this entire school.
Unlike the first-day class observations, this time she'd gone out of her way to grace a bunch of kids having fun.
'…Could she have come on purpose because of that first-day observation? To see me?'
For a moment I wondered if I was being self-important, then realized it was entirely my own doing.
Even if the Taegukmu was currently a martial art made for me alone, it would one day be an art she herself would create. She was bound to feel some kinship — or déjà vu.
I hadn't meant anything by it, but showing the very best of my form as a former student had apparently become the ultimate aggro.
'…Or actually, is this a good thing?'
Caught off guard by the sudden encounter, I'd been flustered, but thinking it over, there was nothing bad about this at all.
She was the last person who would ever do me harm — the finest of masters, and a person of truly admirable character.
Before hoping for any crumbs of favor, she was simply someone I wanted to get close to, human being to human being.
'Right. Let's make a good first impression while I can.'
Having settled on my course of action, I broke into a bright smile and clasped her hand with both of mine.
"I'm Choi Gangjun! I look forward to learning from you!"
"Looking forward to it too."
Well, she dropped straight into casual speech.
Lee Chung grinned wide, gripped my hand firmly, and shook it up and down.
I, too, gladly enjoyed the handshake. No matter how many times I looked at her, I was glad to see her.
"Hahahaha."
"Hohoho."
Maybe she got jealous, seeing the two of us laughing and shaking hands like old friends.
"Hello? Anyone there? Am I invisible to you people?"
The assassin was grinning from ear to ear, waving his own hand.
…Should I break that hand?
For a moment an ugly thought flickered through me, but my former master was standing right there, so I held it in.
"I'm only here to observe, so just pretend I'm not here. Talk like you normally would."
My master — that is, Vice President Lee Chung — placed a report on the table, ready to record and notarize the proceedings as her official duty, and smiled warmly.
So the assassin sat directly across from me, and my master sat beside him, watching us both.
Of course my attention kept drifting — but what could I do? If you have to, you have to.
Just act normal.
'Right. As long as I don't curse anyone out, I'm fine. How hard can that be.'
I shook my head and got straight to the point with Tadano Ansatsusha.
"Let's settle the match format first."
"Ah, now, that's not the first thing."
But the assassin wagged his index finger with impish glee, a smirk plastered on his face.
"One loss. We lost one match. Which means we've got to address the handicap issue before anything else, don't we?"
'Oh, screw off.'
A curse nearly burst out of me, but I shot a sidelong glance at my master beside me and clamped my mouth shut.
It struck me anew:
sitting here unable to unload a proper string of profanity at this insane assassin was harder than I'd ever imagined.
"…Whew."
Steadying my breath, I donned my best professional smile and spoke with all the linguistic sanitization I could muster.
"Buddy. We were the ones about to be officially appointed, and you ambushed us. Isn't that a little greedy on your part?"
"We announced the whole thing a day in advance — what ambush? Where've you been, off in the mountains somewhere?"
After several rounds of that back-and-forth bickering, we at least managed to shelve the handicap question for later.
Still, I worried how long this would drag on if things kept stretching like this from the start…
But from there, the talks went surprisingly smoothly.
"The duel format will be a representative battle. On that much, we're of the same mind."
"Then how many fighters?"
"One leaves too many people idle, and two leaves someone resentful — so how about three, hm?"
"That logic makes no sense—"
Whatever the reasoning, it was the same number I would have demanded anyway, so we settled it quickly.
The stakes: which side would become the official club.
The format: each side would select three representatives, who would fight individual matches.
Victory conditions were, naturally, best of three — and once the result was decided, the losing side would accept defeat without argument and file no appeals.
As for the date, we pushed it back as far as possible, since a good number of the club members were injured patients. But with my master's addendum that the club confirmation period ended next Friday, we settled generously on Wednesday evening.
Yes — a schedule I could be reasonably satisfied with.
It surprised me that Tadano Ansatsusha hadn't raised a single objection up to this point. Then, the moment the matchups came up, he blurted out:
"Random draw."
I frowned.
"Seriously?"
"Who'll be our captain? Who'll anchor the middle? Instead of some petty little mind games, wouldn't it be better to just leave it all to fate?"
His serpentine, bewitching eyes curved even deeper.
Apparently, the guy was wary of Cheon Yuha and Kujo Kisara actually facing each other.
The two were of roughly equal caliber, but the school and the world at large rated Cheon Yuha slightly higher.
Even if his side won the other two matches, if Kisara lost the main event, the blow to their side would be heavy indeed.
And what about our side?
Mulling it over and running the numbers, I eventually nodded.
"Fine. Let's do it that way."
"Oh, much obliged! It's true what they say — a friend's the only friend there is!"
"More importantly, you only talk in that dialect around me. I know the translation charm handles everything, so what's with the accent?"
"Aw now, you're being awfully self-conscious. What reason would I ever have to do a thing like that?"
"Something's fishy about you."
Anyway, that concluded all the negotiations.
My master, who had been silently recording the entire process, rose from her seat and declared:
"All proceedings were observed by Student Council Vice President Lee Chung, and the terms of the negotiation are hereby notarized. Then the matchup draw can also be handled by the student council, correct?"
"Yes, please take care of it."
Both sides gladly agreed to that arrangement, so that no complaints or suspicions could arise later.
It was also decided that the roster for the draw would be submitted on the morning of the representative battle itself.
The official reason was that too many people were injured to finalize the lineup just yet —
"Oh, but will you not tell me why we'll be running into each other that day as well?"
Given the way the assassin winked with eyes nearly extinguished, I figured that excuse wasn't a particularly meaningful fake either.
In any case, every matter had been settled, so I fully intended to head straight off for some wager training.
We'd just exchanged brief farewells and were about to part ways when Lee Chung — when my master — grabbed my wrist.
"Ah — could you perhaps spare a little of your time?"
"…Sorry?"
My former master Lee Chung's eyes sparkled, and all I could do was stare back at her, dazed.
The assassin looked between the two of us, tilted his head, and then promptly put on a sly, knowing expression.
"Well then, I shall be going ahead! Vice President, do have a wonderful day!"
With that, he delivered a flawlessly fluent farewell and swiftly made his escape.
'…Did you see that little bastard?'
Utterly dumbfounded, I glared after his rapidly retreating back — and then felt a slender finger jabbing insistently at my arm.
Oh, right. I whipped my head around, but my master was already looking up at me, eyes raised.
She stared hard at my face for a moment, then took a step forward, closing the distance.
'…Surely she's not about to accuse me of plagiarizing her martial art, just because it's a technique she'd already conceived.'
That startlingly practical thought popped into my head, and before I knew it I was backing away.
My master took another step, erasing the distance I'd opened with ease.
"Hmm."
Frowning, she cocked her head as though examining me from every angle.
"We've certainly never met before, and yet…"
So saying, she stroked her chin and murmured to herself.
Of course, I'd known her for ages — but for her, this was surely the first time we'd ever properly stood face to face.
"And yet you feel strangely familiar, you know?"
Lee Chung gazed steadily at me. The corners of her mouth curved, and our eyes met.
Suddenly, I felt as though everything inside me was laid bare in those clear eyes.
"…Haha, well, I'll take that as a compliment."
I broke eye contact, sweating on the inside. That uncanny sensation was by no means my imagination. It was something close to an authority — perhaps not even close to one. It was one.
'This person is probing me.'
One whose upper dantian is opened receives the qi that descends from the heavens — the heavenly energy.
The woman before me was the most deeply connected to heavenly energy of anyone I had ever known.
If you told her even a single lie to her face, it would be detected. Without fail.
"Actually, you see, when I went to observe a class recently, I watched you. It was great fun."
"…Thank you."
"You were using the very technique I came up with just a few weeks ago."
"…"
"And I haven't even systematized it properly yet. Strange, isn't it? Are you perhaps a genius too?"
Lee Chung leaned in with a dubious look on her face.
Afraid we might actually collide, I stretched my neck as far back as it would go.
And so we stood there, faces separated by a delicate margin, meeting each other's gaze.
Whatever happened to my plan of making a good first impression — I only felt like I was being interrogated.
An extremely long staring contest stretched on in that state.
After gazing at me for a good long while, Lee Chung cut straight to the point.
"You. Will you be my person?"
Just like the old days — a question out of nowhere.