The Kids Seem a Bit Off? (2)
“What……? Psycho?”
“Then is it normal to talk to someone more than ten times and piss them off by insisting they’re not when they say they are, you psychopath?”
At Kim Joo-hyuk’s anger-laced voice, Yoo So-yeon flinched with a wince for a moment, but she soon opened her mouth as if refusing to back down.
“S-still, I’m not a psycho!?”
“You’re a psycho!”
“No I’m not!”
“Yes you are!”
“No!!!”
“Yes!!!”
“No!!!”
Watching Yoo So-yeon grit her teeth and argue stubbornly, Kim Joo-hyuk found himself imagining pulling out the rustic sword tucked away in his possession.
Man or woman, Kim Joo-hyuk treated everyone equally.
Should I just lop off her head? One swing could cure that mental illness right away……!
He fidgeted with his right hand, pondering for a split second, but soon let out a sigh and waved it off.
“Fine. I’ll say you’re not.”
“It’s not about saying it—you’re just not!”
“Okay. So, you’re done now, right?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.”
Yoo So-yeon nodded with a bewildered expression.
“Then I’m out.”
Kim Joo-hyuk waved his hand dismissively at her and quickened his pace. Yoo So-yeon, who had been staring blankly, suddenly remembered her original purpose and reached out too late to grab him—but
“……Hah.”
Kim Joo-hyuk had already vanished down the hallway, leaving Yoo So-yeon with a hollow laugh.
Meanwhile, having returned to the dorm, Kim Joo-hyuk immediately began preparing to cultivate his martial arts—or more precisely, to build up his mana.
Well, “preparing” just meant changing into training clothes since he might sweat a lot.
[Mana cultivation?]
‘Yeah. Though it’ll be different from what these modern kids do.’
Kim Joo-hyuk had frowned upon learning from a previous class how modern contractors built mana in their bodies.
‘The epitome of inefficiency.’
For some reason he couldn’t fathom, all contractors, students included, didn’t accumulate mana through meditation techniques or effort but absorbed it using devices called “efficiency engines” in special spaces.
Of course, the modern method wasn’t entirely wrong.
Either way, using devices allowed them to store far more mana in a short time than through inner arts or other methods.
Given that this world was one where people dumped everything into mana to rely on constellations, it made sense that mana cultivation had evolved this way.
But what this world now took as common sense was, to Kim Joo-hyuk, profoundly inefficient.
‘Sure, it’s great at first.’
The meditation techniques Kim Joo-hyuk knew, or methods to expand capacity by pushing mana to its limits, were undoubtedly taxing and time-consuming, yielding pathetically little mana by comparison.
In contrast, those using efficiency engines sucked in massive amounts in a short period.
At first glance, efficiency engines seemed superior—but that was only surface-level.
‘Sucking in ambient mana that fast? The quality is trash.’
Yes, it might look impressive at first.
Right when you absorb it.
But that mana, no matter how much you cram into your body, couldn’t be utilized properly and had abysmal efficiency.
To put it simply: what one handful of meditation-gathered mana could do required an ocean of efficiency-engine mana.
‘Some families combine efficiency engines with inherited meditation arts, apparently.’
It might slightly improve quality, but it ended there once you’d already absorbed via engine.
“Hoo.”
That’s why Kim Joo-hyuk planned to build mana through the meditation art he knew from before, not efficiency engines.
Well, it wasn’t grand enough to call “martial arts.”
What he knew was just his modified version of the basic soil-breathing method every hunter did 300 years ago.
“Hoo—”
Letting out a deep breath, Kim Joo-hyuk sensed the mana in his body.
It had grown since first arriving, but compared to his past life, it was a mere speck.
Yet even that speck was enough for the Minor Heavenly Circulation he knew, and he began moving it with utter familiarity.
With that, the Minor Heavenly Circulation began.
And.
“……Well, look at that?”
Realizing this body’s potential, Kim Joo-hyuk grinned.
In this world, there existed beings called villains.
Villains.
The term sounded like it described humanoid monsters, but it applied not to monsters—to people.
Specifically, contractors who committed crimes using their power.
They were branded villains.
“Villains are mostly individuals, but groups abound too. Among them, the infamous international crime syndicate ‘One Faith Followers’—they’re among the constellations—”
The next day in class.
While the history instructor rambled on about “What are villains?,” Kim Joo-hyuk was lost in other thoughts.
‘Why the hell was such a great body wrecked to that extent?’
His thoughts were on this body.
Training it physically, he’d realized it had decent—though not exceptional—talent.
But handling mana yesterday, he’d discovered talent there too.
Not genius-level, of course.
It had aptitude for both body and mana, but split, so not quite prodigy.
Still, Kim Joo-hyuk was grateful.
He’d started as bottom-tier mediocrity, clawing his way up through sheer grit.
Anyway, beyond that, what bugged him was this body’s initial state upon arrival.
‘……With average talent, it shouldn’t have been trashed like that.’
Mediocrity meant no progress no matter the effort; talent meant gains with minimal work.
Talent meant power even at rest.
But this body?
‘Total wreck.’
Not average—even for a contractor, it was shattered. Recalling that, he concluded something had happened before reincarnation.
But he had no intention of digging into this body’s past.
‘Too much to do, and it’s a hassle.’
As Kim Joo-hyuk shelved those thoughts—
Tap tap.
He felt a light touch on his arm and glanced over.
“?”
He spotted a small note extended toward him, then looked up at Yoo So-yeon in the next seat.
Recalling she’d switched seats after yesterday—still not done fussing—he took the note she offered.
And unfolding it:
[Hey.]
‘……Is she really a psychopath?’
Worth replying? He pondered a dozen times, but eventually used his rarely touched mechanical pencil to respond.
[Why.]
He wrote right below “Hey” and passed it back.
From then, she twisted her head in distress at the note for over 30 minutes before passing it back.
[Y-you know that stone goblin you caught in the last maze monster class? How’d you do it?]
Glancing at the content, Kim Joo-hyuk looked at Yoo So-yeon.
Her pale skin flushed red—for whatever embarrassing reason—he smirked in disbelief, thought a moment, then wrote a reply.
“Alright, class ends here. Weekend leave applications are open, so those who need to go out, apply.”
As the instructor finished and left, Kim Joo-hyuk neatly folded his note and passed it.
“!”
Yoo So-yeon snatched it like lightning.
Kim Joo-hyuk chuckled and said,
“Hey, don’t open that here—save it for the dorm.”
“……Why?”
“Trade secret. Can’t have others knowing. Got it?”
At his playful grin, Yoo So-yeon nodded, thinking he wasn’t so bad after all.
Exactly one hour later, in the dorm.
[Not telling.]
“Gahhh!! You fucking asshole!!”
Yoo So-yeon screamed.
That afternoon, in the physical training room.
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Finally seeing the messages stop, Kim Joo-hyuk set down his smartphone and sipped from his tumbler.
‘No idea why she repeats the same shit until I reply.’
As he stared blankly at the tumbler with that thought, Barche spoke up.
[Working hard, eh.]
‘Gotta push if I’m skipping tomorrow.’
[Something else tomorrow?]
‘Heading out.’
[Ah, right—weekend leave is allowed.]
‘You’re always watching without a word, huh?’
[Bored.]
Bored yet spot-on—Kim Joo-hyuk nodded in agreement.
[So, why go out?]
To his question, Kim Joo-hyuk grinned.
“To make money.”