Watch Your Back
Right after returning from the Knight Order to the chapel, I threw myself into practicing voodoo spells and blessings. Aside from mealtimes and bathroom breaks, I holed up in my room nonstop. It was a true closed-door training session. The goal was, naturally, attaining that so-called realm of mastery. Of course, there was no progress. I lay down for a moment during practice and passed out cold, only to wake up to morning light. I scrambled to get ready and headed to school, spending the day in the usual training routine without incident. And finally, Wednesday.
[Today your condition is excellent.]
As I suited up in my uniform to head out, Legba suddenly piped up. His tone was a little off from usual—higher pitch, almost slurred pronunciation.
"Because I got a ton of sleep yesterday."
It wasn't enough to really worry me, so I brushed it off casually while packing my bag: textbook, bible, holy relic.
[Right. Plenty of sleep is good. But not too much, not too mu—!]
"...Pardon? You usually nag me to sleep more."
[Ah, I... Did I? Hmm. Can't recall.]
As I finished up and headed for the chapel door, something felt off about Legba's voice. To be precise, it wasn't Legba at all. It sounded like another Loa imitating him. And there was only one Loa who'd pull that stunt.
The one who could mock Legba outright with an impression and get away unscathed.
"Baron Samedi. When'd you get here?"
[...Ahem! Legba's got such a needlessly gravelly voice—tough to mimic properly.]
Only then did Baron Samedi drop the act and use his real voice. He'd clearly planned to startle me with the impression. Amateurish as it was, barely qualifying as mimicry.
"So, what's the occasion?"
I asked while slipping on my shoes.
[What occasion? Didn't you tell me to drop by every five days? Surely you haven't forgotten our deal?]
"Ah... Of course I remembered! Thanks for coming."
Truth be told, I'd blanked on it.
Baron Samedi let out a disapproving tut.
[Well, anyway—to business. Expect a busy day of this and that.]
"This and that?"
[Lots of minor stuff, nothing major. Call it an uneventful day.]
An uneventful day. The words lifted my spirits a bit. Wasn't that exactly the kind of day I'd been craving?
I nodded with a grin, and Baron Samedi continued.
[My advice: Don't go anywhere alone—stick with at least one other person. And watch your back. That's it from me!]
"My back? What about—ah, he's gone."
Baron Samedi vanished with those final words. Purple mist streamed away from me in a fluttering rush.
Don't go alone. Watch your back.
Literal back, or metaphorical betrayal? No clue. And "don't go alone"—what the hell did that even mean?
I couldn't parse it yet, but no harm in committing it to memory. Don't go alone. Watch your back. Don't go alone. Watch your back...
Engraving Baron Samedi's prophecy, I stepped outside.
Early morning streets teemed with bleary-eyed students heading to school and commuters rushing to work. The sky was a bit overcast.
Thud!
Halfway down an alley en route to school, someone shoved me from behind. Satanist? In broad daylight?
I whirled into combat stance—only to find Jeong In-ah beaming mischievously.
"Out early, huh?"
"...Yeah. Eyes popped open ahead of schedule."
"Weird for you. C'mon, let's walk together."
Her bright smile and crinkled eyes melted the tension from my rigid frame like ice in summer. I let out a relieved sigh and fell in step beside her. She seemed exceptionally chipper today.
"Re-election exam today, right? You applied too?"
Jeong In-ah asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Gu Jun-hyeok said he did. You?"
"Me... Nah, didn't apply. No confidence I'd pass. Gonna grind regular exam prep instead."
She gave a hollow laugh, eyes drifting to the notebook in her hand—notes on concepts from "Romanica Theology," a rote-memorization subject. Commuting study sessions, it seemed. Impressive focus.
Come to think of it, I hadn't cracked a book once. Humanities like Romanica Theology or Bible Studies? I could scrape by on basics. But sciences—Divine Dynamics, Holy Materials? Doomed. No Legba cheats like in diagnostics; he's a humanities encyclopedia, blank slate on sciences.
"Huh? That Gu Jun-hyeok?"
Study starts tomorrow! I resolved—right as Jeong In-ah squinted and spoke.
I followed her gaze across the street. There was Gu Jun-hyeok, primping his hair in a shop window reflection.
"Yep, that's him."
"Right? Hey—! Gu Jun-hyeok—!"
Jeong In-ah hollered without a shred of embarrassment.
Gu, mid-fuss, startled and whipped around, face blank.
Light turned green; we crossed to him.
Gu stumbled back flustered, then flashed his usual cheeky grin.
"What, you two? Why together?"
"Ran into each other. What're you doing here?"
Jeong In-ah asked.
Even walking, Gu kept stealing glances at his reflection.
He fussed obsessively with his hair before speaking. "Wind fucked it up bad... Yo, got a comb? Hands ain't cutting it."
"Comb? Nope."
Jeong In-ah replied breezily. Gu eyed her bag—tail comb blatantly slotted on the side. He smirked and yanked it free.
"...Hey? You psycho, gimme that! It's for my bangs!"
"Bangs, back, whatever. It's a comb—borrowing~"
Gu teased, combing away. Jeong In-ah swiped futilely; he dodged playfully. Bickering escalated to nitpicking who started it.
Same old, tiresome routine.
"Hm."
I nodded, watching.
Satanists had infiltrated Florence—likely Charity Class, our class. Baron Samedi warned to watch those around me. Could even be close allies.
Hell, highest odds on that.
But Gu and Jeong? No way. Or do I just want to believe that?
Staring at them suspiciously. Them, trading innocent jabs with sunny faces. An invisible wall between us—impenetrable, unbreachable.
I cleared my mind and headed to school.
Knock knock.
Han Su-ryeon bolted upright at the sound. She'd jury-rigged a bed from three student council chairs, sprawling atop it.
Door open: Yeo Min-seo strode in purposefully.
"What's up?"
Han Su-ryeon mumbled, rubbing sleepy eyes.
Yeo Min-seo sat wordlessly, spreading two sheets on the desk. She scanned them with piercing eyes.
Han Su-ryeon sidled over curiously, reading along. Her eyes widened in shock.
"How—why'd you even get these?"
"Had a way."
Yeo Min-seo's haul: transcripts. Not hers—Gu Jun-hyeok's and Do Seon-woo's. Diagnostics through current practicals, all listed.
Min-seo read intently, then pinched her temples against a budding headache.
"...Han Su-ryeon."
"Yeah?"
"Which one's weirder?"
She shoved the sheets at Su-ryeon.
Su-ryeon hesitated guiltily—snooping grades felt wrong. But curiosity overrode; puzzlement took over.
"Do Seon-woo's... grades are nuts. Glitch?"
"Kinda off, right?"
Su-ryeon tilted her head, baffled no matter how she looked. Gu: steady mid-to-upper ranks. Do: wild swings. 1st diagnostics, 1st demon hunt—12th fitness. 1st fusion blessing presentation—dead last healing.
"No consistency?"
Su-ryeon murmured.
Do's scores lacked pattern. Top demon hunt should've meant top fitness. No. Elite diagnostics should've boosted fusion/healing. No. Like different people took each test.
Different people?
"Sparring 3-0? Why?"
Su-ryeon muttered, scanning.
Min-seo tensed subtly. Su-ryeon caught it instantly.
"You said 2-1 sparring?"
"..."
"That loss wasn't to Do Seon-woo, right?"
Min-seo grimaced silently.
Su-ryeon's lips twitched, barely holding laughter.
Judging by the reaction, Do Seon-woo had indeed blemished Min-seo's perfect streak.
"For real? Lost to Do Seon-woo? Actually lost?"
"...Shut it."
"Whoa, scary~ But seriously? Spill the tea? C'mon?"
Su-ryeon prodded teasingly. Min-seo glared daggers; she finally quit—but couldn't hide her smirk.
Min-seo fought the urge to deck her, relenting.
Su-ryeon plopped down, forcibly straightening her face, re-scanning Do's transcript.
"Eh... second look, not that weird."
She grinned.
Min-seo cocked her head. "Where?"
"Volatile type, y'know? Shitty fitness day, peak hunt day. Like that?"
"Even volatile—"
"Or just doesn't give a shit about grades?"
Su-ryeon shrugged nonchalantly.
Min-seo pondered, head bowed.
No—Do seemed too passionate. All-in effort guy.
...But then why the forfeit attempt in sparring?
"Nah. Forget it."
Min-seo shook her head mid-thought.
Disqualified loss or not, she'd lost to him. Plus 15 days campus service. Light punishment, but the fact stung.
Recalling it twisted her guts.
"Lucky break. Kid's a known bubble in class chats."
"Bullshit. 'Unbubble' crap."
Do first blew up topping diagnostics, edging out entry-topper Seong Ha-yeon.
Sparring: 3-0, beating her. Boosted his rep sky-high.
Rumors flew: "Skills right behind Kim Jin-seo."
"Nah, all jokes. More think he's pure hype."
Praise always breeds hate. Many dismissed him as luck, bubble rep.
"Don't care about backtalkers. Your take?"
"On the bubble thing?"
Min-seo nodded.
Su-ryeon stroked her chin theatrically, glanced clock.
"Rumors overhype, sure. Haven't overthought it. No point."
"Fair."
"Bubble pops this exam."
Min-seo nodded slowly.
True. Rep irrelevant—real skill mattered.
But she couldn't gauge Do's true level. Athleticism top-tier, rivaling Kang Dae-man raw.
Match ended prematurely on her outburst; no deep probe into his hidden cards.
"Time to go? Starting soon."
Su-ryeon called.
Min-seo snapped from reverie, checked watch. Lunch over; afternoon class swapped for re-election exam.
Non-takers: head home. Takers: auditorium.
"Yeah. Let's."
Min-seo stood briskly. Destination: auditorium.
She'd applied not for Charity Holy Mark, but to back nominees Gu Jun-hyeok and Do Seon-woo.
Time to double-check.
And witness Do's true skill firsthand.
Bird-beast slinging, unreal sparring reflexes.
Yet scores all over; kid opinions split.
Mystery incarnate.
Need to see it again.Want to.
Relics allowed—huge edge for well-funded. Brutal for broke Do. Like spotting others 3 seconds in 100m.
How would he flail? Flip it? The thought amused her.
"Min-seo, tone down the smiling. Kids say it's creepy."
"...Fuck 'em. Who? Tell direct."
"Me. Did."
Su-ryeon grinned brazenly.
Min-seo stared blankly.
They walked in heavy silence to the auditorium.
Massive crowd: takers, cheer squads, supervising teachers. Easily 200.
"There."
Su-ryeon pointed through the throng.
Do Seon-woo and Gu Jun-hyeok—future rivals—chatting amiably.
An inexplicable dissonance hit Min-seo.
(To be continued)