A Simple Demonstration
"Will this be enough?"
'It's just a simple, routine interview before you start. Just go and show your face.'
A simple interview, my foot. How on earth was this simple?
Inside a classroom at Harman Academy, I faced a row of eyes glaring at me with blatant disapproval. Five people sat waiting for me, and four of them looked utterly opposed to my admission. The fifth and final interviewer merely watched with an amused curiosity, though they didn't seem particularly friendly either. More than half are hostile. Just what on earth have you been doing to these people, Professor Cheon?
'Oh, by the way, let me tell you who to watch out for if you run into them there. A balding guy with only patches of hair left on the back of his head, an old man wearing a strange monocle, a man with a long beard...'
Only then did the warnings Professor Cheon had casually tossed my way come back to me. Four of the seven people on her "watch list" were sitting right in front of me.
'A few of them, or maybe all of them...? Well, maybe all of them is a stretch. Anyway, they'll be sitting in on your interview, and they won't look at you very kindly.' 'But there's absolutely no need to be intimidated. We haven't done a single thing wrong. If you, Jeong-ah, don't deserve a recommendation letter, then who does?'
My trip down memory lane ended with the lingering image of Cheon Se-rin nodding confidently.
In other words, these people currently viewed me as a textbook case of nepotism. A lucky brat who got into the academy solely because her adoptive mother happened to be a professor with the power to hand out a coveted Recommendation Letter...
Wait. Now that I think about it, they aren't entirely wrong, are they?
It was an undeniable fact that I had lucked into an amazing guardian, and as a result, I had been eating well, sleeping well, and living a life of absolute luxury lately. Still, writing me off and putting me in a box before they had even seen what I could do was the very definition of prejudice. For people who called themselves educators, their minds were incredibly narrow.
Even so, my conscience was completely clear. Se-rin had assured me that I was an unprecedented genius, possessing a talent that appeared only once every few centuries. Furthermore, she had mentioned that those "watch-list" figures weren't exactly paragons of virtue themselves. When I had asked for details, she brushed it off by muttering something about "the dirty backroom politics of corrupt adults," which told me everything I needed to know about how this place operated.
Breaking the heavy silence that hung over the classroom, I took a slow, deliberate step forward. I calmly pulled out the chair clearly meant for the interviewee and sat down, meeting the weary, cynical faces across from me.
Ah, this was a situation I was all too familiar with.
The prickly glares. The eyes dripping with suspicion, silently demanding to know who the hell I was and if I was truly as special as everyone claimed.
"Life is a continuous series of self-proving moments, Jeong-woo."
The words of the Saintess, my former companion who had traveled the continent by my side, echoed in my mind.
"Now that you've become the Hero, you'll constantly face unwarranted jealousy and hostility. There will be countless times when you'll be forced to prove yourself to the world."
"Even though I never asked to be the Hero?"
"I never asked to be the Saintess either, yet here I am, dealing with the exact same nonsense every single day."
"That's a bit cynical for a Saintess, don't you think?"
"Oh, the Goddess will forgive me. She knows better than anyone that my piety has its limits."
The Saintess had giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.
"At its mildest, people demand to know if I've truly heard the voice of God, or they thrust their festering wounds in my face, telling me to heal them on the spot."
"That's incredibly disrespectful to someone chosen by the heavens."
"It is. But that is how most people are—inherently doubtful and rude. Yet, it is our duty to protect them and guide them toward faith anyway. That is our calling, after all..."
A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of my mind. I wasn't sure why that old conversation had bubbled up out of nowhere, but it successfully cleared the fog in my head. My objective was now crystal clear.
How do you dispel suspicious glares?
Simple. You just give them exactly what they want to see. You prove yourself.
Just like I always had.
"Ho."
Professor Lee Cheon-seok watched the student entering the classroom with keen interest.
The first things that caught his eye were her petite frame and her striking, brilliant blonde hair. Standing barely over five feet tall, the young girl looked exceptionally small compared to other children her age. And that hair—in South Korea, where dark hair was the overwhelming norm, such a vibrant blonde was incredibly rare. It naturally commanded attention. It didn't look dyed, either. Is she of mixed heritage? he wondered.
Starting from that eye-catching blonde hair, the girl's features were remarkably delicate and beautiful. She had the ethereal air of a flower bud that had yet to fully bloom. To possess such striking looks at a mere fourteen years of age... If she grew up to fully blossom, the title of a beauty capable of toppling nations would not be an exaggeration.
However, the reason Professor Lee admired her in silence was not merely due to her physical appearance.
She is remarkably composed.
A heavy, suffocating tension hung over the classroom. This chilly atmosphere was entirely intentional, a pre-arranged tactic orchestrated by the hostile interviewers. For all intents and purposes, this was a high-pressure stress interview designed to weigh down the air and let a crushing silence do the work of breaking the candidate's spirit.
Yet, this tiny girl walked forward with steady, unhurried steps, completely unfazed by the oppressive atmosphere, and sat down with perfect poise.
This was not the behavior of an ordinary fourteen-year-old. Fourteen was an age where one was no longer a toddler, but far from an adult—a volatile, emotionally fragile period of transition. Frankly, it wouldn't have been surprising if she had darted anxious glances around the room or burst into tears, utterly cowed by the grim, intimidating expressions of the faculty members.
Did Cheon Se-rin give her some kind of advance warning?
Even if she had, the sheer maturity of her posture was baffling for a fourteen-year-old. From this moment on, Professor Lee sensed that something was deeply unusual about the girl. There was an aura about her that set her apart from the average person. Whether it was bold audacity or sheer extraordinary capability, he realized one thing for certain: Cheon Se-rin had not thrown away her recommendation letter on a whim.
Just as Professor Lee was lost in these thoughts, the interviewer sitting next to him cleared his throat loudly, breaking the silence.
"Ahem."
"Welcome to Harman Academy, Park Jeong-ah."
"Yes. Hello."
The way she bowed her head and raised it was as graceful as a noble crane. The interviewer seemed briefly taken aback by her fluid, almost aristocratic poise, but quickly recovered and pressed on with his questions.
"I will ask you a few basic questions first. Your date of birth is March 14, 2025, correct?"
"Yes. That is correct."
"You were adopted by Professor Cheon Se-rin, the very person who wrote your recommendation letter and is currently listed as your mother on paper... And your biological parents passed away when you were young. Is that all correct?"
"Yes."
"An adoptive mother with a mere fifteen-year age gap... My, my. What a peculiar arrangement."
Professor Lee's brow furrowed at the interviewer's blatant rudeness. Yet, Jeong-ah didn't seem even slightly bothered by the jab.
"How exactly did you and Professor Cheon Se-rin meet and establish this parent-child relationship?"
"The professor came to the Orphanage where I was residing."
"And why did she go to the orphanage?"
"She said she wanted to adopt me."
"Yes, but *why*... No, let me rephrase. When did you first meet Professor Cheon? Where did you first see her?"
"We didn't actually meet face-to-face then, but the professor told me she first saw me in a back alley near the academy."
"A back alley?" The interviewer's eyes flashed with a sharp, predatory gleam, as if he had finally snagged a weakness. "What were you doing in a place like that?"
Despite the interrogation-like tone, Jeong-ah remained entirely unbothered, offering a casual shrug.
"That... is a personal matter, so I will offer no comment."
"A matter you cannot speak of... Well, well. I see."
The interviewer let his voice trail off suggestively, his eyes scanning Jeong-ah's appearance as if trying to draw some sordid connection to the phrase "back alley."
"You are aware that you are entering the academy through Professor Cheon Se-rin's Recommendation Letter, correct?"
"Yes, the professor informed me."
"Then you must have also heard how that recommendation letter is traditionally intended to be used?"
"She told me it exists to scout talented individuals who possess immense potential but lack the environment to nurture it. Like me."
"Haha... Well, aren't we confident?" the interviewer chuckled dryly. "Then, Miss Jeong-ah, do you truly believe your talent is so exceptional that you deserve to receive such a letter?"
For the first time, Jeong-ah paused, appearing to ponder the question. After a brief hum, she spoke.
"To be completely honest, I haven't really felt it myself yet. However, the professor did say that a talent like mine is practically non-existent elsewhere."
"Is that so?" A sly, malicious smirk spread across the interviewer's face. "Then, since you are here, why don't you show us right now? Let us see this incredible talent of yours."
An Awakened's talent was not a circus trick that could be performed on command. Even among seasoned Awakened, many required time to channel their mana, while others needed specific preparations to manifest their abilities. Even the elite students currently enrolled at the academy suffered from massive daily fluctuations in their output depending on their physical condition. No matter how great Jeong-ah's talent might be, it was impossible for her to be completely immune to such variables.
It was a blatant, petty trap designed to humiliate a fourteen-year-old girl. Just as Professor Lee was about to open his mouth to intervene, Jeong-ah spoke up.
"Hmm... Please wait a moment."
After a brief moment of contemplation, Jeong-ah suddenly reached up to her head. With a casual pluck, she pulled a single strand of bright blonde hair from her crown.
Both the smug interviewer and Professor Lee stared at her in utter bewilderment, completely thrown off by her bizarre behavior.
But in the next instant, the atmosphere shifted.
"Wh-What on earth?!"
An invisible, shimmering energy surged along the strand of golden hair held between Jeong-ah's fingers. The raw power rippling over the hair, which now stood perfectly rigid like a needle, was so distinct and potent that even a layman completely ignorant of Awakened abilities could have recognized it.
Professor Lee, possessing deep professional knowledge of combat arts, gasped as the name of the phenomenon slipped past his lips.
"Aura!"
"Aura? That is...?"
"Such a vivid, concentrated aura! And she's channeling it through a single strand of hair?!"
Aura—otherwise known as sword qi.
The elderly interviewers, who had lived through the era of the Great Cataclysm, trembled, their lips quivering as they instantly recognized the terrifying nature of that energy, even though they themselves were non-Awakened. The young girl sitting before them was currently holding a weapon no different from a razor-sharp blade capable of slicing through the armored hide of a high-ranking monster.
"M-Miss Jeong-ah! Please, sheath your aura at once! That is far too dangerous!"
A single strand of hair had suddenly transformed into a lethal weapon.
As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss, and knowledge breeds fear. The interviewers' reactions were far more hysterical than those of Lee Hui-ji when she had lunged with her dagger. They reacted as if they were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun held by a terrorist.
Yet, Jeong-ah did not stop there. She casually flicked her wrist.
Slice.
"Gasp!"
A corner of the heavy wooden chair she was sitting on slid off, sliced as cleanly as a block of soft tofu. Watching the solid wood shear away in absolute silence, one of the more faint-hearted interviewers began to visibly shake.
Having delivered her silent, devastating demonstration, Jeong-ah finally let the shimmering aura fade from her hair. She looked up at the trembling panel of judges and asked with a serene smile:
"Will this be enough?"