What They Call an Academy (14)

Inside the infirmary, where a constant effect boosted natural recovery, I funneled every scrap of mana I restored straight into healing Hive and Growl while checking my status window. The conclusion was obvious.

“Not enough damage.”

If I had to pick, I needed ranged DPS. It had been the same against Reus—pulling the fight my way was easy enough, but without a finishing blow to seize the flow, I always ended up having to move myself. That raised the risk and limited how well I could read the battlefield.

This battle had pushed my Summoner level to 10, unlocking the ability to create a new familiar. Perfect for making a ranged dealer.

The problem was that none of the entities I could currently create had anything to do with “ranged.” I opened the Book of Summoning and checked the list of available summons.

Clearing the Goblin’s Lair dungeon had unlocked two new ones: Lesser Oni and Bone Soldier. Lesser Oni was exactly what it sounded like—a small spirit closer to a Japanese oni than a goblin. Bone Soldier was just another name for a skeleton.

That one had probably unlocked after I dealt with the Nightshade. Among everything I’d fought, only that thing had been made of bones.

Either way, neither looked promising for ranged work.

The fox at least started with high Intelligence, plenty of mana, and the skill Foxfire. Common sense said I should raise the fox into a proper ranged dealer… but by that logic, evolving the Lesser Oni or Bone Soldier would be the same.

That was when one particular dungeon came to mind. Among the academy’s internal dungeons, only one had anything to do with dragons.

The C-rank Canyon of Hidden Scales.

The monsters that appeared there were sub-dragons—basically oversized lizards that never became true dragons. Calling them lizards was generous; they were an entirely different species. They carried a faint dragon factor, so if I was thinking long-term, raising something with strong innate potential made sense.

Once I registered one in the codex I could check its base stats before committing to a summon, so I’d look at those first and decide later. While I was at it, I could level Hive and Growl a bit more.

Decision made—time to move.

My body was a little tired, but there were no wounds. The Barrier Cell had taken every hit for me. Mana was mostly restored, and Hive and Growl’s injuries were largely healed.

Catching one or two sub-dragons just to fill the codex would be easy enough.

I opened the infirmary door to head for the dungeon and came face-to-face with Hong Su-ah, her hand already reaching for the handle. Perfect timing.

“I’m heading to a dungeon now, so handle the forfeit for me.”

“…Haa. Aren’t you abusing your authority a little too freely?”

“That’s what I got it for.”

I flashed the temporary pass so she could see it clearly, then gave a wry smile. Her expression was even more sour than I’d expected.

“Please. Just say I’m in poor condition or something.”

“…Fine. Understood.”

She accepted with a sigh. I stepped out so she could enter, but instead of going inside she crossed her arms and stared at me with a sulky look. What? Hadn’t she come here on business?

“You’re not going in?”

“My business is already finished. I only came because I heard one of my students had vanished without a word.”

“Ah.”

So that student was me. Not much I could do about it. I hadn’t come here because I wanted to. I’d burned through mana until my stomach was turning, still needed to heal Hive and Growl, and while fretting over how to refill the bottomless pit of my mana pool I’d remembered the academy infirmary had a magic tool that boosted natural recovery. So I’d come.

In the end I’d decided to skip class, but I hadn’t deliberately walked all the way out here—far from the Third Arena—just to ditch. I looked fine on the outside and could move without trouble, so I had zero desire to wander into a place where patients were piling up in real time and create unnecessary trouble. There were other infirmaries; I simply saw no reason to insist on that one.

Explaining all that at length would just sound like excuses. The fact remained that she’d come all this way because of me.

“Sorry.”

When in doubt, apologize fast and move on. You can’t spit on a smiling face; yelling at someone who’s already apologizing only tires you out.

“…Haa. That temporary pass loses its effect once the freshman welcome party ends. Keep that in mind.”

“Doesn’t dungeon practice start around then anyway, and then it switches to free entry?”

They’d already weeded out the ones who couldn’t keep up in class. Now it was time to raise the survivors’ skills. A year looked long but was short. Throw in vacations and the actual learning window got even tighter.

“When did you even… no, those crows of yours?”

“Among other things.”

Unless Colonel Nickel deliberately cut Number Two out of the loop, whatever reached him reached me. This time a few academy schedules had been mixed in. I’d only collected what I needed; anything private or classified I filtered out myself before the colonel even had to step in. Since I was on the receiving end of free information, a little discretion was the least I could offer.

More than anything, I didn’t want to get dragged into annoying trouble later—especially anything involving that woman.

“So which dungeon are you planning to enter?”

“For now, the Canyon of Hidden Scales.”

Why ask something that made her look so uneasy? Hong Su-ah fell into thought as if something had clicked, then spoke.

“…The hidden mission in the Canyon of Hidden Scales is a treasure hunt. Find it and you get a hatchling eggshell. It’s used as a high-grade reagent in alchemy, so it fetches a solid price at auction.”

“What?”

What was she talking about? None of the information I’d looked up mentioned that. What even was a hidden mission? Seeing my face, Hong Su-ah smiled faintly.

“You act like you know everything under the sun, yet you didn’t know about the Dumpynite flower either. Or this.”

“…I don’t know everything.”

People can miss things they’re not interested in. More than that, the way she was needling me had a definite edge.

Was this about making her kneel last time? I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never told her to prostrate herself. She’d done it herself—why was she taking it out on me? My mood soured instantly. Still, the information she’d just handed me was extremely valuable.

“Every dungeon in the academy has sub and hidden missions in addition to the main one.”

Her face stayed blank, but the corners of her mouth had been twitching upward for a while. She was clearly enjoying the way my expression had crumpled. Her taste was impressively rotten.

“How do you know that, Teacher?”

“I’m a graduate of this place myself. The reason I even learned about hidden missions is because I personally discovered the one in the Canyon of Hidden Scales.”

“Source?”

“The headmaster.”

Ah, that old man. Then it was trustworthy… but why hide good information like this? Just release it and make money. Was it some kind of easter egg or hidden piece? “Uncover the dungeon’s secrets!” or whatever?

“…That’s completely pointless.”

“The dungeon designer’s taste is what it is. Of course, ordering that gimmick added to every dungeon was apparently the headmaster’s idea.”

In other words, someone had dumped it in for fun and it looked interesting enough that they slapped it onto everything else. You had to respect that level of pure self-indulgence. He had the skill and the position to push it through, so this was the result.

“I’ll just keep it in mind for now. I’m not planning to clear it immediately.”

At my current level a frontal assault on a C-rank was still rough. I’d probably kite and clear the quest instead. That was half the reason I’d deliberately chosen a quest-type dungeon like the Goblin’s Lair in the first place.

“Right. Party composition matters. Clearing a same-level dungeon solo—not even a downward selection—is tough even for a cadet. I understand that feeling well. I was the same once. The fact that you’re considering methods instead of getting cocky already puts you ahead of me.”

That wasn’t it at all—I just thought it would be a pain. If I pushed myself I could clear it with my current specs. Hive and Growl were still sharp from feeling useless in the last fight; if I decided to grind myself into the dirt and take the time, they’d throw themselves at it gladly. They instinctively knew it was how they grew stronger. Correcting Hong Su-ah’s one-sided misunderstanding sounded exhausting, so I just gave a small smile and let it slide.

“Then I’ll leave the rest to you, Teacher.”

“Understood.”

I didn’t ask why she’d given me the information. Whether it was her own form of atonement or simple whim, I didn’t want to know and didn’t care. She was just a stranger who’d gotten tangled up with me by chance.

Getting involved with women who had baggage and ending up bleeding for it was something I sincerely refused.

I brushed past Hong Su-ah and held the temporary pass to the entrance of Practice Room C, where the dungeons were. The door opened. I’d expected quiet, but inside people were actively forming parties, buying and trading goods.

Teachers on the far side suggested other years were in the middle of practical lessons. Red and white neckties and ribbons—second- and third-years doing a joint class?

Unintentionally, every gaze near the door—including the faculty—swiveled toward me at once. Fair enough. Anyone would wonder who the hell had just strolled in mid-lesson like he owned the place.

I ignored the students staring as if they’d spotted a rare animal and walked straight toward the teacher approaching me.

“Wearing a cadet uniform, so you’re a student? What year?”

A clean-shaven man in a sharp suit fixed me with sharp red eyes. Those eyes could kill. The phrase “piercing gaze” might have been invented for his face.

I’d already gotten official permission (sort of) before coming, so I might as well name-drop. Teacher, when else am I going to use this? I met his stare without flinching and held up the temporary pass.

“First-year. On Teacher Hong Su-ah’s orders I need to enter a C-rank dungeon. Is that possible?”

“Hong Su-ah… ah, that matter. It’s fairly important, yet she entrusted it to a cadet. She must trust you quite a bit.”

His gaze softened somewhat, but I neither confirmed nor denied it.

Important matter, huh. Something else I didn’t know about? I’d heard from Colonel Nickel that the dungeon business was already handled. Probably brought up separately in a faculty meeting. I’d ask Hong Su-ah later.

“Currently the Sticky Darkness Marsh and the Sun Spitting Sandstone are in use for practice. Which dungeon are you aiming for?”

“I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was told only the Canyon of Hidden Scales today. Do you know how long the practicals will run?”

“We were planning to rotate dungeons and parties daily for a total of three days. The Canyon of Hidden Scales isn’t included, so feel free to use it as you like.”

Three days—originally the period of the freshman welcome party. The incident had delayed things by a day, but the other years were running on schedule.

They were probably giving the second- and third-years a small perk before the first-years started flooding the dungeons. More people meant fewer entry slots.

Mixing second- and third-years let the less experienced second-years absorb third-year know-how, while the third-years who lacked leadership experience practiced running parties and handling people efficiently.

A thoroughly rational method that benefited both sides. This kind of systematically designed experience was exactly why academy graduates were called elites out in society. Veterans were always preferred over rookies.

In a way it was a process for manufacturing “experienced new hires.” With education like this, of course people sucked up to the academy.

“Thank you. I’ll probably be going in and out a few times, so if you could let the other teachers know I’d appreciate it.”

“Hmm. Exploring an entire dungeon interior in one go is certainly a heavy load for a first-year. Wait a moment.”

“Yes, then… wait, what?”

What now? What was he doing?

The bald teacher walked straight back to the faculty group and started talking. Midway, one of the second-years slipped into the conversation, and eventually both of them arrived at my side.

“I’d have preferred to assign the student council president, but he’s busy commanding the other second-years. So I asked the vice president, who’s already finished her assignments. Sorry for dragging a cadet into academy official business. You’re both busy, so I’ll leave you to it. Do your best, you two.”

With that the bald teacher left to resume herding students, and the second-year who’d been standing behind him stepped forward. Elegant hazelnut-brown hair and calm orange eyes smiled politely.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kang So-seon, second-year Class S, student council vice president.”

“Ah, yes. Nice to meet you. I’m Jang Sinwoo, first-year Class S.”

No, that wasn’t the point.

The teacher probably meant well—trying to help a student handle work that should have been a teacher’s—but honestly it was a nuisance.

Everything I was about to do was purely personal. I already had a headache deciding what to make for ranged DPS; I had zero desire to move around while also minding her.

I preferred being alone.

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine. I feel bad dumping work on someone who was resting because of me…”

“Don’t worry. Academy business is student council business too. And if I’m with you, your work will finish faster, right? Better to work hard together, finish quickly, and rest!”

Bright. So clear and sunny that my eyes almost squinted on their own. And her reasoning was perfectly upright.

People like this existed. Not a good-kid complex—just born kind. The type who would still try to help even if you called it meddling. Not calculating profit, just pure desire to help others.

They scattered warmth so freely that people loved them in return. In this short moment, that was the kind of person Kang So-seon seemed to be.

…Or maybe she was just working hard to look that way.

This is uncomfortable…

She was incompatible with me in a completely different way. Honestly, I recoiled from my side. Whether my personality was twisted or not, even if she meant nothing by it, her mere existence triggered an automatic rejection reaction that dealt damage.

Like a vampire touching sunlight or silver. I hadn’t swallowed a god, yet my mouth tasted bitter.

“Since you’re a second-year, I’ll call you Sunbae.”

“Okay. Then I’ll call you Hubae-nim.”

But even a person like sunshine was still human. She had emotions and thoughts, so if I pushed her away hard enough she’d eventually turn back for the absurdly altruistic reason of “feeling sorry for me.”

“I don’t like beating around the bush, so I’ll say this clearly. I understand it’s the teacher’s consideration, but honestly, Sunbae, you’re in the way. I don’t welcome sudden variables, and the time spent revising my plans is a waste.”

“Ah.”

This was a world where the unscientific, insane power of skills operated.

In a place where a single mistake could send your head flying without anyone noticing, Awakened who gambled their lives grew more meticulous and calculating with time, and their actions tried to stay inside a tightly fitted frame.

To them, variables were unwelcome white elephants.

That was the general Awakened story, not mine.

I basically moved alone. I hated wasting emotional energy bickering with people who nitpicked every little thing, so I naturally thought alone and acted on impulse a lot.

Explaining all that would take too long.

So I used the general Awakened example to shake her off. I’d come expecting to move alone; I didn’t need her help.

She was a good person, but first she was an academy student—and strong enough to hold the vice president seat of the student council that represented the academy. She would understand exactly what I meant.

Someone with strong pride might snap here, but she wouldn’t. Not if the person she’d shown so far wasn’t a mask.

“…This is awkward.”

“Don’t worry. The teacher is an Awakened too; he’ll understand.”

“No, that’s not what I meant… hmm.”

Kang So-seon rested a hand on her cheek in a troubled expression, tapped her lips while choosing her words, then brightened as if she’d found a solution.

“Aha. Since Hubae-nim dislikes roundabout talk, I’ll be direct too.”

Thump.

She suddenly reached out, took my hand, smiled sweetly, and spoke.

“Hubae-nim looks so weak that I feel like I have to protect you. A C-rank dungeon isn’t as easy as you think.”

“….”

I couldn’t open my mouth easily.

She kept that clear smile while spitting venom. The worst part was that there wasn’t a single drop of malice in it. She was simply returning my own words exactly.

In other words, she genuinely believed I was weak—and therefore someone who needed protecting.

“Ha.”

I’d been hit cleanly.

This woman was definitely a good person. But she wasn’t a pure idiot who was only kind. She was human. She reeked of humanity more than anyone.

Why? Because she was angry right now. Not full-blown rage—more like a child’s light sulking. She was smiling, but that was only the surface.

She was angry that someone who didn’t even know her properly had flatly declared she was unnecessary. The faint pout in her smiling lips was the proof of the mischief bubbling underneath.

Attachment to herself. Pride that wasn’t arrogant yet wasn’t low either. Emotions any normal person should have.

So I had no right to lecture those feelings. I’d been the first to do wrong and the first to be rude.

Normally I should apologize first, but she didn’t demand one. She simply wanted to prove it—whether she was useful or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not—with her own two eyes, and have me decide.

Proof. Always proof.

I couldn’t understand why people clung so desperately to that word. It felt like she lived in a completely different world. Actually, she did. Every foundation of my thinking came from my previous life.

I’d stubbornly clung when I could have just backed off, and now she was stuck to me.

I didn’t know why she was interested in me, but somehow I felt that getting involved would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠become extremely troublesome. At the same time I had no grounds to ignore her and drive her away. Making enemies on purpose was the last kind of trouble I wanted.

I’d hoped she’d withdraw so we could settle this amicably, yet I’d played right into this. If this woman hadn’t been a good person but someone who enjoyed tormenting others, she probably would have made plenty of people cry.

“…Do as you like.”

Just like that, an unplanned party was formed. She beamed like a child who’d received a Christmas present and squeezed my hand even tighter.

“Yes! Then I’ll follow you. I’ll work hard so I don’t get in the way of Hubae-nim’s business.”

She returned a thorny remark right to the end. I gave a bitter smile. Pretty flowers have thorns, huh. I sincerely hoped those thorns weren’t poisonous.

“So where are we going?”

“The Canyon of Hidden Scales.”

“Ah! I’ve gone through that place alone several times. There are a lot of thick magical beasts, so it’s satisfying to cut them down.”

Kang So-seon swished her free arm with a whoosh-whoosh and, without ever letting go of my hand, naturally started leading me toward the dungeon entrance. As expected, there wasn’t a single normal person left in this insane world.

I let out a huge internal sigh at my unbroken losing streak.

I want to rest.

An impossible wish that had grown much stronger ever since I entered the academy.