This Is What They Call an Academy
Morning dawned.
Just like yesterday, the throng of people packed into the third arena left me feeling even worse from the sheer motion-sickness of the crowd. The clear blue sky, utterly oblivious to anyone’s inner turmoil, somehow pissed me off for no good reason.
Goddamn god. Whether it’s a bitch or a bastard, fuck that son of a bitch. Asshole. Having dutifully completed my thrice-daily ritual of cursing the divine, I let out a deep sigh and scanned my surroundings.
Definitely fewer than the first day.
For a gathering of every student from S-Class down to F-Class, it still looked sparse. On day one the place had been so jammed you wondered if you could even squeeze through; today, at least, it felt like you could actually walk somewhere without climbing over people.
Anyone who’s ever been stuck in a real crowd knows the feeling. If I had to compare it to my past life, it was the difference between induction day at boot camp and the morning after.
“Sinwoo!”
I’d been planning to stake out a quiet corner and wait for class to start, but Ban Taewung spotted me and came barreling over from the far side, waving both arms like a maniac. I sighed and went to meet him. Rest was officially off the table.
“You made it?”
“Yep! Ate a solid breakfast too! What about you, Sinwoo?”
I pulled the empty CalorieMate wrapper from my pocket and held it up. The jelly type—squeeze it down and you get water and nutrients in one go. Perfect food. Back when I was rotting away in the lab, this stuff had been my best friend.
“That fills you up?”
“All the nutrients are in there.”
Plus it was the Awakened model—unlike the regular low-cal versions, this one was a high-calorie bomb that actually tasted decent. The theory that calories equal flavor held true even in this world.
“...Morning.”
“Good morning, Taewung.”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Heroines Number One and Two had arrived at his side and offered their greetings.
Number Two looked as blank as ever, but Number One’s complexion was noticeably off. She kept glancing between me and Ban Taewung, her face etched with the kind of worry that said she’d stayed up all night turning over the words I’d thrown at her yesterday.
Worry all you want while you still can.
The sheer volume of material alone meant I needed her back on her feet as soon as possible. That way I could relax.
“Today’s class battle’s gonna be great, right?”
“Great? It’s just a pain in the ass.”
“Come on, we need regular class events like this so everyone can pull together and get closer as classmates.”
I shot him a look of pure horror. The guy had just started spouting the same nightmare line as those professors who announce group projects “to help you bond” at the start of the semester. Had this idiot finally lost it?
Who the hell benefits from forcing people who hate each other into the same group? Satan? Some Outer God who gets off on chaos? Either way, it was pure bullshit.
Ignoring the actual people involved and just slamming them into teams? Even Satan would slap his forehead in hell and call it an inspired new form of torture.
Force it and all you get is friction. If things go smoothly, fine—it ends there. But the second something goes wrong, everyone starts pointing fingers and dumping blame. Then one by one they start bailing.
Those bitter memories turn into trauma that hounds a person for the rest of their life.
How do I know so well? Because I lived it in my past life. Thinking group projects only exist in college is a rookie mistake.
No—college or a company at least has people who try harder for grades or to keep their jobs. But in a place where one slip means your head rolls, that kind of motivation vanishes. Everyone’s too busy saving their own skin.
If you fail, the person who would have held you accountable is already dead, so there’s no need to worry about the future. Thanks to that, the place was crawling with bastards who didn’t have a shred of responsibility.
Just thinking about those days made my skin crawl.
Fuck, how many times did I nearly die because of that shit? After that, I started operating on a baseline of total distrust in humanity, and I never stopped preaching that an incompetent ally is more dangerous than a cunning enemy.
“Ah, looks like it’s about to start.”
Ban Taewung’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Hong Su-ah climbing onto the platform.
Before she was S-Class homeroom teacher, she had been a full-time soldier who commanded hunters on the front lines. Calling her an expert at controlling and managing large groups of people would be an understatement.
Once the faculty finished lining up, a hologram appeared so the entire arena could see Hong Su-ah’s face.
“We will now begin the inter-class battle. The rules are identical to yesterday’s tournament, and it will take place inside a massive barrier that creates different environments in each zone. In addition, one special rule will be applied.”
Snap!
Hong Su-ah stretched a hand into the air and a new hologram bloomed. The same display appeared in front of every class’s waiting area, and at its center stood a flag bearing the S emblem of S-Class.
“First, the event for this inter-class battle is Flag Defense.”
Flag Defense. At those words, every eye in the place changed.
Countless emotions swirled, but the overwhelming one was hope—hope for a chance. You didn’t have to fight the strong. If you could just deal with the flag, even you could win. That kind of hope.
“The holographic flag will be placed at the center of each faction’s base. Anyone carrying another faction’s Barrier Cell can seize the flag by remaining in contact with the hologram for ten seconds.”
As she explained, example images appeared on the hologram: two people scuffling over a flag, one of them successfully claiming it.
“If you successfully carry the seized flag back to your own base, every member of the class that lost the flag is treated as defeated, regardless of remaining personnel. However, the moment you take another faction’s flag, your location is continuously revealed to every member of that faction, so you must challenge carefully.”
A map appeared, and a marker floated above the person who had lost the flag, updating in real time. On one side, the flag-bearer reached their base safely; on the other, the flag was stolen back.
“Each student is assigned a point value: F is 1 point, E is 2, and so on, increasing by one with each class rank, up to S at 7 points. These points are automatically banked when you drain a Barrier Cell’s gauge completely or defeat someone. If you defeat someone who has already earned points, you acquire all the points they hold as well.”
Hong Su-ah raised a single finger, her serious expression shifting into a challenging smile.
“Additionally, monsters will appear throughout the field. Killing them yields items useful for defending your flag, so pay attention to hunting as well. For reference, you also gain 1 point per monster slain.”
Thud!!
She stamped her foot and the atmosphere shifted. The heavier flow of mana made everyone tense up. Instinct told them the important part was coming.
“Here is the additional rule. Regardless of class, the first ten students to reach 1,000 points will be issued a Wish Ticket usable inside the Academy. Furthermore, the student who reaches 1,000 points first will receive a ‘special’ reward directly from the Headmaster.”
My brow furrowed hard. Ban Taewung just tilted his head, clearly not seeing the problem.
“I hope every student will fully display their wisdom and ability and safely overcome the trial set before them.”
Most of the crowd reacted like Ban Taewung, but a few sharp ones wore the same shit-eating expression I did—or their eyes lit up with predatory excitement.
“Sinwoo, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you’ve got a brain, use it before you ask, dumbass.”
“Ahaha, I’m hopeless with this kind of stuff. Asking you or Luicia is faster and more accurate, right?”
“...”
He wasn’t wrong, but being used so shamelessly by the protagonist still left a bad taste. Look at that brazen face. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.
“It looks like a team battle at first glance, but it’s a deathmatch where you never know when you’ll get stabbed in the back.”
“Ahh! So that’s why the points are individual, not team-based.”
“Right. But that’s not all.”
“Exactly. Taewung, this is a little more vicious than that.”
Luicia stepped in as if agreeing with me and took her place beside Ban Taewung. She lowered her voice so only we could hear.
“It looks like the main goal is a simple choice between stealing or defending the flag, but in reality there’s only one goal from the start: being the first to reach the 1,000-point reward.”
“Huh? But the flag—”
“That’s the trap.”
I pointed at Hong Su-ah standing in front of the hologram.
“She talked about rewards for points, but she never said a single word about any reward for the flag.”
“...Ah!”
Exactly. Hong Su-ah had mentioned rewards for points, but nothing whatsoever about the flag. That meant the flag itself was just another gimmick for scoring points.
“The key point is that she said ‘defeat’ if your flag is taken—not ‘elimination.’”
The core was that the rules were the same as yesterday.
In other words, as long as you didn’t forfeit and your Barrier Cell didn’t judge you unable to continue fighting, you could keep participating.
“Yes. So the flag is a fake-out. But under the ‘defeat’ condition, you can lose every point you’ve earned. If you play it right, you can eliminate both points and rivals at the same time—so a traitor appearing at any moment wouldn’t be strange at all.”
“...When you put it like that, it does sound pretty grim.”
Ban Taewung, who until a second ago had been imagining everyone banding together with a big “let’s go, team!” look on his face, deflated. Being a fundamentally good-natured idiot, hearing this kind of talk always took the wind out of his sails. Couldn’t be helped.
“This is reality. Just because you’re in the same class doesn’t mean everyone’s head is full of flowers like yours. Never forget that everyone here is a competitor fighting for their own future.”
I said it, but Ban Taewung’s expression barely changed. He looked a little down, sure, but more than that he clenched his fist like he’d made some kind of decision.
“...Still, I want to try trusting my classmates once.”
Yeah. I knew he’d say that. The kind of fool who sets aside good and evil and just starts by believing until he sees otherwise with his own eyes.
“Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me later.”
“Okay! I’ll do my best!”
“Taewung... I’ll always be with you.”
“I’m always grateful. As long as you’re by my side, Sia, I feel like I can do anything.”
Yeah. That’s the protagonist buff.
And that one—did she just completely ignore everything I said? Or is she so deep in thought that she’s half-checked out?
...No, more likely she’s thinking so hard she’s half-checked out. Filling the sugar deficit with the sweetness of affection.
The cost-performance is so good it makes everyone around them break out in hives from the sugar overload.
Regardless of my complicated feelings, Luicia started shooting heart-eyes at Ban Taewung’s words again, while Riri just yawned like none of it mattered.
What carefree bastards. At times like this I almost envy that denseness.
Of course, that denseness comes from the confidence that they can take down any enemy that shows up. And they actually have the power to back it up.
One’s the current protagonist, another is the daughter of a megacorp ordinary people can’t even look at, and the last is destined for the renown of a Grand Mage, the so-called master of magic.
Back in middle school when we were all into nicknames, calling that group the Hero Party wasn’t just mockery or pretension. The things they actually did weren’t any different from a real hero party, so the name stuck even harder.
If you heard how many flies tried to latch onto that reputation, you’d probably faint. Fucking world. I just want to live without thinking about anything. Please.
“...That concludes the explanation. Everyone, move to your designated class positions.”
The moment Hong Su-ah finished speaking, an S mark floated into my vision. Not the system—one of the arena’s own functions projecting a hologram onto each person’s retina. Probably the same mark appeared for everyone else.
“Alright, let’s go!”
Ban Taewung strode forward energetically and started talking with the kids—the very picture of an ideal leader. He listened to everyone’s opinions, gathered them together, and laid out a clear path for what came next.
The way he occasionally slipped in his own stance and adjusted the plan told me he hadn’t completely wasted what I’d taught him.
“...So I think Luicia and Sinwoo should be the strategists.”
If he hadn’t said that last part, I might have actually given him some honest praise.
What the hell is this guy saying?
I sighed without meaning to. For a second I wondered if the kids listening carefully to Ban Taewung felt the same way I did. Look—even the ones who’d been paying attention were making awkward faces.
“Uh, Taewung. I get Luicia, but... why Jang Sinwoo?”
Right then a brave soul voiced exactly what I was thinking. Whoever it was, good question. But odds were high the answer would render it meaningless. I knew from experience.
“Because among everyone I know, Sinwoo’s the smartest!”
“Uh... uhhh, r-right...”
Watching him proudly boast about someone else’s strengths like they were his own only made the kids’ expressions more awkward. Their faces screamed that that wasn’t the answer they wanted, but the words coming out of their mouths were something else entirely.
Lots of reasons, but the biggest was that they didn’t want friction with Ban Taewung.
To those kids, Ban Taewung was both an idol and a hope that he might help them when things got dangerous.
In a world where your life could end at any moment, his existence was the most outrageous insurance policy imaginable.
He’d proven real strength, and on top of that his personality and looks were good, so they lazily figured that if they appealed to his emotions it would somehow work out. Even though the only thing that can protect you in a real crisis is your own power.
That’s not the real danger.
When someone rises that high, there are always people who feel the need to push back. He was already laughing it up with the only daughter of one of the world’s top companies plus a whole crowd of other girls—of course some people would be seething.
Cursing “please let that thing be small” is still on the cute side.
Anyone with strong jealousy would think that if they could just drag Ban Taewung down from that pedestal, they could take his place.
Think about it calmly and it’s ridiculous, but people rotten with self-importance don’t care about that—they just do whatever they want.
That’s why they use me.
They can’t crack the iron fortress with their own strength, so they start by targeting the people around him.
But when they actually try to plan, everyone nearby turns out to be higher-spec than expected. Then they learn about the existence of someone relatively approachable—me.
The ones already itching for action happily take the bait, never realizing it’s a juicy decoy the mastermind tossed out.
Irritating.
All of this exists because most of my existence is classified. I made the thing, so I understand. The follow-up measures and care are clean enough that you could even say the government is looking out for my convenience.
Most of that is because of that woman’s clinginess, but whatever. The world’s already insane, so you use whatever you can.
I’m extremely good at self-objectification, so I fully understand that “ordinary” and I parted ways a long time ago. Who else gets the past-life experience package, after all?
The mastermind has probably already washed their hands of the matter.
A pack that grows too large will inevitably be spotted by the hunters. No matter how deep they hide in the forest, the defective ones will eventually give them away.
That time is already close. Ban Taewung stepping forward so openly is probably part of it.
Idiot.
I get that he wants to do something himself, but doesn’t he realize it’s actually a bad move? Or does he know and just can’t pretend otherwise?
Probably the latter.
As the earlier scene showed, Ban Taewung’s basic way of thinking and moving is rooted in his own convictions—but when it really matters, he has a habit of asking me or Luicia for our opinions. The more important the matter, the more often he does it.
More precisely, I deliberately guided him that way without him noticing.
Humans are animals of learning. Just like you don’t easily forget the four arithmetic operations or the multiplication table you struggled to memorize as a kid, even the firmest will turns pain and fear into trauma.
And around Ban Taewung, those kinds of incidents happened constantly. Every time something went wrong, if you presented the solution and the path forward, of course he’d come to rely on you.
That’s why, to Ban Taewung, I am something like a reverse scale. Something you mustn’t casually touch, something that must be protected. No matter what I say, he’ll move in his own way to protect his people.
Just like right now.
I poured so much effort into keeping that dependency at just the right level—there’s no way I’ll let some mastermind warp it.
I’ll handle my own business myself.
Whether Ban Taewung worries or not, I won’t care. My existence must always be the one that gives answers, never the one that receives help. I have to be the lighthouse that illuminates the way without getting involved in his story.
Yes—exactly like the friend character in a dating sim.
In that sense, Luicia’s existence was perfect. Before, I wouldn’t even have considered the option, but things are different now. She’s someone who knows about the protagonist’s affairs and at the same time understands my position to a certain degree.
That’s why I can use her. I can move the situation through her without intervening directly. I shifted my gaze behind me. She happened to be looking at me too, so our eyes met perfectly.
I gave a small nod, urging her on. Hurry up and step forward. It’s better if you do it than if I do.
“...Haa. Watch yourself on dark roads. Seriously.”
She shot me a look like she was thoroughly disgusted, then grumbled her way forward and took responsibility for Ban Taewung’s words, adding her support.
She even laid out a rough blueprint for the strategy, and one by one people started nodding along. But inside they were still wondering.
Why go that far to cover for someone like me?
Some of them were already cooking up shady theories; others were busy adding fuel to the rumor mill, whispering that maybe she had some kind of weakness being held over her.
They spat malicious words like they’d finally found a chance to vent three days’ worth of built-up stress, then acted as if they’d only heard it secondhand. Disgusting.
When your perception stats get high, this is the downside. You end up forced to hear things you don’t want to hear. The slightest irritating sound and your attention locks onto it.
Normally I never paid attention, so I didn’t know, but standing one step back and watching them like this, the rough outline of who had been spreading the rumors started to take shape.
They’ve painted me like some vicious underworld criminal.
Even if the mastermind started the bad rumors about me, the ones who jumped on them the moment they saw an opening were everyone else. Classic lizard-tail cutting—leave no trace of yourself.
Whatever else, I at least learned that the mastermind is thoroughly familiar with human psychology.
The gazes directed at Ban Taewung were one thing, but the gazes coming from over there toward this side—specifically toward me—looked like they were staring at a monster that had suddenly appeared in a big city.
I couldn’t even begin to guess how the rumors had ballooned. Listening would only make my blood pressure explode, so I was ignoring them for now.
They’d already reached Luicia’s ears, so Ban Taewung couldn’t be completely in the dark either. Yet he still acted like he was protecting me—and then went and said something that blatant. I couldn’t tell if he was just dense or an actual idiot.
The reason Ban Taewung’s expression still hadn’t changed at all was simple: those people weren’t yet “evil” enough for him to label them as such.
He probably thinks there are more people like Leus out there.
Or maybe he just wants to believe that.
From where I stand, that side is the minority. This is S-Class, but not everyone is like that guy. In fact, reactions like theirs are pretty normal for teenagers of the same age.
Before their egos are fully solidified, they get used to the comfort of group life and end up more conscious of other people’s eyes than their own will. They’ve lived that way since childhood, and among them are the ones who always considered themselves superior.
Someone as strong and mature as Leus is the weird one. Same goes for Ban Taewung.
So I could say it with certainty.
Something is definitely going to blow up.
Every condition needed to tear down the hero called Ban Taewung as a fraud had lined up. No idiot would miss a chance like this.
“The time limit is until twelve o’clock. The inter-class battle begins now.”
Rumble!!!
Hong Su-ah’s mana-laden voice rolled across the entire arena, and the landscape of the field changed. The barrier deployed, and the surrounding environment transformed to match.
I’m tired.
Watching the scenery shift in an instant, I quietly closed my eyes.