The Third-Years' Discipline

The next day, I dragged myself out after squeezing every last second of sleep I could, washed up just enough to pass, and headed for the academy.

If I hadn't had the academy as an excuse, I'd probably still be getting tormented by that woman right now. Was this the first time I'd ever felt genuinely grateful for the place's existence?

Honestly, every fiber of me just wanted to stay in bed.

My eyelids kept drooping shut, but my mind stayed stubbornly clear as I slumped into my seat and planted my forehead against the desk.

The cool wood—more cold than merely cool—sucked the heat from my body, and for a moment I could almost breathe again.

Ahh... perfect.

If only I could just stay quiet like this until everything was over, how nice would that be?

"Hey, Sinwoo!"

The moment I dared to cradle that useless wish, Ban Taewung came striding over.

With my base stats higher now, I could sense the rough outline of things without even looking. I'd known he was approaching from way off. Having Hive and Haze on constant standby feeding me the surroundings was just a bonus.

In theory, even if someone gouged my eyes out in a surprise attack, I could still move better than most people ever managed.

"Not really in a 'hey' kind of mood..."

"Haha, you look even more wiped out than usual today."

Well, yeah. I'd just finished an all-nighter of nonstop hard labor, so of course I was exhausted.

Explaining that felt too ridiculous, so I kept my face buried in the desk and just waved a limp hand in greeting.

"Oh, right—here. Present. Yesterday was your birthday, yeah? I went looking for you to give it, but you weren't in the dorms, so I'm handing it over now. Belated happy birthday."

With that, Ban Taewung set something on my desk.

A rectangular case that fit in one hand. Inside sat something that looked like a blue gem.

An adder—the kind used to install extras onto a device. Probably the contents would appear once you installed it.

No idea what was inside, but it was a gift, so I at least lifted my head enough to accept it properly.

"...Yeah. Thanks."

"Huh? Sinwoo, did you change your shampoo?"

At those words my half-lidded eyes snapped fully open.

Like some kind of narcotics-sniffing dog, he suddenly started sniffing around me, then tilted his head.

"Something super sweet-and-sour. Did you buy it somewhere special? Or was it a gift?"

Normally this would just be everyday small talk I could brush off. But given the actual source of the scent, I overreacted hard.

I sighed at my own slip-up.

Separately, I shot the guy still waiting for an answer a look that screamed pure creeped-out. I wasn't joking—actual goosebumps had risen.

Shit, why the hell does this bastard remember what I usually smell like?

He'd probably said it without thinking, but it still hit me like a slap and left me in a foul mood.

Unable to shake the icky feeling, I gave a full-body shudder and tried to brush it off.

"...Just borrowed it for a bit."

"Shampoo?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't detergent scent at all—it was the deliberate body scent that woman had rubbed all over me like she was marking territory—but I had zero desire to explain that.

Better to just let him misunderstand and move on.

It wasn't like I'd done nothing. In the time I had left I'd scrubbed until I thought my skin might peel off, but the faint sweet citrus fragrance clinging to me refused to leave.

Some weird power was probably at work. Nothing about this sat right with me.

"Aha! I was wondering why a guy who hates moving would bother going out on the weekend—you spent it with your fiancée, huh?"

"..."

He was right, so why did it sound like an insult? Was that just my rotten personality talking, or was this ungrateful bastard actually roasting me? Whatever. I'd just roll with it.

That sly little snicker of his made it 100% deliberate.

Watching him nod along like he already knew everything made me want to punch that smug mouth of his.

"Love changes people! The old sayings really are never wrong. Don't you think so too, Sinwoo?"

Bullshit. I flipped him off under the desk, smoothly dodging a question that didn't even deserve an answer, and threw out the next topic to change the subject.

After that we killed time with simple chatter.

Halfway through, Luicia joined us and suddenly demanded I teach her something, which made me wonder if she'd eaten something weird over the weekend.

When I gave her a faintly pitying look, she shot back a murderous glare, so I played dumb and just sent her some decent materials on my device.

Everything after that was the usual.

People gathered, Ban Taewung built relationships like the protagonist he was, and Luicia supported him from the side.

The difference was that where she used to be content just standing beside him and watching, her actions were gradually shifting toward leading people.

Seeing her quietly seize the initiative in conversations or gather everyone's attention to collect opinions—starting with the small things—I felt relieved. She was finally getting her head on straight.

Yeah. The only daughter of a major group wasn't the type to just trail behind someone forever.

I was noting those little changes, plus the overall shift in class atmosphere since midterms, when a sensation from Haze made me sigh.

I'd thought maybe we'd get one quiet day. Turns out not even a single day could stay peaceful.

Rattle-BANG!!

The students stopped their chatter and turned as the door was flung open roughly.

Apparently the teachers' little midterm playacting hadn't been completely meaningless—most people at least went on guard instead of jumping straight into combat.

Of course a few clueless idiots still stood there spacing out, but that wasn't my problem.

What mattered were the people who'd just barged in.

Beige student ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠uniforms with pure white ties and ribbons marking them as third-years.

Exactly ten of them. Some even wore the epaulets proving membership in the student council or the disciplinary committee.

In other words, these were carefully selected elites.

When a particularly strong-looking blond youth and a black-haired woman stepped forward from the group, the entire class fell silent.

"Hmm~ Looks like this year's first-year S-Class has a lot of excellent people. That's a relief."

"From where I'm standing they're still nowhere near ready. Be honest, Alban. You thought they were below expectations too, right?"

"Well... I see a few who look like they'd give even Shirayuki a little trouble."

The blond's gaze briefly swept over Ban Taewung's group, the class's notable members, and finally brushed past where I sat.

At Alban's casual tone, the black-haired woman called Shirayuki curled a sneer onto her lips and snorted.

"See? The fact you won't even deny it outright already gives the answer."

"Come on, don't look at everything so negatively. They're the kids we'll be in charge of anyway, so being a little warmer wouldn't hurt."

"That's something only someone with good midterm scores can say, you idiot."

"I'll throw that right back at you, Miss 'Confirmed Large Guild Entrant.'"

Barging in out of nowhere and bickering among themselves without caring about our stares—they were clearly looking down on us.

Or maybe they were probing because they were wary?

I glanced back and saw Hong Su-ah standing with her arms crossed, waiting. No idea when she'd slipped in.

Our eyes met, and she just jerked her chin to tell me to focus on the front, quietly scolding me.

If Hive hadn't tipped me off I might not have noticed her stealth at all. I narrowed my eyes slightly and turned forward again.

I could roughly grasp how this was going to play out.

First-years who'd only just finished midterms versus third-years whose graduation was half-confirmed. The gap in skill was obvious, even if it wasn't quite teacher-versus-student level.

And a teacher just standing by watching... no, in this case she was allowing it.

"Ah, I forgot introductions. My name's Alban. No family name, nothing fancy—just Alban. Class president of third-year C-Class."

"...Which tune am I supposed to dance to? Likewise, vice-president of 3-C, Shirayuki Hime."

The ones who introduced themselves after that were mostly C or D, with a few as high as B.

"Third-year B-Class, Binboji Kazu."

Among them was the third-year who'd once called a Guardian and openly crushed first-years.

A few people who knew about that incident made the atmosphere sink a little the moment he greeted us.

Confirming that much, I closed my eyes and sighed inwardly.

Looks like they're finally getting serious.

Well, conflicts between students had been increasing lately. Dig into them and most involved first-years tangled with other years.

Honestly this was already pretty late.

It should have happened sooner, but incidents and accidents kept pushing it back until now.

The reason they'd deliberately sent lower-ranked upperclassmen was simple.

To teach reality to the idiots still coasting on the name "S-Class" and refusing to wake up. The first step.

Rank could give a rough idea of someone's strength, but it wasn't the measure of everything about them.

They were going to hammer that painfully obvious fact into us until our bones ached.

Swoosh.

"Hmm, a polite student. What's your question?"

The decisive blow came from Ban Taewung, who raised his hand for permission to speak the moment all the third-years finished introducing themselves.

"May I ask why the seniors have come here? Class is about to start, and I'd like to prepare."

Ban Taewung's tone was calm but carried a clear wariness. Alban's smile deepened.

Normally every Monday was back-to-back theory classes on common knowledge and required subjects.

I already knew all of it, so there was nothing new or special. I usually propped my chin and half-slept through the lectures or just stared out the window killing time.

But for the other students these classes were a chance to scrape a few extra points on the written finals, so most of them took them seriously.

From that angle, completely ignoring the schedule and occupying the classroom like this wasn't a great look for them.

"Hmm, the reason. Simply put, you can think of it as us coming to tighten the first-years' discipline."

"...Is that really the reason?"

"Yep. We're people too. Even if the other side is a bunch of worthless small fry, getting looked down on or picked on every day is still stressful as hell."

School rules meant we couldn't just beat them senseless either, so it was really frustrating.

Alban said it with a light chuckle. His manner was perfectly polite, but underneath lay the gaze of an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠adult watching a childish mistake.

"Put yourselves in our shoes. You try getting treated like that for once."

A few people frowned at the open declaration that they were going to occupy the classroom of people they'd been looking down on as easy targets.

This was exactly why clueless idiots who charged in without knowing anything were a problem. They overestimated their own strength, never tried to learn what they didn't know, and never worked themselves half to death.

Sure, their skills would improve for now. They were receiving professional training—if they didn't improve at all they'd just be trash.

The problem was that everything so far had only been teaching them how to hold a spoon before eating.

Watching them strut around thinking they were strong after learning just that—how did people who saw their own past selves in that feel?

Probably like having an embarrassing dark history dragged out into the open.

That was exactly the mindset most of the current first-years were stuck in.

I'm special. I'm superior. I'm different from everyone else.

So I'm doing just fine. They were drunk on themselves while just playing around, laughing, and putting in half-hearted effort.

They were stacking up dark history in real time without even realizing it.

That immature, childish way of thinking genuinely made me want to laugh.

But how long was that winning streak going to last?

Until they got closer to second year, grew anxious over skills that stopped improving, and finally faced their steadily dropping grades?

Too slow. By then giving up would already be the faster option.

Hadn't I said it before?

Sunrise Academy was an institution that prided itself on raising the absolute best.

It was a whetstone for forging sharp blades, and at the same time a battlefield for making them compete and sorting out the winners.

A place like that would never graduate the half-baked and the washed-up.

Anyone who cleared the harsh selection and earned the graduate title gained enviable credentials just from that alone. Being certified by the academy meant that much.

Imagine if some half-baked graduate slapped on the title and started doing things far above their station.

Cleaning that up would fall to the academy too, and there was no way it wouldn't become a scandal.

They'd protected the title of strongest and best for decades. They couldn't let their own name ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be dirtied, so they ran even harsher classes with fire in their eyes.

If you just thought a little deeper and with a wider view, it was easy to figure out.

Would any teacher just obediently go along with these guys running wild on their own?

It was almost time for the teacher to arrive, yet nothing had changed. That alone should have made people notice something was off.

"How about it? Feels pretty bad, right? We felt the same way."

Alban's tone, like he was scolding children, made a few people bristle. The atmosphere grew sharper.

For now, watching was best.

Besides me, a few others with clear personal standards calmly let the provocation slide or were already probing the third-years' real intentions.

On the other hand, the one-dimensional idiots who couldn't even manage that were focused only on the situation in front of them, breathing hard and barely holding back their anger.

Watching them bare their fangs without even knowing their own place was honestly pathetic.

"...If the teachers find out about this—"

"Ah, that's fine."

Shirayuki cut off whoever had spoken with a rough smile and flapped the epaulet on her arm like she was showing it off.

"We already got permission. Otherwise the student council wouldn't have come along."

"...!"

Clap.

Alban clapped with mana behind it, pulling everyone's attention back to himself and quieting the rising noise.

"Alright then, I'll explain the rules of the mock battle."

Shhhrrk!

At the same time letters lined up in midair. Not a hologram—characters meticulously formed one by one with magic.

It looked mystical on the surface, but it was the height of inefficiency, demanding both high mana and delicate concentration. I clicked my tongue.

Showing off their skill. With real-time translation magic layered on top, it seemed like they were enjoying this on the sly.

Like veterans watching a bunch of clueless newbies make a racket and smiling in satisfaction?

Otherwise there was no need to go through that much trouble just to flex.

Even if their personalities were trash, they still had the eyes to judge skill—the fact that they could pull off high-precision magic with no prep at all told me this wasn't ordinary.

"Location is limited to campus. One-on-one duels by calling a Guardian. First to land three valid hits as judged by the system wins. Simple, right?"

"And the winner gets one store point. This applies until all ten of us lose, so keep that in mind!"

"If you fail to take down even one of us ten within the time limit, the entire class will receive an appropriate penalty. I sincerely hope luck is on your side."

As if that finished the explanation, Alban smiled brightly.

"If you don't find us fast, you'll lose not just today's class time but all the academic records you've built up, so do your best."

With those words the ten of them vanished in an instant, replaced by a stopwatch formed of mana.

Current ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time was 8:59. They were clearly counting exactly eight hours starting from class time at 9:00. A time limit that matched dismissal—so absurd I almost laughed.

From the faint residual mana, it looked like they hadn't moved from here but had used a type of summoning that forcibly pulled the ones holding catalysts from elsewhere. Thorough prep, I'll give them that.

Ding-dong~ ding-a-ling-ding-dong~

Tick!

Regardless of the sudden situation, the bell announcing the start of class rang at the same time the eight-hour countdown began, and everyone started moving in a panic.

So damn noisy. I let out a long sigh and planted my head back on the desk.

Thanks to this I now had a full eight hours to slack off and rest, so I figured it had actually worked out pretty well.

Of course, completely ignoring the gaze of Hong Su-ah boring a hole through the back of my head was just a bonus.