Change (5)
I was killing a little time in the office, pretending to scold Cheon Seo-hui.
I glanced at the wristwatch Choi Yeonjeong had bought me, then snuck a look at Seo-hui across from me.
She was quietly sipping her drink with a blank expression.
Perfect timing.
Seizing the opening, I carefully brought up the subject I’d been keeping to myself.
“Seo-hui.”
“?”
“I’ve been wondering—how long are you planning to keep gripping your sword with your left hand?”
It was about her left-handed grip.
“…Why?”
The moment the conversation turned to swordsmanship, Cheon Seo-hui’s eyes sharpened and she immediately put her guard up. She clearly knew exactly where I was going with this.
“You know it too. You can’t keep swinging like that forever.”
“…….”
She pressed her lips tight and didn’t argue. She must have known full well that she was just being stubborn. I still didn’t understand the full reason, but one thing was certain—it was a stubbornness that would have to be broken someday.
“I’ve thought this since the first time I saw you. I want you to try a different approach.”
“…….”
Cheon Seo-hui stayed silent for a while, just fiddling with her empty drink can. Then, in a tossed-off tone, she asked,
“How?”
At least she wasn’t completely closed off to the idea.
“I’d like you to switch to a two-handed sword.”
“…A two-handed sword?”
Her right arm was perfectly fine. Her left arm wasn’t completely unusable either. That was why I’d settled on a two-handed sword. From experience, a two-handed blade was far better suited to combat in every way than a relatively short one-handed sword. The sheer bulk alone let you pour far more mana into it.
“Have you ever used one?”
“…No.”
“Hmm. I think you’d adapt pretty fast. It might even suit you better.”
“…….”
But she couldn’t bring herself to answer right away. It was probably tied to whatever reason she’d been clinging to her left hand all this time.
What now?
I’d thrown out the option. Ideally I wanted her to break her own stubbornness. Lessons you figure out yourself always sink in deepest. And yet… something told me she would never do it on her own. From everything I’d seen so far, she had a surprising tendency to need someone to give her a push before she moved.
It’s always been like that.
She’d act like she’d never listen no matter what you said, but when the moment came she quietly followed along. Honestly, it was kind of endearing how bad she was at being honest.
“Think it over carefully.”
“…….”
“If you keep swinging a sword long enough, the day will come when you have no choice but to change your style.”
“…You don’t know that.”
“No. It will. Unless your left arm suddenly heals overnight.”
“…….”
Cheon Seo-hui lightly covered her left arm and dropped her gaze, looking thoroughly displeased. The sight tugged at me a little, but I still had to say what needed saying. Right now I was the only one who would give her the hard truth.
“…If you keep insisting on your current style… I won’t be able to teach you anymore.”
“!”
At the declaration of surrender she jerked her head up, looking far more startled than I’d expected. Maybe she hadn’t thought I’d push this hard.
“I told you before, right? Let’s aim for first place together.”
“…….”
“I wasn’t joking. If you just change your style, no one in this department will be able to touch you.”
“…….”
“That girl earlier—Lee Sin-a? She won’t even be able to look you in the eye.”
Cheon Seo-hui didn’t offer any real reply. She just stared at me with a complicated expression before answering quietly,
“…I’ll think about it.”
It seemed she still needed a little more time before she could let go of that stubbornness.
After morning classes came lunch. Today I was meeting Choi Yeonjeong, who had come into work for the first time in a while, for a meal at a nearby restaurant.
…Except.
“What’s that?”
For some reason, her elegant hand was holding something unfamiliar—a small camera with a handle.
“I’m shooting video.”
“Video all of a sudden?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I started making vlogs.”
“Huh? You?”
Apparently it really was a camera for filming.
“Say hi.”
She suddenly thrust the camera right at me.
“…?”
“It’s your first appearance. Introduce yourself to the subscribers.”
“You already made a channel?”
“I just picked a name. How about ‘Yeonjeong’s’?”
“Wow. That is seriously half-assed.”
“Then you name it.”
“…On second thought, ‘Yeonjeong’s’ is fine.”
She snorted with laughter. Ignoring her, I peered into the little camera and greeted it the way I’d seen people do in other videos.
“Hello, ‘Yeonjeong’s’ subscribers. I’m Han Dohyeon, Yeonjeong’s friend. …Like that?”
Looking thoroughly entertained, she nodded and adjusted the framing.
“Did you secretly practice at home? That was way too natural.”
“Maybe I’ve got talent too? Broadcast PDs, I’m waiting for your call.”
“If they actually call, are you going on air?”
“As if.”
We kept fooling around with the camera until we arrived at a nearby high-end Korean restaurant. Choi Yeonjeong had reserved a private room; the moment she sat down she set up the camera’s little stand on the table.
“You’re keeping that rolling?”
“Yep. It’s a vlog.”
I’d heard of them, but the whole process seemed a lot more tedious than I’d imagined.
“Haa… Having a camera right there keeps making me look at it.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Thankfully, just like she said, as time passed I stopped noticing the camera was even there.
“The food here’s pretty good.”
“Right? The owner of the shop I go to recommended it.”
“Ah… the one who loves leopard print?”
“Yeah, that’s her. You remember?”
“Of course. What don’t I know?”
Thanks to that we were able to chat as comfortably as usual.
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Me? Probably staying home. Why?”
“Want to come over to my place for a drink for once?”
Choi Yeonjeong made a little toasting motion with her hand and casually floated the idea of drinks. I was briefly tempted, but I shook my head and moved my chopsticks.
“Nah, can’t. I’m not going out.”
“Why? Because of Nakyeong?”
“Yeah. I promised I’d stay home on the weekend. If I leave, she said she’ll immediately go out and ride her motorcycle.”
I added a little ba-ra-ba-ra-bam sound effect and smacked my lips in regret. Choi Yeonjeong just shrugged as if there was nothing to be done.
“Well, can’t be helped. I just got in some ridiculously good liquor, though…”
“…How good are we talking?”
“Curious?”
“No, I need to know how good it is so I can at least pretend to struggle.”
“Just… kinda expensive.”
“Why so coy? What, a few million won a bottle?”
“Please. That wouldn’t even qualify as ‘good.’”
“How much then?”
“Thirty million.”
“What.”
Even I, who enjoyed the drinking more than the drink itself, knew exactly how incredible expensive whiskey could taste.
“Ah. I was going to crack it open the second Dohyeon showed up… Guess I’ll just give it to someone.”
Whether she knew my heart or not, Choi Yeonjeong acted like she’d given up and started gently reeling me in with that sly tone.
That five-million-won bottle last time was already insane… How good would a thirty-million one be…
I swallowed hard without meaning to, wrestled with myself for a moment, and finally caved to the temptation of money.
“Hey. Don’t give it to anyone. Just keep it safe at home. You’ve got plenty of places to put it.”
“Why? If I keep it, are you coming over to drink it?”
“…Depends on the situation.”
It was far too powerful a lure to simply walk away from.
“That was great. I ate like a king thanks to you.”
“Same.”
We finished the lunch course all the way through dessert and headed back toward work.
“This covers your appearance fee, right?”
Having already paid for lunch, Choi Yeonjeong used the vlog appearance fee as an excuse to buy coffee as well. For a complete amateur like me, it felt like I was getting paid way too much.
“Isn’t the production budget for this vlog getting a little ridiculous?”
“It’s fine. As long as the views cover what I spent.”
She looked completely unconcerned.
“Will the subscribers actually watch that much?”
“Probably?”
She’d claimed she started it as a pure hobby, and whether the subscriber count was high or low didn’t seem to matter much to her. If it were me, I’d have been throwing a fit trying to force the views up.
“I’m off. I’ll text you later.”
“Yeah. Teach hard.”
“Will do.”
Right up until we parted, Choi Yeonjeong waved at the camera and said goodbye to me. I waved back casually, turned around, and walked off while thinking,
She’s not going to get all disappointed later when the views don’t come, is she?
I figured I might have to console her afterward.
After afternoon classes ended, Han Dohyeon once again postponed going home and headed back to the training grounds. It was for the extra lesson with Cheon Seo-hui.
Guess we’ll have to stick with one-handed for a while.
Dohyeon didn’t expect Seo-hui to change her style anytime soon. Even after losing fourteen times and grinding her teeth, she had kept clinging to the same method. He figured he’d need to persuade her a few more times before her resolve started to waver, and sent a message ahead.
And then—
“…I’m here.”
“Oh. You came?”
The moment he faced her as she appeared at the training grounds carrying her equipment,
“……?”
He narrowed his eyes and carefully examined what she was holding.
The sword… is long?
The blade Seo-hui carried wasn’t the cheap no-name iron sword she usually used. It was one of the practice wooden swords from the Swordsmanship Department—specifically a longsword with an extended blade and hilt. The kind you gripped with both hands to swing.
“You—you…!”
Dohyeon’s face lit up. He shot to his feet and hurried over to her. Seo-hui averted her eyes and explained why she’d switched equipment in a tone that sounded almost like an excuse.
“The sword I was using chipped.”
“Ah, of course! You can’t use it properly if it’s chipped!”
He burst out laughing and nodded, lavishing praise on her courage.
“Good thinking! That took real guts!”
“…I just brought it temporarily.”
“Sure, sure! Use it a bit and if you don’t like it you can always switch back!”
Dohyeon was simply happy that she had followed his advice.
“Shall we start right away? Ah—did you stretch?”
“You told me to do it before I came.”
“Right. I did say that, didn’t I?”
He couldn’t stop smiling at how proud he felt of her. He immediately led Seo-hui over to one side of the training grounds.
“First let’s check your stance. Try holding it.”
“…Like this?”
“Good. Now from there, a horizontal cut…”
While the two of them immersed themselves in the new swordsmanship lesson, on the second floor across the training grounds—
“…….”
A woman hidden in the shadows behind a pillar was quietly watching them. Dressed in the Academy uniform, her eyes glowed faintly purple from a vision-enhancement spell.
“…Hmm…”
With a cold expression, the woman carefully observed Seo-hui, who was deep in her lesson. She watched the look in the girl’s eyes as she pretended not to care while still diligently following Dohyeon.
“…….”
After staring at Seo-hui with ominous eyes for a long while, the woman finally raised a hand and activated a spell.
Spatial Transfer.
A high-tier magic only a handful of mages who had reached a lofty realm could use.
Pop—.
Moments later the woman vanished without a trace, leaving only a faint residual mana signature.
“…Hm?”
Suddenly sensing an alien fluctuation of mana, Dohyeon glanced toward the spot where the woman had been standing.
Just my imagination?
Then he dismissed it as nothing important and focused on Seo-hui once more.