Puzzle & Academy
"What was the name of this game, again?"
"It's called Puzzle & Academy. It's a brand-new release where you take down monsters using hidden puzzle traps. The difficulty's supposedly brutal, but everyone says it's crazy fun, so it came highly recommended."
"Hmm. For such a game, the attire is..."
It was tormenting my eyes. Considerably, severely, catastrophically. Why on earth would they put hot pants on a perfectly strapping man — well, merely on the shorter side, to be fair — and why was his shirt soaked through with sweat, transparent enough to show everything beneath?!
"It pains me deeply."
I turned to look at Aso, who had brought me this abominable game. A cold sweat seemed to be breaking out on her as she wiped her forehead with her sleeve and started spewing excuses.
"Ahaha... I didn't know it was this kind of game either... no, that's not an excuse, I honestly just heard it was fun, that's all."
"As for myself — I have never worn such attire, I have no intention of ever wearing it, and I have no wish to see it on anyone else. Never again. Not once more, bring me something like this."
"Yes, Teach!"
"At least you answer promptly."
Even if these were mere bits of data, to be made to strut about in such a getup? I would refuse even at the cost of my life. And so, seeing as it would be difficult to accomplish anything in this state —
"Is there a cloth about?"
"A cloth? Uh, not right now, no."
"That will suffice."
My control over my own body had long since entered the realm of the surgical, but I had wanted a cloth all the same, lest some misfortune force my eyes open. If there was none, what could be done about it?
"Huh? Why are you closing your eyes?"
"Why, indeed. Because I have no wish to look upon this sight."
"Um... if your eyes are closed, won't the game not progress?"
What a foolish question. Who, in all the world, is worried about whose progress here?
"Who said anything about worrying over you."
"Fair point, you're the Sword God Teach. But heads up — I picked a high difficulty on purpose since we're playing together, so it might be a bit much for you?"
It might be too much for me, she says. Absurd. The domain of the Mind's Eye is a height I trod long ago. In battle against the strong, the eyes are an organ adequately served by reading the face of one's opponent — and after all, ought one not memorize the living face of the man soon to enter his coffin?
"Closing my eyes does not make me weaker. I give you my word — even if every soul in this place hurled itself at me at once, not a single hair of mine would be so much as brushed."
"I... I mean, I guess?"
Oh dear. It seems I put it far too harshly. But I have resolved never to speak falsehood. What was I to do about it?
"Hmm. It seems my words were too severe."
"J-just a little?"
"Still, do not despair too much. You may yet become, daringly speaking, the second greatest in all the world. Of course, if I were not in it, that is — otherwise the notion is laughable."
"Ah. Right. So, shall we get started?"
She doesn't believe me. Well, no matter. This seems to be a game of considerable difficulty; it ought to withstand at least one form of mine.
"I'll skip all the story and jump straight into Chapter 1."
"You skip the story?"
Sure, skipping the story is less of a hassle — but if one is streaming, shouldn't one normally watch it?
"Yeah, if I were alone I'd probably watch it. But since I'm with Teach..."
"Am I the obstacle, then?"
"No! That's not what I meant. It's just, you said you hated the male outfits, and the story has..."
"Ah."
That kind of story. Quite enough understood without watching it.
"Then let us enter at once."
"Okay! Chapter 1 is a labyrinth theme, apparently. You're supposed to clear the maze within five minutes."
With that, she must have skipped through the story, for the backdrop shifted in a single heartbeat. Yet the sensation I had known in Mukgeomrok was absent — it merely felt as though my surroundings had changed. The transformed space announced itself, beyond all doubt, as a labyrinth: walls of stacked brick, and at the entrance a massive stone gate. There had been no real need to close my eyes after all. But I had already declared it, so what could be done.
"Oh, right — Teach, is it okay that you're not running your stream?"
"A stream? I shall not be turning one on."
"If you streamed, you'd probably blow past my numbers."
It is not that I avoid streaming because I dislike it. It is that I cannot. Saying this aloud makes it feel rather like speaking of my love life — how desolate...
"Have I not told you? Besides, the verification video has still not been uploaded."
From my position, how could I possibly take back my words?
"Wait, you were serious about that? Whoa..."
"So upload it, and quickly. I am, after all, capable of ever so many things."
"Y-you still have to actually teach me, you know..."
"Yes, yes. Let us proceed."
"Oh, by the way — Teach, you don't check my form or anything? In martial arts novels and stuff, the master's always correcting the disciple's stance."
Correct her form? Her? Her stance?
"Aso."
"Yes?"
"Correcting a stance is something done for one who has reached a level where only the mending of form stands between them and further growth. Naturally, beginning with a good form is all well and good. But without stumbling, there is no growth; without growth, one cannot advance by one's own feet."
In the very process of straightening a flawed posture, one awakens to the principles of the martial path — and when at last one can mend one's own errors and stand complete in oneself, that is the realm of the Unity of Sword and Body. Those who grow without passing through such trials inevitably meet a limit. Unless one is blessed with an extraordinary gift of comprehension, the heights are not easily climbed.
And so, was it not thus with those pampered prodigies of the great sects? I too was raised in comfort — but unlike them, I built myself up with my own hands. That is why I could stand at this place.
"Uh..."
"To summarize: your level is wanting."
"Then what am I supposed to do..."
"I am administering my own prescription as we speak, so worry not. You need only trust me and follow."
"Teach..."
"Now then — onward."
"Yes!"
With that crisp reply, Aso opened the gate and took the lead into the dark of the labyrinth. Brisk enough, her stride. But did she actually know the way she walked? The flow of the wind and my own instinct were both telling me, plainly, that it was no path at all.
"Aso. Is this truly the right direction?"
"Huh? No idea! The viewers said to go this way."
What exactly did you do to deserve such a radiant smile?! Those are people brimming to the ears with the desire to see you and me suffer! However sealed her gift of comprehension may be, to see her play the fool this magnificently...
"My head aches..."
Truly... Bia, you were such a clever child. And the one who has taken up a position resembling your disciple-hood — something close to it, at least — shows herself your perfect opposite.
"Ahaha..."
Yes, even down to that laugh. I longed to see your smiling face. And in the end, I never got to.
"Follow me."
"Huh? Teach, you know the way?"
"The wind guides me, and my instinct guides me. Follow the principle, and the path reveals itself."
"Ooh..."
"What is it now."
"Teach, seeing you like this, you really do look like a proper Murim master. Even just walking with your hands behind your back, the aura is insane."
Have I grown comfortable in her company at last? She certainly talks more now.
"Haah... what, in all the world, do you take me for?"
Would it kill her to resemble Bia just a little? Even mid-march, the chatter never stops. Ah — of course. She is streaming; the words cannot die on her tongue. So that was the reason. My misunderstanding, then.
"The wind dies here."
And yet — this was my first time beholding a weave of wind so thoroughly artificial. It was as though a way forward most certainly existed, and yet had been declared not to exist within this space. No formation arts I knew could conjure such a distortion. Truly, a game is a game. But Mukgeomrok was unmistakably different. What, I wonder, was the difference?
"Teach, they say a boss shows up once you clear Chapter 1!"
"A boss? What did anyone do to earn a boss?"
"Well, apparently when the labyrinth compresses, a monster appears."
"What a preposterous tale."
Moreover — compression? What is this, the notion that gathering the veins of spiritual energy into one place will spawn a miracle elixir? I once dragged the man who told me that before the Meng, and off went his head, clean and swift.
"I guess it feels a bit disjointed since I skipped the story."
Hm. Nothing to be done, she says, since the story was skipped — and I can hardly argue, can I.
"Then skip this bit of story as well. Straight to the hunt."
"Uh, okay!"
"At last I may deliver instruction worthy of the name. Though with that head of yours as it stands, you are endlessly lacking — so keep chiseling away diligently."
The space shifted once more — an open expanse like a plaza — and toward the center, glowing a warning red as if to herald the boss's arrival, Teach strode forward, his signature black war-robes billowing, and thrust out his foot.
"Honestly, I'm curious too."
What kind of person is this man who claims he'll teach me? How incredible is he, really? Or is he just a silver tongue attached to a somewhat — no, an extremely — handsome face?
"That cloud-splitting cut seriously blew my mind."
"That thing where you get completely overwhelmed by someone's presence. I finally got what that actually means, you know?"
"Ah, hey, that's cheating."
"Honestly? I want Teach to be someone truly incredible. Like, someone I can't even look at the feet of, you know?"
"It's not like that! It's just... this unbelievable stroke of luck showed up in my life, like nothing I could ever compare it to. That's what I want to believe, okay?"
"Well, honestly? Yeah, he's stupidly handsome. First time I've ever seen a guy that good-looking."
But then, why would a man like that come to me? It's all a bit complicated, one way or another.
"Oh — here it comes."
While I was trading banter with the viewers, a massive bull with blood-red horns burst up through the floor. Fragments of shattered stone exploded outward in every direction, and in an instant the plaza dissolved into chaos.
"BWOOOOOAAAR!!"
"That thing's a Boo-woo-er?"
"Yeah... looks like it..."
Granted, my streams had long since drifted into pure comedy territory — but there was a time when I played Mukgeomrok dead seriously. This cursed body of mine never properly learned how to fight, but there was one thing it did learn beyond a doubt: how to read an opponent's killing intent. The moment that Boo-woo-er blockhead showed up, it made one thing crystal clear — even with five lives, I couldn't beat it.
Just from the pressure rolling off it, I could feel a cold sweat breaking out across a back that shouldn't have broken a single drop. And the reason I still couldn't bring myself to fully believe in Teach was that same thing — I had never once felt his killing intent.