Weapon Master (3)
Go Hyeon-woo's ice mage had suffered three deaths in total across the matches, and two of those were the handiwork of hand axes flung by Seo Ye-in.
Whriiiiing—KRAK!
"Hm. Mine is the defeat."
Of course, Go Hyeon-woo was not the sort to hold such a thing against anyone. The first time his skull had been split open by a thrown hand axe he'd been left dumbfounded, but once they truly clashed and he lost, he accepted the result with a nod.
"Just as you said, Brother Kim — the body is frail indeed."
"That character's extra squishy. A total glass cannon."
"So I see. I have now come to understand that mages, too, have hardships of their own."
With that, Go Hyeon-woo played no further. He had already burned through 900 points, and even in casual mode, flinging points about so freely weighed on a man.
Besides, the match was nearly over anyway, so he set it down without regret and watched us play instead.
And with the match now winding down, Seo Ye-in—
KWAGAGAGAK!
—had all but transformed into a demolition tank. She tore unimpeded from one end of the field to the other, sweeping away everything that crossed her path.
What made it possible was a genius talent for learning and mastering anything at a terrifying pace, a Bullet Time that came off cooldown at just the right moments, and my poison stings, slyly lending support from her flank.
The other participants were Dragon Slayer Academy students, each brimming with talent in their own right, but when it came to Seo Ye-in, there was simply no way to stop her.
The stray remarks they'd exchanged during the mini-game had, by the end, turned into talk of the Barbarian and nothing else.
"No, what even was that?"
"How is her control that good?"
"Is she bugged? She's not actually playing her real class, is she?"
"She's coming, she's coming — run!"
Every one of them had died to Seo Ye-in several times over, yet far from raging, they seemed lost in sheer admiration.
The Stinger pest beside her, meanwhile, drew nothing but groans of protest.
"Ugh, the Stinger tilts me SO much."
"It keeps picking at me from the side."
"Seriously, I almost had them that time."
"Aargh! Lost sight of them again!"
I accepted all that lavish praise with perfect calm.
The whole point of a game is to tilt your opponent.
KA-CHAK!
Soon the time limit ran out and the match came to an end.
Seo Ye-in and I had blown far past our original targets of twenty kills and fifteen assists.
A shame there's no bonus for overachievement.
I had just tucked the prize [Rank Up (E)] into my inventory and was on my way out of the game center when—
"Hey, you two. Got a second?"
The second-year seniors called us over. It went without saying that these were the very people who'd played in that match.
...
As the second-years came swarming over, Seo Ye-in quietly slipped behind my back.
Also known as the Kim Ho Shield.
At the sight, the seniors faltered mid-stride and began trading jabs among themselves.
"See? The kid hid because of you."
"Why would you scare a first-year like that?"
"I think it's because you're ugly."
"Honestly, I'm better looking than you."
A brief world cup of who's-ugliest threatened to break out before a senior with the face of a good-natured Honam country boy — the dependable big-brother type — stepped forward as their representative.
"Sorry about that. It's nothing much — I just wanted to ask you something."
"Of course, Senior."
"By any chance... that Barbarian duo. Was that you two?"
"Yes. She was the Barbarian, and I was the Stinger."
When I answered, pointing to Seo Ye-in and then to myself in turn, the seniors couldn't hide their shock and started murmuring.
"The girl... was the Barbarian?"
"And the boy was the Stinger?"
"Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"That Barbarian was wild, though."
Seo Ye-in's pretty, quiet face simply refused to line up with the image of a Barbarian tearing across the battlefield, cutting enemies down and flinging them aside.
But what could anyone do? That was the truth.
The Honam senior looked a little shaken as well, but he strove to keep his composure and fired off his next question.
"I see. And your actual classes were...?"
"A gunner and a mage."
The seniors were floored all over again.
"She was a gunner, and she plays Barbarian like that?"
"Her hand axe aim was no joke, I'll give her that. Got me twice."
"Isn't that just because you stood there like a scarecrow?"
"Hey — every word out of your mouth picks a fight. Run it back?"
"Bring it."
Leaving the seniors to simmer in their own pot of chaos behind him, the Honam senior gave a nod.
"Had to ask — it was just too hard to believe. Thanks for telling me."
"Not at all, Senior."
"That Stinger tilted me too, so I'd say you played your characters' traits to the hilt. Great play from both of you."
"Thank you."
This senior knows his stuff.
My assessment of the Honam senior climbed several notches. If our paths ever crossed again, I had a feeling we could build a good relationship.
That seemed to be the end of their questions; the seniors waved and were about to move off when one of them abruptly threw out another.
"By the way — what are you two to each other? You look like a manager."
"Close enough."
For the time being, "manager" fit more or less.
Then Seo Ye-in, who had been hiding behind my back the whole time, poked her head out over my shoulder.
"...Butler?"
"Not a butler."
I shot it down, dead serious.
Where does she get off, trying to make a butler out of me?
Seo Ye-in tilted her head.
"No butler?"
"Absolutely not."
If I took the job, I'd end up sharing Ahn Jungmi's lot in life.
I refused, very firmly.
At which Seo Ye-in gazed at me for a long moment, then drew the [Rank Up (E)] out of her inventory and held it out.
...?
"I said no."
Having worked off a good measure of stress at the game center, we spent the rest of the day wandering here and there around the downtown district.
By the time we'd roamed for a good long while, the sun was sinking low, and Seo Ye-in's charge level — a full eighty percent that morning — had drained to nearly empty.
...
"Hey. Go get some sleep."
"Mm..."
Seo Ye-in had begun dozing off mid-stride, so I sent her back to the dormitory, and Go Hyeon-woo said he wanted to browse the market a little longer before turning in, so I sent him off as well.
Then, right on schedule, I made my way to the agreed meeting spot with Dang Gyu-young.
And there, waiting for me, was—
...
Dang Gyu-young, slouching against a bench. Her expression looked somehow sulky. Even her lips seemed to poke out in a pout.
Only one culprit came to mind, so I closed the distance and asked.
"Something not going well? With the Black Market?"
"No? We haven't even properly started yet?"
Her tone was noticeably chillier than usual. Just yesterday she'd parted with a warm goodbye, so where had this sudden mood come from?
The other puzzle was that Dang Gyu-young kept her mouth shut. She was forthright and easygoing by nature — the type to spit out complaints the moment she had them — so what could be stopping her now?
I turned the problem over and over and came up empty, so I shelved it for later.
"Let's eat first."
Fill our stomachs, let the fullness lift her mood, then ask again — that was the plan.
Figuring we could do as we had on our earlier scouting trip and simply tour the street stalls, I pointed at a hot dog stand nearby.
"How about that? Hot dogs."
...
Judging that this wouldn't do, Dang Gyu-young let the air out of her pout with a pfff— like a deflating balloon, brushed herself off, and stood.
Then she strode ahead of me, saying:
"Hot dogs, he says. Come on — I booked us a table."
"A reservation?"
When I asked, hurrying after her, Dang Gyu-young shot a glance back over her shoulder.
"Yep. Treating my infuriating junior to a proper meal."
"I'm moved, Senior. I truly did land myself a wonderful senior."
"Hmph. And you skipped lunch today too, didn't you? Snacked your way through it."
"That's fair."
"You need at least one real meal. Since when do churros and pearl ice cream balls fill anybody up?"
"You're absolutely right, but... how did you know what I ate?"
The downtown district was hardly short on snack options, so how had she nailed it exactly?
Dang Gyu-young flinched for an instant, then darted her eyes every which way.
"Well... y'know? Saw you while I was passing by?"
"There was a pretty long gap between the churros and the ice cream... did you see me twice?"
...
"Senior?"
"Whoa, hey — we're here!"
Dang Gyu-young seized my arm and hustled toward the restaurant in front of us at a brisk clip.
When I saw which restaurant it was, I did a double take.
"You got a reservation HERE?"
This place was a Western-style restaurant, counted among the finest eateries in the downtown district alongside the pastry shop. Naturally, booking a table meant smashing through staggering competition — and she had managed it for this very evening, with the district packed to bursting.
Dang Gyu-young puffed up with pride.
"You keep forgetting, but I'm a club president."
"Truly the president herself."
"Then eat up and be grateful."
Even our reserved table was on the second-floor terrace, with the night view spread out below at a glance. The food arrived before we'd been seated long, and we plated up chop steak, salad, pasta, and the rest, taking a little of everything.
Between bites, we traded small talk.
"Sooo — does Jegal So-so ever bring me up?"
"Only in passing, once or twice."
"How strange. I told her to take good care of you."
"She did treat me well."
"Then I'm relieved."
Whenever the conversation lapsed, I turned my eyes to the night view. Even with the sky gone dark and the streetlights blinking on, the district still seethed with students.
After watching the tide of people flow past for a while, I looked back — and found us face to face.
...
When I went on staring, Dang Gyu-young dabbed her lips with her napkin and asked.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Your table manners are flawless."
Every small gesture of her fork, her knife, her napkin carried an unmistakable refinement. It was less the polish of a day or two than something learned long ago and worn into the body itself. Around her Thief Club members she usually cut a rough, free-spirited figure, but right now the air of a great family's young mistress hung about her strongly.
Dang Gyu-young answered as though it were nothing.
"This much is just basic. I learned it back home, at the clan."
"The Tang Clan?"
"Yeah. Did I never mention? I'm a direct descendant."
A half-cast-out one, these days, granted — and she added that with a shrug of her shoulders.
"You never did. But what do you mean, half cast out...?"
"I left the family."
For all that she bore the Tang name, Dang Gyu-young used neither the poison arts nor martial arts — shadow magic was her mainstay. Her allegiance, too, lay not with the Murim Alliance where the Tang Clan stood, but with the Guild Coalition's thief guild, and the Thief Club. It was a question I had carried for some time — as it turned out, she had walked out on the clan and become a Shadow Weaver.
"What made you leave?"
"It was just... suffocating. I can't stand being a doll that does exactly as it's told."
The crushing responsibilities and constraints laid upon a clan's direct bloodline. You gave up so much for the family, and left so much to the family's decisions.
Dang Gyu-young had hated it. She had wanted a free life, beholden to nothing — and for that, she had been willing to set down even the towering status of a great clan's direct descendant.
I asked again.
"And are you living that life now?"
"More or less? Still, I've got a long road ahead."
Dang Gyu-young flashed a grin — then, seeing me set down my utensils, asked:
"I'm done. You?"
"Finished as well."
"Right, up we get."
"Thank you, Senior. That was an excellent meal."
When I bowed my head, Dang Gyu-young broke into a pleased smile. Not a trace remained of the sulky air from the meeting spot.
"You ate well, so you'll work just as hard for me, right?"
"Of course. Where do we go?"
The arrangement for this Black Market was that the Thief Club would secure the banned items I wanted, while I lent a hand as a temporary mercenary, as promised.
"Care to stick a leg in?"
"And what would you have me do?"
"You know that senior with the infuriating face? Stick to him."
And so the slacker of a graduate I was to shadow would serve as reserve — a standby force, meant to pitch in only if things went sideways. Which was exactly why I had asked where the man would be posted.
Dang Gyu-young didn't answer right away. Arms crossed, she seemed to be mulling something over.
"Mm... about that. I've changed my mind."
"Oh?"
Dang Gyu-young looked me dead in the eye.
"You're coming with me."
— [170] The Support Eats It All —