Replay (2)

"You mean it? You can truly get me a Season Pass, Brother Kim?"

"Leave it to me, and it's as good as done."

"How?"

I gave the catalog a leisurely wave, and Go Hyeon-woo answered with a small, dry cough.

"I could explain, but you wouldn't understand a word of it anyway."

"Ahem..."

He couldn't even identify half the items in that catalog; expecting him to follow which item I intended to buy, and for what purpose, was a lost cause.

"The how isn't what matters. What matters is that I can get you the Season Pass. Wouldn't you agree?"

"That is so. Then what would you have of me in return?"

Given what a Season Pass was worth, it was the obvious question to ask. Winning one at auction for tens of thousands of points was already the easiest route there was — nobody simply hands over an item that precious for free. He had clearly reasoned it through to the natural conclusion: I wanted something.

"Dungeons aren't all solo affairs like the Misty Forest we ran today. There are two-person dungeons, four-person ones, even raid dungeons that take a dozen or more people all at once."

"Ah. So you wish for me to enter one at your side."

Any ordinary two-person dungeon I could clear alone, but a few were structurally impossible to run solo — layouts that split into two separate routes from the start, or mechanics that demanded divided roles. Some dungeons, for instance, required one person to work through puzzles and traps while the other held the line against an endless tide of monsters.

Go Hyeon-woo replied in a tone that was half teasing, half genuinely wounded.

"Now that stings a little. If that were all there were to it, I would help you with or without a Season Pass. Are we not friends, you and I?"

"For ordinary dungeons, we are."

The moment he confirmed my expression was still dead serious, Go Hyeon-woo sobered and gave my words his full attention.

I pointed at the floor.

"What I'm after lies far below — the Deep Layer dungeons. Even with your skill, they'd push you past your limits. And depending on the run, you might have to stake your life on it."

"...!"

Back on the train, he had lent me a hand without a single ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reward promised. But the risk then had been small, which was exactly why I'd asked without much hesitation — for something that could cost a life, I couldn't afford to be so casual. Fair compensation was owed.

Go Hyeon-woo posed his question.

"If I accept — when do you intend to challenge this Deep Layer dungeon?"

"Obviously not anytime soon. You and I both need to grow stronger first. The faster you improve, the sooner that day comes."

"So the Season Pass would be a kind of investment."

"Exactly. And on top of that, you'd walk out with dungeon rewards. Renowned blades, rare elixirs, fortuitous encounters."

"Hmm... Grant me a moment to think."

"Take all the time you need. You don't have to answer right now."

"A moment will suffice."

While Go Hyeon-woo sank into thought, I waited, sipping at my iced coffee. I wouldn't call myself a one-gulp drinker, but I was quick enough that my cup was soon empty.

By then, he had finished deliberating.

"I accept your proposal, Brother Kim."

"You're certain? I'll say it once more — you could die in there."

Go Hyeon-woo smiled, proud and unashamed.

"I am a martial artist. I hunger, always, for the road to greater strength. When you are the one showing me that road, Brother Kim, how could I refuse to walk it for fear of my life?"

That was enough for me to call it not a reckless impulse, but a genuine resolve.

I nodded.

"Good. For the time being, live in the Special Training Room every spare hour you have. And don't you dare pinch pennies on points."

"Will ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your own points stretch that far?"

"More will keep coming in from the replay sales, so for the next two weeks or so you won't run short. I'll have your Season Pass within that window."

"Two weeks is a fair term. I shall wait, on that understanding."

With Go Hyeon-woo dispatched to the Training Center, I pulled up my quest window.

An empty slot had been added.

And with that, the Placement Exam could be considered wrapped up for now.

Time to focus on the Season Pass.

How was I going to get my hands on one?

'Trade for it, obviously.'

With an item the Four Major Factions couldn't help but drool over.

I opened the shop and bought a single thing.

A full 1,000 points, gone in one stroke.

The Heat Catalyst Reagent was a crafting material.

More precisely, a material for magic engineering items. A thousand points might look like a steep sum at the moment, but measured against everything a student raked in over a full semester, it barely registered — which was another way of saying the reagent wasn't nearly as rare as its price tag implied.

Even so, it was an ingredient that went into magic engineering items the way rice went into meals, and demand for it never dried up.

This material would be my first piece of bait.

'There should be at least one or two of them by now.'

I set off.

Destination: the Magic Engineering Workshop.

'What on earth is that man doing here?'

The archives clerk found himself facing a most unexpected visitor.

The Human Butcher, Lee Su-dok.

He'd heard the rumors — how the man who had spent years hunting down and executing criminals had abruptly landed a post as a teacher at this school. But he'd never imagined their paths would actually cross; he himself just kept his head down, quietly working in a corner of the academy. And yet, out of some whim, the man had come to the archives on the very first day of the semester.

A sly roll of his eyes confirmed the worst: of all days, he was the only one on duty in the archives. Which meant this visitor was his to handle.

Lee Su-dok, having evidently reached the same conclusion, walked straight toward him.

"..."

The air around the man was murderous in the extreme — though not quite enough to make him wither. He had stepped back from the front lines, yes, but he, too, had once been an A-rank Slayer. Killing intent of this caliber he could absorb without difficulty. Besides, Lee Su-dok hardly seemed to have come to do him harm.

Despite that brutal face of his, the man opened his mouth in a mild, measured tone.

"Good day to you."

"Yes — what business brings you here?"

"I would like to view a replay."

A replay? What replay?

The clerk furrowed one brow in puzzlement.

"You mean a replay of the dungeon-clearance exam?"

"That is correct."

"Then... you could simply purchase one from the student shop."

"It has been set to private. That is the issue."

A private replay.

He could roughly piece together what was going on. Some student had locked their replay, and Lee Su-dok had come here hoping to view it anyway. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about that on his end either. Still, it seemed better to demonstrate the fact directly and let the man see for himself, rather than fob him off with a verbal "it can't be done."

"And the student's name...?"

"Kim Ho. First year, Class 3."

The clerk tapped at the keyboard, and the student's information promptly printed itself across the screen — dungeon-clearance score included.

He kept re-running the replay search as much for Lee Su-dok's benefit as his own, but the screen did nothing except throw up a single line of text.

The clerk shook his head.

"As you can see — impossible."

"..."

Lee Su-dok simply stared at him in silence, but to the clerk it was as though he could hear the question buried underneath: Why?

The annoyance was starting to pile up. A graduate of Dragon Slayer Academy himself, there was no way the man didn't know all this — did he seriously want it spelled out for him?

And yet Lee Su-dok looked very much like someone who did want it spelled out. Out of options, the clerk explained.

"...Yes, our clearance is the higher one, but this isn't a matter of clearance levels at all. The replay was never saved in the first place. You can't view a record that doesn't even exist in the database."

"..."

Lee Su-dok's face stiffened, and he simply stood there. Watching him, the clerk thought:

'Well, that's unlike him...'

As far as the clerk knew, the man had never shown the slightest interest in people — only in the criminals he dragged in or put down. And now here he was, fixated on a single student?

Claiming he wasn't curious would have been a bald-faced lie.

So the clerk ventured a careful question.

"If I may ask — why does this interest you? Judging by the score alone, there's nothing out of the ordinary about him."

"...Student Kim Ho exited the dungeon less than four minutes after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠entering."

"I beg your pardon? That can't be right."

Out in under four minutes — with 683 points?

Absurd. The boy must have stayed the full ten minutes, and Lee Su-dok had simply misremembered.

Then again, if he really had posted that score in four minutes... well, even the Human Butcher would have questions.

Lee Su-dok spoke.

"I wished to confirm it. Whether I had misread the time."

"Ah — if that's the concern, there is a way."

The clerk set his fingers dancing across the keyboard again.

"The replay may be gone, but the dungeon access logs are another matter. We can check exactly when he entered and when he came out."

Tap — he hit Enter, and the log appeared.

And both men froze at the same instant.

"...!!"

The clerk doubted his own two eyes. He took off his glasses and rubbed them, squeezed his lids shut and forced them open again. The numbers refused to change.

He glanced ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over at Lee Su-dok and found him equally rigid, glaring holes into the access log.

Entered at 13:31. Out by 13:34.

This was the moment Lee Su-dok's hunch was proven fact.

Lee Su-dok thought:

'Close to 700 points in three minutes. Simple arithmetic puts it at 1,400 in six... and past 2,000, without fail, at the full ten.'

What was it he himself had scored in the Misty Forest's Fixed Zone, again? He recalled it sitting in the high 1,300s by the end of his third year. And the highest score ever posted by the former Hero — the man now holding the Principal's office — had been a shade under 1,500, or so he'd heard. Even that had earned the man a reputation as a living legend. But 2,000 and above? Just what in the world...

Wrenched from his reverie, he heard the clerk's question.

"...Shouldn't we be reporting this to the Principal?"

If a powerhouse capable of scoring 2,000 in the Fixed Zone had enrolled, then as a member of Dragon Slayer Academy, one ought to be celebrating. The problem was that this powerhouse was deliberately concealing his strength. And those who hid their strength, in the vast majority of cases, did so with ill intent.

Dragon Slayer Academy counted enemies as numerous as its allies. The Dragon's minions, the apostles of the Evil God, organized crime... If even one of them had slipped into the school, the soundest course was to raise the alarm and mount a response without wasting a single hour.

Lee Su-dok refused, however.

"No. I would prefer to keep watching for the time being."

He judged it too early. Sooner or later, an awl tucked in a pocket was bound to poke through, and the PvP assessments were set to begin as early as tomorrow. Because those matches were contested between two people, the replay would be saved automatically unless both parties consented otherwise. Watch enough of them, and the man's true nature would come into focus, step by step.

Whether he was a phenomenally gifted student. Whether he was a minion of the Dragon. Or whether... he was truly the Dragon itself.

And if the answer lay closer to that last one...

"Because I am his homeroom teacher."

A patient, settled killing intent soaked through every word.

Next Chapter

[21] The Support Ate It All