The Entrance Ceremony (1)

Not a single word passed between Song Cheon-hye and me the whole way to wherever she was taking me.

She led from the front, and her only acknowledgment of my existence was an occasional glance over her shoulder to check that I was still following.

"……."

Every time our eyes met, displeasure clouded her expression. Evidently I hadn't made the best first impression.

Well, from where she stood, I was just a strange boy picking a fight with the Disciplinary Committee over cookies.

Worse, my brief friction with Han So-mi had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left me one step short of a delinquent's tag.

She probably rated me only a hair above Shin Byung-cheol, the academy's resident person of interest.

And so we walked on, until we reached an office with a sign reading Student Disciplinary Committee.

The committee office was neat and orderly — save for the tower of documents stacked in one corner, that is.

A door in the side wall led to an adjoining room. Song Cheon-hye walked over first, opened it, and tipped her chin for me to go in.

If the main office had felt clean and tidy, this room was bare and barren. The only furniture was a table at the center with two folding chairs facing each other across it, and a single incandescent bulb casting a wan glow over the gloom. Anyone could see it for what it was: an interrogation room.

Among players, this place was known as the Room of Truth — step inside, and anyone came out a reformed character, or so it was said...

"Have a seat."

"Yes, ma'am."

At her word, I dragged a folding chair over and sat down. Perhaps leaning back at my ease looked a touch too comfortable, because her brow twitched once. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, the way one does when swallowing anger.

"Wait here a moment."

Song Cheon-hye left the Room of Truth and returned before long with another male student in tow.

The pin on his tie was gold — a third-year senior, then. His broad, sturdy frame and genial face brought a docile bear to mind, and his narrow, crescent-shaped eyes probably strengthened that impression. Only the corners of his mouth curved faintly upward, making it hard to tell whether he was smiling or simply expressionless.

Setting a few items he'd brought onto the table, the crescent-eyed senior asked, "Hello. Your name is... Kim Ho, was it?"

"Yes, senior."

"Right, Kim Ho. I'm Oh Se-hun. Chief of the Disciplinary Committee."

"……."

I'd half suspected as much, seeing him at the committee office with the entrance ceremony underway — but yes, Oh Se-hun was the committee chief. Pouring coffee from the thermos in his hand, he asked, "Care for something to drink? There's honey water, green tea, coffee... Dinner's not far off, so coffee now would probably keep you up tonight."

"Cold water is fine."

"Stay seated. I'll get it."

Before Oh Se-hun could so much as rise from his chair, Song Cheon-hye darted out of the room and was back almost instantly — she moved so quickly I nearly believed there was a water purifier mounted just outside the door. Still making no effort to hide her displeasure, she plunked a paper cup down in front of me, then took up a position behind Oh Se-hun and stood at rigid attention.

Oh Se-hun took a sip of his coffee and opened his mouth again. "Now then, Kim Ho. I won't keep you long — can't have you late for the entrance ceremony. Answer a few questions, and I'll send you straight off."

"Of course."

"I hear you used the slot machine in Car 10. So-mi warned you it violated school rules, I'm told. Why did you keep going?"

Straight to the events on the train, then. My approach wouldn't change just because the man across the table happened to be the committee chief — the playing-dumb gambit would carry the day.

"I couldn't for the life of me see why it broke the rules in the first place, and being told to stop with no explanation just made me want to dig in my heels."

At my artlessly innocent answer, her brow twitched yet again. Had the committee chief not been sitting right there, I got the feeling she'd have blasted me with lightning magic then and there.

Oh Se-hun, by contrast, nodded slowly, as though that were a perfectly plausible reaction. "So-mi does share some of the blame for not explaining properly. Even so, when a committee member gives you an instruction, I'd like you to comply first and ask questions later. We won't always have the luxury of explaining."

"Understood."

"There's one more thing I'd like to ask about."

Song Cheon-hye held out the small glass vial she'd kept stowed in her zipper pocket — the very vial that had contained the Dark Ice Crystal. For an instant, as Oh Se-hun lifted it to examine it, his narrow eyes seemed to flash sharp as blades.

"I hear you swallowed the crystals that were inside. Any unusual effects on your body?"

"None whatsoever. I feel exactly the same as always."

"Even so, better safe than sorry. Let's run one simple test. Would you put your hand in here?"

He set a device resembling a blood pressure monitor in front of me — insert your hand into the fist-sized opening, and it displayed the results.

A debuff detector, of all things.

At Dragon Slayer Academy, the means of viewing another person's information — skills, traits, equipment, and the like — were extremely limited. It wasn't even possible to check what status conditions someone was carrying.

Unless, of course, you were the one who had inflicted that debuff yourself.

This detector, for its part, revealed only the status conditions of whoever inserted their hand.

Without the slightest hesitation, I slipped my hand into the opening.

Vreeee—

The machine began to hum and whir. Right up until nearly the moment I'd arrived here, the Dark Ice Crystal had yet to be fully absorbed, and the freeze status had kept flickering on and off — but that process was long finished now. There was no chance whatsoever of the detector catching anything.

When the device lit up green, Oh Se-hun gave a satisfied nod. "Doesn't look like anything's wrong with you. Kim Ho, one thing before you go. As a matter of principle, defying an instruction is grounds for discipline whether or not we explained ourselves."

"……."

"That said, that's strictly a matter of 'principle.' Nobody was hurt this time, and it's your first offense, so we'll let it pass without demerits. But I'd like this to be the first and last time I see you sitting in that chair."

"Yes, senior."

At my answer, the curve of his mouth softened a shade further. "You're free to go. Do you know the way to the grand auditorium? If not, you're welcome to walk over with Cheon-hye."

"That's all right. I know the way."

"Good. Off you go, then — have a good semester."

Even after Kim Ho had left, Oh Se-hun went on savoring his coffee at his leisure. Coffee in hand, the man could carve out a moment of ease anytime, anywhere. He took another smooth sip, then tossed a question over his shoulder.

"Doesn't sit well with you, does he, Cheon-hye?"

"...That boy is lying. At the very least, he is unquestionably hiding something."

"What makes you think so?"

"Student Kim Ho's cabin was in Car 8. Unless the slot machine was his objective from the very start, he had no reason to walk all the way to the end of Car 10. As for emptying the vial's contents right in front of So-mi — he claims defiance drove him to it, but it looked contrived to me."

"Sharp eye. That's more or less what I think, too."

Though he agreed in words, Oh Se-hun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠already seemed to have filed the whole affair away as none of his concern. Song Cheon-hye decided to press a little harder.

"There is a strong possibility he has obtained an illegitimate skill. If we use a Magnifying Glass to inspect his skills, we may well catch him out."

"Mm. That's possible."

The Magnifying Glass was an item that let one view a portion of a target's information. What could be seen varied with its type and grade, but a suitable one would reveal which skills a person held. Yet Oh Se-hun's reaction remained stubbornly lukewarm. Just as she moved to add one more point, he countered with a question of his own.

"And what if nothing turns up?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Suppose we go so far as to use a Magnifying Glass, and no skill of any concern appears. What do we do then?"

"That would be..."

The answer did not come easily. Her gut put the suspicion at nearly one hundred percent — but what if they forced the issue and came up empty? The backlash wouldn't stop at the Student Disciplinary Committee; it would wash all the way up to the Topaz Magic Tower she belonged to. Meanwhile, even if a Magnifying Glass did confirm an 'illegitimate skill,' the odds of its being something truly heinous were slim. At worst, he'd be looking at demerits or a light disciplinary measure.

The risk was grossly out of proportion to what they stood to gain. Oh Se-hun had surely run those numbers long before he ever let Kim Ho walk. Song Cheon-hye lowered her head.

"I apologize. I was rash."

To Oh Se-hun, an attitude like hers was a welcome sight. These were the days when an elite's self-regard ran at full tide; to admit one's own fault so quickly, and bow one's head at that age, was no small feat. He counseled her gently.

"Cheon-hye, I understand the eagerness. But affairs like this aren't settled by shoving forward at all costs. Take it slowly. Play the long game."

"...Yes, sir."

If Kim Ho truly had obtained something illegitimate and was using it, his tail would be caught in due time, Magnifying Glass or no.

"Unless he stirs up more trouble, leave Kim Ho be. For the time being, let's keep watch on how the clubs are moving."

"Understood."

"Now hurry yourself, or you'll be late for the entrance ceremony."

However brief my stay in the Room of Truth had been, by the time I stepped back outside, the sun was already half-sunk toward the horizon. I crossed ground stained red by the setting sun and arrived at the grand auditorium, where hundreds of new students sat waiting for the ceremony to begin. Their overlapping chatter merged into a low drone, like a swarm of bees humming.

As I cast a casual eye over the crowd, a head of ash-gray hair caught my attention. For a game world where every conceivable setting jostled together, gray-toned hair was surprisingly rare.

Somehow sensing my gaze, Seo Ye-in turned her head toward me at just that moment. Go Hyeon-woo's eyes followed hers, found me, and he lifted a hand in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠greeting.

"Brother Kim, over here."

With truly masterful foresight, the two of them had left exactly one seat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠open between them. Unless one's face was thick as a castle wall, wedging oneself into that gap would have taken real nerve.

The moment I settled into the empty seat, a notification unfolded at the edge of my vision.

An E-rank weapon was, at best, mass-produced stock — not a whit superior to the iron sword at Go Hyeon-woo's hip. Still, better than nothing. And the 5 silver I'd squandered on the slot machine came back to me in full.

"……!"

"……!"

Just then, the noisy auditorium began to fall quiet, starting from the front and spreading back. The reason was plain: a group of people was filing onto the stage at the head of the hall. Judging by both their timing and their ages, they could only be the faculty of Dragon Slayer Academy.

With every student's attention fixed upon them, the teachers each reacted in their own fashion — some ignored the sea of faces entirely and stared straight ahead as though nothing existed before them, while others offered faint smiles and waves.

Then, from among them, a man who looked to be in his late thirties, his beard carelessly trimmed, stepped up onto the stage.

[9] The Support Ate It All