The Sparrow Druid and the Lie Reader

January 1st.

By ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the fifth day after the Dimensional Gate opened, ability manifestation was finally wrapping up, and the mood around the guild had begun to settle.

"Now I can finally breathe..."

Not that there had ever been much chaos to settle, as far as my squad was concerned.

Assessing each manifested ability one by one fell to the team leader. What type it was, whether it had any combat value, or whether the person would be better off assigned as a Settler — making that call was the single most important task of the early probation period.

I lined up my four squad members at one end of the courtyard and called them forward one at a time.

"Dohyun, you're up first."

Kang Dohyun. Former gym trainer. Physical reinforcement type — the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠most solid ability of the four.

"You're getting used to it by now, right? Show me the most you can do, all at once."

Dohyun squared up in front of a training log and drew his fist back. Then, with a short shout, he let it fly — exactly once.

— CRACK!

The training log, thick as his forearm, split from the point of impact and broke clean in two. Dust was still billowing off the split surfaces.

"...How was that, Team Leader?" Dohyun asked, catching his breath. He looked fairly confident about it.

It wasn't just his strength, either. Endurance, stamina, how much punishment he could absorb — his physical abilities across the board had climbed a full step. A clean, well-balanced combat type. The problem was that calling it special would have been a stretch.

"Hmm. The manifestation's a little underwhelming, honestly. Want to try a round with me?"

"...Sorry, what?"

"Light sparring. Don't overthink it."

Dohyun hesitated a moment, then balled his fists. For a man who'd trained for a living, his stance certainly looked the part.

"You're sure I can really go for it?"

"Come."

Dohyun came in. A reinforced body carried real speed — for a rookie, at least.

I didn't activate my reinforcement. I simply caught the incoming fist with an open palm.

— Thud.

Even with body reinforcement behind the blow, my hand didn't budge an inch. Dohyun, on the other hand, took the full shock of it — he grabbed his own fist and grimaced.

"...Huh?"

"Again. This time, properly."

He gritted his teeth and came in again, faster than before. I met his oncoming shoulder with one hand and pushed. Just pushed — and his body launched backward, skidding three or four steps before he landed hard on his rear. His face said he'd only just realized it: brute force wasn't going to cut it.

The third time, he charged with his entire weight behind him. I planted my feet shoulder-width apart and took the rush head-on.

— WHUMP.

My feet sank maybe a hand-span into the dirt. That was all. I didn't give back a single step. No matter how hard Dohyun squeezed out every last ounce of strength, pushing against me must have felt like pushing a wall.

"Team Leader... you really weren't using your reinforcement ability, were you?"

"I wasn't."

"Then how can a person..."

"Four years gets you this much."

Train your mana consistently and let it soak into the body, and your physical abilities climb on their own — no active reinforcement required. For a body that had ground through four years of it, handling a freshly manifested reinforcement type bare-handed was no challenge at all.

Not that I had any intention of putting down Dohyun's ability. Raised properly, it was a combat type with real promise. But rookies needed to see, at least once, what a fifth-year veteran actually looked like. Better their spirit take a knock now than for them to overtrust their abilities and die like dogs out there.

The three squad members watching from behind had gone wide-eyed.

"...Our Team Leader's a support type and he's still a monster," Park Jungwoo murmured.

"Park Jungwoo. You're next."

"Yes, sir!"

Jungwoo scampered forward. Former delivery worker. A fire-starter type that raised a faint ember on his palm — until yesterday, the guy least excited about his own ability. Today, though, his expression had changed entirely.

"Team Leader, I think it got bigger since yesterday!"

"...Bigger, you say?"

"Yes! Look!"

He spread his palm open. A tiny ember formed on it. It looked exactly the same as yesterday's.

"...This is bigger than yesterday's?"

"Yes! Absolutely. Until yesterday it was just a dot, but look, today it's like, thiiiis much!" He held his thumb and index finger about a centimeter apart. "Isn't it just going to keep growing? You said training stacks up mana, right? What if I turn into a flamethrower in a month? Honestly, I'm starting to get scared of my own power. Like, what if I just start shooting meteors out of my hands..."

"...Jungwoo."

"Yes!"

"With great power comes great responsibility..."

His face lit right up. "Right?! I knew you'd understand, Team Leader!"

Behind him, I heard Dohyun sigh quietly. I didn't bother with a correction. He'd figure it out in a month. With great power comes great responsibility, sure — but the responsibility Jungwoo would actually have to shoulder didn't look especially heavy from any angle I could see. Still, his drive beat every other rookie's by a mile. That kind of thing turned out to matter for survival more than you'd expect.

"Next. Taeyoung."

"...Yes."

Jung Taeyoung, college student. The last of the four, the one who hadn't manifested anything as of yesterday. The quietest of them, and the one with the least presence.

"Heard it finally came through. What is it? Late bloomers tend to draw good abilities, from what I've seen."

"That's... I'm honestly not sure. Something... I can feel something... I kept trying back at the dorm, but I can't figure out what it is."

"You can feel it?"

Taeyoung hesitated, then slowly extended a hand forward — a gesture he himself didn't seem to understand. A brief silence followed.

Then, with a whir of wings, a sparrow swooped down and landed on the back of his hand.

"...Huh?"

Taeyoung froze.

"...Uh... uh?"

The sparrow showed no intention of fleeing. If anything, it settled in comfortably. And then — flutter, flutter — two more sparrows came gliding in. One on his shoulder, one on his head. After that, a flock of pigeons appeared from somewhere and began landing at his feet in a heap.

"Uh, uhhh. What do I do about this?!"

Taeyoung stood rooted in place, ringed by pigeons, sparrow perched on his head. The squad lost it completely.

"Dude, it's the pigeon guy!"

"Team Leader, Taeyoung's like a mountain hermit!"

Taeyoung looked ready to cry. "What is this?! Don't tell me this is my ability?"

An ability that made animals drop their guard and gather, then. Uncommon, granted, but it felt vague around the edges. I watched the others give Taeyoung a hard time and thought for a moment.

What happens if I reinforce this? Would it go as far as control?

If he could actually command animals, it might be unexpectedly useful — scouting, if nothing else...

I decided to find out.

"Taeyoung. Hold still."

"Huh? What are you—"

I set a hand on his shoulder and fed mana into him. Just a touch. My reinforcement-type mana reached for his ability. An ordinary reinforcement type couldn't boost another person's manifestation level — but for reasons unknown, mine could.

In that instant, the sky darkened, just slightly.

Crows, pigeons, sparrows, birds from who knew where — they came flooding in from every direction at once. Every tree in the courtyard filled up with them, and Taeyoung's head, shoulders, arms, feet — his entire body vanished under a living blanket of feathers.

"AAAAAAAH!"

Taeyoung screamed from somewhere inside the pile. The whole courtyard went up in chaos.

"Holy shit!"

"Hey, look at that — look!"

"He's Birdman!"

Dohyun doubled over clutching his stomach; Jungwoo was laughing to the point of tears. Even guild members from other squads passing by stopped to gawk.

I hastily pulled my mana back. The birds began to disperse, slowly, as if reluctant about it. Taeyoung, his head buried under a layer of feathers, stared at me with reproach written all over his face.

"Team Leader... that was too far..."

"...Sorry. I was curious. I thought reinforcing it might let you control them."

Apparently all it did was summon more of them. No control whatsoever. Utterly useless in combat.

Last was Kim Minseok. Former convenience store clerk. An ability to know an object's condition just by touching it — from the moment I'd seen it yesterday, I'd written it off as hopeless for a fight.

"Minseok, I saw yours yesterday, so we can skip it."

"Okay."

"But how far does it reach? Everyone's manifestation level is different, so I need to check. Spoiled food, that sort of thing?"

"Um... a little more than that. I had a look around the warehouse yesterday, and just by touching things I could roughly tell which magic stones were good quality and which were defective. Food condition, how worn the equipment is — that kind of thing too."

I found myself drawing a breath before I asked. "...You can really do all of that?"

"Huh? But it wouldn't help in a fight... Is that bad?"

Good. Incredibly good.

Magic stone appraisal was important enough that guilds kept dedicated specialists for it. Food management, equipment inspection, sorting supplies — useless in a fight, maybe, but for keeping a guild running, nothing else came close. Even among the well-regarded Settler-class abilities, this was top-of-the-line manifestation.

"Minseok, you don't much care for combat, do you?"

"...No, sir. Honestly, it scares me."

"Perfect. Then you won't have to fight."

His face brightened by a visible degree. And with that, the assignments were settled: Dohyun developed as a combat type, Jungwoo... well, I'd cheer on his dream for now, and Taeyoung and Minseok were headed for Settler duty. Taeyoung, having apparently decided it beat being buried in birds, took it without complaint.

"I'd rather farm than herd birds anyway..."

"What are you talking about? The whole point is to farm while herding birds."

Taeyoung went blank for a moment — and then the squad burst out laughing all over again.

"Oh, right. He won't even need a scarecrow."

"Hey, Jung Taeyoung, aren't you about to become the god of farming?"

"And the birds pick the pests off for free."

"...That might actually not be terrible."

And so, leaving the courtyard carpeted in feathers, we wrapped up the squad assessment and everyone dispersed. I compiled the results and reported to Yerin, and a few days later, Kim Minseok and Jung Taeyoung's Settler transfers were officially confirmed. Both abilities looked solid enough for Settler work that funneling them into guild logistics, supply management, and magic stone appraisal was hardly a bad outcome.

The day the decision was finalized, I called the two of them in feeling vaguely guilty. I figured I'd at least offer some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠words of comfort.

"...Don't be too disappointed. Settlers are essential to a guild too—"

"Hell yes. Jackpot!"

Taeyoung's face lit up in an instant.

"...Huh?"

"So I don't have to go out and fight monsters, right? I was worried you'd drag me along as some kind of druid."

Minseok looked just as relieved. "Honestly, this suits my constitution... In logistics, nobody dies."

"..."

I'd called them in to console them, and they looked more thrilled than ever. "Thank you for everything, Team Leader. We'll be working at guild HQ — we'll make sure to save plenty of the good food for you."

"...Right. Surviving is... what matters most."

It stung a little, and it was also ridiculous. Well — they were happy. Not dying and living comfortably really was the top priority. What was the point of raking in magic stones anyway? Earn enough to eat, learn to be satisfied with that.

And so my squad went from five to three. What remained: me, Kang Dohyun, and Park Jungwoo. Three men crammed into close quarters came with its own catalog of stories.

Dohyun got up before dawn to do push-ups every single day, and it only got worse after his physical reinforcement manifested. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The creak of his bed frame would wake me, and in the darkness I'd hear him counting: one... two... three...

"...Dohyun. Get some sleep."

"Team Leader, muscles never sleep."

"The muscles can stay up. I can't."

Jungwoo, whenever he lay down for the night, always lit that match-flame of his. Ignite the ember at his fingertips, snuff it out. Ignite, snuff out. He called it training.

"You said if I keep training consistently, I'll get strong like you. And it's growing every single day — at this rate, the Flame Dragon might just awaken."

"...Sure. Dream big. Bigger."

"You laughed just now, Team Leader."

"I didn't laugh."

I did. A little.

Somehow, though, it didn't bother me. We were nothing like Jaehyuk's rowdy squad, but... this quiet, uneventful routine of three men had a warmth to it, in its own way. At least here, I didn't have to think about anything that hurt my head.

...Things that hurt my head.

The moment that phrase crossed my mind, one person followed it in, uninvited.

The truth was, I'd been avoiding Seoyun lately. The reason was simple: her ability. She could read lies. Sense what was being hidden. Ever since I'd heard about it, standing in front of her terrified me. The things I was hiding — that is, the feelings I refused to acknowledge — what if she read them? So I avoided her. In earnest.

Mid-meal in the dining hall, if Seoyun walked in, I'd wrap things up and stand. If I spotted her coming down the corridor, I'd slip away down another. If our training looked likely to overlap with Jaehyuk's squad at the grounds, I'd move us to the opposite end entirely.

The problem was that it showed.

"Team Leader." Dohyun asked me outright. "Why do you keep hiding whenever that squad shows up? Weren't you close with Team Leader Jaehyuk?"

"...I don't hide."

"You ducked behind a pillar just now. Until they'd passed."

Jungwoo chimed in. "Did you... maybe lose some kind of ability bet with Team Leader Jaehyuk? I heard squad leaders do that sort of thing... If so... it must've been because of us that you lost..."

"No, what — no."

"Then why? Anyway, don't worry, Team Leader. Pretty soon I'll be shooting fire pillars. Once the Flame Dragon awakens—"

That one seemed like a bit of a stretch. A flame earthworm, maybe...

"...It's nothing like that. Our paths just didn't happen to cross."

They both eyed me with naked skepticism. I cleared my throat and changed the subject. It was all because of that damned girl's discernment ability. Without it, I wouldn't be sneaking around like a thief. But the world was not so accommodating.

That afternoon, rounding a corner of the training grounds, I walked straight into Seoyun of all people.

"Oh."

"...Oh."

She had a laundry basket in her arms. During the probation period, everyone rotated through menial chores as part of adjusting to this world — apparently today was laundry duty. I took a step back on reflex.

"...Teacher. Fancy meeting you here."

"...Yeah. Laundry?"

"Yes. It's my turn today, so I was heading over."

Seoyun closed the distance between us, easy and unhurried.

"I- I see... Well. Good luck with the laundry. Then—"

As I moved to retreat again, she spoke up. "Should I... wash yours too, Teacher?"

"...Huh?"

"Yours. Should I wash it for you?"

She smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing. "I wash very well. Thoroughly."

On the surface, it was about laundry. But the look she wore while saying it was not a laundry-conversation look. She knew exactly what I'd start imagining — if anything, it felt like the line had been thrown out so that I would.

"...I'm fine. Why would I hand my laundry to another squad?"

"Why not? Embarrassed? For you, Teacher, I could make an exception..." Seoyun drifted a step closer, her voice dropping just slightly. "Teacher, your face is going red."

"...It is not."

"It is, though."

As she tilted her head toward me, her long hair slid off her shoulder. "You can't lie to me anymore, Teacher. Not standing in front of me."

Lies were utterly helpless against her discernment ability. So the answer was to say nothing at all. The moment I opened my mouth, she'd read all of it. I scrambled for a new subject.

"Uh... actually, I need to run by the warehouse real quick, so sorry, but—"

"I'll come with. We're going the same way anyway."

Cut off mid-sentence, I had no grounds to refuse. And so I found myself walking to the warehouse beside her, holding a good person's-width of distance between us — clinging to the hope that even a little distance might keep her ability from working properly.

"...Um. Teacher."

"Oh. Yeah?"

"Did I do something wrong? Why do you keep looking everywhere but at me?"

And then she closed that distance right back up.

"...Huh?"

"You keep walking so far away. Do I smell or something?" Seoyun tugged at the collar of her training top, mimed sniffing it, then looked back at me. "Doesn't smell. Right?"

She pressed in closer, as if demanding confirmation. As the gap between us collapsed, past the neckline she was pulling down — her cleavage came into view... oh, goddamn it. Why the hell wasn't she wearing a bra?

The instant my eyes strayed there, I reflexively jumped back. There was no way she'd missed that reaction.

"...You just looked, didn't you?"

"...I didn't."

"Teacher."

"...What."

"Haven't I grown a lot since back then?"

"...What?"

"My height. Among other things." She pushed her chest out a fraction, delivering the line with perfect awareness of exactly where I wouldn't know where to look. "Four years ago, you used to look down at me. Not so much anymore, hm?"

At that, before I knew it, my gaze dropped to check — and snagged on her chest. I yanked my eyes away immediately. Which got caught, of course.

"You just looked again. Total pervert teacher."

"...I didn't."

"You keep at it even when it doesn't work on me. Fine, I'll stop teasing." Seoyun giggled, shifted the laundry basket to one hand, and then, with the newly free one, casually took hold of my arm. Not clamping on so I couldn't run — just lightly. Too ambiguous to call it linking arms, too deliberate to call it nothing.

"Let's walk like this. It reminds me of the tutoring days, sitting next to you."

"...If the other squads see this, it'll just stir up talk." I peeled her hand off and widened the gap again.

"I don't mind, actually." Seoyun gave me a sly smile. Where her earlier one had been all mischief — the kind you wear while teasing someone — this one looked like it had simply leaked out of her because she was genuinely happy.

I was just about to volley something back at that smile. The question that followed lodged the words in my throat.

"Do you have a girlfriend here now, Teacher?"

"...Seoyun."

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't ask things like that."

"Why not?"

I didn't know why not, myself.

"...Just don't."

A lame answer. It was all going to come to light soon enough anyway — so why couldn't I say it? I had no idea. Would my answer have been different if I hadn't overheard what she'd said back then? There was no meaning in wondering. So that was the best I could manage, here and now.

Seoyun looked up at me for a moment — then, unexpectedly, obediently took a step back. "You know... walking next to you like this. Four years ago I couldn't even have imagined it. You were always buried in the problem sets, and I was always off daydreaming beside you."

"...Daydreaming?"

"Mm. Daydreaming. The kind that got you scolded."

I wanted to ask what it had been, but something told me I shouldn't, and I swallowed it. "...And that's why your grades always looked the way they did."

"How is that my fault? You're the one who kept me from concentrating."

"...When did I ever."

"You know, I don't remember a single thing about the math you taught me. Just the other stuff."

"...What other stuff?"

"If I tell you, you won't sleep tonight."

"...I'm not curious."

"You are, though."

She dropped it so deadpan that a laugh escaped me before I could stop it. The air around us was cold, a mild sun lay over everything, and Seoyun and I were walking through it side by side.

This isn't how it should be.

Even thinking it, I couldn't make myself widen the distance again.

We walked a few more minutes like that, and only when the warehouse finally came into view did Seoyun stop. "Here we are. I'm going to go hang the laundry. Want to head back together after?"

"No, this won't take long. I'll go in first. See you next time."

"Okay. Next time, then..."

She readjusted her grip on the basket and turned to go — then, as if only just remembering, turned her head back toward me. "Teacher."

"...Now what?"

"You know... you tell far too many lies. Always have."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The girlfriend thing, back there. Telling me I shouldn't ask — that was a lie. I can tell that much even without my ability. You dodging the question... I'll let it slide today. But not next time."

Leaving only those words behind her, Seoyun walked off with slightly leaden steps. I watched her go, and even after stepping inside the warehouse, I stood there for a long while.

I should have explained myself, somehow. But what had really rooted me to the spot wasn't the failure to explain — it was that, in that moment, some part of me simply hadn't wanted to.

She wouldn't let it slide next time. And I couldn't dodge her forever. All it would take was telling Seoyun I had a girlfriend here. Simple, wasn't it?

So why couldn't I say it?

I spent the next few days chewing on that thought — and what came next arrived faster than I expected.