Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Coincidence for the Transfer Student
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Do I look like Stalin or Pol Pot to you?
What we're building is a school, not a weapons factory.
We can teach children how to become soldiers or scholars, but we can't teach them how to kill.
『Quincy Cowan, White House informal meeting room』
***
About an hour east of Sydney, Australia, you come across a massive island.
Centered around "Lord Howe Island," designated a UNESCO World Natural Heritage site, three artificial islands are connected.
That's the pride of Australia—and the world's only Superhuman specialist academy.
Lord Howe Academy.
The four islands that make up the academy each boast different features and atmospheres, thanks to the artificial islands being completed every 15 years.
A testament to the advancement of modern construction technology, perhaps.
On the oldest southern island, you can see stately buildings with decades of tradition.
On the most recently completed northern island, you encounter cutting-edge buildings and facilities.
But such beauty was merely skin-deep. The true beauty of Lord Howe Academy was one that only students could enjoy.
A curriculum befitting the name academy. That was Lord Howe's pride and true splendor.
Superhumans learned body reinforcement techniques and martial arts.
Mages studied magic comparable to that of the Mage Tower or Grande École.
For the religious, priests dispatched directly from the Holy Kingdom taught possession and blessings.
Following founder Quincy Cowan's will, the academy offered every technique for handling mana tailored to each student's aptitude and talent.
And it didn't stop there—they also taught the common knowledge and moral education essential for modern society, and...
"...No shooting classes?"
The endless praise for the school from Margan was cut short by the Saintess's voice.
"Shooting? You mean military training?"
"I'm not sure of the exact name. Classes on using modern weapons like pistols, rifles, grenades... something like that?"
Modern weapons? It was a sudden question. Margan tilted his head as he replied.
"Yes, there are... but they're for students aiming to enter U.S. military academies."
He glanced subtly at Yeomyeong. She was staring out the window, letting his explanation go in one ear and out the other.
"If your question is about Yeomyeong joining the military, I don't think she needs military training here at the academy."
"Huh?"
"I'm told all Korean Superhumans enlist. The Korean students I know enlisted right after graduation. Yeomyeong probably..."
The Saintess laughed, realizing Margan had misunderstood.
"No, no. I want to learn it."
"...."
"And Yeomyeong doesn't need shooting lessons anyway. She can handle a gun decently, and she walks around loaded with grenades..."
The Saintess trailed off, then made a face like she'd just realized something.
"Oh... don't tell me you're a veteran?"
Only then did Yeomyeong turn from the window to look at Margan and the Saintess.
"...Just how old do you think I am?"
"Well, no matter how I look at it, you're older than me, right?"
"...."
Yeomyeong narrowed her eyes at the Saintess's eyepatch. Her gaze said, *You just figured that out?*
"Um... since we're on the topic of age, should I call you oppa?"
It was the first time Yeomyeong had made a disgusted face since boarding the plane.
An expression she'd never shown even when surrounded by reporters.
Seeing it, Margan realized the Saintess and Yeomyeong's relationship wasn't the scandalous kind the reporters had gossiped about.
Anyway, facing an unexpected reaction, the Saintess scratched her nose and said,
"Weird. I heard Korean guys love being called oppa."
"...Who the hell told you that nonsense?"
"My friend?"
"...."
*You have a peer friend?*
Yeomyeong barely swallowed the words rising to her throat.
She suppressed the urge to say, *Your crazy mother actually let you make friends?*
Exercising superhuman patience, Yeomyeong gave a suitable reply.
"Anyway, don't call me oppa. We're in the same grade anyway—it'd be awkward."
"Your reaction just makes me want to call you oppa more."
"...."
"You make that face every time I joke. It's hilarious."
As the Saintess giggled, Yeomyeong shook his head and turned back to the window.
"Um, Saintess. If you want to shoot guns, why not join the shooting club instead of military training?"
"Shooting club?"
"Our academy upholds the founder's legacy by supporting students' diverse activities. Among them..."
Margan subtly resumed his academy spiel, and the Saintess listened attentively.
Clubs and such, Olympic gold medalists teaching...
Margan's steady voice droned on, and Yeomyeong sank back into solitary thought.
Imperial Knight's sword, Academy Route, player.
Her cold golden eyes reflected in the airplane window grew deeper in contemplation.
***
-Hey, those guys are arriving soon?
-Really? Today? Where? Dimensional gate? Airport?
-Airport, probably? There was an article about them flying from Manchuria.
The 'Writer' gritted his teeth watching his classmates whisper over phone articles.
Distracting during sacred class time? No, that wasn't it.
What twisted his mood was 'those guys' coming from his classmates' mouths.
The Saintess who changed Manchuria's future and the mysterious transfer student.
'...I can understand the Saintess.'
He still didn't know why she'd been in Manchuria, but her actions in news interviews and articles weren't much different from the Saintess in the novel he knew.
Righteously rolling up her sleeves to prevent innocent sacrifices.
She'd gone to northern Manchuria for some unknown reason but returned to the academy just before Chapter 1 began—so it was somewhat understandable.
But the rumored transfer student was the problem. He was beyond the Writer's comprehension.
'...Cheon Yeomyeong. A name I've never heard in the novel. At least no major character has that name.'
The Writer bit his lip recalling the transfer student.
He couldn't verify how much of the war correspondents' articles from Manchuria were true, but even half would be absurd.
Not only obtaining a dragon's bone from fighting Kahal Magdu, but slaying a live dragon and even riding it?
The most ridiculous part was the guy's job.
A newbie mercenary? In the game, aren't they NPCs barely tussling with level 6 trash mobs?
And he fought a dragon?
Maybe the dragon was weaker than expected, or it went easy seeing the Saintess's face—not impossible.
Orse Tabul was a background character with no detailed stats or personality known to him.
But a dragon was still a dragon.
Even with the Saintess's help, a newbie mercenary surviving a dragon encounter was abnormal.
No matter how he racked his brain, it made no sense.
If he had to find some possibility...
'...What if he's like me—someone from outside the work?'
The most plausible hypothesis, and the worst scenario.
If true? While he'd been leisurely waiting for the prologue, that guy had flipped the board entirely.
That thought sparked chain suspicions.
'What if he monopolized opportunities? Used the Saintess to hunt the dragon?'
All hypotheses, of course. Without confronting him and digging, no proof.
The worries dragged on. Endless, answerless worries.
He habitually chewed his lip until the metallic taste of blood from his torn lower lip snapped him back.
And the next moment, the dinner bell rang.
The familiar "Für Elise" melody ended, and students surged from their seats.
But unlike usual, no one rushed to the cafeteria.
-Going to the airport?
-Seniors said airport access banned today.
-Doesn't that mean first-years are fine?
-Ah, whatever, I'm going!
-Hey! Wait up!
The Writer licked his torn lip as his classmates poured out toward the airport.
Should he go confirm? Or flee the academy now?
As he pondered briefly, a hand landed on his shoulder.
"You not going?"
The owner was Jeon Yunseong—the closest to protagonist in the Writer's view.
Toward the guy who mistook his fake friendship for real, the Writer mumbled,
"Uh... I dunno. Can we even go? Teachers might hate it."
"Psh, don't worry. It's not just us."
"What if we all get penalty points? Some are staying, right?"
The Writer glanced at the others still in class.
Besides him and Jeon Yunseong, only two remained.
The elf princess hiding her identity and... the insane girl of unknown origins.
"If the ones not going are... ah..."
Jeon Yunseong followed his gaze and blushed slightly.
Unlike the boy's pure youthful crush, the Writer swallowed bloody saliva.
Recalling the insane girl from the dump last time.
The terrifying killing intent and mana that made his legs numb just thinking about it.
'On second thought... not just the transfer student—that girl's a problem too.'
What kind of world was this, letting freaks like them attend the academy?
"Yun-seong, maybe just us..."
As the Writer tried suggesting they go alone.
Of all times, Jeon Yunseong mustered courage.
"Um, hey...! Soemiri?"
"Yes?"
Jeon Yunseong haltingly called to Soemiri organizing her textbook.
"Uh, w-wanna go together?"
"...Together? Where?"
Ah, realizing he'd omitted the subject, Jeon Yunseong hurriedly added,
"T-The, a-airport! We're heading to see the Saintess and transfer student!"
He grabbed the Writer to stand.
Soemiri blinked at the sudden invite, then smiled faintly.
"Sure, let's go together."
"...Huh? Really?"
"We were going to see them anyway."
*We?* The Writer swallowed curses seeing Seti naturally follow Soemiri. *Fuck.*
He wanted to bail immediately, but facing those cold sunken blue eyes, he froze like a mouse before a tiger.
"Shall we?"
With Soemiri's expectant words, the Writer and the group left the classroom toward the airport.
* * *