The Devil of the In-Seoul Class

EP 5 The Devil of the In-Seoul Class at the Retake Academy. Chun Hee-ah was the lowest-ranked manager in the In-Seoul class. She had no money, so she couldn't secure contracts with instructors or companies. Without contracts, she couldn't recommend worthwhile products to the academy students either. The academy therefore dumped all sorts of odd jobs on her, telling her to at least earn her keep. The other managers called her "the bug" because she was always running around buried under menial tasks.

Chun Hee-ah's treatment grew steadily worse. Tasks that originally belonged to instructors—running ranking tests, transporting supplies, handling administrative data, processing receipts—were all pushed onto her. She endured it. But the way she was treated became increasingly miserable. The managers began sending her on personal errands as well. Still, Chun Hee-ah endured. She believed her patience would eventually pay off.

After roughly two years of this, Chun Hee-ah was handling the majority of the In-Seoul class managers' miscellaneous work. By now, no one thought twice when she openly took documents from their desks. Little by little, she learned everything about the academy. Which students each manager had contracts with. Which medicines and lectures the students preferred. How students reacted to different types of advertisements. Where the flow of medicine and money began and ended within the academy. Even the methods pharmaceutical companies used to rank the managers. She collected every scrap of information while responding to suspicious glances with a foolish smile, waiting for the single chance to soar into the sky. Those were days she could only survive by thinking that way.

Recently, Chun Hee-ah had obtained several pieces of information. First, the director was suppressing Lee Se-rin's sales activities. Second, Lee Se-rin's products possessed performance levels that made existing managers feel threatened. Most importantly, the other managers refused to propose collaboration because they were hostile toward Lee Se-rin. In other words, a product with sufficient value was being blocked from the market by hostile forces.

Chun Hee-ah did not hesitate. She reached for that opportunity. But the first reply she received was rejection.

"Besides, does Chun Hee-ah even have that kind of ability? She's never done proper sales before."

"Se-rin… I'm currently handling all delivery work, advertising, and administrative processing for the entire In-Seoul class on top of everything else."

"Excuse me? And yet…?"

Academy managers guarded their clients' information jealously. They never shared student personal details with other managers. Unless it was someone like Chun Hee-ah, who had been used as a general errand girl by everyone, obtaining such information was nearly impossible.

Chun Hee-ah sent a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠file. It was filled with student personal information.

"I know every In-Seoul class student's phone number, the medicines they take, how often they use training machines, their average income, which advertisements they like, what they care about, and exactly how much of a discount maximizes profit. If you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠work with me, you won't regret it."

Chun Hee-ah's hidden power had been unleashed.

Two days after her collaboration with Lee Se-rin began—

"Sales didn't drop by 70%. They dropped to 30%…?"

The In-Seoul class managers were tasting hell. Sales were plummeting, and companies were flooding them with nonstop complaints. Stock was piling up in the warehouse while work ground to a halt because of the miscellaneous tasks Chun Hee-ah had abandoned. It was a four-way disaster. The managers' minds went blank.

In the CCTV footage, they saw Chun Hee-ah and Lee Se-rin. Students were swarming to place ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠orders, and Lee Se-rin and her attendants smiled as they responded. An existence that bewitched people and stole everything in an instant. Since ancient times, there had been a word for such beings.

"…A devil."

What else could you call it?

The lead manager slammed the table and stood up.

"At this point, it's all or nothing."

"What?"

The other managers who heard her words were horrified.

"A-are you serious?!"

"We'll all die if we do that!"

"We do have a lot of stock left, but if we try something like that…"

The lead manager smiled as if she had expected this reaction.

"If we're going to catch a devil, we have to risk our lives too. If they can't clear their inventory either, they'll take just as much damage."

EP 5 The Devil of the In-Seoul Class

Late at night. Restaurant Famile.

I placed a Nokjeonghwan on the kitchen table. I had received one that a manager had sold to a student. Hephaestus displayed its information.

The side effects were severe. Depression. Paranoia. Every word was terrifying. Even if the performance itself was excellent, had they really been feeding academy students a drug that caused mental illness? Well, it was a test product, so maybe they had prioritized performance first and planned to fix the side effects later.

Next to it, I placed the Nokjeonghwan I had made.

The grade had risen from D to C.

Next, I placed the Nokjeonghwan I had received from Lee Seon-hee beside it.

It was also grade C. The side effects were gone, but it lacked the mental stabilization effect my version possessed.

And the recipe I had seen was this.

The recipe for my C-grade Nokjeonghwan had appeared after I examined the D-grade version. In other words, Hephaestus recipes were not simply "replicas of existing products," but "the highest-grade recipes for those products." The ultimate peak achievable within that category through technique and variation. That was why, even when creating a recipe based on an existing product, I could secure a clear qualitative advantage.

'What an overwhelmingly powerful ability.'

'Suppose someone invents a new product at 70% completion. The moment I see it, I can recall the 100% recipe and surpass them.'

I felt the Taeguk Cheonji Simbeop circulating inside my body.

'This applies to magic as well.'

Every spell I had learned had appeared through a recipe. That meant all my magic was an improved version of existing spells.

"…Incredible."

With Hephaestus, I could overwhelm even the founders of any magic. It was a good power, but dangerous. Because it differed from existing magic, it was easy to identify.

'…For now, let's focus on what I can do.'

I examined the Nokjeonghwan the managers had sold. The color was dull and the surface was cracked—evidence of mistakes in ingredient mixing and the refining process. No wonder the performance was lower and side effects appeared. Seven out of every ten Nokjeonghwan the students possessed were in this condition.

At first, I had felt a little guilty about cutting off the managers' livelihood. But if they were selling drugs that caused mental illness to children at high prices, the story changed. Of course, I had no intention of punishing them. I simply felt motivated to push them out with a better product. Any lingering attachment or hesitation had disappeared.

After refining for several hours, I took a break when a call came in. It was Chun Hee-ah. I put on the voice-modulating choker and answered.

"What's going on?"

-"Ah. Sorry for calling so late."

"Nothing to apologize for. Thanks to you, things have gotten much easier."

It wasn't just polite words. Without Chun Hee-ah, it would have been impossible to give private lessons or sell medicine to all the In-Seoul class students. The money earned over two days was 1.4 billion won. I could bow my head to the floor and it still wouldn't be enough.

-"Well… the managers have started a bleeding strategy."

"What?"

-"This is the advertisement that was sent to the students."

I looked at the message Chun Hee-ah had forwarded.

Two pills a day for 48 million won a month meant selling each pill for 800,000 won. That was below cost. Was this revenge for me selling my 3-million-won Nokjeonghwan at 2 million? There were many managers. If they fought with volume and money, my side would eventually dry up.

-"What should we do? We still have quite a bit of stock left too."

Chun Hee-ah's concern was understandable. Nokjeonghwan lost potency and effectiveness over time after production. Even my C-grade Nokjeonghwan would drop to D-grade if more than a month passed, and after that it would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have to be discarded.

"…Hmm."

I touched the D-grade Nokjeonghwan a manager had sold. The message [Enhance Possible] appeared above it. The required points were 1 per pill. The points accumulated from the academy had exceeded 900. When I pressed the window to enhance, a special mana flowed from my fingertips into the pill. The cracks sealed, and the color brightened. A C-grade Nokjeonghwan now rested in my hand. A pill without side effects, with excellent performance, and even a mental stabilization effect.

Even if it dropped back to D-grade, I could use enhancement to raise it to C-grade again. A good idea came to mind.

"Manager Chun. The production cost per Nokjeonghwan is around 1 million won."

-"Ah."

I heard laughter over the phone.

"Buy them all. I'll handle the performance improvement."

*****

The next day, two managers went bankrupt.

It was autumn.