Piercing the Instructor's Madness
After Blanc left, I sat alone, sorting through my thoughts. It was a contradiction the trainees should have noticed easily enough. With fifty of them, how had none picked up on it? Was it because Chris's act had been so convincingly real all this time? Because those weren't the kinds of things a truly insane person would do? Or because adapting to this chaotic world was burden enough?
...I had no idea. But one thing was clear: I had noticed.
According to Blanc, during that 'game,' Chris had declared she'd take Ri Shaolin's eyeball if she won. But in the end, Brack had explained the rules' priorities and shut her down.
...That was the strange part. Chris not knowing the priority between 'temporary combatants' and 'trainees.'
Hold on—it wasn't just that she was an instructor and should know the rules. Given her 'crazy bitch' image so far, forgetting a rule or two would be totally believable. But this rule was different. She had to know which took priority: temporary combatant or trainee. No question.
"Those dozen or so scars on Chris's neck... She said herself she'd played that insane 'game' more than a dozen times..."
Really, out of all those times playing that 'game' with trainees like Ri Shaolin, she'd never once made a bet like that? Not even once?
"Hard to buy that... if she were truly crazy."
Not every single time, maybe, but over a dozen rounds, there had to have been at least one or two where she'd demanded a body part from a trainee as the stake. Naturally, Brack would have shut her down the same way back then too—and unless she had some Alzheimer's that wiped her memory every three months, she couldn't have forgotten the rule.
Yet here she was, getting reined in by Brack with the exact same explanation?
"This... it's not that there were no prior bets like this. It's far more logical to assume it's all an act..."
And that wasn't all. There was another reason I'd concluded her behavior was fake.
She had a motive to play the madwoman. A clear benefit to the performance.
It had been proven in her 'game' with Ri Shaolin. As I'd mentioned a few times before, the trainees' demands weren't unreasonable. The training was so intense they barely got any personal time—at least, that's how they saw it.
Instructors were damned either way. Engage rationally, accept their points, and you'd weaken the training intensity. Ignore them, and they'd band together even harder in defiance.
But Chris's antics had crushed their rebellious spirit outright. She'd goaded them into self-destructing without even hearing them out.
The odds of all this being coincidence? Zero.
"And because Chris is so utterly unreliable, Brack's ended up earning the trainees' trust instead...?"
Before Brack stepped out for my personal sessions, he'd been leading the trainees' drills. Even with the brutal intensity, they'd followed along thinking, 'At least it's better than what Chris demands...'
...If she'd planned this far ahead too, it was chilling.
'Damn it. Nothing like this was in the original story!'
If I'd calmly observed her from up close, I might have caught on sooner. But living separately from the trainees had delayed me.
'So... how do I use this info?'
I had no desire to spread it among the trainees and stir up chaos. I was content riding the original plot's rails while growing stronger on my own.
"But it's not totally useless."
- A smirk crept across my face. I stood and headed off to find Chris.
*
I found her behind the building.
"Instructor."
"Huh? Park... no, Wild Boar?"
"Yes. Hello."
"Oh... Up close, I can tell you've lost some weight."
She even dragged out my surname 'Park' before correcting to 'Wild Boar.' If she was gonna force that stupid nickname, she might as well just use my name. She'd called me naturally before anyway.
"What? Why're you here?"
"I have something to discuss. Could we talk privately, just the two of us?"
"Eek?!"
A quick glance around confirmed no one nearby. Still, better to ensure no eavesdroppers.
But why was Chris suddenly so startled? Her face looked genuinely flustered.
No way... had she already guessed what I wanted to say? I hadn't dropped a single hint yet.
"Gah?!"
The startled yelp didn't end with Chris. From a bit farther behind her—hidden from my view by her body—a familiar male voice cried out in surprise.
I turned toward the sound to see who it was. And...
'...Blanc? Did he just hear what I said?'
Blanc had spotted me approaching Chris, freaked out, and ducked behind the wall. Then he struck a ridiculous fighting pose toward me, eyes gleaming.
...No mistaking it. That was the look of a friend cheering on his buddy about to confess his love.
'...Fuck's sake. What the hell is that idiot imagining?'
Realizing the misunderstanding, I grimaced slightly and shook my head at Blanc to signal he had it wrong...
'Ah... damn... that wasn't "get lost," but... whatever, maybe it's for the best...'
But Blanc interpreted my gesture as 'It's embarrassing if you watch the confession, so leave us alone'... He nodded firmly at me a few times with steely resolve, then vanished.
That bastard... Forget introducing him to girls later...
"Uh... Boar? That friend who just left..."
Chris hadn't turned to watch Blanc receive my signal and leave. She'd figured it out purely from sound—spotting him, then him gone.
I prided myself on improved hearing, but compared to a superhuman like Chris, it was nothing. I'd need nighttime, when my skills got that 1.5x boost, to even compete.
Anyway, seeing her troubled expression, it looked like Chris had fallen for the same delusion as Blanc.
Had I said anything that misleading? No matter how I replayed it, no.
"Looks like my friend jumped to conclusions. It's not some trivial matter. Shall we move somewhere else?"
"...Fine."
Thud, thud. Reading my serious expression, she nodded and led the way.
...
We ended up in a meeting room on the second floor of the dorms. Looked like a spot for instructors and camp staff—piles of papers and training schedules everywhere.
"Alright. What's this about? Hope it's not some bullshit like you said."
She'd composed herself during the walk, fixing that earlier fluster. Now she fixed me with a sharp gaze.
Rather than hitting her with the main point outright, I opted for some leading questions.
"...Those scars on your neck. Traces of 'games' with previous trainees like Ri Shaolin?"
I pointed at the marks on Chris's neck. The scabs had fallen off, revealing fresh pink skin. Impressive recovery in just a week. Mana-awakened superhumans must heal fast. Good news—Lee Kangin, laid up in the infirmary, had awakened his too.
Chris stroked her neck at my question.
Smooth...
"Ah, my neck? Yeah, sure. Cocky little shits like Ri Shaolin pop up every batch."
She said it with a slight sneer. Because I suspected her? Somehow, that smile felt fabricated, part of the act.
"Why try to take her eye? No real need to threaten her like that..."
"Hold up, didn't you say you had something to tell me? Why're you just asking questions?"
"I need answers from you first, Instructor."
Chris seemed to mull it over for a moment. Finding no red flags, she started talking, a bit grudgingly.
"I was risking my life here. If the other side doesn't put anything on the scale, it's boring as hell, right? A game with no penalty for losing? Who'd play that snooze-fest?"
'Gotcha!'
There it was—the line I'd been waiting for. Her words confirmed it. No mistake. My hunch that she was acting was spot on.
"...So you demanded penalties in those games with previous trainees too."
"Why does that..."
She started to brush it off dismissively, but trailed off. Her face drained of color. Her expression hardened, pupils twitching like a fish on dry land.
"...No way."
"I've figured it out."
"You little... fuck... shit..."
Her eyes still held a flicker of hope. Clinging to the idea that my 'figured it out' meant something else. Since I hadn't spelled out the core issue yet.
Even a kid would get it by now, but she was desperate enough to grasp at that slim miracle.
Tough luck for her, but time to crush it.
"How could you not know? That trainees take priority over temporary combatants. By your own account, you played the same 'game' last batch with someone like Ri Shaolin and demanded a penalty. No way you'd forget."
"..."
- Crack...
I glanced over. The desk edge she'd been leaning on, palm pressed down, was warping. Her superhuman grip had crushed the wooden furniture like putty.
'She's rattled.'
Not anger on her face. Just pure dismay, like an unexpected blow.
Yeah. Like that night we'd made a simple bet in bed, and she'd realized I'd mapped out every one of her erogenous zones.
I laid out everything I'd pieced together, not leaving out a single detail. Including the benefits her act brought the instructors.
"...So that's the conclusion. You've been playing the 'mad bitch' all along, right?"
Five minutes passed. In the meeting room, filled with my steady monologue, only my voice echoed.
Chris hadn't rebutted. More accurately, she couldn't.
My leading questions had gotten her to admit—out of her own mouth—that she'd demanded penalties in prior games. No room to argue.
If I hadn't baited her into saying it... she could've bullshitted, 'First time I asked for a penalty in a dozen games. Weird coincidence, huh.' And I'd have been stuck.
Sure, I could've threatened to spread my deductions among the trainees and shaken her that way. But it'd sour things between us, no doubt.
And that wasn't what I wanted.
I preferred smoother relations with her.
'Especially since we've already fucked... right?'