“…Did I hear that wrong?”
“I think I just heard something strange.”
“That’s Kim Sunwoo, right? Why would they give him a special scholarship?”
“He’s dead last in the school rankings.”
Amid the murmuring of the students, I sat in my chair and looked up at Kim Yunjin. Despite the chaos she had caused, she remained composed, staring down at me with an unshakable confidence. She seemed unaffected by the attention of the other students.
“Are you asking me to switch to support magic?”
“Yes. I saw your dungeon exploration video yesterday.”
“…Oh. The dungeon exploration.”
“You have exceptional talent in support magic. That’s why I’m recommending it to you.”
It seemed that yesterday’s barrier dispelling had left a strong impression on many people. I never expected someone else to suggest switching to support magic again after just one day.
But unlike yesterday, this wasn’t merely a suggestion. Kim Yunjin seemed determined to recruit me into the support division.
“Support magic? So he’s bad at manifestation but good at support magic?”
“Looks like it. But if Teacher Kim Yunjin is personally recommending it, he must be seriously talented.”
“They’re even offering a special talent scholarship. That’s only for people like Lee Seo-jun or Yoo Ara.”
Among the wide-eyed students staring at me, I noticed several of the story’s key characters. On the left, Lee Seo-jun and Lee Hyun-joo were watching me with interest, while Shin Young-joon chattered next to them. Yoo Ara, on the other hand, sat in a distant corner, leaning her chin on her hand, gazing at me with an unreadable expression.
Gaining the attention of key characters wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Eventually, that attention would translate into achievements or fame, which would earn me points.
I let out a small sigh and spoke.
“Sorry, but I have no intention of changing my primary focus to another field.”
At my firm statement, Kim Yunjin’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
“It seems like you don’t fully understand, Kim Sunwoo. I’ve spent over 15 years mastering support magic, and I can recognize exceptional talent when I see it. Your ability to handle magical formulas is truly innate.”
“Teacher, I know my strengths better than anyone.”
Kim Yunjin placed her hands on my desk and leaned forward, bringing her eyes level with mine. Her intense gaze bore into me.
“How can you be so certain? I’ve done some research, and last year you showed potential in enhancement magic. That means you’ve only recently started focusing on manifestation magic, right?”
“…I know myself.”
“Even if it means giving up a scholarship worth fifty million won?”
Fifty million won. That kind of money wouldn’t take me long to earn. With my knowledge of the future, making money was a trivial matter.
“Yes. I can always earn money once I become a professional mage.”
For the first time, Kim Yunjin fell silent. She seemed to be lost in thought as she stepped back slightly.
“Support mages are rare. After graduation, you’ll be highly sought after wherever you go.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Support magic is challenging to master, but once you do, it offers countless advantages. You have the talent to master it with ease.”
“…”
When I didn’t respond, Kim Yunjin paused again, her voice turning quieter, almost cautious.
“Even so, the fact that you’re refusing to pursue support magic… is it because of its only real drawback?”
…It’s just that support magic is ridiculously difficult to master.
“Support magic shines brightest when assisting others. To be frank, it’s a field that’s difficult to handle alone. That’s a fact.”
“…”
Kim Yunjin stopped speaking, hesitating as if unsure whether to continue.
“But… that drawback isn’t a major issue for most people. After all, most mages operate in groups anyway. And its lack of offensive power can be compensated with a secondary focus.”
She wasn’t wrong. Support magic had its drawbacks, but aside from its difficulty, none were particularly significant.
“Even so, if you’re willing to abandon such talent because of a minor flaw, there must be a reason.”
“…What?”
What’s she even talking about?
“If you have a reason to avoid support magic, it must be significant—something that prevents you from accepting help from others.”
Kim Yunjin spoke softly, her voice low enough that the surrounding students couldn’t hear. Her expression had grown unexpectedly serious.
“Teacher?”
“Understood. I won’t ask about your circumstances, Kim Sunwoo.”
Kim Yunjin glanced around the classroom.
“There are too many eyes here. We can talk later. But don’t think I’ve given up on convincing you to join support magic.”
She smiled faintly and patted my shoulder before leaving the classroom.
“…”
What was that?
I stared blankly at the classroom door.
The afternoon classes were for sub specialties. The students moved to training grounds suited to their respective sub-specialties. Since my sub specialty was Enhancement, I was at the Enhancement training ground.
The Enhancement training area was divided into indoor and outdoor sections, and today’s class was being held outdoors.
“Hey, I’m curious—why don’t you just switch to Support?”
“You’re ranked last in Manifestation anyway. If it were me, I’d take that 50-million-won scholarship.”
“Stubborn, huh? If even Teacher Kim Yunjin personally recommended you, you must have some talent.”
While waiting for my turn, a group of students started talking to me. Some of them were even unfamiliar faces from other classes, likely having heard the rumors.
I ignored them.
“Next up: Kim Sunwoo, Park Inhwan, Lim Hanwoo, Jung Sechan, Kim Se—”
At the call of the Enhancement instructor, Jang Ancheol, I stepped forward. Today’s training involved a sprinting test using physical enhancement.
In regular Enhancement-focused classes, combat or martial arts were emphasized. But for sub specialties, the focus was on support applications, such as physical reinforcement and speed enhancement.
“Alright, get into position on the starting blocks.”
Along with the others, I took my place on the blocks. The test was a 400-meter dash, and grades would depend on individual times.
Park Inhwan stood next to me, casting an unpleasant glance in my direction.
What’s his problem?
“Hey,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
Park Inhwan addressing me was unusual—it might even have been the first time.
“What?” I replied.
“Why aren’t you changing your primary specialty?”
“None of your business.”
“You suck at Manifestation. You should switch to something you’re actually good at. Watching you is frustrating.”
He bent over, setting himself in position on the starting block. Watching him, I muttered, “Mind your own business.”
“People like you are so hard to understand. You have talent in another field—why stick with Manifestation? Do you think it’s some kind of joke?”
True to his role as the class jerk in the early stages, Park Inhwan was a master at picking fights for no reason. He deserved an award for it.
Before I could retort, Jang Ancheol shouted, “Get ready!”
I decided to hold my tongue. There was no need to waste energy arguing with him. Every class grade mattered, and this was the time to focus.
Drawing on my mana, I concentrated it into my legs. I felt my muscles tense and harden, ready to spring. Placing my fingertips on the ground, I prepared for the signal.
Jang Ancheol raised the starting gun high.
A tense silence fell. Everyone held their breath.
—Bang!
“Huff!”
All the students launched forward, pushing off with mana-enhanced legs. I, too, surged ahead, my muscles swelling with power.
In Enhancement, the key was efficiently distributing and maintaining mana across specific body parts. For running, it meant concentrating mana in the thighs, calves, and feet, ensuring none leaked or dissipated.
Pounding the ground with my feet, I propelled myself forward. Having honed Enhancement as a secondary specialty for years, I was confident in my ability to sprint.
Before long, the finish line came into view.
—Beep!
“Kim Sunwoo! 24.03 seconds!”
Gasp!
I exhaled sharply, my body halting abruptly as I released the mana reinforcing my legs. Dropping to the ground, I clutched my thighs in pain. The strain on my underdeveloped muscles was immense—I had overexerted them with too much mana.
“Argh… this hurts like hell… Huff…”
Glancing around, I realized I was the first to finish.
—Beep!
“Park Inhwan! 25.75 seconds!”
Moments later, Park Inhwan crossed the line, collapsing onto the ground as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Huff… Huff…”
He glared at me with an intensity that spoke volumes.
Park Inhwan ranked fifth in our grade overall. His primary specialty was Manifestation, but he also had a knack for Enhancement. Losing first place in an sub specialty class was likely a blow to his ego.
—Beep!
“Jung Sechan! 30.23 seconds!”
One by one, the other students crossed the finish line, dropping to the ground in exhaustion and casting me strange looks.
“Huff… Huff… How’s the bottom-ranked guy so fast…?”
“Hey… what’s your deal? Why aren’t you in Enhancement?”
First Support, now Enhancement, huh?
“400 meters in just 24 seconds? Yeah, right,” I replied.
“…24 seconds? That’s insanely fast.”
Still panting, the student looked at me with wide eyes.
That time was slow for me—my underdeveloped legs held me back. If they knew my speed before my regression, they’d probably faint.
“Fast? At best, 24 seconds puts me in the mid-to-upper ranks of Enhancement.”
“…Mid-to-upper ranks? You’re dead last in Manifestation, remember?”
“…”
Hard to argue with that logic.
After class, in the teachers’ office, Kim Yunjin sat at her desk, lost in thought.
“Hmm…”
She opened a holographic display containing the school’s database and accessed the teacher portal to review student information.
[2nd Year, Class A]
[Kim Sun-woo]
“Hmmm…”
The profile contained no particularly noteworthy information.
Last year’s grades:
Practical skills – bottom tier.
Theoretical knowledge – bottom tier.
Among the four magics, his Enhancement scores were slightly below average, while the rest were all bottom tier.
“…There must be something special.”
Well, he already seemed special.
Last year, his performance was horrible, yet this year, he seemed like a completely different person.
“Definitely strange.”
Propping her chin on her hand, she thought, “But his talent in Support is undeniable.”
There must be a reason.
Despite his extraordinary aptitude for Support magic, Kim Sunwoo insisted on sticking with Manifestation.
“…Maybe he’s from a wealthy family?”
That could explain it. If he came from an incredibly affluent background, a 50-million-won scholarship might not mean much.
She continued reviewing his profile and stumbled upon an unusual detail.
“…Huh? No family?”
That ruled out wealth. With no family records, he likely didn’t have any inherited wealth either.
In that case, why wasn’t he tempted by the 50-million-won scholarship?
For Kim Sunwoo, something else clearly mattered more.
Something more significant than 50 million won.
Something more valuable than being hailed as a prodigy in Support magic.
And whatever that “something” was, it couldn’t be achieved by specializing in Support.
“…This feels serious.”
Whatever it was, it had to be something he could only do alone.
“…Something he can’t rely on others to accomplish.”
Kim Yunjin gazed at Kim Sunwoo’s profile, her curiosity growing.
What secret was he hiding?
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