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  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 190

    10 Hours Ago – Base Sudden Event.

    The maze of the “Avatar Survival Game.”

    During his battle with Yoo Ara, Kim Chang-hyun cast a spell and released it directly onto the wall.

    KWAANG!

    The spell’s impact collapsed the wall, and from behind it emerged Kim Sunwoo, who had been hiding.

    “…I didn’t expect you to have detection abilities.”

    Kim Sunwoo muttered quietly with a startled expression.

    Yoo Ara, spotting Kim Sunwoo, narrowed her eyes.

    “Kim Sunwoo?”

    Caught off guard by Kim Sunwoo’s sudden appearance, Yoo Ara began drawing up her mana in case of a surprise attack.

    She had already consumed much of her mana in the fight with Kim Chang-hyun, and even a moment’s carelessness could cost her against Kim Sunwoo.

    Kim Sunwoo, likewise, shifted into combat stance as soon as he was exposed.

    There was no avoiding battle now that he had been discovered.

    And with Yoo Ara already worn down from continuous combat, this was the perfect opportunity.

    Kim Sunwoo charged straight at Yoo Ara.

    Flash!

    In response, Yoo Ara calmly cast a curtain of flames.

    She already knew that Kim Sunwoo, despite being a manifestation-type mage, enjoyed close combat. Having studied him for a long time, she could predict his moves to some extent.

    BOOOM—!

    Centered on Yoo Ara’s body, the wall of flames expanded widely.

    The barrier not only blocked magic but also forcefully repelled anything approaching.

    Kim Sunwoo’s body was pushed back by the rapidly spreading flames.

    “…Hoo.”

    Yoo Ara exhaled, watching him get pushed back.

    It was a close call.

    She had predicted that he would charge, but experiencing it firsthand, his speed was far greater than she expected.

    Had she been even 0.5 seconds slower, she would’ve been hit hard by Kim Sunwoo’s magic.

    Though it was her first time facing him, the pressure he gave was no different from battling Lee Seo-jun.

    …I don’t want to lose.

    Not to Lee Seo-jun, not to Kim Sunwoo.

    I absolutely don’t want to lose—but I’ve already spent too much mana fighting Kim Chang-hyun.

    At this rate, I’ll run out of mana and lose soon.

    The thought filled her with frustration.

    If only she could face Kim Sunwoo at her best, she might at least accept defeat.

    Yoo Ara glanced toward Kim Chang-hyun.

    He was still silently observing with an unreadable expression.

    Unlike her, he seemed composed and calm, which only irritated her further.

    At that moment, Kim Sunwoo charged at her again.

    Why is he only attacking me?!

    Yoo Ara tried to cast the curtain again, but then Kim Sunwoo suddenly stopped and conjured a magical sphere in his hand.

    The energy within the sphere grew stronger and stronger.

    Kim Sunwoo’s signature technique—compressed manifestation—had begun.

    …He got me.

    Yoo Ara, still maintaining her barrier, felt a sense of doom.

    If she dismissed the barrier to cast her own spell, Kim Sunwoo would immediately fire that compressed sphere at her.

    But if she continued to hold the barrier, it would likely be unable to withstand his growing spell for long.

    Her mana might even run out before that.

    If only I were better with reinforcement type magic…

    She might have been able to dismiss the shield and dodge instead.

    Or if only she could use dual-form manifestation.

    Regret surged—but there was nothing she could do.

    Eventually, as time passed, Yoo Ara reached her mana limit and let the barrier fade.

    As if waiting for that moment, Kim Sunwoo unleashed his spell.

    BOOM—!

    The compressed magical sphere shot toward Yoo Ara at high speed.

    With her mana depleted, she couldn’t respond in time.

    Yoo Ara was struck by the spell and vanished into dust.

    “Hoo.”

    Kim Sunwoo let out a breath of relief as he watched her disappear.

    Thanks to Kim Chang-hyun quietly observing, he was able to take one down quickly.

    Now only Kim Chang-hyun, the top third-year student, remained.

    Kim Sunwoo drew up his mana once more and prepared to fight.

    Kim Chang-hyun stared at him before casting a spell.

    Crackle…

    A spear made of lightning began forming in Kim Chang-hyun’s hand.

    The spear stretched longer and longer until it became a full-length lance.

    BOOM!

    The lightning spear launched toward Kim Sunwoo.

    Kim Sunwoo fired a sphere of magic to intercept it.

    KWAANG!

    Magic clashed mid-air, and a wave of energy swept past both their bodies.

    Then—

    Kim Sunwoo charged straight at Kim Chang-hyun. He had no reason to drag this out.

    But Kim Chang-hyun, worthy of being the top student, narrowly dodged the assault.

    At that moment, Kim Sunwoo activated “Instant Acceleration.”

    His body suddenly blurred forward, closing the distance to Kim Chang-hyun in a flash.

    Even an S-rank mage would find it difficult to react in that brief moment.

    A 19-year-old like Kim Chang-hyun had no chance to respond.

    Just then—

    Crackklee!!

    A powerful current surged from Kim Chang-hyun’s entire body.

    “Kh!”

    Kim Sunwoo flinched and retreated, feeling his body get shocked.

    Even though his resistance had increased since learning the lightning element, his entire body still tingled.

    Kim Sunwoo stared at Kim Chang-hyun with a hint of doubt.

    Lightning-type magic consumed more mana than most other elements.

    And to emit unrefined lightning throughout one’s body like that required a tremendous amount of mana.

    “…”

    He had thought Kim Chang-hyun spent most of his mana fighting Yoo Ara.

    But judging by this, he had at least as much—if not more—mana than Yoo Ara.

    And his expression still looked relaxed.

    Suddenly, a strange thought crossed Kim Sunwoo’s mind.

    That Kim Chang-hyun might be testing him.

    He didn’t know why he felt that way.

    But the idea kept nagging at him from deep within.

    It was odd that Kim Chang-hyun had just stood there watching during the earlier battle.

    …It’s probably just my imagination.

    As if he would be testing me. That must be nerves talking.

    This is a battle for base control—there’s no reason for him to hold back.

    Shaking the thought off, Kim Sunwoo quickly manifested a sphere to keep him in check.

    Kim Chang-hyun easily blocked it with a shield and countered with another lightning spear.

    Kim Sunwoo realized that this sort of clean-cut, technical exchange wouldn’t work.

    Kim Chang-hyun had flawless fundamentals in both offense and defense.

    Of course, Kim Sunwoo wasn’t lacking in fundamentals himself.

    But he preferred close combat or psychological tactics to throw off his opponent.

    To do that, he needed to close the distance.

    If only he could use “Heart of Nature” or “Fighting Spirit,” the fight would be much easier.

    But he had to save those until after capturing the base and unleashing the “Rain of Mana.”

    So there was only one way.

    He had to keep draining Kim Chang-hyun’s mana until it ran dry.

    Kim Sunwoo charged again.

    Kim Chang-hyun responded by firing multiple lightning spears to keep him at bay.

    Kim Sunwoo countered by either shooting them down or dodging with enhanced movement.

    As the distance closed, Kim Chang-hyun once more released lightning across his entire body.

    Crackklee!!

    “Ghhk!”

    Kim Sunwoo stepped back again, staring at Kim Chang-hyun with a stunned look.

    He still had enough mana left to release like that?

    Without showing any signs of exhaustion, Kim Chang-hyun launched another attack on Kim Sunwoo.

    Still, perhaps he couldn’t use mana as freely as before—there was a noticeable decrease in the amount of electricity he was manifesting.

    Roughly three minutes passed like that.

    Soon, the cooldown for ‘Instant Acceleration’ had returned.

    Kim Sunwoo charged at Kim Chang-hyun, pretending as usual to initiate close combat.

    Just as Kim Chang-hyun prepared to release electricity throughout his entire body again to block Kim Sunwoo’s approach—

    Kim Sunwoo came to an abrupt stop and activated Instant Acceleration.

    In the same instant, his body burst forward at explosive speed.

    He reached Kim Chang-hyun’s face in a flash, manifested an orb, and rammed it straight into Chang-hyun’s stomach.

    Boom!

    Kim Chang-hyun’s body crumbled into dust and vanished on the spot.

    After much back and forth, Kim Sunwoo had won the battle.

    “Hoo…”

    Thinking back on the battle, it was a rather anticlimactic ending.

    Still, in a magical world where skill gaps widen dramatically with each passing year, the abilities of Kim Chang-hyun—ranked first among third-years—were by no means inferior to Lee Seo-jun’s.

    Sunwoo decided to be satisfied with his victory, even if it came without the Heart of Nature or any desperate struggle.

    “…So the only ones left are Choi Seo-yoon and Jeon Min-gi?”

    There was no time to relax. Kim Sunwoo quickly set off to find them.

    Time passed, and Kim Sunwoo emerged victorious in the base’s surprise event: “Avatar Survival Game.”

    When the event ended, he found himself back on the fourth floor.

    In his hand was a golden ticket that would take him to the next floor.

    To seize control of the base, he needed to reach the fifth floor—this confirmed his control.

    Feeling reassured that things were going according to plan, Sunwoo didn’t waste any time and poured mana into the ticket.

    Wuuuung…

    The ticket absorbed his mana and began to glow, dyeing the surrounding space in golden light.

    Soon, the ticket crumbled like dust, reassembling before him into the shape of a small door.

    “Oh ho.”

    Kim Sunwoo opened the door.

    [You have entered the 5th Floor.]

    He had finally arrived on the fifth floor, where the base’s control room was located.

    The fifth floor looked a bit unique—as if it were an old, worn-down control room from somewhere else.

    Then, suddenly, the surroundings changed completely.

    Kim Sunwoo looked around.

    A pure white space.

    Unlike the cosmic space he had seen during the “Trial of Soul Stone” at Eunwol Clan, the color was opposite, but the atmosphere felt eerily similar.

    Sunwoo instinctively realized—

    This space had been created by Mystery.

    [Sorry. I startled you by calling you out suddenly, didn’t I?]

    Something with a black figure appeared in the white space.

    It looked exactly like the Mystery he had seen at Eunwol Clan.

    “…Are you Mystery?”

    [Mystery? Ah, that’s what you humans call us, right? Yes, I’m Mystery. You catch on really fast, huh?]

    Mystery giggled as it spoke.

    Kim Sunwoo stared at it intently.

    Like the one he had met at Eunwol Clan, this Mystery had a childlike demeanor.

    “Why did you call me?”

    [Just curiosity. The ‘chaos’ inside you is so intense. By the way, you don’t even seem surprised by this sudden summons.]

    Just like before, this Mystery also spoke in ways that were hard to understand.

    “…If you don’t have anything to say, send me back. I’m busy with a test right now.”

    At his words, Mystery shook its head.

    [Don’t worry. Time in this place flows differently from the world you live in, so it won’t be a problem.]

    “Really?”

    Kim Sunwoo learned something new.

    He decided to take the opportunity to ask something that had always intrigued him—something that hadn’t appeared in the original work.

    “I’ve got a question. Mind if I ask?”

    [What are you curious about? Depending on the question, I might charge a fee for the information.]

    “Do you Mysteries each have different powers?”

    [I can answer that for free. Yes. We are one, yet also different. Naturally, our powers differ too.]

    So each Mystery had different types of authority.

    This virtual world might’ve been created using the power of one of those Mysteries—likely with the aid of a “Sacred Relic.”

    If that were true, then the Mystery before him was probably a higher-tier entity.

    “Then… you must be pretty powerful?”

    [You could say I belong to the higher ranks.]

    “Hm.”

    Kim Sunwoo nodded.

    “Then what powers do you guys actually have?”

    [Can’t tell you that. If you want to know, you’ll have to pay an info fee.]

    “What do you want?”

    [Let’s see… Ah! Give me the soul of a human who has ten times your mana. Then I’ll tell you.]

    Kim Sunwoo frowned.

    A human with ten times his mana?

    Even a top-tier S-rank mage wouldn’t be able to provide that easily.

    [Why? Don’t want to?]

    “Isn’t there something else?”

    [Then… how about 1,000 humans who’ve lived more than 70 years?]

    Deals with Mysteries always involved bizarre terms like this.

    Especially when the information was something only a Mystery could know, the price got even more weird and incomprehensible.

    But in the original novel, someone had actually paid such a bizarre price to obtain information.

    Back then, reading about it didn’t feel like much.

    But now that he was facing it in real life, all he could think was: “That guy was absolutely insane.”

    “Forget it. I’m not curious anymore.”

    [If you don’t want to, can’t be helped.]

    The Mystery scratched its head as if disappointed.

    [Ah, right. By the way, who was that guy fighting you in the maze earlier?]

    The Mystery’s question made Kim Sunwoo tilt his head.

    The one fighting him… did it mean Yoo Ara?

    “Yoo Ara?”

    [No, not her. The one like you—someone whose origin is unreadable.]

    …Someone like him, whose origin can’t be seen?

    “What are you talking about?”

    Kim Sunwoo asked, his voice suddenly more serious.

    The Mystery, however, looked surprised.

    [You don’t know?]

    “I don’t. Explain in a way I can understand.”

    [There’s someone else like you, whose origin is unreadable. Though, if you look closely, there is a slight difference.]

    “What kind of difference?”

    [You’re truly chaos itself—empty and unknowable. But that one gives off a faint sense of familiarity to us.]

    Kim Sunwoo’s expression turned cold.

    He couldn’t grasp the full meaning, but he had a vague idea of what it might be pointing at.

    “Who are you talking about?”

    [Kim Chang-hyun, maybe? I meant that guy.]

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  • TFHITS Chapter 8

    Neril had always been cold and composed, both before and after my regression.

    Even after I spoke her true identity aloud, she didn’t get flustered or lash out.

    Of course, her rigid face alone was enough to make it clear that if I misspoke even slightly, she would take my head off right then and there.

    She spoke.

    “Shall we talk?”

    “I was waiting for just that.”

    At that moment, a new customer entered the tool shop.

    “Uncle Grey! …Huh?”

    “……”

    “W-Who are you? Where’s Uncle?”

    “Ugh, so noisy.”

    Snap.

    Neril flicked her fingers lightly.

    The customer who had entered immediately collapsed to the floor.

    Whish. Clack.

    With a wave of her hand, she locked the tool shop’s door and windows.

    In a matter of seconds, the shop was enveloped in darkness—and now, the only ones still conscious were Neril and me.

    ‘Still the same as ever.’

    In the meantime, I had started making black tea.

    “Did you kill him?”

    “Just put him to sleep. These days, killing people carelessly tends to bring on unsettling dreams.”

    “That’s just age catching up to you.”

    “Mm. But you? You could kill without remorse and sleep just fine.”

    I gave a casual shrug.

    Clack.

    Then I placed the tea in front of her and spoke in a serious tone.

    “Pardon the rudeness for our first meeting. Have some tea.”

    “I’ll pass. The aroma’s too faint—it’s clearly low-grade tea.”

    “……”

    “Let me ask the important thing first. You said you were waiting for me… how did you know I was coming to this territory?”

    Naturally, I didn’t answer with my memories from before regression.

    But of course, she’d be curious.

    As far as I know, there have only been two people in the entire Empire who managed to track down Neril after she disappeared.

    One was Krotz, vice-commander of the Empire’s elite unit, Alkahad.

    The other was Dame Seide, commander of the Holy Knights of Light.

    Incidentally, that was 50 and 30 years ago, respectively.

    Hopefully that explains why I call her “madam” and she lets it slide.

    “Hmm. Let’s start with introductions.”

    “Oh my, but I couldn’t care less about your name. Just answer my question first.”

    “Mide Mohan. Freelance mercenary. Nice to meet you.”

    “You really know how to get on someone’s nerves, don’t you? Wait—Mide, Mide Mohan?”

    “Doesn’t that answer your question? That name should explain it.”

    Not to brag, but I’m a fairly well-known mercenary across the continent.

    Even the title of Sword master, which mercenaries don’t normally get, has been attached to me.

    [Not just any Sword master either.]

    ‘Shut up.’

    Almost as if responding to Trail’s words, Neril spoke.

    “The Sword master of No Killing. You look much younger than I imagined.”

    “Compared to you, everyone must seem young.”

    “You’ve got a real knack for saying things that get under the skin, huh?”

    “Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

    “Hmm. If someone like the Sword master of No Killing managed to track me down, then perhaps your reputation is actually underestimated. Still, I’m not exactly thrilled.”

    At least her curiosity seemed satisfied.

    I carefully gauged the mood before speaking.

    “Mind if I ask something now?”

    “Go ahead.”

    “Why don’t we work together?”

    Her expression shifted into something subtle and hard to read.

    It was the look of someone not quite sure they’d heard correctly.

    But I kept speaking calmly.

    “I don’t think it’s that strange of a proposal. There are plenty of mages who work as mercenaries. If you’ve got the skills, no job pays better.”

    “This is so absurd I don’t even know where to start.”

    “Take your time. I’ll wait.”

    I folded my arms and made a show of waiting patiently.

    After a moment, she finally spoke.

    “Hand over Grey and get out.”

    “……”

    “Whatever he paid to hire you, I’ll double it.”

    “I told you—I wasn’t hired.”

    “You said you’re a mercenary, didn’t you? Mercenaries do anything for money. Guarding a murderer is nothing to them.”

    She studied my face, noting my lack of reaction, then continued.

    “You don’t seem surprised. I take it you know something about his past?”

    “So you’re rejecting my offer to work together? Why?”

    “Hmph, kid. Do you know why I’m called the Witch of Carnage?”

    “……”

    “If you’re looking to recruit me, you probably know many of those infamous accusations are false. But isn’t it strange? Just claiming ‘Neril Slane did it’ is enough to pin any crime on me.”

    Of course I knew that.

    I’d heard it from Neril herself before regression.

    Still, I put on a face like I was thinking about it for the first time.

    Then I looked as if I’d suddenly figured it out and said:

    “I see. You made a deal with someone high up in the Empire.”

    “…Oh?”

    Neril didn’t hide her surprise.

    “You’re sharp.”

    “I looked at the timing of the crimes attributed to you. Every time there was a disaster—drought, flood, public unrest—it matched with your alleged ‘appearances.’”

    “……”

    “Now it makes sense. The higher-ups used you as a scapegoat for all the people’s rage and grief. That way, the resentment wouldn’t turn toward the Empire or the royal family, but toward you.”

    Neril was silent for a moment.

    I went on.

    “The Empire fought you twice, right? Once 50 years ago, and once 30 years ago. I heard those battles were intense. You were in real danger.”

    “……”

    “Especially 30 years ago. I heard you came close to dying. That must’ve been when it hit you—the Empire’s getting stronger. Next time, they might actually kill you.”

    “……”

    “So you sought a deal. Or maybe the Empire came to you first. Suggested cooperation instead of continued war.”

    At first, she looked only mildly surprised, but now Neril’s eyes were wide open in astonishment.

    This is why, before regression, Neril hadn’t been especially moved when Kaeld cleared her name.

    Those accusations were something she had willingly taken on herself.

    She asked, her voice now deeply cautious.

    “…Just what are you? Even for a top-tier mercenary—how do you know all this?”

    “Still doesn’t explain why you rejected my offer.”

    “I still have ties to the Empire. If they need something covered up, they contact me. I get paid, go to the designated location, and… well, leave just enough evidence behind.”

    “You scatter your magic, so investigators can pin the blame on you.”

    “You figured that out too? You really are sharp.”

    That was something she’d often told me even before regression.

    Neril crossed her arms and continued.

    “I hate smooth talkers who only say what people want to hear. That stuff’s fleeting. In the end, only results matter. And to get results, you need real skill.”

    “……”

    “In that sense, I do like you. So I’ll spare your life.”

    Wow. Thanks so much for that.

    “It was quite the memorable conversation. But my answer is still no.”

    “……”

    “I made those dirty deals with the Empire because I had something I desperately needed to protect. I can’t just go roam around for fun like you.”

    …

    Something to protect?

    ‘Don’t tell me she means that old man.’

    [That seems to be the case.]

    With the Eye of Omniscience, the image of the old gentleman who had met a tragic end at Grey’s hands surfaced in my mind.

    Operating under the assumption that my hunch was correct, I opened my mouth.

    “It sounds like you’re saying ‘there was’—as if there isn’t anymore.”

    “…Yeah. He’s dead. Grey and his gang killed him.”

    “So you came here for revenge. And the rest of the gang is already dealt with.”

    “…”

    “Then if I hand Grey over to you, will you cooperate with me? You don’t have anything left to protect anymore, do you?”

    Neril seemed to hesitate for a moment.

    Her eyes wavered.

    “Looks like I misunderstood. You’re not working for Grey.”

    “I told you that from the beginning.”

    “Fine. If you hand Grey over, I’ll join forces with you.”

    “Hahaha.”

    I burst into cheerful laughter.

    Neril looked conflicted, as if unsure whether she was supposed to laugh along.

    Just as she tried to force a small smile to match the mood, I spoke again.

    “Don’t lie.”

    “…What?”

    “You’re planning to disappear after killing Grey, aren’t you?”

    For the first time, Neril’s expression showed a hint of panic.

    I resurfaced a memory from before the regression.

    Back then, Neril had clearly said this.

    That the owner of the tool shop had been the final tragedy.

    That she accepted Kaeld’s offer to join him because she wanted to find a final place to make her stand against the Demon King.

    Which meant—

    “You don’t seem to have any lingering attachments to this world anymore.”

    “…!”

    “A fifth Demon King will soon descend upon the continent.”

    “What? What are you suddenly talking about?”

    “And a Hero will surely appear as well.”

    “…From the certainty in your voice, it doesn’t sound like a bluff. Which means you know this somehow… Wait, don’t tell me—are you the Hero?”

    “Let’s say… I’m a candidate.”

    Neril tilted her head in puzzlement.

    But I pressed on without concern.

    “The Hero will be publicly revealed elsewhere through an oracle. But I’m going to become the true Hero of this continent.”

    “You… You’re insane.”

    “To do that, I need capable companions. I’ll take down the Hero chosen by the oracle and rise as the real Hero myself.”

    “…”

    “Seven years. Just work with me for seven years. That’s how long it’ll take for me to become the Hero and defeat the Demon King.”

    She didn’t answer.

    A heavy silence settled between us.

    It was so quiet, I could almost hear the flow of the air itself.

    Only when my eardrums began to ring did Neril finally speak.

    “When will you hand over Grey?”

    “In seven years. After I’m done. Payment upon completion.”

    The air froze in an instant.

    I thought I’d grown used to her due to our past dealings, but I was wrong.

    The murderous energy Neril exuded when she was dead serious was overwhelming even for me.

    Crack. Clink.

    The teacup between us couldn’t withstand the pressure and shattered.

    “Is he hiding underground? Grey?”

    “Yeah.”

    “What if I burn down this whole tool shop right now?”

    “In front of a top-tier mercenary? You’d be the one to die first.”

    “…Hoo. Fine.”

    Neril slowly rose to her feet.

    “Looks like I’ll have to kill you first.”

    Neril set the time and place and left.

    Though her rage was boiling over, she must’ve decided that causing a scene in the middle of the village wasn’t a good idea.

    ‘Even that alone proves something. There’s no way someone that rational would go around committing atrocities. All that talk of wiping out entire villages… it was all a false charge.’

    [Is this really the time to be talking so leisurely?!]

    ‘Don’t shout. My head’s ringing.’

    [What are you doing? Just hand over Grey and get her on your side already.]

    ‘Then I’d just end up boosting Neril’s infamy, like in the previous timeline.’

    [Would that be so bad?]

    ‘Of course it would. The infamy of my allies reflects on my reputation too.’

    Trail fell silent, seemingly not having considered that.

    I explained calmly.

    ‘Even Kaeld, who had the god-tier support of the oracle in the previous timeline, took a lot of criticism for working with Neril.’

    [Hmm.]

    ‘If my interference can raise someone’s reputation, the reverse is also true—someone else’s reputation can drag mine down.’

    [You might understand this stuff better than I do now. I can retire.]

    ‘I never asked you to hike with me in the first place.’

    [You’re surprisingly thoughtful. If Neril causes any more atrocities, it’ll definitely hurt your image.]

    ‘Yeah. In fact, I’ll eventually need to clean up her existing reputation too. But we’ll deal with that later.’

    Trail seemed satisfied, but then posed another question.

    [One more thing. Why did you blurt out your whole plan like that?]

    ‘Huh?’

    [That bit about becoming the Hero. Which means you’re not the Hero yet. Why’d you say that out loud?]

    ‘Ah, that.’

    [There were a dozen ways to spin that. Even if Kaeld gets the oracle, you could’ve played it off as a mistake or misunderstanding. You’re good at lying, aren’t you?]

    ‘…’

    [So why open with a full-on confession that you’re a fake Hero? You think she’s going to side with you after that, seriously?]

    Trail’s point was valid.

    But this was one thing I couldn’t change my mind on.

    ‘Then I would be no different from Kaeld.’

    […What?]

    ‘Kaeld was a fake, but he lied to his party and companions, pretending he was the real thing. If I start by lying to Neril, I become the same kind of person.’

    [Well… that’s true, but still.]

    ‘And more than anything, I can’t trust a relationship built on lies.’

    I’ve lived my whole life without trusting others.

    In a world where I saw every sin committed by everyone around me, mistrust had taken root deep within me.

    This time, I want to build a team I can genuinely believe in.

    If I hide the fact that I’m a fake Hero, then I’d be lying to them from the start.

    How far could I possibly go, putting my faith in a relationship built on lies?

    ‘If I do that, I’ll just repeat the same failures as before the regression.’

    […]

    ‘I’m not asking anyone to understand. I doubt anyone else in the world could understand this.’

    [Hmph. You should’ve been a philosopher instead of a mercenary. Picked the wrong career.]

    Judging by the sarcastic tone at the end, Trail had decided to drop the topic for now.

    Step, step. Tap.

    As I chatted with Trail, I arrived at the rendezvous point.

    It was an abandoned clearing at the northern edge of the Quelk territory.

    The time was exactly midnight.

    Neril was already there, sitting atop a small rock.

  • TFHITS Chapter 7

    The owner of the tool shop was a middle-aged man.

    He wore a gentle expression, but the bulging muscles and scars on his shoulders suggested that he had once lived a rough life.

    He asked in a soft voice,

    “Have you picked out everything?”

    “Yes.”

    I placed a reasonable selection of herbs on the counter.

    The owner bowed his head and said,

    “That’ll be 12 guild.”

    “Here you go.”

    “Thank you… Hm? Sir, you’ve given too much.”

    I had handed him 50 guild.

    I spoke in a subtle tone.

    “I was hoping to get some information.”

    “If it’s information you’re after, perhaps try requesting it from the Mercenary Guild instead. I can give you directions, if you’d like?”

    “It’s not the kind of information that needs professionals.”

    “In that case, sure.”

    He smoothly tucked away the coins.

    I spoke again.

    “Let’s see… Oh, right, what’s your name?”

    “Grey Palm.”

    “Nice name.”

    “Haha. Thank you. So, what would you like to know?”

    I already knew.

    ‘He said his name is Grey Palm. Show me the secret between Grey Palm and Neril Slane.’

    [Got it.]

    A screen soon appeared.

    <You have used the Eye of Omniscience.>
    <The current level of the Eye of Omniscience is 1. Accessible secret rank: D.>
    <Selection condition: “The secret between Grey Palm and Neril Slane.”>
    <The relevant secret is rank D. Accessing.>

    The first image on screen was of Grey Palm.

    Grey was moving through the darkness with a group of huge men.

    One of the thugs spoke.

    “Hey, boss. You sure about today’s job?”

    “Yeah. This info took a lot of effort to dig up. Trust me.”

    “Say that ninety-five more times and we’ll hit a hundred.”

    “Talkative bastard. I’m telling you, this time’s the real deal.”

    “……”

    “Don’t let your guard down. Today we’re digging up the hidden tomb of none other than the famous Enerika family.”

    The others grinned at his confident words.

    Wait a second. Enerika family?

    Enerika… Where have I heard that name before?

    ‘Ah!’

    [What is it? You startled me.]

    ‘No, it’s nothing.’

    I brushed it off to Trail, but it wasn’t nothing at all.

    The blood-red letters that were once written above Neril’s head before regression:

    —Committed crimes against May Enerika and 287 others.

    That same Enerika name had just come up again.

    ‘The Enerika family… Yeah, they were pretty famous.’

    [Indeed. They’re the family of the hero who appeared during the third Demon King’s descent, the Demon King of Corruption.]

    On this continent, Demon Kings had appeared four times in the past.

    Destruction, Greed, Corruption, and Ruin — in that order.

    And in a few years, the fifth one, Idria, Demon King of Lies and Deceit, would descend.

    Anyway, one of the heroes from the era of the third Demon King of Corruption was the great sage Beyond Erenika.

    Like the other heroes, Beyond made major contributions in defeating the Demon King of Corruption.

    In recognition, he was granted a title, and his family went on to produce many capable mages, becoming a prestigious household.

    However, when the fourth Demon King of Ruin appeared, they failed to achieve anything notable, and their influence declined. From what I know, the family was completely wiped out around 200 years ago due to some incident.

    ‘Don’t tell me… Neril was the one who wiped them out? Since it said she committed a crime against May Erenika…’

    It sounded plausible, but my instinct — which often activated randomly — told me, ‘It’s too soon to be certain.’

    Well, it wasn’t the most pressing matter right now anyway.

    The scene shifted again.

    Climbing a mountain path, they finally arrived at a few rather shabby burial mounds.

    Grey looked visibly baffled.

    One of the men spoke as if he had expected this.

    “Knew it. Damn.”

    “Wait. I think there’s been a mistake…”

    “You can say that looking at this garbage? Even if they were wiped out, this was a noble family! No village elder would bury their dog here!”

    “……”

    “Just wasted our time. I’m heading back.”

    That’s when it happened.

    “Who goes there?”

    A voice rang out — one that didn’t belong to anyone in the group.

    An old man appeared, holding a torch. He looked to be nearing sixty, yet his posture was straight and his voice clear — he was in excellent condition.

    ‘And his outfit…’

    [Hmm. Not something you’d wear to hike up a mountain. He’s dressed quite nicely.]

    ‘To be precise, he’s dressed formally. Maybe he came to pay his respects to this grave.’

    Of course, Grey and his crew had no sense of respect.

    One of the men spat on the ground and said,

    “Move along, old man.”

    “Wait. Hold on.”

    “Huh, boss? What is it?”

    “Don’t you think that old guy’s dressed a bit too well?”

    “And?”

    “Wouldn’t be easy for someone his age to climb all the way here in clothes like that.”

    They started whispering among themselves, speculating.

    Meanwhile, the old man spoke with a displeased expression.

    “Leave. This is private property.”

    “Oh yeah? Yours?”

    “No. It belongs to the one I serve.”

    “So it’s not yours, then?”

    “Don’t waste time with nonsense. Just leave—”

    That’s when one of the thugs cut him off.

    He looked rather sly.

    “Hey. We were thinking… you didn’t climb up from the base of the mountain, did you?”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “Hard to imagine someone hiking in that outfit. Bet you live somewhere around here.”

    “……”

    “And judging by what you said… you must be the caretaker of this tomb? A tomb of a noble family, at that. I bet you get paid handsomely.”

    I knew where this was going.

    The old man seemed to realize it too and quickly backed away.

    But it was already too late.

    “Guh…! Cough…”

    Before anyone realized, Grey had slipped behind him and stabbed a dagger into the old man’s chest.

    “Y-you bastards…”

    “Geez, tough old man. Rest in peace.”

    He twisted the dagger.

    The old man let out a bubbling, bloody sound and died.

    Drip.

    With that, the screen cut out.

    I folded my arms and tapped my index finger.

    That’s when Trail cautiously said,

    [By the way, when you use the Eye of Omniscience, time in the real world stops. No matter how long you watch, it won’t cost you any time.]

    Just as he said, Grey showed no sign of awkwardness and asked,

    “Is something wrong? You said you had a question.”

    “You’ve gotten quite polite with age, haven’t you?”

    “Pardon?”

    “Where are your men? You grave-robbing scum.”

    Grey’s face froze instantly.

    A moment of silence passed between us.

    Slide.

    Slowly — very slowly — he reached under the counter.

    Knowing exactly what he was doing, I calmly turned and shut the tool shop door.

    I flipped the sign hanging on it to “Closed.”

    By the time I returned, Grey had a dagger in hand, ready for combat.

    He asked,

    “Who the hell are you?”

    “Just a freelance mercenary.”

    “Pfft. So you couldn’t get hired anywhere? Sounds like you’re not much.”

    “Or maybe I’m so skilled I don’t need to tie myself down.”

    “Haha! You saying you’re the second type?”

    “Don’t laugh.”

    At my words, the man’s laughter stopped like a lie.

    Sweat began to bead on his forehead.

    Because I wasn’t hiding my pressure anymore.

    “Compared to you, even bandits are cute.”

    “W-what?”

    “Let’s start by putting that down.”

    Crack.

    I dashed in like lightning and twisted his arm.

    Grey let out a strangled cry and dropped the dagger.

    I saw his white bone burst through his flesh.

    “Uugh. Grrgh.”

    Grey foamed at the mouth and swung his another fist.

    I casually leaned my torso back to dodge, then hooked his leg and tripped him.

    Thud!

    “Aaaargh! Hrk!”

    He struggled to get up, but I was already pressing firmly on his back with my foot.

    “Don’t move. Unless you want your spine broken.”

    “Wh-Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t do anything…”

    “No. You’ve done plenty.”

    Crack. Creak.

    A sound that shouldn’t have come from a back echoed.

    I continued, giving him just enough pain to make him pass out — but not quite.

    “Let’s go through this one by one. This case involves recruiting Neril, but I also need to build my reputation.”

    “P-Please… please spare me…”

    “First, let’s see. Who should we look into first?”

    I expanded the blood-lettered window floating above his head.

    As always, the phrase “~and several others” disappeared, and ninety names were listed in a long column.

    Plop.

    I sat down on Grey’s back.

    “Let’s go through them one by one before Catastrophe arrives.”

    For the next two days, Grey’s Tool Shop didn’t open.

    I was still sitting comfortably on Grey’s back, leisurely watching through the Eye of Omniscience.

    “Uuugh… Ngh…”

    Grey clutched his broken arm, drenched in cold sweat.

    He couldn’t speak properly because his mouth was gagged.

    ‘Alright. Show me the next one. I want to see the secret between Greg Felis and that bastard.’

    [Can we… maybe take a short break first?]

    ‘I suppose. I have been using the Eye of Omniscience back to back. Let’s rest for a bit.’

    [Thank you…]

    ‘Alright. Now that we’re rested, let’s get started again.’

    […]

    On the evening of the second day,

    I had come to vividly understand the full extent of the crimes Grey had committed against all ninety people.

    Putting it all down in documents could easily fill a book.

    Trail spoke in a strangely enlightened voice.

    [Something’s coming to me… Ah, I see a river. Would things feel easier if I crossed it?]

    ‘Stay calm and come back.’

    [You are a demon.]

    ‘I had no choice. To ensure the greatest happiness for the greatest number, I needed a meticulous plan. If I were just here to recruit Neril and leave, there’d have been no need to go this far.’

    Trail regained some composure and spoke again.

    [You seem more passionate about this than I am now.]

    ‘Appreciate it.’

    [But wouldn’t it have been easier to just torture that guy and make him talk? Instead of working me to death.]

    ‘You can’t tell whether something’s the truth with torture. When there’s a more reliable way, why take a risk?’

    Trail seemed to accept that and went quiet.

    At any rate, I ungagged Grey.

    He was half-dead from the pain of his broken arm, rising fever, hunger, and thirst.

    “Hrrgh… Please, just spare me…”

    I opened a canteen and dripped a bit of water into his mouth.

    “Stay with me. You can’t die just yet.”

    Gulp gulp. “Hah… what do you mean, yet?”

    “Someone will be visiting soon. Is there a secret room in this tool shop?”

    “…Th-There’s a basement.”

    “Let’s go.”

    I dragged him down the stairs.

    Crash.

    I tossed him to the floor and asked casually,

    “Where did you hide the Lord’s heirloom?”

    “…!”

    “Not that I needed to ask. It’s right here.”

    Grey had committed crimes against “Frank de Levan and 89 others.”

    Frank de Levan was listed as the representative. In other words, the person whose secrets Grey most wanted to hide.

    That was the name of the lord who governed the Quelk territory.

    Through the Eye of Omniscience, I had clearly seen Grey hide the Lord’s heirloom in this basement.

    Rustle rustle.

    I moved aside some disorganized farming tools, and beneath them was a small jewel box.

    I picked it up lightly and gave it a shake.

    “Seems a bit too valuable for someone like you to hold onto.”

    “Grrgh.”

    This time, Grey looked like he might die not from the broken arm, but from the spike in his blood pressure.

    “How the hell do you know that?! Who the hell are you?!”

    “Changed your tone again?”

    “No! I mean—what the hell are you?!”

    “Take a break. There’s something more urgent than dealing with this box right now.”

    Click clack.

    Familiar footsteps approached from outside the shop.

    ‘She’s here. Neril.’

    I struck Grey at the back of the neck, knocking him out cold.

    Then I hurried upstairs. Just as I reached the top, I heard a knock.

    “Excuse me. Are you open?”

    Definitely Neril’s voice.

    Was it strange that I felt glad, even under these circumstances?

    “Yes, I’ll be right there.”

    I flipped the sign to “Open” and opened the door.

    A woman with deep blue hair down to her waist stood there.

    Slightly slanted eyes and tightly pressed lips gave her a sharp impression, but even that couldn’t overshadow her beauty.

    The teardrop mole under her right eye was just as I remembered.

    I smiled gently and said,

    “Are you a customer? The owner stepped out for a moment.”

    “Do you work here?”

    “Yes. Just for today. For this one time only.”

    “…?”

    “Why don’t you come in?”

    Neril nodded and stepped inside.

    I returned to the counter and asked in a relaxed tone,

    “Is there something you’re looking for?”

    Neril stood with her arms crossed, staring at me silently.

    “I’m looking for someone.”

    “…”

    “His name is Grey Palm. He’s probably around 41 now. Bald except for the hair right above his ears.”

    “Sounds like someone I know.”

    “You’d have to. He’s the owner here, isn’t he?”

    Her tone changed.

    She continued in a voice as cold as winter.

    “You’re not just some part-timer, are you? You weren’t hired just to mind the shop.”

    “…”

    “I already took care of all Grey’s other lackeys. One by one. Over five years. They were living successful lives all over the continent.”

    “…”

    “Guards, guild masters, branch heads of merchant unions… Their deaths made waves. If Grey heard those rumors, I figured he might start hiring bodyguards.”

    She seemed to think Grey had hired me as one.

    “But would he really have the money to hire someone of your caliber?”

    “Do you know who I am?”

    “No idea. But I can tell from your posture alone—you’ve been through a lot.”

    The tension in the air began to thicken.

    I straightened my back and changed my tone.

    “You’re mostly right, but let me correct one thing. I wasn’t hired by Grey.”

    “…”

    “I was actually waiting for you.”

    “…What?”

    “Would you like some tea? I heard you especially love black tea. Absolutely crazy for it, in fact.”

    Neril’s eyes wavered slightly.

    “Nice to meet you… Witch of Carnage, Neril Slane.”

  • How to Live as a Magical Genius at the Academy Chapter 58

    Necromancer Order.

    They were a demonic cult that once existed on this continent a very long time ago.

    The Necromancer Order believed that humanity should unite under a single purpose.

    That purpose was to overcome the “First Law of Life” — the rule that once a living being dies, all activity ceases and silence follows. To them, breaking this law was the true liberation and evolution of humankind.

    That’s why they studied the existence of the “sinister wave” and developed “necromantic magic,” which could artificially create undead beings.

    They then formed an undead legion and gradually expanded their influence.

    Their ultimate goal was to turn all of humanity into undead and completely free them from the First Law of Life.

    But their ideals were never realized.

    The Necromancer Order was destroyed, and their undead legions vanished from the surface of the world.

    Though their necromantic magic spread across the world, very few necromancers became as fanatical as the Order had been.

    Occasionally, one would appear who even transformed themselves into an undead to pursue great power, but they were quickly hunted down as evil sorcerers.

    Even so, the legacy of the Necromancer Order was not completely erased.

    A very small number of disciples survived and passed down the Order’s teachings to their descendants. They waited, dreaming of the Order’s resurrection.

    Among those remnants, a few finally succeeded — after long years of effort — in accessing the underground catacombs where the Order’s reserve forces lay dormant.

    Although the academy had set up defensive magic around the island to keep outsiders away, the cultists bypassed this by gaining the identity of “passenger ship crew.”

    Once they arrived at the catacombs, they used passwords passed down through generations to reach the inner sanctum.

    And through a primitive magical ritual that sacrificed their own lives, they awakened the undead army that had slept for ages.

    Thousands of mummies.

    A red light began to glow in their hollow eye sockets.

    As the ancient spellwork reactivated, the “embalmed corpses” awakened as “undead soldiers who move according to command.”

    They weren’t just dried out. Their bodies had been thoroughly preserved with chemicals.

    The Necromancer Codex also contained instructions on creating mummy soldiers — a way to overcome the limits of zombie troops.

    Mummy soldiers retained the brutal strength typical of zombies but overcame one of their greatest weaknesses: the gradual decay that reduced their combat ability.

    Thanks to their long-term stability, they were well-suited to receive powerful enhancement spells, and higher-tier mummies could even use skeletal memory.

    Though they were much more expensive to create, mummy soldiers were far superior in combat power compared to ordinary zombies or skeleton warriors.

    There are at least four-digit numbers of mummy soldiers here… We can’t handle this with just the people on the island!

    Currently, Professors Murselt and Sylvia of the Biological Department were on the island, along with their assistants. Professor Klein, an instructor of the Top Class, was also present.

    But Murselt’s biological enhancement magic and Sylvia’s healing spells were poorly suited to fight a mummy legion.

    Even Klein couldn’t handle a four-digit undead force.

    “Damn it, everyone, run!” Helios shouted urgently.

    “If we stay here, we’re all dead! It’ll take time before the mummy legion fully activates — we have to get out now!”

    “W-Will we be okay if we run fast enough?!”

    “We have no choice — we need to get out of the dungeon and escape the island by boat!”

    At that, Cain frowned and shook his head.

    “No. I don’t think the boat can be used anymore.”

    “What?”

    “The ones who carried out this ritual were the passenger ship crew. They probably sabotaged the ship’s magic engine to keep us from escaping the island.”

    Corpses of the crew were piled up on the altar.

    They had come here prepared to sacrifice their lives. If so, they certainly wouldn’t have left an escape route.

    “Wait, then what about these corpse soldiers? They can’t leave the island either, right?”

    “Who knows — I’m sure they have a plan.”

    “A plan?”

    “There’s a magic user on that side.”

    “…!”

    Hearing Cain’s words, everyone looked up.

    There was a stone gate on the altar, and it was slowly opening.

    No way…

    Boom.

    As the stone door opened, a sinister aura seeped out.

    It was thick — enough to remind them of the vampire they had previously encountered.

    Amidst the spreading evil energy, a figure in a pitch-black robe emerged.

    Beneath that robe… was a skeleton, without a trace of flesh.

    “A s-skeleton? Is it a skeleton soldier?”

    “N-No!”

    Hearing Senia’s question, Ingrid raised her voice.

    “That’s a powerful necromancer who turned their own body into an undead… someone who overcame the First Law of Life and gained immortality — an undying mage!”

    That’s right.

    It was a mage.

    Completely different from an ordinary skeleton — the flesh had simply been discarded, leaving only the bones.

    “An undead not by birth but by choice — yet capable of rivaling vampires in power… a Lich!”

    “…!”

    “We’re all dead…!”

    An ancient mage who had slept here for ages alongside the mummy soldiers now revealed themselves before us.

    “Woooh……”

    How much time had passed?

    Unable to even guess, the Lich Abydos let out a deep sigh, realizing that countless years had gone by.

    “O descendants…”

    He understood it instantly.

    The blood-soaked corpses collapsed atop the altar.

    They had offered their lives to conduct the ritual.

    “Remarkable… truly remarkable…”

    The undead legion stationed here—and Abydos, the commander leading them—could not awaken on their own.

    Their mission had been to wait here indefinitely until a command came down from the higher ranks.

    But if the descendants had sacrificed themselves to carry out the awakening ritual, that meant there were no higher ranks left to issue such orders.

    “O descendants, your hearts are truly admirable. Even after all these long years, you have carried on the ideals of the cult.”

    How commendable.

    Thinking this, Abydos slowly raised his arm.

    In his hand was the magical staff forged by the Necromancer Order—the Rod of the Red Moon.

    “I shall grant you a reward worthy of your sacrifice.”

    Wiiing…

    A spell formed silently at the tip of the Rod of the Red Moon.

    And then, the corpses lying upon the altar began to twitch.

    But they had not returned as mere zombies.

    “Rise.”

    Snap!

    Bones burst forth from the corpses.

    Like shedding clothes, they tore through skin and muscle, leaving only the skeletons rising to their feet.

    “Consider it an honor. You have become warriors who transcend the First Law of Life.”

    Death Warriors.

    Skeletal warriors of a different caliber from ordinary skeleton soldiers.

    They retained no trace of their former human personalities… but they had been reborn as death-bound warriors who fought for the Necromancer Order.

    “…”

    The Death Warriors said nothing.

    They simply stood, glowing red light flickering in the void of their eye sockets.

    But if a command came from the superior being known as the Lich Priest, they would immediately charge at the enemy and commence a merciless slaughter.

    “And now…”

    Abydos’s gaze finally shifted elsewhere.

    The humans fidgeting nervously in the front—still just children.

    Abydos had not yet determined what they were.

    “Answer me, mortals.”

    The moment he said this, the girl at the very back collapsed to her knees.

    Overcome with fear, her legs had given out.

    “Why are you in this place?”

    They didn’t seem to be comrades of the descendants who had just become Death Warriors.

    Their clothes were different. Their ages didn’t match.

    If they were just ordinary people unrelated to the cult… there would be no need to show them any respect.

    “Answer.”

    Abydos raised the Rod of the Red Moon.

    There were five children before him now.

    To gather information about this era, he only needed to keep one alive.

    The other four… could be killed and turned into undead.

    “O beautiful, radiant Red Moon… law of necromancy…”

    At that moment—

    A clear voice rang out through the underground chamber.

    “Free us from the limits of life. Let us escape the shackles of vitality and reach a higher state.”

    Five children.

    Among them, one boy alone remained calm, raising his voice as he looked up at Abydos.

    “Let the will of the Red Moon be fulfilled upon this land. May this ground be filled with the blessings of necromancy.”

    “Ooooh…”

    “We offer eternal glory, awaiting the day when all life shall be free from life itself.”

    “Oooooh…!”

    Abydos could not hide his astonishment.

    The phrases the boy was reciting were shockingly accurate.

    “You… How do you know the First Prayer of Necromancy…?!”

    As Abydos stood there stunned, the boy knelt on one knee.

    “Great ancestor, Lich Priest. Your humble junior offers his greetings.”

    “Oooooh! You too are a descendant of the Necromancer Order…!”

    Hearing the unnamed boy perfectly recite the prayer, the Lich was deeply moved.

    “Hey, Eriol! Just now, you—Mmph!”

    Helios started to yell from behind, but Cain quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

    Seeing that neither Senia nor Ingrid was reacting, I spoke respectfully.

    “I am one who follows the will of the cult, Lich Priest.”

    “Ohh, even at such a young age…!”

    The Lich looked at me in awe.

    Seeing that, I knew my plan had worked.

    ‘Thanks to Professor Piotr leaving behind a lot of notes from the Necromancers Codex…’

    The notes from the Necromancers Codex.

    Most of the cult’s twisted teachings had been removed.

    But the preface was left almost intact.

    While the descriptions of the “Red Moon”—the cult’s revered absolute being—were removed, the prayer dedicated to the Red Moon had remained.

    “Young descendant, if you truly carry on the will of the Necromancer Order… then show me proof.”

    But the Lich demanded additional evidence.

    Hearing that, I reached into my coat and drew forth the Drake Fang.

    ‘If it’s this…’

    I cast Summon Dead, and called forth the Deathvice.

    The towering Dragon Fang Soldier appeared at once, prompting the Lich to gasp.

    “To summon a Dragon Fang Soldier without a chant—truly splendid!”

    Though his skull had no expression, the joy in his voice was unmistakable.

    This Lich… was genuinely pleased with me.

    “I believe you. You are indeed an heir of the Necromancer Order!”

    Realizing I’d earned his trust, I sighed in relief inwardly.

    Then I signaled with my eyes to Senia, who was waiting beside me.

    “…”

    Senia responded with just her gaze.

    That alone was enough to confirm we were on the same page.

    ‘Yeah. We have that sword Professor Hephaestus gave us.’

    There was no way we could take on this massive undead legion with our current strength. Even with the professors help, it would be impossible.

    But the undead soldiers were likely subordinate to the Lich now standing before us.

    So if we could take down just the Lich, there was a high chance the army would remain dormant.

    ‘We’ll trick that Lich into thinking I’m a true descendant of the cult… and then, when the time is right…’

    Before leaving for the catacombs, we had received the weapon we requested from Hephaestus.

    It was far more powerful than what we had originally asked for—a true “magical weapon.”

    Hephaestus hadn’t said so directly, but from his tone, it sounded like my uncle Kaisel had also had a hand in its creation.

    ‘With this sword, we can do it.’

    Two swords infused with Kaisel’s spiritual origin—Dissolution.

    Senia and I each wore one at our hips.

    If we used those to catch the Lich off guard… we could bring him down.

  • A Veteran Player Becomes a Troublemaker Chapter 95

    “Nea, why don’t you invest too? I’ll multiply your money several times over.”

    “Well, since room and board are already covered here, I don’t have much use for my wages anyway. And you seem so confident, Young Master—very well, I’ll do it.”

    A faint smile curved Ian’s lips.

    “Even if we take a loss, I’ll personally guarantee your returns. You’ll get every coin back.”

    “Hearing that puts me at ease.”

    Ian was a man of his word.

    And he cared fiercely for his people—so much so that he’d discard pride and scruples to help them.

    This investment offer was clearly for her sake too.

    Trust built over time made her decision effortless.

    ‘Come to think of it, Sera and Sir Dwayne also invested with the Young Master, didn’t they?’

    Sera had seemed to think, “The Young Master must need quick funds,” while Dwayne had done it purely because Ian suggested it.

    Their reasons varied, but one common thread united them:

    ‘They believe in the Young Master.’

    And she was no different.

    All she had to do was trust Ian and wait.

    That was all.

    Over time, the crowds thinned.

    Now, only occasional visitors came, and the Levior in Dariel Village and its surroundings had been harvested to near extinction.

    Fortunately, other territories, hearing of this, began selling Levior too.

    Thus, the warehouses continued to fill.

    Then, one day—

    Servants gathered in the estate’s rear courtyard, summoned by Ian.

    “Why did the Young Master call us?”

    “Who knows? Maybe he has special tasks for us.”

    They waited with quiet anticipation. Ian always rewarded them handsomely for extra work—voluntary, never forced.

    When Ian finally appeared, they spotted him alongside an administrator and butler pulling a cart. Klins and Luther. Behind them trailed Sera, though she seemed to be just observing.

    “Need help?”

    “Ah, no. We’re fine!”

    “We’ll manage!”

    Klins and Luther wanted all the help they could get but couldn’t bring themselves to ask Sera.

    Not because she was a woman—but because of her status.

    Officially an alchemist, she was effectively the territory’s sole mage. Mages warranted noble-like respect, making them hesitant.

    Sera herself seemed oblivious to this.

    Regardless, they somehow carried the massive cauldron onto the cart and, with much grunting, dragging it to the courtyard before collapsing on the spot.

    A cauldron large enough to fit a person—the kind alchemists used.

    In fact, it was Sera’s own. With no work today, she’d loaned it and tagged along out of curiosity.

    “Hmm, everyone’s here.”

    Ian surveyed the assembled servants. His reason for gathering them?

    “I called you here to teach you how to cook Levior.”

    To impart the miracle recipe.

    Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

    It was hard to believe the weed they’d been paid to collect could be edible.

    “Um, Young Master…”

    A maid timidly raised her hand.

    “Yes?”

    “You’re saying… we can cook Levior?”

    “That’s right.”

    “My father once mistook Levior for herbs and cooked with it. The whole family fell ill.”

    “I got sick eating it as a child too. That plant isn’t food.”

    “Same here.”

    One by one, servants shared their grim experiences with Levior.

    Accidentally ingested during play, mistakenly added to meals—no one had fond memories of it.

    At best, its repellent smoke made summer nights slightly more bearable.

    “That’s because you didn’t prepare it properly.”

    Ian had gathered them to teach the correct method.

    ‘Even if Father stockpiles food now, it won’t last a year.’

    Pre-merger Schrantz might have managed, but now feeding over ten thousand people was impossible without Levior.

    Eventually, like it or not, they’d have to eat it.

    And Ian intended to train these servants first, so they could spread the technique.

    ‘They’ll scoff now, but this will save countless lives later.’

    Other territories might starve, but Schrantz would endure.

    “Listen carefully!”

    Ian laid out the steps:

    “First, soak it in boiling water for at least ten minutes. Second, dry it for a full day. This removes the toxins.”

    The biggest deterrent to eating Levior was its sickness-inducing poison. Eliminate that, and it became nutritious.

    “Finally, third: Boil the dried Levior into porridge. This here is Levior dried since yesterday.”

    He showed them the prepped sample.

    Turning weeds into porridge sounded absurd, but—

    “Still, I’ll demonstrate.”

    Though skeptical, curiosity stirred.

    ‘If the Young Master is going this far, maybe it’s delicious?’

    They secretly hoped for a culinary revelation.

    Ian pointed at the cauldron.

    “Water.”

    “Yes, sir!”

    Klins and Luther scrambled to fetch buckets from the well, filling the cauldron halfway before pausing.

    “Fire.”

    “Yes, yes, sir!”

    There was no time to rest.

    They immediately placed firewood beneath the pot and lit the fire.

    After a while, the water began to boil vigorously.

    “See? The water’s boiling now, right?”

    Ian tossed the dried Levior into the bubbling water.

    “Now, we just have to simmer this Levior for an hour, and it’s done.”

    And so, the so-called miracle dish—”Levior Porridge”—was completed.

    A simple recipe with no real difficulty.

    Yet, the expressions of the household members, who had initially been curious about its taste, gradually darkened.

    And for good reason.

    ‘The smell is awful…’

    The distinct grassy stench and foul odor of Levior had begun to spread.

    It was so bad that it felt even worse than the smells wafting from the alchemy lab where Sera worked.

    Sera herself, perhaps accustomed to such foul odors, showed no change in expression—but the others weren’t so lucky.

    After boiling for an hour, the Levior Porridge was finally ready.

    “Alright, everyone gets a bowl. Try it.”

    Ian scooped a bowlful onto each plate and handed them out.

    “……”

    “……”

    None of them dared to lift their spoons.

    Not only did it look unappetizing, but the stench invading their nostrils made it impossible to believe it could taste good.

    As they all hesitated, waiting to see who would take the first bite, Ian sighed in resignation.

    Fine. If no one would volunteer, he’d just have to pick someone.

    “Klins. Luther.”

    “Yes, young master?”

    “You two try it first.”

    “U-Us?!”

    And so, Klins and Luther became the first test subjects.

    They hesitated, staring at the Levior Porridge.

    The foul, greenish steam rising from it made it seem utterly inedible.

    ‘Well… just because it looks and smells terrible doesn’t mean it tastes bad, right?!’

    Remembering their mother’s old saying—“Try it before you complain!”—they steeled themselves.

    ‘Ah, screw it!’

    ‘The young master wouldn’t feed us something he wouldn’t eat himself, would he?’

    Shutting their eyes tightly, they shoved a spoonful into their mouths.

    “Guh—!”

    “Bleh—!”

    Immediately, they gagged.

    That was their reaction after just one bite.

    ‘What the hell is this?!’

    ‘It’s even worse than I imagined!’

    The moment it touched their tongues, the overpowering grassy stench and revolting foulness flooded their mouths.

    And since it was none other than Ian who had cooked this, they couldn’t even bring themselves to spit it out.

    Instead, they chewed miserably and forced it down.

    “I-It’s… very unique. Y-Yes…”

    “Maybe if the seasoning were adjusted… it might be… tolerable…”

    Watching them struggle to avoid outright calling it disgusting, the rest of the household’s expressions darkened further.

    So it really was as terrible as it looked and smelled.

    ‘Adjust the seasoning? If that worked, I’d have done it already.’

    Of course, Ian had tried. Hell, every player in Meta Pangaea had probably tried.

    But the raw stench of Levior was so overpowering that no amount of spices or seasonings could overpower it.

    And in the middle of a famine, where even basic food was scarce, who had the luxury of worrying about seasonings?

    Noble or not, when starvation loomed, everyone was equal at the dinner table.

    Well, actually, commoners had it slightly better—while they didn’t have Levior, they did have tree bark and roots, which were almost as disgusting.

    And Ian was no exception.

    He had intended to get them accustomed to the taste early, but he also knew this was an unavoidable fate—for himself as well.

    “Alright, everyone, take a plate.”

    Ian scooped up a spoonful of Levior Porridge and ate it himself.

    ‘Ugh. Even though I made it, this is disgusting.’

    As expected, it tasted awful. But he had to get used to it.

    The sooner he did, the less he’d suffer later.

    Like it or not, they might have to survive on this for months—maybe even over a year.

    Seeing even Ian forcing it down, the others had no choice but to follow suit.

    Their faces twisted in agony.

    Exactly the reaction he’d expected.

    Some were probably cursing him inwardly for feeding them this slop.

    But.

    ‘I’m just doing my best to keep you all alive.’

    They might hate him now, but they’d thank him later.

    “Once you’re done today, spread the word about this dish to as many people as possible.”

    His plan was to ensure no one starved during the famine by making sure everyone knew this recipe.

    Right now, only about a dozen people knew how to make Levior Porridge.

    But soon, hundreds—thousands—would learn it, and within this territory, at least, no one would die of hunger.

    ‘If I have to suffer, so do you.’

    People’s thoughts tended to run along the same lines.

    In fact, some of the household members were already thinking about feeding this to their absent coworkers later.

    Whether for good or ill, this recipe would spread among the people.

    And so, that day, rumors spread among the territory’s citizens—not only that Lord Ian had a taste for bizarre food, but also the recipe for that very abomination.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 182

    The tension that had reached its peak when the capital was surrounded had already become an event of years past.

    In the meantime, an unexpected peace had persisted for Morea, and the Ottomans, focused solely on the capital, had not issued a single threat or warning toward either Morea or Emperor Dragases. Throughout that time, the emperor had believed this was because the Ottomans were concentrating entirely on the siege.

    At the same time, he had also recognized it as a kind of provocation. If Emperor Dragases were to make a move to rescue the capital, the Ottomans would see that as a pretext to mobilize their forces.

    Had they not already experienced such a thing once before? The Ottomans intentions were so blatantly obvious that few failed to notice. Yet even among those who saw it as a provocation, only a handful believed the Ottomans might be preparing something even greater.

    Even Emperor Dragases could do nothing but groan under the weight of a vague sense of hunch. Even Francisco, who had faced the Ottoman army firsthand, was only half convinced.

    When the emperor came to consult with him about this anxiety, Francisco clicked his tongue and replied:

    “Don’t you think you’re overthinking this, cousin? How often do you think the Ottomans can go on campaign? Even they have limits. They’ve been fighting constantly for years now. On top of that, they’re in the middle of reforms. I doubt they’d get much out of any further action at this point.”

    “Indeed…”

    Though his silly demeanor often undermined him, Francisco was a knight with considerable battlefield experience. He hadn’t formally studied politics, yet compared to most knights, he was quite capable in military operations.

    As if finally revealing this side of himself, Francisco laid out his arguments clearly and logically. The emperor found himself nodding in agreement without realizing it.

    It was a sound argument.

    From the early days of his reign, the Ottomans had drawn their swords to subjugate Bulgaria. After trampling the region and defeating the claimant Mustafa’s forces, they immediately moved to besiege the capital, then tried to pursue and annihilate the Morean army advancing from the south.

    Just when it seemed they would succeed, a rebellion broke out in Anatolia, forcing the Ottomans to withdraw their troops and ultimately claim victory there instead. The frequency of their campaigns had been excessive, and in several battles, they had taken considerable losses.

    Indeed, it seemed that the Ottomans lacked both the time and resources to attempt anything more.

    “Perhaps I was overly worried, as you say…”

    “That’s what I’m telling you. Why don’t you take this opportunity to rest? You’re not alone anymore, after all.”

    “…Yes. That’s true.”

    Every word rang true. Perhaps he had been overestimating the Ottomans all along. Even with a strong foundational power, there were limits. And this was the judgment of one of his key retainers—Francisco. Nor was he the only one.

    Your Majesty, while it is admirable to remain vigilant, what good is it if you cannot fight properly because you never allow yourself rest? Excessive caution only wears down the mind and body faster.

    Dearest Brother, even the Ottomans have been on campaign multiple times already. Having undertaken so many in such a short time, they must be exhausted too. You should rest for now and prepare for the next battle in peak condition.

    It was a rare letter from Prince Thomas, recently returned to Epirus, and his advisor Demicleos. Only then did the emperor finally set down the heavy burden on his shoulders. Having only ever raced forward until now, Emperor Dragases was, at long last, able to take a proper rest.

    Truly, he had never once enjoyed a proper rest, always tormented by hardship and duties—many of which he needn’t have taken upon himself.

    Now that a faint hope had finally appeared, no one could blame the emperor for taking a break. So while his officials carried on with state affairs, he allowed himself to enjoy some much-needed sleep.

    He sat in the chair by the window, basking in the warm sunlight, or lay down on his bed at early dusk and fell fast asleep—he repeated this for several days. But habit is a fearsome thing. In just three days, instead of sleeping soundly, the emperor found himself slipping into deep contemplation once more.

    And the question he reached, after repeated thinking, was always the same.

    “…Just as Brother Andronikos said. Gaining experience with artillery, suppressing anti-reform opposition… I’m not dismissing their importance, but those two reasons alone don’t justify the continued siege of the capital.”

    The blockade was enforced with 8,000 troops and even a naval fleet. Considering the cost of maintaining such forces, was it truly worth bombarding a capital that showed no signs of surrendering anytime soon?

    Moreover, the army hadn’t conducted a single raid in nearly two years, so they must be relying heavily on supplies from the homeland. Was it really worth it? The emperor could not answer that question. Dragases could only tilt his head in doubt.

    But even if the Ottomans had ulterior motives, he couldn’t turn his gaze away from the capital’s hardship. This was the Ottomans, after all.

    Even if they were far weaker than in the original history, they were not to be underestimated. Morea had survived thanks only to a chain of coincidences and swift adaptability. The emperor, who had struggled to create variables to overturn hopeless odds, could never let his guard down.

    If he could use such tactics, then surely so could the enemy.

    He must never forget that simple truth.

    So how could he not worry about some unforeseen variable? The Ottomans would surely be looking for a way to reverse their unfavorable position. No doubt, they were devising a plan to break the unity among the surrounding powers that had restricted their actions. As this thought crossed his mind, Emperor Dragases’s gaze sharpened. There was only one force that could realistically be the Ottomans’ target.

    “…So in the end, it’s Morea and the Empire you’re after, Murad.”

    Serbia and Wallachia were under Hungarian influence. If the Ottomans were to attack them directly, it would inevitably provoke the suspicion of the Western Church. Moreover, given the toll of frequent campaigns, the Ottomans had every reason to avoid the threat of a Crusade.

    In that case, there was only one plausible direction for the Ottoman blade to point. If the siege of the capital itself was merely a ploy to provoke a fight, then their persistence could certainly be explained.

    But such a strategy had clear limits.

    In fact, once Emperor Dragases resolved to ignore a few murmurs of discontent, the likelihood of war plummeted. Could that be why the siege was starting to ease?

    Had Murad himself realized that continuing the siege would yield nothing further? Was the sultan someone capable of making such a judgment? Countless questions tangled and clashed in his mind. As the emperor’s thoughts burned, he eventually opened his mouth.

    “Is anyone waiting outside?”

    “Your Majesty’s loyal warrior, Halid Murtad, answers the call.”

    “Halid? You? …Fine. Come in.”

    He had originally intended to send a nearby guard to fetch Halid, but this was even better. With that thought, the emperor gave the command, and Halid pushed the door open without hesitation and walked inside.

    “How long have you been there?”

    “Since I heard Your Majesty had decided to take some rest.”

    “Amazed you didn’t go around lopping off heads.”

    “I was ready to cut down anyone who dared disturb Your Majesty’s rest.”

    “I’ll take that as a joke.”

    “It was, in its own way, meant as one, Your Majesty.”

    Halid responded with a faint smile at his lips.

    But the air was far too grim for the smile to seem warm. The emperor merely twitched his brows a few times in response. Perhaps he simply didn’t know how else to react.

    Thinking back, none of the warriors around him could truly be called decent men.

    Calming himself, the emperor asked his question.

    “We are not ones to meet simply to exchange pleasantries. Let’s get to the point. What have you come to say, Halid?”

    “Your Majesty, have you heard anything about recent Ottoman movements?”

    “Ottoman movements?”

    Of course the emperor looked puzzled. Until now, the Ottomans had made no significant moves. Aside from gradually loosening the siege out of exhaustion from constant campaigns, there was nothing particularly noteworthy.

    But it was clear that this wasn’t the answer Halid was seeking. If no one was more wary of the Ottomans than the emperor, then no one knew the Ottomans better than Halid.

    Reminding himself of that fact once more, the emperor looked at Halid.

    A man born of a traitor, who called himself a traitor. A man whose arrogance was backed by real skill. Now, with only the battlefield left to test him, Halid met the eyes of his emperor, almost demanding a response. In that moment, the emperor faced another decision. Should he trust him? Or remain cautious?

    The hesitation lasted.

    “You’ve come with a suspicion, haven’t you?”

    “Yes. There are rumors spreading as far as Morea that Skanderbeg of Albania has suddenly ceased his activities.”

    “By ‘activities,’ you mean military?”

    “I am still verifying the truth, but considering Skanderbeg’s achievements thus far, it’s difficult to grasp why he would abruptly stop. Unless something in the Ottoman movements has changed.”

    “…Surely not.”

    A loosened siege of the capital, and the sudden halt of Skanderbeg’s conquests.

    There must be a connection between these two events. And the emperor suspected that they were deeply linked. There could only be one cause.

    ‘Has he noticed Morea’s approach to Albania?’

    Perhaps the Ottomans deliberately loosened their grip to draw out evidence of an alliance between Morea and the Christian lords of Albania.

    If Murad was that desperate to secure a pretext, it was entirely plausible. That is, assuming the rumors were true. Even so, it was a possibility worth investigating. And so, Emperor Dragases gave the order to Halid.

    “It seems the Ottomans attention is turning away from the capital. Look into the truth of these rumors, Halid. We must watch how the situation unfolds.”

    “If that is Your Majesty’s will.”

    Responding in his usual arrogant tone, Halid turned and left. Watching his retreating figure, the emperor could no longer contain his anxiety and sprang to his feet.

    There had never been time for rest to begin with.

    For two years, the Ottomans had seemed dormant. But now, in some form or another, they were moving behind the scenes. It was a clearly difference from their former method to rely on brute military force alone.

    No one could say how much they had changed. But even that change alone posed a grave threat to the empire. In that moment, the name Halid had mentioned surfaced again in the emperor’s mind.

    Çandarlı Halil, was it?

    Something is changing.

    Before the uncertain intentions of the Ottomans, this was the only conclusion the emperor could draw.

  • TFHITS Chapter 6

    At the word ‘false accusation’, Trail let out a low groan.

    He was pretty quick on the uptake too, so he must’ve figured out what that meant.

    Before the regression, Kaeld had shown a unique approach from the very start when recruiting party members.

    He would cleverly identify a person’s weakness or trauma, and approach them with a warm attitude, pretending to heal or solve it.

    Everyone fell for it.

    I was the only one it didn’t work on, so he had to try something else… but, well, let’s move past that for now.

    Anyway, the way he approached Neril wasn’t all that different.

    ‘Didn’t he clear up the false accusation placed on her?’

    Apparently, Neril didn’t bawl her eyes out or anything pathetic like that.

    It wasn’t in her nature.

    But instead, she’d felt a strong curiosity toward Kaeld.

    I remembered what she told me in the carriage on the way to the region for our quest before the regression.

    “I’d never met someone like that in my life. Everyone else either ran away in fear of my reputation or didn’t even bother to find out if it was true. Let alone try to clear it.”

    “Yeah.”

    “I mean, sure, there are hundreds of bad rumors about me, so one of them being cleared didn’t mean much. Still, it was fascinating. His approach was just completely different.”

    “Okay.”

    “You’re so damn dry.”

    She really was a strange person, Neril.

    Even with my blunt attitude, she was always the one to start the conversation with me.

    [Judging by how clueless you are… were you maybe single your whole life before regression…?]

    ‘……’

    [Nope. Forget I said anything.]

    This guy always gets all polite when he’s cornered.

    ‘Anyway, let’s get started.’

    [With what?]

    ‘What do you think? I’m going to use that grand-sounding ability of mine — the Eye of Omniscience or whatever.’

    [Huh?]

    ‘Neril’s not the type you can win over easily. Even if I ask her to join forces, she won’t give a damn. I need to have a card to show her.’

    [Aha. Whose secrets are you going to reveal?]

    I recalled what I saw before the regression.

    More precisely, the bloody letters that floated above her head.

    —Sinned against May Erenica and 287 others.

    ‘May Enerika.’

    [Very well. Feel the majesty of my Eye of Omniscience throughout your body.]

    I ignored him.

    Soon, a screen appeared.

    Now then.

    What kind of adorable secret was our dear Witch of Carnage hiding?

    Let’s take a look slo— huh?

    <Error. The secret between ‘Neril Slane and May Erenika’ is of Rank B.>
    <Requires Eye of Omniscience Level 3 or higher to view.>

    To hell with the Eye of Omniscience.

    ‘……’

    [……]

    ‘Say that thing you just said one more time.’

    [I have no excuse.]

    His voice dropped, then he immediately pushed back.

    [Wait! Logically, this isn’t my fault! It’s your fault for having a low level!]

    ‘I didn’t even say anything. Why are you getting defensive?’

    […]

    ‘Well, nothing I can do about it. Honestly, when you think about it, it’s weirder if a party member of a hero just had their secrets laid bare like that.’

    So, you need a high level to peek at higher-tier secrets.

    ‘Looks like I won’t be able to view Kaeld’s or Bion Kunze’s secrets either.’

    [Most likely not.]

    Can’t be helped.

    I put all my focus into recalling my memories from before regression.

    Surely there was something in our conversations, attitudes, expressions, or glances — some hint.

    [You can actually recall all that?]

    ‘I have an extremely good memory. Practically inhuman.’

    [Do people usually say that about themselves with a straight face?]

    ‘Of course, most of it’s probably useless. But thankfully, my instincts are also inhuman.’

    […]

    Every once in a while, I’d get this sudden flash in my head, like lightning.

    Yeah, to use an example—

    Like when I saw my father’s name appear above my mother’s head.

    …Useless memory. That’s not what’s important right now.

    Anyway, instead of just replaying conversations or actions from the past, I had to recall those moments when the lightning struck.

    And focus on the memory that flashed through me then.

    Soon enough, a vivid memory sparked in my head.

    It happened during the journey for the quest before the regression, when we were staying at an inn. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night to pee.

    On my way down to the first floor, I saw Neril sitting at a table in the inn’s dining hall, with a rather chilling atmosphere.

    Kaeld was seated across from her with a serious face.

    On instinct, I suppressed all sound and presence.

    I’d already figured out by then that even my party members, including Kaeld, couldn’t detect me if I really wanted to hide.

    “Calling someone out for a private meeting in the middle of the night. How classy, Mr. Hero.”

    “You’re rather sharp with me, Ms. Neril.”

    “It’s not just you. I hate everyone.”

    “……”

    “So? What do you want?”

    “This might sound sudden and rude, but… Ms. Neril, you’re the infamous Witch of Carnage, right?”

    Kaeld usually spoke casually to all party members, but not to Neril.

    She was a bit older than the rest of us.

    “So what?”

    “I did my homework before recruiting you. I know that most of your terrible reputation wasn’t from things you actually did. You were framed.”

    “You used that line when you recruited me, remember?”

    “But I also think that some of it — especially the last atrocity right before we met — was something you really did.”

    Neril crossed her legs in silence.

    Kaeld kept speaking.

    “It was in the Quelk territory, wasn’t it? You brutally killed the tool shop owner there.”

    “He deserved it.”

    “There’s no such thing as someone who deserves to die.”

    This guy, who fooled 148 million people, sure looked saintly saying that.

    “Even if there were — was that shop owner really someone who deserved death? He just sold herbs and farming tools in that territory.”

    “What do you know.”

    “I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you to tell me.”

    “What if I don’t want to.”

    “You’re a party member, and I’m the leader. It’s my responsibility to manage the team. If you continue causing atrocities, it’ll be hard to keep traveling togeth—”

    “Ha.”

    Neril stood up abruptly.

    “First of all, let me ease your worries. No more atrocities. Once this Demon King subjugation is over, I’m gone. I’ve done what I needed to do.”

    “You’ve… done what you needed?”

    “No need to explain that part. Just know that I’ll be a quiet, well-behaved party member from now on.”

    “Ms. Neril. As a comrade, I want to genuinely understand what’s in your heart.”

    Neril let out a deep sigh.

    Then she looked up at the stairs above.

    To be honest, I got nervous back then, thinking I’d been caught.

    But she hadn’t seen me.

    “When my party members found out I was the infamous Witch of Carnage, their expressions were hilarious. At first, I just introduced myself as a mage who’d turned her back on the world.”

    “……”

    “They all had different reactions. How could you bring in a witch like her? That monster should be killed.”

    “……”

    “But one of them stayed pretty calm. Like, As long as she does her job well, who cares? That kind of face.”

    “…You’re talking about Mide.”

    “That’s the most desirable attitude. The next best is being wary or scared of me. The absolute worst is—”

    She glared coldly at Kaeld.

    “Doing what you’re doing. Trying to console me or soothe me by digging into my past.”

    “……”

    “You think I joined the party because you cleaned up my reputation? That I’m here out of gratitude or some emotional debt?”

    “……”

    “I just found the last place I belong. And what’s more fitting for an ending than the fight against the Demon King?”

    Kaeld’s brow twitched.

    Neril yawned once and waved her hand dismissively.

    “I’ll head up now. Sleep well.”

    I stopped reminiscing.

    [Hoooh. So that’s what happened.]

    ‘Yeah… Wait, are you seriously peeking into my memories now too?’

    [But how do you know this memory is even useful? Don’t give me vague stuff about intuition.]

    ‘Neril said she had finished her work, and after the incident with the tool shop owner in the Quelk territory, she stopped the carnage. Then she jumped into the Demon King subjugation to find the final stage of her life.’

    [Aha. So causing carnage to the tool shop owner was that “work” she mentioned.]

    ‘In other words, revenge. I don’t know why such a powerful mage like her would have that kind of grudge against a mere shopkeeper, but still.’

    I counted on my fingers.

    ‘Timeline-wise, she hasn’t contacted the tool shop owner yet. Her final carnage happens a week from now.’

    [So then?]

    ‘Exactly.’

    I have to get there first.

    I’ll take hold of her target of revenge before she can.

    Then I’ll use it to blackma— ahem, negotiate.

    Feeling confident, I smiled.

    Inside my head, Trail chimed in with his usual nonsense.

    [Uh, you really gonna do that? Think it through again.]

    ‘What’s wrong with this flawless plan?’

    [She’ll be pissed, obviously! If you hold her hard-earned revenge target hostage and try to use it for leverage, of course she’ll blow up!]

    ‘I told you, it’s a negotiation.’

    [How about trying to calmly talk to her instead? Like, Let’s work together to defeat the Demon King and save the continent kind of pitch.]

    You really don’t know Neril at all.

    Let’s just say you’re a Neril-illiterate.

    The carriage traveled three more days before arriving at the Quelk territory.

    After such a long journey together, the coachman and I had become close enough to put arms around each other’s shoulders.

    “Must’ve been rough traveling so far. Here’s the rest of the fare.”

    “Oh, thank you! Will you be needing a ride back?”

    “I haven’t decided on my next move yet.”

    “Next move?”

    “Never mind. Anyway, Quelk is a decent-sized place. You’ll probably find a passenger for the return trip soon. But just in case, I added a bit extra to your fare.”

    The coachman bowed deeply once again.

    As we entered the domain, Trail commented,

    [You’re surprisingly polite.]

    ‘What did you expect?’

    [Thought you would be rough around the edges, being a mercenary and all.]

    ‘At least I’m more polite than you, so don’t worry.’

    [So how are you going to find Neril now? Like you said, this place is pretty big.]

    ‘Pull up the map.’

    […]

    Trail grumbled something but brought up the familiar screen.

    A map of the entire continent filled the display.

    But I shook my head.

    ‘Just the Quelk territory map.’

    [What do you take me for, your secretary or something?]

    ‘Ah, sorry if that’s how it came off. It’s just that you’re so capable—you can do anything, so I thought this would be easy for you.’

    [Hmph. Of course it is. Easy peasy.]

    Soon, a zoomed-in map of the Quelk territory appeared.

    ……

    He is easy.

    Anyway, I examined the screen carefully and spoke.

    ‘No need to find Neril directly. The hint is that her next target of carnage is a tool shop owner.’

    […]

    ‘Speaking from experience as someone who has wandered all over the continent, tool shops are usually located between residential areas and the village entrance. They have to cater to both travelers and locals, after all.’

    [Aha.]

    ‘That means they’ll be clustered around here. Let’s check this area first.’

    I set off.

    There were ten tool shops in the Quelk.

    The first owner had sinned against only five people. A diligent young man.

    His blood lettering didn’t include Neril’s name.

    The second owner had twelve. Still no Neril.

    The third—nine. Again, no Neril.

    The fourth—thirty-nine? What the hell.

    In my experience, if someone’s harmed more than twenty people, they’re usually not just an ordinary person.

    Anyway, Neril’s name wasn’t on this one either, so I turned around with a baffled laugh.

    The fourth owner spoke up.

    “What, just leaving like that?”

    “Yes. Nothing that caught my eye.”

    “Don’t be like that—pick something, will you? Cah, ptuh.”

    He spat on the floor of his own shop.

    “Business is crap these days. Why don’t you at least take a dagger or something? You look like a mercenary.”

    “Sigh. How much?”

    “How much were you expecting to pay?”

    “……”

    Smack! Thud.

    Creeeak.

    I dusted off my hands and walked out of the fourth tool shop.

    Just then, a customer who looked like an adventurer approached, about to enter.

    To save him the trouble, I kindly spoke up.

    “They’re probably closed for the day. This tool shop.”

    “Huh?”

    “Seems the owner’s exhausted. Said he needed a nap.”

    Leaving the confused adventurer behind, I headed to the next shop.

    For some reason, I felt oddly refreshed.

    After checking a few more shops, I arrived at the seventh.

    The writing above the owner’s head read:

    – Has against Frank de Levan and 89 others.

    I expanded the screen, and there it was—the fourth name from the top, a name I recognized.

    – Neril Slane.

    Found her.

  • TFHITS Chapter 5

    While I stayed at the guildmaster’s residence for a few days, Rena came to see me every single day without fail, chatting away endlessly.

    But aside from my time with her, I devoted all my hours to talking with the ‘voice’.

    [You did well. Only fifty points have come in so far since the incident hasn’t spread much yet, but this father and daughter will soon start making your name known.]

    ‘Ah. So the points I’ll be getting from this incident are…’

    [Right. Over the past few days, I’ve seen many people celebrating Rena’s safe return. She must’ve been a local celebrity. You made a lot of people happy. That means you’ll be getting an extra 700 points.]

    ‘……’

    [Now do you get it? Before you start anything, always think of “the greatest happiness for the greatest number.” This absolute principle will elevate your fame, and one day, it’ll make you a hero.]

    Sure. I get it.

    But hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.

    ‘Why were you talking down to me from the very start?’

    The voice went silent for a moment.

    Then, in an unusually hesitant and cautious tone, it asked:

    [……Is that… not okay?]

    ‘No need to sound so dejected about it.’

    [Then I’ll keep talking like this. You can speak casually to me too.]

    ‘Still, I can’t keep calling you “you” forever. You already know my name, so tell me yours.’

    [Hoo. I’ve forgotten it. Call me whatever you like. Or you can give me a new name.]

    You sure you won’t regret it?

    I’m notorious across the continent for my naming sense.

    ‘Invisible.’

    [What?]

    ‘You’re not visible, so… Invisible.’

    [Ah, I just remembered. My name is Trail.]

    ‘……’

    [It’s Trail. Really.]

    Got it, Trail.

    I rubbed my palms together.

    The new ability was great and all, but what I was really interested in now was something else.

    My memories from before the regression.

    All the countless quests and information I went through until I defeated the Demon King—they’re all still in my head.

    ‘Let’s see. I went back 7 years, right?’

    Kaeld once said, “The hero died from the very start.”

    In other words, by this point in time, the real hero, Bion Kunze, is already dead.

    Tracking him down to disturb Kaeld’s scheme is impossible.

    But there’s no need to be discouraged.

    ‘Yeah, for example…’

    Tap tap.

    I tapped the table with my index finger, deep in thought.

    ‘For example, Kaeld hasn’t even gathered all his party members yet.’

    I was the last member of his party.

    According to my memory, it’s still three years until he comes looking for me.

    And I remember when each of the other party members first met the hero—down to the year and month.

    ‘At this point, there are probably three of them still left. Heroes the hero hasn’t met yet.’

    Soon, I smirked.

    Then I should be the one to meet them first.

    With the memories from before the regression, and my new abilities…

    ‘Just wait. I’ll be the one to unmask you.’

    Fake hero Kaeld.

    [It’s Trail. Believe me.]

    I said I got it.

    ‘More importantly, tell me what you want.’

    [Hmm?]

    ‘From the look of it, you’re going all out to help me with some weird power, but I don’t accept favours without knowing the reason.’

    [You’re a cold one.]

    How could I not be?

    Every day, I’m surrounded by “sinners.”

    Of course, no one lives without committing a single sin—including me.

    But being aware of exactly who you’ve wronged and how many times… that’s something else entirely.

    ‘So, what’s your goal?’

    [The world is still beautiful and worth living in. It would be good to fix your habit of viewing kindness with suspicion—]

    ‘Okay. Let’s go our separate ways.’

    [W-wait! What’s the rush? Calm down.]

    ‘Why the sudden polite speech?’

    The guy seemed flustered for a moment, then spoke in a placating tone.

    [My only goal is to kill the Demon King of Lies and Deception, Idria.]

    ‘……’

    [Before the regression, you succeeded in exposing Kaeld’s “lie.” But when it came to the actual Demon King, Idria, you couldn’t even lay a finger on her before dying.]

    ‘Nice and tactful choice of words.’

    [I have my reasons for needing to kill Idria. But a Demon King can only be killed by a hero.]

    Ah, so that’s why.

    ‘So that’s why you want to make me a hero? Helping me gain fame and all?’

    [Yes. It’s what you wanted before you died too. You become a hero and gain glory, and I defeat the Demon King. A perfect win-win relationship.]

    ‘……Hmm.’

    To be precise, all I ever wanted was to enjoy a peaceful retirement.

    Well, I suppose it all leads to the same place in the end.

    Someone has to kill the Demon King.

    Kaeld can’t do it.

    So I will.

    It’s a logical conclusion and a perfectly aligned goal.

    I smiled softly and said,

    ‘Alright. Let’s work well together, Invisible.’

    [It’s Trail.]

    ‘Well, that’s not really important.’

    [It is important.]

    ‘Anyway, it’s time I got moving. You said fame is what makes someone a hero, right? There’s no way I’ll gain any sitting around in one place.’

    [Hmm. A fine idea.]

    Tick.

    Suddenly, the same large screen appeared before me again.

    But unlike before, it now displayed a large map of the continent.

    ‘You can do stuff like this too?’

    [Of course. Look closely. This is the Drucker Territory where you currently are.]

    At those words, a point on the map began to glow.

    [Think of the brightness and size of this white light as the fame you’ve earned. Over the past three days, your fame has spread enough to reach about 450. Even if you squeeze out the rest, you probably won’t even hit 1,000.]

    ‘……’

    [In short, you’re a firefly.]

    ‘Nice metaphor.’

    [No. I mean it. Compared to this.]

    Snap.

    There was a sound like someone snapping their fingers.

    Then, in the southwestern region of the map, a gloomy and malevolent black mist began to rise up.

    Unlike me, who was barely a glimmer at a single point on the continent, that mist had already completely engulfed three or four territories.

    In both scale and darkness, it was incomparable.

    [That’s the fame that bastard Kaeld has right now.]

    ‘What?’

    [He’s already acquired three heroes. Since the oracle hasn’t descended yet, his name hasn’t spread across the entire continent. But in the southwest, he’s already considered on par with a Champion.]

    ‘……’

    [That’s the size of the fame you have to catch up to. Getting the picture now?]

    I swallowed hard.

    Looking at that, my light really is nothing more than a firefly.

    ‘I’m in the northeast right now. The continent is long from top to bottom… so I’ll have to build my fame gradually starting here. I shouldn’t even glance at the southern regions for a while.’

    [I think the same. So, what’s your next plan?]

    ‘Hmm.’

    I crossed my arms and fell into thought.

    What should I do?

    What famous event happened around this time before regression?

    Something that may not have shaken the whole continent, but at least caused a stir in this region…

    “Ah!”

    I sprang to my feet.

    “That’s it!”

    [Indeed!]

    “Don’t act like you know. I haven’t said anything yet.”

    [I read your mind, remember.]

    Trail spoke in a subtle tone.

    [It’s been a while since the last reunion. Right?]

    The voice was right.

    Soon, not far from here, in the Quelk territory, a fairly famous—and brutal—incident will take place.

    There’s a terrifying woman who’s kept the entire continent on edge for years.

    A villainess who roams from region to region committing all sorts of atrocities.

    The so-called Witch of Carnage.

    Neril Slane.

    She was once a member of my former party.

    To be more precise—

    ‘At this point in time, she’s still a party member Kaeld hasn’t sunk his claws into.’

    Then I have to get to her first.

    Time to go see that lady again.

    “Huaaah. Mister, don’t go. Don’t gooo.”

    Rena, who still thought of me as her ‘white horse-riding uncle,’ clung to me, bawling her eyes out.

    The guild master, seeing his daughter like that, gave a strange expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

    “I have to go. I’ve got something to do.”

    “What is it! Just stay here. I’ll make you happy.”

    “Sorry. But I’ll come see you again someday.”

    “…You promise? You’re not lying, right?”

    “Of course.”

    Rena soaked my clothes with tears and snot before finally letting go.

    “Sniff… Fine. But you have to come back. By then, I’ll have grown so much that you’ll regret the choice you’re making today.”

    “Heh. Alright.”

    She wiped her tears and stepped back.

    Then the guild master stepped forward and spoke.

    “It’s truly regrettable to send you off like this. You’re just as the rumors say.”

    “Huh?”

    “I heard the Sword master of No Killings never stays in one place.”

    Please stop calling me that.

    Just call me Swordmaster!

    [So you did like the sound of it.]

    “Was the treatment I gave you lacking?”

    “It’s not that. Besides, wouldn’t it be uncomfortable if I really decided to stay?”

    “Huh?”

    I gestured with my chin toward Rena, who was still sniffling in the back.

    The guild master’s expression stiffened slightly as he caught the meaning.

    I whispered to him.

    “A man of your standing surely has things more important than your daughter’s romance.”

    “……”

    “Don’t make that face. I’m not against political marriages or anything. I’m just saying, no need to keep up appearances with me.”

    His expression turned a bit unpleasant.

    “You think I’m that kind of man?”

    “……”

    “I’m disappointed, Sir Mide. I swear I have not a speck of shame before the heavens…”

    “What sin did you commit against Id Blaket?”

    At my words, the guild master’s eyes wavered.

    He was a seasoned merchant, so his expression didn’t betray anything—but the eyes, the window to the soul, couldn’t fully hide it.

    “W-what… What do you know?”

    Truth is, I know nothing.

    I didn’t bother using the Eye of Omniscience to uncover his secrets.

    But I do know one thing for sure—that he wronged that person.

    “Guild Master.”

    “……”

    “Live a good life. Let’s not meet again.”

    Leaving the stunned guild master behind, I departed from Drucker territory.

    Inside the carriage headed for Quelk territory.

    I reviewed the plan with Trail.

    So far, Kaeld had secured three party members.

    And the remaining ones—excluding me—numbered three.

    If I want to balance the scales, I have to get all of them first.

    ‘Neril was the one most aligned with me, at least in terms of opinion.’

    It’s a bit of a late regret, but sometimes I wonder—what if I had spoken to her while standing watch the night before our final battle with the Demon King?

    Told her that Kaeld was guilty of crimes against 148 million people.

    She probably would’ve laughed in disbelief.

    Maybe even twirled her finger at her head like I was crazy.

    ‘But eventually, she would’ve listened seriously.’

    [Sounds like you trusted that woman, Neril, quite a bit.]

    ‘Not sure if “trust” is the right word. But at the very least, she wasn’t someone I could dismiss lightly.’

    [Hmm. But even if you’d said something earlier, it wouldn’t have changed anything. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Demon King anyway.]

    God, the way you phrase things.

    In any case, she was the only one besides me who ever doubted the Hero Kaeld.

    Unlike me, she didn’t have concrete evidence—her doubts were more like “Does Kaeld really have what it takes to be a Hero?”—but that alone puts her leagues above the others.

    [Still, “Witch of Carnage” is a pretty fearsome title. Not as bad as the “No Killings Sword-whatever,” though.]

    ‘Nah. Even the Swordmaster of No Killings is nothing compared to the Two-Syllable Name Guy.’

    […My bad.]

    ‘Besides, the title “Witch of Carnage” is honestly pretty unfair. I didn’t even realize it until I joined her party later on.’

    [Huh?]

    I stayed quiet for a moment, then answered.

    ‘Most of it was false accusation.’

  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 189

    After the final exam, in the waiting room.

    Each team gathered together, exchanging light conversation and words of appreciation for each other’s efforts.

    Naturally, the victorious Team B was in a celebratory mood.

    “Wow. Seriously, Kim Sunwoo. What a twist.”

    “I know, right? He was giving orders from the front, and I was wondering what he was doing, but turns out there was a reason for everything.”

    And unsurprisingly, most of the conversations revolved around Kim Sunwoo.

    It made sense. He had single-handedly covered Team B’s biggest weakness—the lack of area of effect magic.

    With a display of such an overwhelming AOE spell that it was hard to believe even after witnessing it first hand.

    While everyone was sharing their impressions of the exam,

    Lee Seo-jun was scanning the area, looking for someone.

    It didn’t take him long to find them.

    In the corner of Team B’s waiting room, a noticeable crowd of students had gathered around someone.

    Lee Seo-jun walked over immediately.

    “Kim Sunwoo.”

    “Oh, hey. You came?”

    Kim Sunwoo looked up and responded.

    Then, a female student to his right, shook his shoulder and said,

    “So how did you learn that spell, anyway?”

    “I’ve told you like five times already—it just kind of happened.”

    Kim Sunwoo brushed her hand off his shoulder, clearly annoyed.

    “Oh, come on! That’s not a real answer!”

    “Seriously. Is it that hard to explain?”

    This time, a male student to his left muttered with his arms crossed.

    Lee Seo-jun gave a wry smile as he watched.

    Seeing someone swarmed with endless questions like that didn’t feel so unfamiliar.

    But he couldn’t blame the students either.

    He himself had a mountain of questions he wanted to ask Kim Sunwoo.

    Still, thanks to Sunwoo’s performance today, the attention that usually fell on Seo-jun had eased up a bit, which was admittedly a relief.

    ‘…But seriously, how did he pull off that AOE spell?’

    Seo-jun recalled the torrential rain-like spell Kim Sunwoo had unleashed earlier.

    Just thinking about it gave him chills.

    That kind of AOE magic wasn’t something you could master with a few days of practice.

    No matter how talented you were, it would take at least three years of dedicated training.

    Just how much had he practiced…

    No. This wasn’t something you could achieve with practice alone.

    “…He’s a genius.”

    “Hm? What did you just say?”

    Kim Sunwoo responded to Seo-jun’s quiet murmur.

    Seo-jun shook his head.

    “Nothing. Forget it.”

    “…Alright, then.”

    Kim Sunwoo nodded. Then, once again, a barrage of questions came from the surrounding students.

    With a deep sigh, Kim Sunwoo stood up from his chair.

    “Huh? Hey, Kim Sunwoo, where are you going? You still haven’t answered us!”

    “I’ve got something to think about right now, so leave me alone.”

    “What do you need to think about?”

    “You don’t need to know.”

    With that curt reply, Kim Sunwoo walked off somewhere.

    His mood at the end clearly wasn’t good, and the remaining students simply watched him leave in stunned silence.

    After Sunwoo disappeared, Lee Seo-jun tilted his head slightly.

    Did something bad happen?

    It didn’t seem like it was just the crowd’s attention bothering him.

    “Hm…”

    Seo-jun started walking again and left the waiting room, stepping out into the hallway.

    As he walked down the corridor, he spotted a familiar face sitting on a bench, looking dejected.

    “Yoo Ara.”

    At his call, Yoo Ara lifted her head and looked at him.

    “…Lee Seo-jun.”

    Her voice was weak. Not surprising.

    She was one of the most competitive students in the entire academy and absolutely hated losing.

    On top of that, this final match was widely considered to favour someone like Yoo Ara, who specialized in AOE magic.

    Many had predicted she’d take first place in this exam—and she had been confident, too.

    But she had lost.

    And to make matters worse, she had been outdone in her own specialty—AOE magic—by none other than Kim Sunwoo.

    Her pride must have taken a serious hit.

    Seo-jun looked at her with sympathy before sitting beside her.

    “You okay?”

    “…Don’t try to comfort me. It doesn’t help. It just makes me feel worse.”

    Seo-jun gave a small nod.

    He hadn’t sat next to her to comfort her anyway.

    There was something he wanted to ask.

    “I wanted to ask you something.”

    “…What is it?”

    “I was hoping you could tell me what happened at the base.”

    “The base?”

    “Yeah.”

    He had been curious ever since the base appeared. What kind of events took place inside?

    Truthfully, from the moment he learned about the stronghold, Seo-jun had assumed he’d be the one entering it.

    He was especially interested in base related strategies, and the strongest members from each team were chosen to enter—so it was only natural he’d want to go.

    But Kim Sunwoo had held him back, and Seo-jun had remained outside.

    It had been a bit disappointing, but for the sake of the team, he’d followed Sunwoo’s command.

    “The base, huh…”

    Yoo Ara fell into thought for a moment, then spoke.

    “It was pretty typical. Escape the maze, dodge traps, defeat guardian monsters…”

    That much, he expected. But there was something else he was curious about.

    “Not that part. I heard there was an event inside the base too.”

    “An event? Yeah, there was one. It happened right before we captured the base.”

    At her words, Seo-jun’s interest piqued.

    “What kind of event was it?”

    “They gathered everyone inside a maze-like area. It was a survival event—the last one standing wins.”

    A survival event.

    Seo-jun had a rough idea of what it was.

    It was probably a scenario where the participants tried to read each other until the end to survive, only to end up killing one another.

    “What was the reward?”

    “It was a really good one. You get a ticket to go straight to the next floor.”

    “The next floor?”

    A ticket that lets you skip to the next floor—it certainly was a huge reward, considering the nature of these bases, where you had to climb up floor by floor.

    Since the final floor of a base was the 5th, whoever won the event would most likely take control of the base.

    “So Kim Sunwoo must’ve won the event, then.”

    “Seems like it. He did take the base after all.”

    “Hm.”

    If it was a survival event, then he would’ve been at a major disadvantage in a 1:2 situation, but he still managed to survive until the end.

    “Kim Sunwoo’s pretty impressive. He was alone and still survived. Did he face both of them by himself?”

    “That’s not how it went.”

    “Then?”

    Yoo Ara fell silent for a moment. Then, after a short pause to gather her thoughts, she spoke again.

    “Kim Sunwoo showed up at the end. At first, it was just me and senior Kim Chang-hyun fighting.”

    “Really?”

    A showdown between Yoo Ara and Kim Chang-hyun, the top manifestation-type mages of each grade.

    Lee Seo-jun found himself wondering what kind of fierce battle that must have been. He’d have to watch it once he got back to the dorm.

    “So you were fighting one-on-one, and then Kim Sunwoo jumped in and won?”

    “That’s right. And I was already a bit worn out from fighting senior Kim Chang-hyun. So as soon as Kim Sunwoo intervened, I was eliminated right away.”

    11 p.m., late at night.

    After finishing all his scheduled tasks, Lee Seo-jun returned to his dorm.

    Maybe it was the fatigue built up over the past two days, but his steps lacked their usual energy.

    He threw himself onto the bed.

    And recalled what had happened during today’s exam.

    “…Kim Sunwoo.”

    Just how strong was he really?

    Lee Seo-jun had been uncertain about Kim Sunwoo’s true capabilities, but this event gave him clarity.

    At the Mage Academy, Kim Sunwoo had never shown his full strength.

    And unless it was an important moment, he never revealed his abilities at all.

    “…Why is that?”

    It couldn’t simply be humility, or a dislike for showing off—there were too many oddities for that to be the reason.

    Especially the fact that he only started revealing his strength starting in his second year—that was telling.

    If Kim Sunwoo had truly wanted to avoid standing out, he would’ve tried to keep a low profile during this exam too.

    “He hid it in his first year, but had a reason to reveal it in his second…”

    Lee Seo-jun sank deep into thought. Then it suddenly occurred to him what Kim Sunwoo had been so focused on.

    “Sacred Martial Festival…”

    Kim Sunwoo had been strongly set on participating in the Sacred Martial Festival.

    The reason he showcased such remarkable skill in this second-year exam must’ve been to secure his spot in the competition.

    “Does he want something from the Sacred Martial Festival?”

    What could he hope to gain from competing in it…?

    Lee Seo-jun kept pondering, but no answer came to mind.

    Information about the Sacred Martial Festival was kept under strict security measures to ensure fairness.

    What little was known amounted to the fact that it would begin next spring and only the top five students from each school could participate.

    There was one more thing—the Sacred Martial Festival always offered a “special prize” each year.

    “A prize, huh…”

    But they never announced what the prize would be.

    “Hm.”

    Lee Seo-jun let out a deep sigh.

    There just wasn’t enough to go on.

    Trying to piece together a theory with such little information would be no better than writing fiction.

    Clearing his thoughts, he opened his smart student notebook.

    When he accessed a portal site, countless articles about “Kim Sunwoo” instantly popped up.

    He skimmed through them briefly, then clicked on the “base exam footage” from this final exam.

    A deep darkness covered the night.

    A lone man walked with quiet dignity through the silent park within the Mage Academy.

    It was so late that not a single trace of life stirred within the park.

    The man checked the watch on his wrist.

    11:30 p.m.

    It was quite late.

    Lowering his hand again, he turned his gaze toward the direction of the boys’ dormitory.

    Just as he was about to head that way—

    Pew!

    A blue flash sparked behind him. An unidentified, mana-infused projectile shot swiftly toward his back.

    The man reacted instantly.

    He turned around and swung his hand, deploying a barrier.

    A thunderous sound followed, and smoke rose from the area.

    Boom!

    It had been a potentially fatal attack, but the man calmly dissolved the barrier he’d created.

    Then he looked toward the darkness behind him—the source of the ambush.

    Something hidden in the shadows began walking slowly toward him.

    Step. Step.

    As the distance closed, the dim park lights gradually revealed the face of the one hidden in the darkness.

    A young man who looked around 18 or 19.

    With jet-black hair.

    Upon seeing the face before him, the man showed no sign of surprise.

    He simply stared with emotionless eyes.

    Then the figure asked him,

    “…What are you?”

    His voice was mixed with confusion, fear, and anger—a mix of emotions.

    But the man didn’t answer. He simply stared in silence, as if studying the face before him.

    “Answer me!”

    The figure shouted again and fired a blue magic spell with an outstretched hand.

    But the man once again calmly deployed a barrier to block it.

    After dispersing the barrier, he looked straight at the figure and finally spoke.

    “Kim Sunwoo.”

    At the mention of his name, the figure—no, Kim Sunwoo—gritted his teeth.

    “Kim Chang-hyun. What the hell are you?”

    In response, Kim Chang-hyun dropped his emotionless façade and grinned.

    “So the mystery of the base must’ve whispered something useless to you.”

    Read advance chapter on Patreon. Click here.

  • Star Maker Chapter 62

    “Producer Joo, did you just talk to Han Seon-ho?”

    “Yeah, why?”

    “I was just wondering why you’d tell that guy about it.”

    At the subordinate’s question, Producer Joo Min-hwan frowned.

    “Because he’s in charge of Personal Color, obviously. Who else would I tell?”

    “Huh? Oh, right. He is in charge of Personal Color. I must’ve gotten confused for a second.”

    Joo’s expression made the subordinate flinch.

    Still glaring at the subordinate, Joo muttered to himself as he sent an email to Han Seon-ho.

    “Anyway, I really don’t like that Han Seon-ho guy. What kind of punk manager dares to meddle in the A&R team’s work?”

    Hearing that mutter, Team Leader Woo Jae-yoon, who was nearby, looked at him in disbelief.

    “I mean, even so, why are you going off on someone who’s actually doing a good job?”

    Joo snapped at Woo’s comment.

    “What’s your problem now?”

    “It’s not a problem, it’s just the truth. Why’d you even talk to Han Seon-ho about it in the first place?”

    “Director Kwon Hosan delegated the Idol Wars song selection to him, didn’t he?”

    At that, Woo let out a sigh.

    Technically speaking, Producer Joo wasn’t wrong.

    However, bypassing Director Kwon and going straight to Han Seon-ho wasn’t exactly the right move either.

    To Woo Jae-yoon, it just looked like Joo wanted to assert authority over Han Seon-ho.

    To remind him who was higher up the chain.

    Because Han Seon-ho was the manager of Personal Color.

    Seeing Woo sigh made Joo even more irritated.

    “Don’t you think this is all because you made such a fuss over that HSH song?”

    “Pfft, what does that have to do with this?”

    “Ever since that HSH you found dissed MOK, the other teams started looking down on A&R! That’s why even a rookie manager thinks he can meddle in A&R matters!”

    “Wow, that’s some wild logic. Did HSH bash MOK in the interview? Did they bash the A&R team? Didn’t they just say they liked MOK but didn’t like AT?”

    “Either way, that whole mess happened because you found and pitched that HSH song.”

    “When I first played that song for you, you said you liked it too. Are you getting old already?”

    As Woo Jae-yoon and Joo Min-hwan began growling at each other, the other A&R team members quietly slipped away.

    It wasn’t the first time the two clashed, but today’s argument topic was particularly dangerous.

    HSH for Woo Jae-yoon, and Han Seon-ho—more specifically, Personal Color—for Producer Joo, were extremely sensitive subjects.

    After huffing and puffing for a while, Producer Joo asked,

    “So what, you’re saying you’re fine with that Han Seon-ho punk giving Personal Color songs to his artists without following protocol?”

    “Sure. A&R is all about results, right? And in terms of results, he’s doing great. Actually, more than great—he’s killing it.”

    “Oh, please. Just because those kiddie-sounding songs are doing well, that’s supposed to be his talent? The singers are popular, so the songs don’t even matter.”

    “Wow. Look who’s talking. Aren’t you the one who dismissed Personal Color before, saying there was no point recruiting songs for them?”

    “That was before they got picked for Idol Wars.”

    “And who do you think picked them? Probably Han Seon-ho, right?”

    Though both of them belonged to the same A&R Division, their departments were very different.

    Woo Jae-yoon was in the Development Team, responsible for scouting and planning artists and songs.

    Joo Min-hwan was in the Production Team, functioning as a music producer.

    For Woo, an artist’s success was everything, but for Joo, getting his own songs selected mattered most.

    Hence the difference in their perspectives.

    After a long argument, the fight ended with Woo Jae-yoon backing down.

    “Fine. I misspoke. So, what are you going to do? Try to stick your spoon into Idol Wars too?”

    “That’s a hell of a way to put it. It’s not like I’m freeloading. The song airing on today’s episode is my arrangement anyway.”

    It was Joo Min-hwan who arranged Personal Color’s “Role Model,” originally by Jesco.

    “Well, yeah, that’s true.”

    Despite his terrible personality, Producer Joo was objectively a capable producer.

    He was often criticized for only giving songs to already successful artists and riding their coattails, but from another angle, that meant he ensured those successful artists continued succeeding.

    That’s why some artists under MOK were happy to get songs from him.

    When Producer Joo gave you a song, it felt like at least a baseline level of success was guaranteed.

    “So you are planning to submit a song for Idol Wars, huh?”

    “Obviously. How long do you think that kiddie-play system’s gonna last?”

    “Why do you keep calling it kiddie-play?”

    “Han Seon-ho finds inspiration on site, and Prefers turns it into music? Does that even make sense?”

    At his scoffing, Woo Jae-yoon looked puzzled.

    “Why not? That’s how top-liners usually work with composers. Even Song Camps are more about sharing inspiration than technical exchange.”

    “Sure, with regular composers. But not Han Seon-ho. Think about it. That whole setup means only the singers he likes will get good songs.”

    “Hmm.”

    “Can inspiration come from someone you dislike? Right now, the artists are basically forced to curry favour with their manager. Like, ‘Please look at me nicely.’”

    “So what?”

    “You think the kids in Personal Color are going to stay sweet and innocent forever? People change when they get popular. What then? Beg him for songs? We should find a composer who already gets along well with Personal Color.”

    His logic wasn’t entirely wrong—except for the fact that the composer he had in mind was himself.

    Woo Jae-yoon asked,

    “Still, I bet Personal Color trusts Prefers more right now. They spent three years going nowhere, and the moment they got a Prefers song, they finally hit it big.”

    “You think I don’t know that? That’s why I’ve prepared something.”

    Hearing this, Woo’s expression stiffened.

    “Producer Joo, don’t do anything shady. You know our company policy, right?”

    At MOK, if there was one area where internal politics were absolutely forbidden, it was song assignments.

    This was because CEO Kim Dong-han was a stickler for rules and principles.

    “You think I’ve been in this company for a day or two? I’ll do it fair and square.”

    Saying that, Joo played the song he had sent to Han Seon-ho.

    “Huh? This is…”

    Woo’s eyes widened, and Joo smirked.

    “Yep. It’s a remake of one of Jung Heesun’s songs.”

    “You got Jung Heesun’s permission to remake it? Whoa, that’s huge.”

    Jung Heesun.

    A legendary diva who debuted in the mid-80s and remained popular to this day.

    Unlike most veteran singers who leaned on nostalgia for the ’80s and ’90s, Jung Heesun didn’t.

    She was still an active artist.

    She might not generate hot gossip like idol singers, but when it came to album sales and streaming numbers, she rivalled them.

    Her national tour concerts, held every two years, had never once failed to sell out—clear proof of her popularity.

    There was something unique about her: she disliked having her songs remade by younger artists.

    Because she was still active, she was wary of diluting the uniqueness of her songs through excessive remakes.

    She only allowed remakes in two situations:

    When the singer had great vocal ability, or when she personally liked the singer.

    And Personal Color checked both boxes.

    “I met her informally last week, and she had seen the first episode of Idol Wars.”

    “So you pitched it to her?”

    “Exactly.”

    With a confident smile, Joo said,

    “Let’s say Prefers really does make good songs. But do you think his song has more buzz than this?”

    Woo inwardly nodded.

    This time, it really did seem like Producer Joo would win the assignment.

    If he were talentless, it’d be a different story, but Joo Min-hwan was very skilled.

    If Prefers could write a perfect 100-point song, Joo could produce a solid 90.

    And the remaining 10 points? The promotional value of using “a Jung Heesun song” would more than cover it.

    In fact, the mere fact that Jung Heesun had granted a remake could be worth an extra 50 points.

    Still smirking, Joo added,

    “Prefers has had a taste of success now, right? He’s probably feeling pretty confident.”

    “Sure. Probably.”

    “But what if every new song he makes ends up getting put aside?”

    “Well… he would get frustrated, I guess?”

    “Yeah. Of course he’s going to get frustrated and dissatisfied—with Han Seon-ho, the one selling his songs. That’s when we make him an offer.”

    Producer Joo Min-hwan continued.

    “I’ve got no hard feelings toward Prefer. He just got mixed up with the wrong person and ended up writing music in some weird way, but the guy’s got talent. If Prefer joins our company and starts collaborating, he’ll be able to make even better music. It’s not like Han Seon-ho’s the only one who can inspire him.”

    “Hmm…”

    “This is exactly why Han Seon-ho is going to such lengths to keep Prefer’s identity hidden. He’s scared that his pipeline to Prefer might get cut off.”

    Producer Joo grinned, showing his teeth.

    “He doesn’t want to gut the goose that lays golden eggs—so let’s bring that goose over to our side. If we keep the pressure on Han Seon-ho, eventually he’ll start to feel the hunger.”

    “If you’re planning to compete with Han Seon-ho fair and square with good songs and strong material, then I’ve got no problem with that.”

    “Then can I ask you a favour?”

    “I’ll hear you out.”

    “Dig up everything you can on Prefer.”

    “You could do that yourself.”

    “But you’re better at that stuff.”

    Team Leader Woo Jae-yoon thought for a moment, then replied.

    “I don’t work for free. You owe me now.”

    “Yeah, yeah. Got it, punk.”

    Personal Color’s lodging was an old, three-story villa—run-down, but fairly spacious.

    The first floor was vacant, the second floor served as the boys’ quarters, and the third floor was where the girls stayed.

    Today’s broadcast monitoring would take place in the girls’ dorm on the third floor.

    Seon-ho parked in the lot and headed upstairs. As soon as he rang the bell, the door opened before the chime even finished sounding.

    “You got here fast.”

    It was An Jia who had opened the door.

    “Jia, you shouldn’t just open the door without checking who it is.”

    “The guys are all inside anyway. Plus, I saw the van pull in through the window.”

    “Is everyone already here?”

    “Yeah, they got here about an hour ago. Come in.”

    When he stepped into the living room, he saw two people sitting on the large sofa and two others sprawled out on the floor.

    Baek Songyi and Woochan were seated, while Riha and Teiji were lying down.

    The members of Personal Color welcomed Seon-ho warmly.

    Teiji, who had been lying down, sat up.

    “Hyung, you’re here?”

    “You guys got here early.”

    “Nothing else to do. The manager and Jung Jiwoon said they’ll be here around 10.”

    As he greeted everyone, Seon-ho glanced around the dorm.

    It was a bit old, but neatly organized and clean.

    He’d been inside the boys’ quarters a few times, but this was his first time stepping into the girls’ space.

    Telling the others to rest, Seon-ho headed to a room with Jia.

    After going in to check her room, Jia stuck her head out and waved him in.

    “Come on in.”

    The first thing Seon-ho noticed as he entered Jia’s room were shelves and bookcases.

    No—that was all there was.

    The room was filled wall-to-wall with shelves and bookcases, stacked with countless books, DVDs, and Blu-rays.

    There were so many that they were organized alphabetically.

    Seon-ho pointed at a particularly golden-glowing shelf.

    “What’s this?”

    “Oh, that’s my special collection.”

    “Special collection?”

    “Yeah. Only thirty works that have captured my heart each month get to go there. The Godfather has held its spot for over a year now.”

    Seon-ho took his time examining the thirty items.

    There were more novels than films, and most of the books were fantasy or wuxia.

    Didn’t know she was into this kind of stuff.

    A weirdly titled novel she recently said she enjoyed was in the special collection too.

    A very odd title: The Integral Calculus Mage.

    “Oppa, have you read this?”

    “Yup.”

    “How was it?”

    “Hmm… kind of childish.”

    Jia looked a bit dejected at Seon-ho’s honest answer.

    But the truth was, Seon-ho had toned it down. He’d read it because of work, but there were more than a few times he wanted to quit because it was just so boring.

    “Jia, which character did you feel most immersed in?”

    “The princess.”

    “What scene struck you the most?”

    “The last scene in volume five.”

    That one, Seon-ho remembered too.

    If I die, please take your own life.

    The protagonist’s words as he set off for a final battlefield, for the princess.

    “What did you like about that part?”

    “I don’t think he was really asking her to die. He was afraid of losing, so he brought up death to push her to run away instead. But the princess doesn’t even hesitate before saying she’ll die too. Like, ‘If you die, I die too, so don’t you dare die.’ Even though she knows they can’t win…”

    Jia spoke without pausing for breath, then added softly:

    “That’s what makes it so sad.”

    As Seon-ho listened to her, a title popped into his mind: Even Though I Know It Won’t Work Out.

    He became certain—this was what the song had to be about.

    Because it reminded him of the female lead in High School in Melody who challenges herself with a musical despite the odds… and of An Jia, who wanted to keep singing no matter how hard things got.

    “Even though I know it won’t work out… how about that?”

    Despite the lack of context, Jia understood right away.

    “Is that the title of the song?”

    “Yeah.”

    She kept murmuring the phrase to herself, then broke into a bright smile.

    “I like it. I think I know exactly what emotion I need to sing with.”

    Ding dong.

    Just then, the doorbell rang outside.

    “The other managers must be here. Let’s go.”

    “Oppa. I… I’m not so sure.”

    “Huh? About what?”

    “I don’t know what emotion to sing with.”

    “…Huh?”

    Seon-ho tilted his head.

    “Didn’t you just say you knew?”

    “I thought I did… but I think I need to talk more about the novel first.”

    “Then should we go out and—”

    “The others haven’t read this book. It’ll just get in the way. Let’s stay here.”

    “Hmm… alright, let’s do that.”

    Seon-ho pulled a USB from his pocket.

    He had been planning to test which instrument sounds best matched Jia’s voice anyway.

    And so, Seon-ho stayed in the room with Jia for about an hour, talking about this and that, before finally heading back out to the living room.