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  • The genius martial artist who remembers everything Chapter 4

    “Keek.”

    A spider with a vaguely human-like face spewed venom from its mouth.

    Chzzzt.

    The venom was so toxic that it melted not only the trees but even the hardened soil beneath.

    Even with a hood covering my mouth, my head was starting to feel dizzy.

    Spirit herbs usually appeared in places where the energy of the heavens and earth converged.

    And such spiritual lands didn’t only nurture spirit herbs—they often gave rise to spiritual creatures as well.

    However, if the creature in question was horrifying just to look at, people would sometimes call it a demonic beast.

    “Disgusting.”

    Eight legs, a massive body, and a humanoid face with four eyes—this thing was none other than the demon beast known as the Human-faced Spider.

    The Human-faced Spider stood guard in front of the Ten-Thousand-Year Ginseng, wary that I might try to steal its treasure.

    “Because of you, I had to go all the way to Mount Hapchi.”

    Circling around it, I slashed off one of its legs.

    Kieek.

    Green blood spurted out as smoke and acidic fluid sprayed in all directions.

    For someone like me, whose internal energy was meager, even the smoke alone could be fatal. It had been worth the trip to Mount Hapchi to take the Nine-leaf Deep Root herb beforehand.

    “Even if you survive here, in three years you’ll be dragged off to the Tang Clan and squeezed dry of venom until you wither away.”

    Kieek.

    Despite my attempt to reason with it, the Human-faced Spider had no intention of listening.

    Chaak.

    Webs shot out from its back, weaving a net in all directions.

    In an instant, the web blocked the passage of the cave.

    “Foolish creature.”

    I lit the web with a torch.

    The flame raced along the silk and surged toward the Human-faced Spider.

    The fire traveled along its sticky secretions and reached its back in no time.

    Kieek.

    Just as it panicked and tried to scrape its backside against the ground, I drowned its body in oil and set it ablaze.

    Kieeeeeek!

    As it screamed, I thrust my sword into its disgusting mouth.

    It flailed wildly, spraying green blood from its eyes and mouth—its human-like face now more disgusting than ever.

    As I backed away, its movements gradually slowed.

    Once the stench filled the entire cave, I was finally able to catch my breath.

    “Whew.”

    Though I had consumed the Ten-Thousand-Year He Shou Wu and the King Ginseng, I had only managed to absorb the equivalent of eight years of internal energy.

    As rare as those spirit herbs were, they didn’t do much to increase my inner power. Plus, the Taeulmun Breathing Technique had a limit to how much it could absorb.

    “At this rate, when will I ever catch up to that bastard?”

    The Taechung Divine Sword—currently Yong Soa—had internal energy equivalent to three cycles of the sexagenary cycle.   *Approximtely 180 years.

    Three cycles. Three full cycles.

    The sheer scale of it made me feel dizzy.

    Still, I couldn’t afford to sit idle.

    “If I consume every herb listed in the Manual of Jianghu Spirit Herbs, maybe I’ll at least be able to catch up.”

    The Taeulmun Breathing Technique was excellent, yes, but it was only a foundation.

    Without an advanced internal energy technique, absorption would remain a challenge.

    The energy of the spirit herbs wouldn’t vanish, but how unfair would it be to die with all that unused energy still inside me?

    “I need elixirs. Elixirs are what I need.”

    To increase internal energy, elixirs were far more efficient than herbs.

    And the more prestigious the sect that produced the elixir, the more internal energy it could grant.

    “There’s no end to the things I have to do.”

    As I mulled over my situation, I stepped past the corpse of the Human-faced Spider and saw the leaves of the Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Ginseng basking in the light peeking through a hole.

    “Never thought I’d eat something like this in my lifetime.”

    For a moment, my worries about elixirs vanished. Just seeing the Fire Ginseng’s leaves made them evaporate.

    The Ten-Thousand-Year He Shou Wu and King Ginseng were precious, but the Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Ginseng—like the Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng—was an outstanding spirit herb for enhancing both yin-yang energy and internal power.

    It even had the effect of rebirth. Someone with no martial potential could become talented, and someone already talented could transcend into a martial deity’s physique.

    At the very least, eating this would ensure I wouldn’t be trapped in those frustrating situations where I understood what to do but couldn’t act on it.

    Without hesitation, I started with a small root, absorbing as much essence as I could and chewing down even the leaves.

    A clear, refreshing aroma filled my mouth, and with every exhale, that pure scent spread outward.

    “It’s coming.”

    Not long after swallowing the Fire Ginseng, a warm heat rose from my lower abdomen.

    I wasted no time—I crossed my legs and began circulating the Taeulmun Breathing Technique.

    The warm energy quickly overwhelmed the Taeulmun technique’s energy and surged through my body.

    The gentle, disciplined energy of the Taeulmun technique chased after the wild ginseng energy, trying to subdue it, but it refused to be tamed.

    “Grrgh.”

    It rampaged through my meridians, forcefully breaking through blockages and burning away impurities.

    Each burst of pain felt like my body was being torn apart, but bit by bit, the energy began to weaken.

    The chase continued endlessly, back and forth.

    Who knew how much time had passed?

    Flash.

    When I opened my eyes, the light filling the cave was so bright that I instinctively frowned.

    Bright?

    Only a small area of the cave where the Fire Ginseng grew received light—so faint that I had needed a torch just to enter.

    But now the light was bright?

    Something’s changed.

    My body had changed. Vitality surged through every part of me.

    Boom.

    When I punched the wall, a portion of the sturdy cave wall crumbled.

    Yet I felt no pain at all.

    I examined my dantian. A lump the size of a fingertip had formed there.

    “About fifteen years’ worth, huh?”

    Compared to the records from the Nine Great Sects or Five Great Clans, it was nothing. But I had gathered this with the notoriously slow Taeulmun Breathing Technique.

    And now that my body had been refined to support martial arts, the speed of my cultivation should increase.

    “I guess I can afford to be greedy for a rare elixir now.”

    Just in time, I happened to know of one rare elixir not listed in the Manual of Jianghu Spirit Herbs.

    “To be exact, it’s an elixir the Gyeryong Merchant Guild lost.”

    Gye Yeonseok had purchased Seolmaedan also know as the Snow Plum Elixir from Mount Hua for Gye Cheolyeong.

    The Snow Plum Elixir was second only to Mount Hua’s finest elixir, Purple Revitalization Elixir.

    Even true disciples rarely got to see it. Gye Yeonseok had poured in his fortune and all of Gyeryong Merchant Guild’s connections to obtain it.

    He had nearly succeeded in preparing a brilliant future for Gye Cheolyeong.

    But perhaps because the feat was too grand…

    Gye Yeonseok’s arrogance ruined everything.

    “Or maybe… he placed too much trust in the masters of Mount Hua.”

    A master from Mount Hua was visiting the merchant guild.

    Gye Yeonseok wasn’t one to let a golden opportunity slip. To promote the close relationship between Mount Hua and his guild, he threw a banquet.

    But the day before Gye Cheolyeong was to take the Snow Plum Elixir, it vanished—completely—from the depths of the guild’s most secure vault.

    An unidentified being had stolen the Snow Plum Elixir right under the noses of the Mount Hua Sects masters.

    Gye Yeonseok, left in the pathetic position of a dog chasing a chicken, clung to the Mount Hua Sect for help, but they merely told him they bore no responsibility since the elixir had been stolen after they had already handed it over. Then they left without further concern.

    Later, Gye Yeonseok scraped together a fortune again and managed to obtain another batch of the Plum Blossom Elixir, but the event left a deep scar on his heart. Those around him didn’t dare bring up the Snow Plum Elixir in his presence.

    But one man’s tragedy is another man’s tavern tale.

    People continued to talk about it for years.

    Back then, there were many rumors about who had taken the Snow Plum Elixir, but it never appeared in the world again.

    “To think that playing the role of a walking library would prove this useful.”

    I began sifting through the information in my head.

    First: the monthly report from the Martial Alliance’s Hefei branch.

    I needed to analyse all incidents and the movements of major figures in Hefei for a month before and after the day the Snow Plum Elixir was stolen.

    Second: the Martial Alliance’s entry and exit records.

    Any master capable of evading the eyes of the Mount Hua Sects elites would likely be affiliated with the Martial Alliance.

    If I went through the entry logs, I could figure out who had moved where and when.

    Third: mission reports.

    From those sent on missions by the Martial Alliance, I could filter out anyone who had visited Hefei around the date of the incident.

    And then, using the deduction method Jegal Cheongi had taught me, I began to sort through the data.

    “Four people.”

    Four names floated to the surface of my mind.

    • Chu Hon-gaek, the Poison Phantom
    • Song Won-gi, one of the Five-Star Gentlemans.
    • Gu Il-mu of the Spear and Blade Five
    • Jang Han-gi of the Spear and Blade Five

    Two of the Spear and Blade Five had visited Hefei three days before the incident, stayed for three days, and then left on another mission.

    Song Won-gi.

    He had been staying in Hefei for a month before the incident and remained there for two months after it occurred.

    Though technically a wanderer, his conduct was so upright that others in the martial world had given him the title of “gentleman.” His skills were near the peak of martial arts, and he had the wealth to buy a hundred Snow Plum Elixirs if he so desired. Yet, like a scholar wholly devoted to his books, he had dedicated himself entirely to the sword.

    The last was Chu Hon-gaek.

    He was from the Dark Path.

    Rather than martial arts, he excelled in poisons and trickery, and he had a deep greed for wealth.

    When rumors of the Snow Plum Elixir began to circulate, he showed up in Hefei—and vanished the day the elixir disappeared.

    From that day on, there was no mention of him in any Martial Alliance report.

    “Chu Hon-gaek…”

    As I followed the trail of logic, I hit a wall.

    Each branch of the Alliance is required to report the movements of major figures across the land. But there was no trace of Chu Hon-gaek anywhere.

    That meant he had likely gone into hiding after the incident.

    And especially for thieves like him, assuming multiple identities using human-skin masks wasn’t uncommon.

    He might have erased the identity of “Chu Hon-gaek” entirely after stealing the Snow Plum Elixir.

    “But no new person showed up around that time.”

    I rampaged through the mental archives for any new thieves that had appeared after Chu Hon-gaek vanished, but none matched.

    Then, while digging through other mission reports, I let out a laugh.

    “Ha!”

    So that’s the trick he used.

    “No wonder there were no traces.”

    If my hunch was right, he wouldn’t even need to worry about being pursued after stealing the elixir.

    “This might be easier than I thought.”

    Feeling reassured, I stepped over the corpse of the spider, ready to leave the cave—when an overwhelming force suddenly yanked on my left arm.

    “?”

    I instinctively looked down at my left hand—and was stunned.

    Coiled around my wrist was a blue dragon.

    The Azure Dragon Ring I had worn in my previous life was glowing beneath my skin.

    What in the world is going on?

    It was strange enough that the ring I once wore was now embedded in my body—but even more bizarre was the fact that it was clearly pulling toward the corpse of the spider.

    “Is it craving the inner core?”

    The Human-faced Spider’s inner core was so venomous that even touching it risked severe poisoning. I hadn’t dared go near it.

    And yet, the Azure Dragon Ring seemed to be pulling toward it.

    Rip!

    The stench that burst forth as I cut open the Human-faced Spider’s belly stung my eyes.

    The ring, now shining brighter, surged toward the core as if it had found its long-lost meal.

    “…What do I do now?”

    The Azure Dragon Ring was a relic from one of the Vampire Demon Kings of the Buddhist Guardian Sect.

    I had kept it to commemorate a hard-won victory in Sojeongdae, and until the day I died, it had been a symbol of that unit for me.

    “Screw it. Whatever.”

    As soon as I grasped the Human-faced Spider’s core—

    Sizzle!

    “Ggh!”

    A searing heat surged through my palm, burning as it seeped in.

    I tried to let go, fearing the venom might spread through my body—but then…

    “Huh?”

    A cool, refreshing sensation began to flow up my palm.

    What had started as a small trickle like a stream soon grew into a mighty river that coursed through my entire body.

    It was a completely different kind of refreshment than when I absorbed the Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng. A shiver ran through my whole body.

    The core that had been in my hand vanished without a trace, and I could feel a slightly larger mass settled in my dantian.

    “Heh… this…”

    I looked at the dimming Azure Dragon Ring with disbelief.

    “Should I be happy about this… or not?”

  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 186

    The enormous snake that appeared outside the base had a size comparable to a disaster-class magical beast.

    Each time the snake’s massive body moved, a thunderous roar echoed, and the ground trembled.

    Each team’s assault unit immediately began preparing for battle.

    Of course, since focusing solely on the snake could leave them vulnerable to attacks from other teams, the defense and support units stayed behind to guard the assault team.

    —Sssss!

    Thus began the battle against the giant magical beast.

    Countless spells struck the snake’s body precisely, but none could pierce its tough skin.

    It was proof that the snake had the durability of a field boss.

    Meanwhile, Shin Young-joon, attacking the snake to earn points, couldn’t help but feel puzzled.

    What kind of confidence did Team B have to send only Kim Sunwoo into the base?

    No matter how good Kim Sunwoo was at strategy exams, sending him alone against the ace members of two other teams was a gamble.

    If they had at least sent in Lee Seo-jun, or even Jang Soo-yeon with him, they would have had a much better chance.

    With those two’s skills, they would surely be stronger than the other teams’ ace duos.

    And then, there was something else bothering him—Lee Seo-jun’s last words.

    —Kim Sunwoo said to just focus on racking up team points out here.

    In other words, Team B’s seemingly irrational movements were part of Kim Sunwoo’s strategy.

    What kind of strategy could it be…

    “Ah.”

    In that moment, Shin Young-joon realized what Kim Sunwoo’s plan was.

    There was no other explanation for Team B’s movements.

    He immediately turned his gaze to Lee Seo-jun.

    “Lee Seo-jun.”

    At Shin Young-joon’s call, Lee Seo-jun paused his fight with the snake and looked at him.

    “What?”

    “You’re giving up on taking the base and going all-in on the external events, aren’t you?”

    “What?”

    “You guys know you can’t hold the base even if you take it, so you’re trying to monopolize the external event points instead. Am I right?”

    Team B had far fewer mages specializing in AOE magic compared to the other teams.

    That meant even if they did capture the stronghold, it would be very difficult for them to hold it.

    If they captured it, they’d have to defend it against two teams at once—and Team B simply couldn’t manage that.

    It was, in a way, the obvious choice.

    The only lingering question was: if they were going to give up on the stronghold, why did Kim Sunwoo enter it?

    That was probably to prepare for any unexpected variables inside the stronghold.

    “……”

    Lee Seo-jun fell silent for a moment at Shin Young-joon’s words.

    He immediately understood what Shin Young-joon was getting at.

    Indeed, given that B Team lacked AOE magic and was at a disadvantage in defending the base, this was a strategy more suited to their circumstances.

    However, based on the subtle meaning in Kim Sunwoo’s words the night before, it was clear he had no intention of giving up the base.

    And if he had planned to give it up from the start, he wouldn’t have entered the base at all—he would have stayed out here.

    Now Lee Seo-jun found himself wondering too.

    What on earth was Kim Sunwoo thinking?

    He soon cleared his thoughts and turned back to Shin Young-joon.

    “Think what you want.”

    [You have entered the base.]

    [Real-time Location Status]

    [1st Floor: Kim Chang-hyun, Jeon Min-gi, Kim Sunwoo, Choi Seo-yoon, Yoo Ara]

    As I entered the base, I noticed the overhead digital display lighting up the dark corridor.

    It was a real-time monitor that roughly showed where each person inside the stronghold was located.

    From Team A, Kim Chang-hyun and Jeon Min-gi had entered.

    From Team C, Choi Seo-yoon and Yoo Ara were inside.

    They were each team’s leader and ace.

    “Just as expected.”

    Since failing to secure the base came with massive drawbacks compared to the benefits of taking it, this result was inevitable.

    I glanced away from the monitor and looked down the end of the corridor.

    Pitch-black darkness.

    It was eerie—like some ghost or monster might suddenly pop out.

    “…Feels creepy going alone.”

    If I had known it’d be like this, I would’ve brought someone with me.

    [Your eyes are adapting to the darkness!]

    Just then, my Evolution and Adaptation trait activated, and I began to fainty see through the darkness ahead.

    Fortunately, there were no ghosts or monsters.

    Still, I couldn’t let my guard down.

    In this world, even if ghosts aren’t real, monsters can appear at any moment.

    Just as I was about to walk down the corridor—

    “Oh, right.”

    I remembered the hidden secret on the first floor.

    It was the illusion magic that made people repeat the same path endlessly.

    I immediately used Illusion Severance.

    [Activation Effect: ‘Illusion Severing’ has been triggered.]

    Whoosh!

    At the same time, the view before me changed.

    A hidden passage appeared beside a single intersection.

    “Heh. Too easy.”

    I let out a light chuckle and entered the secret passage. It, too, was a long stretch of dark corridor.

    To conquer the base, I needed to take control of the “Control Room” at the very top on the 5th floor.

    Naturally, that meant I had to find the stairs.

    Think of it like climbing a tower.

    As I kept walking down the corridor, something moving in the darkness caught my eye.

    Thanks to Evolution and Adaptation, I could see it clearly even in the shadows.

    A beast’s face.

    Large leathery wings sprouting from its back.

    It looked to be about 220 cm tall.

    A Black Guardian Gargoyle.

    —Grrr…

    Maybe because I had used my “Silent Steps” trait to suppress both sound and presence, the gargoyle hadn’t noticed me approaching.

    I had activated the trait for situations like this—definitely the right call.

    I reached my hand toward the creature.

    The gargoyle’s defining trait was its agility—on par with an A-rank enhancement-type mage.

    If it turned into a one-on-one fight, things could get annoying. I had to take it down before it noticed me.

    Fortunately, its one weakness was its low defense. A quick spell, even if briefly cast, could land a critical blow.

    Whooo…

    I gathered mana.

    A few dots of mana formed at my fingertips and soon merged into an orb.

    And the moment the orb was fully formed—

    I fired it immediately.

    Bang—!

    The orb shot forward, brightly illuminating the dark corridor.

    As expected, the gargoyle sensed the mana and reacted quickly, trying to dodge.

    But I didn’t plan to let it escape.

    I instantly used Grasp of Nature to grasp its leg tightly.

    My grip strength wasn’t that great, but it only needed to confuse the beast.

    —Screee!?

    KABOOM—!

    [You have defeated the Gargoyle guarding the base.]

    [You earned 50 personal points.]

    [Achievement Unlocked: ‘Silent Monster Assassin’]

    [You earned 2,000 points as a reward.]

    “Whew.”

    That was easier than I thought.

    As I approached the gargoyle’s corpse, it gradually crumbled into dust, leaving behind a small key.

    ━━

    [Key to the 2nd Floor Made of Mystery]

    Description: Inject mana to unlock the door to the 2nd floor of the stronghold.

    ━━

    “Finally, the second floor.”

    It was a more anticlimactic ending than I expected.

    I immediately gripped the key and injected mana into it.

    At the same time, a bright light burst from the key, and a dimensional gate opened in the empty space, forming a staircase.

    “Shall we go?”

    I climbed the stairs.

    Meanwhile, Choi Seo-yoon and Yoo Ara were still wandering around the first floor.

    They still hadn’t realized that an illusion spell had been cast on it.

    About fifteen minutes had passed like that.

    Choi Seo-yoon began to sense something was off.

    “Don’t you think we’ve been walking around the same spot this whole time?”

    Yoo Ara nodded at her words.

    “Yeah. I felt it too.”

    “Isn’t this some kind of illusion spell? Something’s weird.”

    The sense of endlessly walking around the same place was strong evidence that the first floor was under an illusion spell.

    If so, they had to hurry and break the illusion barrier.

    But Yoo Ara didn’t have much talent outside of manifestation-type magic.

    She had scored high in exams related to illusions, but that was only because she used her own unique method, not a traditional one.

    Yoo Ara turned her gaze to Choi Seo-yoon.

    “Can you dispel the illusion?”

    “No. I can use some support-type magic, but I haven’t learned anything related to illusions yet.”

    Of course.

    Even if Choi Seo-yoon was ranked first, she was still a first-year.

    At that age, she was just beginning to learn the basics of magic, so it was natural that she couldn’t handle illusion spells yet.

    “……Then I guess there’s only that method.”

    “That method?”

    Choi Seo-yoon looked at her with a puzzled expression.

    “Step back. As far as you can.”

    Choi Seo-yoon did as she was told and backed away.

    Yoo Ara glanced at her, then spread her arms wide.

    At the same time, a surge of powerful mana began to erupt from her body.

    Fwoooosh!

    Multiple fireballs floated above her head.

    Choi Seo-yoon opened her mouth in surprise when she saw them.

    “S-Sunbae? What are you—”

    “If I can’t dispel the illusion, I’ll just blow it up!”

    As soon as Yoo Ara spoke, the fireballs she had conjured rained down in all directions through the hallway.

    Boom! Boom! Booooom!

    Explosions continued to erupt.

    It was a rather brute-force approach, but it was a special method that only someone like Yoo Ara—who specialized in area attacks—could pull off.

    By blasting magic everywhere like this, she could potentially destroy the hidden device maintaining the illusion spell.

    And then—

    Her crude tactic worked.

    Whether because the continuous area attacks damaged the illusion device or not, the scenery before them began to change.

    “There we go.”

    Yoo Ara smiled in satisfaction.

    She worried briefly that she might’ve looked a bit reckless in front of her junior, but since the result was good, it didn’t matter.

    Pointing to a hidden corridor revealed in the darkness, Yoo Ara spoke.

    “That way.”

    Choi Seo-yoon stared at Yoo Ara in shock.

    She already knew Yoo Ara’s magical style and that she had practically unlimited mana, but seeing it in person was far more destructive and intense than expected.

    ‘……She just smashed the illusion spell?’

    The current evaluation of Yoo Ara in the public eye was that if not for Lee Seo-jun, she would be called the most gifted genius of her generation.

    This second-year class was referred to as a “legendary generation” not just because of Lee Seo-jun, but because of the presence of an equally monstrous second-in-command—Yoo Ara.

    But Choi Seo-yoon, top of the first-years, hadn’t wanted to admit that.

    She was proud of her own generation and believed they were competitive with the upper years.

    But now, after witnessing Yoo Ara’s magic, her perspective had changed.

    This second-year generation really was full of monsters.

    Not just Lee Seo-jun and Yoo Ara—but geniuses like Luke and Lily Rose abroad as well.

    “What are you thinking about?”

    Yoo Ara’s voice snapped Choi Seo-yoon out of her thoughts.

    “O-Oh, it’s nothing. Let’s hurry.”

    “Yeah? Then let’s go.”

    “Yes!”

    Choi Seo-yoon responded with energy.

    And so, Yoo Ara and Choi Seo-yoon headed toward the hidden room.

    Then, Yoo Ara suddenly became curious about the current status of the base.

    She turned on her smart student notebook, and a real-time status board linked to the base appeared.

    [Real-Time Location]

    [1st Floor: Kim Chang-hyun, Jeon Min-gi, Choi Seo-yoon, Yoo Ara]

    [2nd Floor: Kim Sunwoo]

    The result she expected appeared on screen.

    “…Of course it’s Kim Sunwoo.”

    Yoo Ara murmured quietly.

    Though she was highly competitive, her expression didn’t show any frustration.

    Seeing that, Choi Seo-yoon felt a sudden curiosity.

    “Um, sunbae?”

    Yoo Ara turned her head at the call.

    “Why do you think Kim Sunwoo sunbae is the only one who entered the base?”

    “Because he’s unmatched in this kind of exam.”

    Choi Seo-yoon nodded at her words.

    It was already well-known that Kim Sunwoo had outstanding ability in this type of challenge.

    “Hm. But even if Team B captures the base, defending it won’t be easy.”

    “True. They don’t really have anyone good at AOE magic.”

    Muttering to herself, Yoo Ara spoke again.

    “Still, we can’t let our guard down. With Kim Sunwoo around, you never know what kind of variable he’ll bring.”

    At those words, Choi Seo-yoon was struck by another question.

    “Sunbae, how strong do you think Kim Sunwoo is compared to the rest of the second years worldwide?”

    It was a question she’d had for a long time.

    Exactly where did Kim Sunwoo rank on a global scale?

    If anyone knew, it would be Yoo Ara, who had watched his magic closely for a long time.

    “When I saw the video from the last captain match, he seemed just slightly behind Lee Seo-jun sunbae.”

    “Hm…”

    That fight—Lee Seo-jun vs. Kim Sunwoo—was considered one of the highlights of the first midterm team battle.

    Yoo Ara hadn’t watched it live because she had been too focused on her own match.

    But afterward, due to all the buzz, she had gone back to watch a replay of their battle.

    At that time, Kim Sunwoo had shown signs of being slightly overpowered by Lee Seo-jun.

    Of course, there were moments when he did something strange—like casually kicking Lee Seo-jun mid-battle—but that didn’t last.

    As if he had awakened, Lee Seo-jun began overpowering Kim Sunwoo with incredible speed and force.

    Had a teammate not interfered, Kim Sunwoo likely would have lost.

    At least, that’s what the footage suggested.

    And most people who saw the fight concluded the same thing:

    Kim Sunwoo was unexpectedly skilled, but still no match for Lee Seo-jun.

    But—

    Yoo Ara knew a behind-the-scenes detail about that battle that no one else did.

    “…During that captain match. Lee Seo-jun told me Kim Sunwoo was holding back.”

    At her quiet whisper, Choi Seo-yoon’s eyes widened.

    “What? Kim Sunwoo sunbae held back against Lee Seo-jun sunbae?”

    “Yeah. Lee Seo-jun said so himself.”

    Choi Seo-yoon was shaken.

    She already knew that Kim Sunwoo’s skills were greater than what was publicly known.

    But even so, she thought he was still below Lee Seo-jun, a globally renowned genius.

    Yet he had held back against him?

    Which meant…

    “You’re saying Kim Sunwoo sunbae is actually above Lee Seo-jun sunbae?”

    Yoo Ara shook her head, then answered seriously.

    “I don’t know. But I do think Kim Sunwoo isn’t behind him in any way.”

    Read advance chapter on Patreon. Click here.

  • Star Maker Chapter 58

    The atmosphere on the set of Idol War the second time around was quite different from the first.

    During the initial shoot, the overall mood had been a mix of anticipation and anxiety, but now it had shifted to a blend of excitement and high expectations.

    “Did you see the broadcast?”

    “Of course I did. PD Nam edited it amazingly.”

    “The response has been great. There’s no way this flops—at the very least it’ll be a solid mid-level hit.”

    “Mid-level? If episode 2 is good, it’s going to be a huge success. Social media’s already going nuts.”

    “Would be nice if we got some bonuses if it blows up.”

    “I heard weekday variety shows usually hand out bonuses if they crack 10%.”

    This kind of chatter among the rookie floor directors was due to the early signs of a breakout hit.

    In truth, based solely on viewership ratings, Idol War wasn’t yet considered a major success.

    A 7.1% rating wasn’t low by any means, but it wasn’t overwhelming either.

    Variety show ratings, unless they had a special boost, typically followed a slow downward slope.

    The previous show, Chicken Race, had opened with ratings in the low 10% range but had dropped to 4% by the final episode for exactly that reason.

    Of course, Chicken Race had ended poorly due to a scandal involving infidelity, and Idol War was a pilot program with a set number of episodes, so a direct comparison wasn’t fair.

    Still, the 7.1% rating alone wasn’t enough to declare it a hit.

    Even so, everyone thought Idol War was a breakout success—and that was because of its explosive online response.

    • #1 in search volume on portal sites.
    • #1 in online buzz index.
    • #1 in SNS buzz volume.
    • #1 in IPTV rewatch count.
    • 300,000 views on Personal Color’s highlight clips.

    All records set within just two days.

    These numbers were clear proof of how much attention Idol War was attracting online.

    Of course, there were still some concerns.

    One was the overly off balance viewer demographic—mostly teens and people in their twenties with a direct interest in idols.

    But the show had the advantage of being a weekday variety program.

    Weekday shows airing after 11 p.m. were often watched by families together.

    As more kids discovered the show online and became fans, it was natural that their parents would eventually become viewers too.

    That was one reason why Idol War was so focused on online promotions.

    If the online audience transitioned into offline viewers, those rookie FDs getting bonuses would be only a matter of time.

    Winner Takes All.

    That phrase—winner takes all—seemed more fitting to the entertainment world than anywhere else, Seon-ho thought as soon as he arrived on the set of Idol War.

    Or maybe this is what you’d call a dramatic shift in fortunes?

    The thought came to him because the production team had given the largest private waiting room to Personal Color.

    It wasn’t just the atmosphere on set that had changed.

    The way the production crew and rival teams treated Personal Color had also changed completely.

    First off, the staff now acted as if they would grant Personal Color anything they asked for.

    Their excessive kindness left the members feeling more bewildered than pleased.

    On the flip side, the rival teams now seemed uncomfortable around Personal Color.

    Aside from Dream Girls, who had a rocky history with them, most teams had initially liked Personal Color.

    Online netizens had accused them of being forced into the show because of An Jia’s appearance in a KBM drama, but the competitors hadn’t felt that way.

    To them, Personal Color had been a convenient team to take the fall in the first round of eliminations.

    But not anymore.

    Things had changed.

    At this point, Personal Color had become a more threatening competitor than either Jesco or A.S.A.P.

    Maybe that was the reason—or maybe it was just how things were—but Personal Color now had little interaction with the other teams.

    They simply waited in their spacious room.

    Waiting time used to be the most frustrating part for Personal Color, often causing team manager Kwon Hosan a stomach ache.

    But not anymore.

    “Oppa, what is this supposed to mean?”

    An Jia handed her phone to Woochan.

    The screen displayed comments posted on a mysterious message board.

    └ There’s no better example of the trickle-down effect than Woochan. When sweat starts to roll down from his crown, no economist in the world can deny the economic impact.

    └ Woochan’s eyelashes are like put options. The more they fall, the more profit.

    └ Woochan’s eyelashes are like currency exchange rates. The lower they drop, the higher the value of the won.

    └ Aw, the first two were great but this guy ruined it.

    └ Woochan’s eyelashes are like interest rates. Whether they rise or fall, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m broke.

    └ Hahahahahaha.

    └ Brilliant writing.

    Woochan tilted his head as he looked at the phone.

    “You don’t get it? What does this mean?”

    “It sounds positive… but I don’t really understand it.”

    “Isn’t it hate comments?”

    Riha, who had been listening from the side, burst into laughter as she looked at the phone.

    “Unnie, you understood this?”

    “Of course I did. Even if I lost all interest in studying and was dead last in class, I still went to a foreign language high school.”

    “What does it mean?”

    “They’re saying it’s good when Woochan’s eyelashes fall. They’re just using economic terms as metaphors.”

    “Why use economic terms?”

    “Because it’s a stock trading message board. Those guys are good at everything except actual investing.”

    With that, Riha burst into laughter again.

    Thinking about it just made it even funnier.

    “Woochan-oppa. With this much support, don’t you think it’s okay to shed a tear or two?”

    “Ah, seriously!”

    Woochan, having lost all big-brother authority, bickered with Riha while Baek Songyi scolded them to quiet down because they were being a nuisance.

    But no one seemed fazed by her scolding.

    The atmosphere in the waiting room—once a source of anxiety for manager Kwon—had already become light and relaxed.

    Rather than interacting with the other teams, Personal Color much preferred talking amongst themselves.

    They had three years worth of conversations to catch up on, after all.

    A little later, as a staff member came in to change the tape on the waiting room camera, Seon-ho approached to ask a question.

    “Excuse me.”

    “Yes?”

    “Is it because the waiting room is big? There seem to be a lot more cameras than usual.”

    “Ah, that’s on PD Nam’s orders.”

    “PD Nam’s orders?”

    “Yes. He said the viewers would want to see the reconciled Personal Color, so he told us to install every spare camera.”

    “Ahh.”

    Seon-ho nodded.

    Indeed, the ‘teamwork’ of Personal Color was a major point of interest for Idol War’s viewers.

    “You should strike a pose too, Manager. Wouldn’t it be nice if you showed up looking cool on camera?”

    “Come on, does it matter if I look cool? The members are the ones who need to stand out.”

    “There are even comments about you sometimes. Like why that member’s always with them during missions but never on stage.”

    Seon-ho gave a embarrassed smile at the staff member’s comment.

    After a bit more small talk, the staff replaced the tape and left the waiting room.

    Shortly after, the cheerful wait came to an end, and the opening for the second recording of Idol War began.

    Idol War was a survival show where ranks were given and contestants were eliminated—but it had no judges.

    Or more precisely, it had so many judges that they couldn’t be listed. Because the judges of Idol War were the public.

    There were five evaluation criteria used to judge through the public:

    1. Real-time text voting: 30%
    2. Big data score: 25%
    3. Audience panel vote: 20%
    4. Pre-show online vote: 15%
    5. SNS buzz index: 10%

    “Let me explain the big data score, which might be unfamiliar to some.”

    As soon as singer Jo Junseok, the sole host of Idol War, finished speaking, the contestants all wore intrigued expressions.

    Some even scooted their chairs closer, focusing intently on the screen.

    But these were calculated reactions—designed to get more screen time.

    They had already received full explanations during the pre-recording meeting.

    Meanwhile, Jo Junseok continued his explanation.

    The big data score was calculated based on online data related to each team.

    For example, if 82% of the data related to the team Personal Color contained positive words and 18% contained negative ones, their score would be 82.

    If there was a portion of neutral data that was neither positive nor negative, half of that amount would be converted into points.

    So if Personal Color had 80% positive, 10% negative, and 10% neutral, half of the neutral—5%—would be added to the score, making it 85 points in total.

    “The team introduction mission was an exhibition match with no eliminations. However, to imitate a real round, we’ll still reveal the scores.”

    The first score revealed was the SNS buzz index, the category with the lowest weighting.

    1st place went to Personal Color. 7th was Ladies Day.

    At that moment, the host added an explanation.

    “In the case of Dream Girls, who made a critical mistake, their SNS buzz index was actually high. Their mistake got people talking.”

    The members of Dream Girls made unsure expressions—unsure whether to be happy or not.

    A high SNS buzz score was good, but that likely meant their big data score would be low.

    Next came the pre-show online voting results.

    1st place was A.S.A.P. 7th was Personal Color.

    That was to be expected.

    Before the first episode aired, Personal Color was just a team digging dirt. They had no chance of ranking high in pre-show votes.

    Then the host said,

    “For the real-time text vote, big data score, and audience panel vote, we’ll only be revealing the 1st and 7th places.”

    The singers looked puzzled at the sudden announcement, but soon nodded.

    Revealing ranks 2 through 6 was meaningless.

    Because Personal Color had swept all the top spots.

    Their big data score alone was 94% positive, 2% negative, and 4% neutral—for a total of 96 points.

    Dream Girls, in 7th, scored 31 points.

    Jo Junseok continued.

    “If this had been the first official round and not just an exhibition, Dream Girls would be eliminated right here. With the combined results, they placed 7th out of 7 teams.”

    Tension filled the set in an instant.

    Next week, after preparing a stage for a whole week, applying full makeup, and dressing in performance outfits, one team would be sent home after merely hearing the results.

    Everyone was just hoping it wouldn’t be them.

    After the opening ended in silence, the main filming began.

    Filming progressed smoothly.

    In truth, there wasn’t much for Seon-ho to help with during the second and third rounds.

    The second round’s arrangement was done by a producer from MOK, and the third round was a cover mission where they weren’t allowed to change the original song.

    All Seon-ho could do was trust and watch over Personal Color.

    Of course, the fact that he had triggered the potential that had lain dormant in Personal Color for three years meant he had already fulfilled his role perfectly.

    And it wasn’t just about triggering potential.

    As time passed, Idol War was gaining more attention, and with it, Vivid’s chart performance was rapidly rising.

    The song that started off at 10th had now reached 3rd.

    Since Idol War was still a new pilot program, it didn’t have the same influence as Tomorrow’s K-Star.

    That’s why Vivid didn’t debut at #1 on the charts.

    But Seon-ho believed Vivid was as good as autumn leaf, and he held out hope that it could take 1st place before the weekend ended.

    Maybe that’s why he felt even more frustrated.

    He wanted to stir up an even stronger wind behind the slowly rising Personal Color.

    They said the 4th round mission would be revealed after today’s shoot, right?

    With that thought, Seon-ho headed for the bathroom.

    As he stood at the urinal, someone called out to him.

    “Hey.”

    A man of average height had just finished at the innermost urinal.

    He looked vaguely familiar—on closer inspection, it was Jeon Heeseong, the manager in charge of Dream Girls.

  • Star Maker Chapter 57

    The female lead “Song Woohee” in High School in Melody, played by An Jia, wasn’t a character known for her singing skills.

    Song Woohee had a genius-level talent for acting, and she’d grown up as an actress under the expectations of her agency and parents, who recognized that talent early on.

    High School in Melody began with the story of how such a girl became captivated by musicals.

    “There’s a scene in episode 4 where Song Woohee opens her eyes to singing. I want to ask Prefer to create the song for that.”

    At Min Heeyoung’s words, Seon-ho asked,

    “What exactly do you mean by ‘opens her eyes’?”

    “Originally, it was literally a scene where she suddenly becomes good at singing. That’s easier to manage in sound mixing or directing.”

    “So it’s changed now?”

    “Yes. Watching Idol Wars made me realize something about An Jia—what kind of feeling she gives off.”

    Originally, Min Heeyoung had another actress in mind for the lead role in High School in Melody.

    But after seeing An Jia sing during the casting auditions, she changed her mind.

    “When An Jia sings, there’s this strangely intense sense of focus. It’s not that your gaze goes to her—it’s that your gaze is stolen by her. Even though she’s not particularly good at singing.”

    “I know what you mean.”

    “She acts while singing—she interprets the lyrics through acting. And she does it with this incredible level of immersion.”

    “Yes.”

    “And the composer Prefer knew that?”

    “Well, something like that.”

    “There’s not much time before shooting starts, so we need the song within two weeks, no matter what. We’re scrapping the originally prepared track for this, so we can’t afford delays. Is it possible?”

    At Min Heeyoung’s question, Seon-ho readily replied,

    “Yes.”

    He had already confirmed Jia’s potential while working on Vivid.

    There was a song he had always wanted to try writing—for her.

    Two weeks was tight, but doable.

    “If the song turns out well, I’ll strongly push for it to be the main OST. Please tell the Prefer I’m counting on him.”

    “Writer-nim, could I possibly get a copy of the script? I’d like to understand the exact context of the scene where the song appears.”

    “You can get the script from An Jia or MOK, can’t you?”

    “No, I mean the draft version. The raw script—not the one that’s been compromised by reality.”

    TV dramas, unlike films, are often crushed by budget and time constraints.

    Even if a writer wants to show a scene at ‘100’, it often only comes out at ‘80’—a compromise with reality.

    But Seon-ho wanted to see the ‘100’ version.

    At his request, Min Heeyoung asked in an odd tone,

    “I’ve heard the stories… You really are Prefer’s doorman, aren’t you?”

    “Doorman?”

    “The one who opens doors.”

    Min Heeyoung smiled and said,

    “I’ll send you the script by courier right away. I would email it, but I have scribbled too many notes on it with a pen.”

    “Thank you.”

    “Once you’ve got a draft of the song, let’s set up a meeting with An Jia. It’d be great if Prefer could come too.”

    “Understood. I’ll confirm the cameo appearance first, then contact you again.”

    Just as Seon-ho hung up, a voice called out from behind him.

    “Cameo? What cameo?”

    “Oh, Team Leader.”

    It was Choi Ki-seok, head of the PR team.

    “The High School in Melody team wants to cast Personal Color for a cameo.”

    “A cameo? In which episode?”

    “The first one.”

    “Was that the drama’s PD on the phone just now?”

    “No, it was the writer.”

    “For High School in Melody, that would be… Writer Min?”

    “Yes.”

    Choi Ki-seok looked at Seon-ho with suspicion.

    “What are you, some kind of connection vacuum? You suck up everyone? Since when were you close with Writer Min?”

    “I’m not, really. It just kind of happened…”

    Bzzzz.

    Just then, Seon-ho’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.

    Choi Ki-seok, standing to his right, caught sight of the caller ID and was shocked.

    [CEO Kim Donghan]

    “The CEO? That’s his private number, isn’t it?”

    “Team Leader, I need to take this…”

    “Yeah, sure. Take it in the meeting room next door—it’s free today.”

    Leaving behind a cheeky “Let’s be close friends,” Choi Ki-seok stepped aside.

    Seon-ho went into the meeting room next door and answered the call.

    “Yes, sir.”

    —“Right. You said you had something to say?”

    The calm voice on the other end didn’t sound irritated by the sudden call.

    Seon-ho’s next move would depend entirely on how that voice changed now.

    He began.

    “I’m not sure if this is appropriate to ask, but… I was wondering if the reason you’re sending me to Hye-mi is because of her contract renewal.”

    —“Hmm.”

    It wasn’t a yes, but the tone could be interpreted as an affirmation.

    So Seon-ho pressed further.

    “Then if Hye-mi does renew her contract, would you allow me to continue managing Personal Color?”

    Kim Dong-han didn’t respond for several long seconds.

    The silence felt unusually heavy.

    And when he finally spoke…

    —“That won’t be possible.”

    A clear no.

    Seon-ho didn’t try to argue.

    He simply acknowledged it, apologized for the sudden call, and ended the conversation.

    Now it was clear.

    Just as Team Leader Park Cha-myung suspected, CEO Kim Dong-han hadn’t assigned him based solely on Hye-mi’s contract renewal.

    Of course, that played a significant part.

    But it wasn’t everything.

    There was something more.

    As for what the CEO was really thinking…

    I don’t really care.

    He wasn’t interested in what the CEO wanted.

    What mattered was what he and his artists needed to be happy.

    And what actions he would take to make that happen.

    So Seon-ho picked up his phone again.

    —“Hye-mi. Can you talk right now?”

    —“I can’t at the moment. Why?”

    —“Do you remember the favour I asked on the train?”

    —“Yes. Of course.”

    —“Can you do it now?”

    The reply came quickly.

    —“So I’m working with you on the same team now?”

    Seon-ho finished most of his office work and headed to the second-floor choreography studio of the company building.

    As soon as he got off the elevator, he could see Personal Color through the window of the largest practice room.

    On the broadcast, Idol War would make it seem like the concept for each stage was decided weekly, but in reality, the singers were already preparing for three stages even before the first episode aired.

    • Preliminary Round: Team Introduction Mission
    • Round 1: Theme Selection Mission
    • Round 2: Cover Song Mission

    The preliminary round was already over. Now came the theme selection mission—where the first eliminations would begin.

    This mission’s theme was “Singing a Different Song.”

    Personal Color was scheduled to perform Role Model, a hit song by Jesco.

    Seon-ho hadn’t been involved much in the preparation of Role Model. MOK had already done such an excellent arrangement that there was no need to interfere further.

    On the other hand, Vivid was honestly a risky song.

    If the members couldn’t convey emotion, it would be a zero. If they could, it was a perfect hundred. A song of extremes—make or break.

    By comparison, MOK’s arrangement of Role Model was an 85-point song.

    As long as they didn’t make mistakes, they could comfortably score 85. If Personal Color performed well, they might even aim higher.

    It didn’t quite align with Seon-ho’s usual approach of pushing artists to reach 100% of their potential, but it was still a song worth learning from.

    “Hm?”

    Seon-ho tilted his head as he watched Personal Color’s practice through the studio window.

    He wasn’t an expert in dance, but even he could tell the members’ arms and legs were moving awkwardly.

    “This is more than just awkward.”

    Even Woochan was extending the same hand and foot while dancing.

    “What’s going on? Is there a problem?”

    Unable to bear it any longer, Seon-ho opened the door and walked in, drawing all the members’ attention at once.

    They all had somewhat dazed and surreal expressions.

    “Oppa!”

    Baek Songyi ran up to him.

    “What happened? Your face is pale.”

    “Oppa, did you not see the article?”

    “Article? What article?”

    “The Idol War article!”

    “I saw it. I monitored almost everything from the major media outlets. Why? Did someone write nonsense?”

    “No, it’s not that. Our name is showing up way too much. And Personal Color is currently number one on real-time search rankings!”

    Seon-ho tilted his head.

    “I know. So? Didn’t we check that this morning with the manager?”

    Baek Songyi replied in a frustrated tone.

    “I said we’re number one! Number one! We hit number one in the search rankings for the first time in three years!”

    “Mm, congrats.”

    “I’m not saying I want congratulations…”

    “You’re saying it feels unreal?”

    “Yes!”

    “But didn’t you expect it at least a little after the first performance?”

    “Well… yeah, but…”

    Baek Songyi and the rest of Personal Color seemed dazed, as if they couldn’t understand why they were receiving this much attention.

    That’s when Seon-ho said,

    “You’ll have to get used to it. Seeing your names in articles, being number one in search rankings. This isn’t going to be a one-time thing.”

    Personal Color had only ever known failure over the past three years.

    Three years was a deceptively short phrase for what it really felt like.

    Longer than military service, and full three years was even longer than an actual high school career.

    That’s why it felt so surreal.

    After three years of nothing but failure, to suddenly taste success—while their minds might understand it, their bodies couldn’t accept it yet.

    You could say they were having trouble adjusting to the situation.

    There was no way Seon-ho, who was perceptive, hadn’t noticed.

    But Idol War was just getting started.

    If they became too intoxicated with this early success, that lingering aftertaste might interfere with the next stage, stopping them from giving their best.

    So he deliberately put on a composed front.

    Just then, An Jia—who had somehow ended up beside him—asked,

    “Then oppa, aren’t you happy?”

    “I’m thrilled. But being happy and being surprised are two different things.”

    “You mean you’re not surprised?”

    “Yup. I expected this.”

    At Seon-ho’s words, the Personal Color members let out awkward chuckles.

    Because their manager seemed to take it so naturally, it started to feel like maybe it really was natural.

    Even though it was no easy feat, he made it look like it wasn’t hard at all.

    Then Woochan spoke.

    “Listen to this guy. Acting all high and mighty when he’s only been our manager for three months!”

    Seon-ho opened his mouth to respond to the joke, then paused, noticing something.

    “Did you cry?”

    “What? What are you talking about? Who cried?”

    “No, it’s just… your eyes…”

    Seon-ho tilted his head.

    Woochan’s eyes looked a little swollen.

    That’s when Teiji spoke up.

    “Manager hyung, didn’t you know? Do you know why Woochan hyung got his stage name?”

    “Huh? I don’t know either,” Riha said, curiously.

    As Teiji began to explain, Woochan quickly tried to stop him.

    “Sangho! I’ll buy you jokbal!”

    “Just jokbal…?”

    “I’ll buy bossam too!”

    “I don’t even like bossam. That’s your favourite.”

    But Teiji went ahead and revealed it anyway.

    “Woochan hyung’s always been a cry baby. He tears up at the drop of a hat.”

    “Come to think of it, he was the first one crying on stage, wasn’t he…” Baek Songyi added.

    Teiji nodded.

    “Anyway, when we were with our previous company, the director who named him said, ‘Your eyes always look gloomy,’ and named him Woochan because of that.”

    An Jia, who had been quietly listening, said to Woochan,

    “I saw in a movie once, when men age, their testosterone levels drop and they get more emotional. They cry more too. So it’s natural—you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

    “That’s something that happens in middle age! I’m not that old!”

    Woochan protested, but it didn’t seem to help.

    “You need to cry more, Woochan oppa. I saw a comment under the article that said, ‘The more Woochan’s lashes fall, the more his popularity rises.’”

    “Yeah. Since sweating until your lashes are soaked is hard, just cry. If you close your eyes and cry, they’ll get wet fast, right?”

    With the triple combo from An Jia, Baek Songyi, and Riha, Woochan shut his mouth.

    But strangely, his eyes turned red again.

    “What, are you crying from a little teasing?”

    “No, it’s just… I’m amazed that we’re joking around like this.”

    At Woochan’s words, the other members couldn’t help but smile.

    Seon-ho, seeing the moment, wanted to tell them about their potential cameo appearance, but he held back—since it wasn’t 100% confirmed yet.

    That’s when Baek Songyi clapped her hands.

    “Alright, let’s practice!”

    “Let’s do it!”

    “We have to do well in tomorrow’s recording. I want to be #1 in searches again!”

    Practice resumed.

    Thanks to Seon-ho’s calmness and Woochan’s “sacrifice,” the mood was better than ever.

    Even when doing the same choreography, there was a noticeable difference between when everyone had different thoughts and when they were united.

    When they were on the same page, it truly felt like they were one.

    Seon-ho, confirming that Personal Color was no longer out of sync, so he called Jia over during a short break.

    “Jia, come here for a second.”

    “Um, okay.”

    Drenched in sweat, Jia started to approach, then suddenly stopped.

    “Say it from there.”

    “Huh? Why?”

    “Just because.”

    When Seon-ho stepped closer, Jia stepped back.

    Perplexed, Seon-ho asked,

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Just… I think I smell like sweat.”

    “Oh, that’s all? It’s fine. Come here.”

    But Jia wouldn’t budge.

    Seon-ho made a mental note to keep deodorant stocked in the practice room and continued.

    “Min Heeyoung the writer contacted me earlier.”

    “Writer Min? Why?”

    “You know there’s a singing scene in episode 4, right?”

    “Ah, yeah. I know.”

    “She wants to remake that song. She wants to give it to Prefer.”

    “Oh… I’d like that. I really like Prefer’s songs.”

    “So, I wanted to ask—have you read any novels or watched any movies lately that really stuck with you?”

    “Yes. There’s a novel I liked.”

    “Can you tell me the title?”

    When Jia gave the name, Seon-ho tilted his head.

    It was a strange title.

    Then Jia asked,

    “But why?”

    “You’ve been singing while immersing yourself in fragmented lyrics, without knowing the full story, right?”

    Seon-ho said.

    “But I’m curious what would happen if you sang from the perspective of a character from a story you really enjoyed.”

    Watching Jia practice Vivid, Seon-ho had started wondering—

    Maybe the level of immersion she was currently showing wasn’t even half of her true potential.

  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 185

    “……What the hell is this?”

    Park Inhwan glared at me and muttered.

    “What do you think it is?”

    At my response, Park Inhwan bit his lip.

    He must’ve known that the event reward was a “1:1 Colosseum Summon Ticket.”

    Even without a detailed explanation, he should have figured out what was happening.

    Park Inhwan glared at me as if he were going to kill me, then slowly began drawing out his mana.

    “Yeah, fine. Actually, this is perfect. After getting my ass handed to you so many times, I’ve studied your combat patterns.”

    My combat patterns?

    Whether it was just bravado or he had actually studied how I fought, I couldn’t tell—but it was interesting.

    It didn’t feel all that threatening, though.

    “You went and studied that?”

    “……You cocky bastard!”

    At his shout, fiery spikes formed behind his back.

    Fwoosh—!

    Blazing flame spikes.

    As Park Inhwan extended his hand, the spikes shot toward me at high speed.

    The attack was obvious, so I easily dodged it with a light step.

    Whoosh!

    “Tch!”

    Missing his mark, Park Inhwan bit his lip again. I stared at him intently.

    Back when we fought before, he did seem somewhat threatening. But maybe because of my recent experience battling strong opponents, his attacks now felt kind of cute.

    I must’ve grown a lot through all that real combat experience.

    My composed demeanor seemed to irritate him.

    “You son of a—!”

    Fwoooosh!

    Park Inhwan conjured flame spikes again.

    But this time, it wasn’t just one.

    More than twenty spikes formed behind his back.

    Simultaneous manifestation at that scale?

    As one of the top talents at the Mage Academy, his manifestation ability was undeniably impressive.

    Even I would struggle to do that. Enviable talent.

    “Ha!”

    With another motion, Park Inhwan sent the flame spikes flying at me once again.

    I reinforced my body with mana and dashed forward.

    Just as the spikes were about to hit me, I quickly deployed a mana shield.

    Pang—!

    The translucent white barrier that appeared before me blocked every flaming spike coming my way.

    Shields consume a lot of mana and their forms are tricky, so I didn’t use them often. But with lots of recent practice, I’d gotten somewhat used to handling them.

    Besides, with over twenty projectiles flying at me, blocking them was better than dodging.

    Park Inhwan seemed startled, likely not expecting me to use a barrier-type spell.

    I paused briefly and looked at him.

    “……Don’t tell me, your ‘combat pattern study’ led you to think all I could do was dodge?”

    Park Inhwan looked like I’d hit a nerve.

    “Uh… wasn’t it?”

    “…….”

    I suppose it’s not too far-fetched since I rarely showed this kind of spell before.

    Still, coming from the always-arrogant Park Inhwan, it was almost cute how much effort he’d put in.

    Anyway.

    I gathered mana again, quickly forming a magic orb and firing it.

    Pang—!

    The orb launched immediately after formation and shot toward Park Inhwan like a flash.

    “Argh!”

    It struck him square in the shoulder.

    He must’ve activated body reinforcement at the last second because it didn’t leave a deep wound. Still, he groaned in pain, clutching his shoulder.

    “Ugh! That was cheap!”

    “There’s no such thing as ‘cheap’ in combat.”

    I kept moving, forming another spell.

    This time, I compressed the mana so it wouldn’t be easily blocked.

    Vwooooom!

    “Shit!”

    Park Inhwan cursed, then pulled a piece of paper with a strange symbol from his clothes.

    It looked familiar.

    I didn’t have time to wonder. I launched the spell immediately to interrupt any suspicious move.

    Just as I did, Park Inhwan infused the paper with mana.

    Vwoooosh—!

    In that instant—

    A huge, two-headed dog burst from the paper and blocked my spell with its body.

    Boom—!

    Yelp!

    The creature jumped wildly as if in pain, slamming into the ground with every leap.

    It was so massive that the ground shook each time it landed.

    “……What now?”

    In a 1-on-1 duel, a summoned beast had suddenly appeared.

    I looked at the paper in Park Inhwan’s hand.

    It definitely came from there.

    Could that be… a Beast Summoning Scroll?

    Seems like it.

    I had a similar one myself.

    “…….”

    Park Inhwan… that bastard…

    He actually broke the rules.

    Items with such special effects are, of course, banned during exams.

    If they were allowed, rich students could just buy their way to better scores—so the ban was only fair.

    Still, using something like that during a live-streamed exam?

    He must really be pissed.

    He was probably thinking, “Even if I die, I’m taking you with me.”

    “Heh heh! Tear him apart!”

    Park Inhwan pointed at me, eyes gleaming with madness.

    Growl!

    The beast, baring its sharp fangs, charged at me at full speed.

    I quickly retreated, avoiding its jaws.

    Judging by its movements and toughness, it was at least an A-rank monster.

    If it’s A-rank, then I’d need to give it my all to win. And with Park Inhwan backing it up, the situation became even trickier.

    I used my outsiders privilege to analyse its weakness.

    “……There it is.”

    The two long necks connecting the heads to the body.

    I calmly released my compressed orb toward one of them.

    Pang—!

    A flash burst from my fingertips, the spell speeding toward its neck.

    But the beast was agile. It dodged.

    I charged at it again.

    Close-range combat against an A-rank monster was extremely risky—but if I wanted to hit its weak spot, this was the best way.

    Just as it lunged to bite me—

    I used Instant Acceleration.

    Time seemed to slow.

    I saw a perfect opening, kicked off the ground, and leapt high.

    Grabbing its fur, I climbed onto its back.

    Bark! Bark!

    The beast thrashed, trying to throw me off.

    But once I was on top, the fight was essentially over.

    Vwooooom—!

    I conjured another spell.

    “Haah!”

    And fired it right at its neck.

    Boom!

    Howl!

    [‘Summoned Beast Slain’ achievement unlocked.]

    [You’ve earned 2,000 points as a reward.]

    “……Whew.”

    The beast’s body crumbled like dust. The scattered particles gathered and returned to the paper in Park Inhwan’s hand.

    He stared up at me, dumbfounded.

    “A-An A-rank monster… you beat it alone…?”

    I slowly walked toward him.

    Park Inhwan looked up at me, completely defeated.

    “Tsk. Why’d you do that? You know this means at least a suspension—if not expulsion, right?”

    “…….”

    “Well, good luck trying not to get expelled.”

    I conjured another magic orb and shot it right at his head.

    Boom!

    [Winner, Kim Sunwoo.]

    [You have won in the 1:1 Colosseum!]

    [As a reward, you are granted 100 personal points!]

    “Whew……”

    The early elimination of Park Inhwan, the first hurdle on the path to overall rank 5.

    Successfully completed.

    A strange twist occurred when Park Inhwan suddenly used a forbidden item, which might prevent him from appearing next year as a third-year student……

    But that’s not something to worry about too much—he was going to become a villain anyway.

    What matters now is that I’ve successfully taken my first step toward becoming one of the top five overall.

    [You have won in the Colosseum, so you will now be returned to your original location.]

    Flash!

    Once again, a bright light flashed before my eyes, and the space around me shifted.

    A gentle scent of grass.

    Cool, clear air.

    I was back at the mountain peak where I had been standing earlier.

    “Whew……”

    Alright, time to head back.

    A fairly long time passed. The first night arrived.

    The sun had set, and deep darkness had fallen. With no light sources at all in this untamed wilderness, the night felt darker than usual.

    Crackle. Crackle……

    Students who could wield fire used their magic to ignite firewood and push back the darkness.

    The food supply team had caught pork somewhere out on the plains, which was now sizzling over the flames.

    “Smells good.”

    Lee Seo-jun, sitting across from me, quietly muttered as he watched the meat cook over the campfire.

    Then he looked at me.

    “Oh, right. Did you use that Colosseum ticket well?”

    “Yeah. Thanks to that, I knocked out Park Inhwan.”

    “Oh……”

    Lee Seo-jun gave a small sound of admiration before speaking again.

    “Guess you beat him more easily than expected. You look totally fine.”

    “……It wasn’t that easy. He pulled some weird stunt at the end.”

    “Weird stunt?”

    “Something like that. You’ll find out after the exam’s over.”

    At my words, Lee Seo-jun nodded. I turned my gaze to the meat roasting in front of me.

    Maybe it had been butchered weirdly—its shape was all crooked.

    Jang Soo-yeon, sitting next to me, didn’t seem to care. She picked up a piece and popped it into her mouth.

    Chew, chew.

    “Mmm~ it’s good. You guys should eat too.”

    “Okay……”

    I grabbed a piece of meat.

    Then took a big bite.

    Chew, chew.

    It wasn’t particularly delicious, but somehow it tasted better out here in the wild.

    As I swallowed the meat, a question popped into my head, so I asked Lee Seo-jun.

    “How did you do in the other events?”

    Besides the time-attack event today, there had been several other events.

    For reference, I didn’t participate in many. I was either fighting in the Colosseum or scouting the area around the base.

    “I earned some personal points from the events.”

    “Yeah?”

    As I continued talking with Lee Seo-jun, Jang Soo-yeon chimed in from beside us.

    “So what’s the plan for tomorrow’s base capture battle?”

    Base capture battle.

    Tomorrow, a building called a ‘base’ would appear in the center of the area where Team C was stationed.

    It was arguably the most important event of tomorrow.

    “No matter what it takes, we have to capture it.”

    Capturing the base itself isn’t difficult.

    First of all, it takes place indoors rather than outdoors. Also, typically only two or three representatives from each team go in, which gives B-Team, specialized in 1:1 combat, a clear advantage.

    But Jang Soo-yeon looked at me with concern in her eyes.

    “You sure about this?”

    “Yes.”

    I knew very well what she was worried about.

    The huge number of benefits granted to the team that captures the base.

    To prevent that, the other teams would likely join forces to drive out the team that took the base.

    Of course, defending a base against two teams is extremely difficult.

    Especially for B-Team, which lacks area-of-effect mages.

    “How are you going to defend it once you capture it?”

    “I’ll handle that. Leave it to me.”

    “……Can we really trust you with this?”

    Jang Soo-yeon turned to Lee Seo-jun and asked.

    Lee Seo-jun gave an awkward smile and nodded.

    “If he says he’s confident, he’s got a reason. Just trust him.”

    Day 2.

    The official start of the team-based event: the ‘Base Capture Battle.’

    All teams gathered at the central base to capture it and for a few events taking place around the area.

    There was a brief moment of tension, but the students quickly settled into a standoff.

    If someone made the first move recklessly, they could end up facing a 2:1 disadvantage.

    Shin Young-joon from Team C looked over at Team B and found something odd.

    “What the…? Lee Seo-jun didn’t go into the base?”

    Typically, the team’s ace would enter the base.

    Team A sent Kim Chang-hyun and Jeon Min-gi.

    Team C sent Choi Seo-yoon and Yoo Ara.

    And, naturally, B-Team’s ace was Lee Seo-jun.

    But for some reason, Lee Seo-jun remained outside.

    Even more puzzling, standing next to him was Jang Soo-yeon, considered the second-strongest member of the team.

    Lee Seo-jun and Jang Soo-yeon.

    Neither had entered the base. Shin Young-joon was baffled.

    He called out to Lee Seo-jun.

    “Hey. Lee Seo-jun!”

    Hearing his name shouted from a distance, Lee Seo-jun turned to look at him, feeling slightly embarrassed.

    Shin Young-joon approached, unconcerned about the others around him.

    Lee Seo-jun prepared for combat, just in case it was a surprise attack.

    “What?”

    “No, I was just wondering who your team sent into the base.”

    At his question, Lee Seo-jun didn’t answer right away.

    Then, Jang Soo-yeon beside him nudged him.

    “Just tell him. It’s not a big deal.”

    Lee Seo-jun nodded.

    “Kim Sunwoo.”

    “Kim Sunwoo? Ah……”

    Shin Young-joon nodded as if it all made sense.

    Kim Sunwoo. When it came to this kind of ‘strategic play,’ no one could top him—he was basically a cheat character.

    “But… you sent only Kim Sunwoo in?”

    “Yeah. He insisted it was better that way.”

    “……Seriously, just him?”

    It was at that moment—

    [The monster guarding the base has been summoned.]

    [The team that deals the most damage to the monster will receive team points!]

    Woooong!

    A magic circle surrounding the base began to glow brightly. Soon, a massive serpent the size of a three-story building appeared.

    Lee Seo-jun calmly watched the serpent, then imbued his sword with light magic.

    Then, he said to Shin Young-joon—

    “Kim Sunwoo said to just focus on racking up team points out here.”

    Read advance chapter on Patreon. Click here.

  • The Double Life of a Genius Musician Chapter 2

    I swiftly put the box down.

    Just moments ago, it had felt incredibly heavy—so why did it suddenly feel light?

    The anxiety that had weighed on my chest was gone too.

    I had been pretending I was fine… but honestly, I had been really hurt.

    I reread the message over and over again.

    Nothing had changed—the people were the same, the club was the same, and I was the same.

    And yet, it felt like a new beginning.

    No need for any grand words.

    I’m happy. That’s enough.

    Being able to share Lunatic Beat again, being able to go there every day like always.

    On a day like this, what do you need?

    “Obviously, chicken.”

    My steps felt light as I headed home.

    I stopped by the chicken place and got a whole order to go. The combo my brother likes.

    “Huh?”

    But as soon as I opened the front door, a savoury smell hit me.

    Huh? No way—did he also?

    “Taeyoon, you’re home early today. What’s this? You bought chicken too?”

    My brother looked at the box in my hands, towel-drying his hair.

    “I got your favorite—Honey Combo.”

    “I bought Tenders. Your favorite.”

    We looked at the two chicken boxes sitting side by side and burst out laughing.

    Sometimes you get days like this—where you and your brother are totally in sync.

    “Let’s eat first.”

    “What’s gotten into you, stingy bro, buying chicken and all.”

    “Hey, punk, you’ve been walking around looking all gloomy. I thought maybe feeding you chicken would help. And now that I see your face, you do look better. Don’t tell me you got dumped?”

    “…Drumstick—confiscated.”

    “Pfft. Like you’d even have the chance to get dumped. Oi, why’re you looking at me like that?”

    My brother handed me the biggest piece of chicken and asked,

    “Seriously, nothing’s going on, right?”

    “Nope.”

    “Taeyoon. But listen…”

    When he calls me by name like that and shifts his tone, I know to sit up straight.

    I put down my chopsticks and straightened my back. Good little brother mode: ON.

    “Don’t take jobs that keep you up so late. You think you’re going to be young forever? I thought the same. Used to pull three all-nighters and still be fine—look at this skin now. Back in the day…”

    I could sense a full-on lecture coming. Like he’s some school principal or something.

    My brother is great, but once he starts talking, it’s an hour minimum.

    Doing that with fried chicken on the table is basically a crime.

    I quickly shoved a drumstick into his mouth and changed the subject.

    “How about you? How’s the rookie doing? I keep hearing their song everywhere.”

    “Oh, right! Man, I’m glad you brought that up.”

    He clapped his hands and continued,

    “You remember that song you said you liked back then?”

    “Was it… Last Page?”

    “Yeah! That one. It’s making a comeback right now. It’s been confirmed as the sub-title track.”

    “That’s great. You looked like death, saying the album flopped.”

    My brother works at a pretty successful entertainment agency as part of the A&R team.

    It looks like a fun job—except for the constant overtime.

    Still, he seems to enjoy it.

    “But how’d you know?”

    “What?”

    “You picked that song right away when the album dropped. Why?”

    “I just liked how it sounded?”

    “Thanks to you, I got on the team leader’s radar in a good way. After you said that, I listened to it again more carefully—and yeah, it’s great. Fits the concept really well too.”

    “That’s good.”

    “Come on, spill your secret.”

    “There’s no real secret.”

    Like Janggeum said, “It tasted like persimmon, so I said it tasted like persimmon.”

    It just sounded good to my ears, that’s all.

    I don’t know… maybe the beat felt honest?

    The intro synth was clean.

    The bass—low and steady, almost like a feeling—was well-layered.

    The hook stuck in your head, but not in an annoying way.

    I spoke casually, but my brother nodded seriously.

    “That’s amazing. Your ears are seriously sharp. You called it with that no-name idol group last time too. Said it was going to blow up—and it actually did. Wild. You really hear that stuff? Sometimes I think your instincts are better than my team leader’s.”

    I just smiled. That’s what I do all the time—break down other people’s tracks.

    And besides, he’s the one who taught me how.

    “You still practicing that beep-beep-boop thing?”

    “Ugh, how many times do I have to say it? It’s not beep-beep-boop—it’s called scratching!”

    “Whoa, chill. You’re gonna choke on your chicken.”

    He doesn’t really know what I do.

    …If he found out, he’d definitely call me ‘Maskman’ or something. No way I’m telling him.

    So we just sat and ate, chatting about random nonsense for the first time in a while.

    But once the chicken was gone, he cleared the table and went back into serious mode.

    He held out a white envelope.

    “What’s this?”

    “You need to re-enroll.”

    “What’s with the cheesy envelope?”

    “Looks cool, doesn’t it? Just take it. Use it for tuition, allowance, buy yourself some clothes too. Aren’t you sick of that gray sweatshirt? What is it, your school uniform?”

    “Like you’re one to talk. That black hoodie of yours is about to fall apart.”

    “Let’s call it even.”

    He pushed the envelope toward me.

    “I’m good. I’m twenty-three now. Time to handle my own stuff.”

    “Oho? Someone’s grown up after the army.”

    “Gotta save up fast and get married. How long are you gonna keep Yeonhee noona waiting?”

    “Punk.”

    My brother doesn’t know.

    That I make way more than his salary from DJing at night.

    No reason to say it. It’s not like this is normal. He’d just worry.

    Ask if I’m doing anything shady.

    As he turned back around to finish clearing the table, I quickly added something.

    I really wanted to say it today.

    “Hyung, seriously… thanks.”

    He pulled a face like he was disgusted.

    “Are you nuts? What’s with you? Whatever it is, I’m not giving the money back. No exchanges. Take it and go.”

    A cozy little café in the middle of the city.

    A man with a close-cropped buzz cut and a strong build waited for someone.

    His soft eyes didn’t quite match his rugged exterior.

    He was Yoon Seong-han, general manager of the club Sierra, where Taeyoon belonged.

    He had been staring intently at a tablet with a serious expression.

    Ding—

    As the door opened, he set the tablet down and smiled.

    “Hey, over here.”

    It was Taeyoon.

    The first time seeing him properly in daylight since the interview.

    Without the mask, his face looked nice.

    Why does he keep forcing himself to wear that thing…? That thought passed for a moment.

    Seong-han looked at Taeyoon’s face and unconsciously nodded.

    Such an unreadable expression.

    How could someone only twenty-three have eyes that deep? Like someone carrying a whole backstory.

    Pushing those thoughts aside, he greeted him warmly.

    “Wow, seeing you in the daylight makes me even happier. Is this the sunlight or is it your halo? Ah, my eyes…”

    “Hyung…”

    “You didn’t miss me?”

    “I missed all of you.”

    “What’s that? You were supposed to miss me the most.”

    “It’s only been a few days. And actually… I kinda missed the kitchen ajumma more than you.”

    “You punk. Can’t you just say ‘yes’ for once?”

    Yoon Seong-han laughed heartily.

    Right. That was exactly the kind of thing that made Taeyoon even more charming.

    He could come off as gruff, but there was more to him than met the eye.

    He might speak bluntly, but there was warmth in his nonchalance.

    Not like kids these days… more like the real deal, you know?

    “By the way, hyung, are you really reopening the place? I was worried when I heard about the tax audit.”

    See that? Cutting straight to the point with no unnecessary talk—sharp.

    Yoon Seong-han reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

    “Why the surprise?”

    “You’re pulling something out?”

    “Thought it might be a gun?”

    “Ah… hyung, please don’t try that joke anywhere else.”

    He gave a short laugh and placed a white envelope on the table.

    It was so thin, it hardly looked like it held even a single sheet of paper.

    Been getting a lot of envelopes lately.

    Taeyoon swallowed hard and glanced between the envelope and Seong-han.

    “Here, take it.”

    “What is it?”

    “Severance pay.”

    “Wait, but you’re reopening the business.”

    “I am.”

    “So you’re reopening the club, but I’m out as DJ? Wow, you called me out just to give me this? Is this that infamous ‘release’ I’ve heard about? Kinda hurts, honestly.”

    “Taeyoon.”

    Seong-han tried to interrupt, but once Taeyoon got going, he kept talking.

    “Okay, fine. I’ll accept everything else. But I have to play Lunatic Beat. You know people wait just for that track. Ah, and you don’t have to pay me. I want to do it. I won’t make a fuss or anything—”

    “Hey, hey. Taeyoon. Seo Taeyoon!”

    “Ugh, you could’ve just said it. Why’re you yelling?”

    “Because you never listen! What am I supposed to do—just whisper? That’s your problem sometimes. Once music comes up, you go full otaku…”

    Finally, Taeyoon calmed down and took a sip of his coffee.

    “I… do?”

    “There’s a new owner.”

    “What?”

    “That’s why we’re settling severance now. The new boss made sure you were taken care of, so go ahead and open it.”

    Taeyoon casually picked up the envelope and checked its contents.

    “…!”

    “You like it? Our little Taeyoon’s lips are flapping like a catfish.”

    “Is this real? I didn’t do that much…”

    A single, crisp ten-million-won check.

    Even at a glance, it was far more than a year’s worth of severance.

    “If you’re happy, just say so. Jeez. And you didn’t do much? You realize sales went up tenfold thanks to you?”

    “Not tenfold… maybe like eight?”

    At last, Taeyoon showed a embarrassed smile.

    “The boss said to say thank you. And that he’s looking forward to working with you more.”

    “But if the boss is changing, why say that?”

    “Um… Taeyoon.”

    “When you say my name like that, I get nervous.”

    “Don’t you know who our new boss is?”

    “Sure. CEO Kim Minsoo.”

    “Not that one.”

    “I only saw him during the interview. Why, should I know more? That’d be weirder.”

    “Right. Let’s go with that.”

    Seong-han took a sip of coffee and then asked,

    “Aren’t you curious who the new owner is?”

    “Not really?”

    “Can you be curious just this once?”

    “Okay. Now I’m curious.”

    Seong-han drew a V in the air with his right hand.

    “Yep. It’s me.”

    “…?”

    “I’m serious. There’s a bunch of behind-the-scenes stuff going on, so for now we just changed the name on paper. The process is complicated, so it’ll take time. We’re also doing some renovations… huh? What are you doing?”

    Taeyoon suddenly sat up straight, uncrossed his legs, and ran a hand through his hair. Then he spoke politely.

    “My apologies. I failed to recognize you, CEO Yoon. I look forward to working with you.”

    Seong-han burst out laughing.

    The usually stoic kid was acting all quirky again—it was kind of adorable.

    “Quit it.”

    “No, really. I always knew you’d hit it big one day. You’ve got the face of success.”

    Maybe it was the envelope.

    Maybe it was the fact that Club Sierra wasn’t going anywhere.

    But Taeyoon’s energy was unusually high today.

    “We’re reopening early next month, so don’t worry. You’ve done well. Looking forward to more great work from our DJ.”

    “You can count on me.”

    Manager Yoon—no, CEO Yoon—raised a fist.

    Taeyoon’s fist met his with a satisfying bump.

    A pleasant thrill ran up his arm.

    Thump, thump.

    As soon as he got home, Taeyoon locked his door.

    He pulled out his wallet and checked the envelope again.

    Of course it was still there, safe and sound.

    Ten million won.

    What should he do with it?

    He’d never handled this much money before.

    It had always felt like some abstract game currency in his bank account.

    But a physical check? He felt like a real adult now.

    Next semester, he could go back to school in peace.

    Buy some music equipment.

    Even get his brother some decent clothes.

    He carefully took the check out to place it in his wallet when—

    “…Huh?”

    He saw the business card he’d gotten the other day.

    The little bunny drawing caught his eye again.

    Han Yujin’s earnest expression came to mind.

    She said she was a fan—what’s the big deal about telling her the club’s reopening?

    With that thought, he casually picked up his phone and sent a message.

    [Hello. I’m texting to let you know that Club Sierra will be reopening. We’ll see you again early next month.]

    He had barely set the phone down when—

    BZZZ—

    It rang immediately.

    Han Yujin.

    He picked up without thinking much of it.

    – “Kyaaaaaaah!”

    A full-on scream echoed through the receiver.

    He was about to respond when she launched into a rapid-fire stream of words.

    – “When? What day, what time, what minute, what second? Is this for real? You have to give me the exact date. Wait, who are you? Are you the one I met before? Or… are you really the DJ?”

    Ugh… He didn’t like trouble.

    He was planning to deflect and hang up quickly.

    “Hello. I passed on the info, so I’ll just—”

    – “Wait!”

    “Yes?”

    – “The person on the phone right now… you’re the DJ, aren’t you? I’m sure of it. I’ve got a good ear. It’s you, right? It’s really you? I’m so happy, I’m a real fan!”

    …What the heck. This girl was full of surprises in all kinds of ways.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 178

    Preparations to confront the approaching Ottoman forces, now right on their doorstep, were slowly reaching completion.

    Of course, compared to the Ottomans, who had been preparing for this for years, it was pitifully insufficient.

    The attack had come too suddenly, and there hadn’t been nearly enough time to prepare. Yet thanks to the remarkable achievements of Emperor Dragases in what was clearly a doomed fight, a brief moment of stability and peace had come to the city.

    And just when they thought they had finally reclaimed peace—it turned out not even ten years would pass before it crumbled again.

    —Not that no one saw this coming.

    Most people had no illusions that the peace between the Empire and the Ottomans would last.

    Even the fragile alliance that had barely sustained it had now collapsed, leaving the Ottomans with no reason to hesitate.

    It was universally expected—though grimly—that the Ottoman offensive would begin soon. And that very doubt had instilled a strange calm in the people.

    The ancient city, with a thousand years of history, simply accepted the fate that had come knocking with solemn grace.

    As a first response, twelve hundred able-bodied men were assigned to defend the triple walls.

    Those without equipment followed behind priests and monks carrying censers, laying their hands upon the walls as they prayed.

    They hoped the city’s greatest legacy, which had protected it for so long, would not fail this time either. Beneath the blue sky, the faded city steadily completed its preparations to face destiny.

    Meanwhile, footsteps echoed across the terrace where the emperor of the capital resided.

    In the open space with a view of the sea, the emperor sat in a chair, leaning back and silently watching the golden sunset.

    The owner of the footsteps saw his back and, rather than approach immediately, first scanned the area. Only when it was certain no one else was around did he step forward and speak.

    “I came upon hearing Your Majesty’s command, delivered through Secretary Sphrantzes.”

    “I thought it was too soon… Kantakouzenos. Before I give you your orders, I want to ask you something.”

    “Speak freely, Your Majesty.”

    “Do you have no regrets about staying by my side?”

    At those words, Demetrios Kantakouzenos, brother to the Empress, stared intently at Emperor John’s back. Naturally, he couldn’t see his face, nor could he guess what the emperor was thinking.

    But the man standing before the golden sunset, which seemed to wash away all color, was still the emperor of this faded city. And Kantakouzenos himself was still a nobleman bearing the duty to protect it.

    He made that clear.

    “I do not know what moved Your Majesty to say such a thing. Still, I can give a definite answer: I will defend this city. So long as Your Majesty remains here, I will remain as well.”

    John didn’t reply right away. He only murmured something to himself—too softly for Kantakouzenos to hear from that distance. Yet there was no place for inquiry. The emperor finally responded long after Kantakouzenos had spoken.

    “…Thank you, Kantakouzenos. That one sentence brings me comfort.”

    “Your Majesty?”

    “I thought I had already made my decision, but I was still hesitating. Thanks to you, I can finally follow through. That’s why I entrust this task to the one I trust the most. Listen well, Kantakouzenos.”

    “I am listening.”

    “I hear the Ottoman fleet hasn’t yet entered the Golden Horn.”

    “That is true, but positivity would be unwise. It will likely be sealed off in the near future. All the Venetian and Genoese merchant ships anchored there plan to depart before then.”

    The situation was dire, but Kantakouzenos remained calm. Everyone had braced for this since the day Prince Dragases ascended the throne.

    It was far more rational to seek practical measures than to despair over what had already come to pass. That clarity gave Kantakouzenos the composure to face reality clearly.

    Perhaps pleased with his answer, the emperor let out a faint laugh, swept away in the sea breeze.

    “Yes… The city will once again endure a long and bitter trial. A wait that may have no end is now nearly upon us.”

    “If Your Majesty understands that, then I’m glad.”

    “At the same time, I’ve come to realize that the fate of this city and the future of our empire no longer lie here.”

    It was a truth everyone knew, yet none dared say aloud—until now, when it came from the lips of the emperor. Seeking to grasp its true meaning, Kantakouzenos glared fiercely at John’s back.

    But the emperor never turned to face him. Was there nothing to do but wait? Suppressing a sigh, Kantakouzenos chose to remain silent and await the rest.

    But the silence dragged on.

    Just as he was about to break it, the emperor spoke again.

    “I’ve kept your sister here for too long. See that she and Andronikos board a ship and take refuge with Konstantinos in Morea.”

    There was only one sister Kantakouzenos had—Joannina Kantakouzene, the Empress. Though their marriage had been purely political and their meeting had been mismatched from the start, at least one of them had harbored deeper feelings. Knowing that, Kantakouzenos could not easily accept the command. He had to ask again.

    “…Your Majesty, are you serious?”

    “Those who remain here are those who have chosen to wait. But your sister is someone who has been waiting all along. I do not wish to make her wait any longer. Andronikos, with his experience ruling Thessalonica, will be more helpful offering counsel in Morea than he would be here.”

    Now, instead of speaking, Kantakouzenos simply gazed at John with a complex expression. Surely the emperor must have sensed that stare. Yet he still did not turn around—he only answered in a subdued voice.

    “If you’ve guessed why I haven’t looked you in the eye… I ask that you pretend not to notice.”

    “Your Majesty, how could you…”

    How painful must your heart be to give such an order… The rest of his words were swallowed by the distant sound of cannon fire. Both men instantly knew. From this moment on, the Ottoman siege would begin in earnest.

    The emperor could not remain seated.

    John rose from his chair and shouted.

    “Begin the siege. Lock the gates tight and move building materials to repair the damaged walls.”

    “…I will follow Your Majesty’s command.”

    “Before that.”

    As Kantakouzenos hurried to leave, the emperor called out with one more order.

    “See to their safety as well.”

    It was displeasing.

    Yet even as he bit his lower lip in frustration, Kantakouzenos answered naturally.

    “I shall not forget, Your Majesty!”

    With that, Kantakouzenos departed.

    Alone again.

    No sooner had that thought crossed Emperor John’s mind than another familiar presence approached—one whose voice he always welcomed.

    “Will you truly be all right, Your Majesty?”

    At Sphrantzes’s question, John finally burst into laughter—pure and genuine, without a trace of sorrow. Sphrantzes bowed his head in silence, watching the emperor laugh.

    Only after some time did John finally answer.

    “If I were all right, I wouldn’t be hiding my face.”

    “I thought as much.”

    “You still love teasing me, Sphrantzes.”

    “Then let me offer a formal apology in hopes of your forgiveness.”

    “No need. I will go to see my father. Attend me.”

    “……”

    For a moment, Sphrantzes was at a loss for words. Sensing the hesitation, John finally turned to face him. His face was clean, without tears, and full of gentle smiles.

    “So it seems something has happened to my father.”

    “…I’m sorry, Your Majesty. The former emperor didn’t want to burden the younger generation—those who must bear the empire’s future—so he asked us to keep it secret…”

    “Is he in critical condition?”

    “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

    “Then we must go at once, before it’s too late. Lead the way.”

    At the emperor’s command, Sphrantzes silently nodded.

    The two left the palace grounds without even a proper escort. Even the imperial guards had been assigned to the defense of the triple walls. There were no longer enough men left to protect even the emperor.

    Though it had fallen into decline, the streets where many once walked were empty today. The silence that covered the quiet roads was broken only by the occasional distant sounds of cannon fire and the faint, stifled prayers of those crushed by the heavy atmosphere.

    It was not a welcome sight, yet it was one that had become familiar—and would have to be embraced as familiar from now on.

    Even as he hurried along, the Emperor of the capital cast glances around the streets, letting himself sink into reflection.

    Meanwhile, Emperor John and his secretary, Sphrantzes, arrived at their destination.

    It was the monastery into which former Emperor Manuel had voluntarily entered after laying down his crown. Despite the bleak state surrounding the capital, this place remained devoted to spiritual pursuit and was no more welcoming to worldly visitors than before.

    That was why black-robed monks emerged from somewhere to block John and Sphrantzes as they attempted to enter.

    “Your Majesty, this is a place where monks undertake silent atonement. No matter who you are, you may not enter at will.”

    “…So they say. Will you step back?”

    The monk spoke firmly, and Sphrantzes turned his bright, clear eyes up toward John. The Emperor of the capital mulled over the monk’s words: even an emperor may not enter. As he repeated this thought over and over, a pleased curve formed on John’s lips. At last, he removed the crown from his head with his own hands and replied.

    “I do not come as an emperor, but as a son wishing to see his father. I ask you to allow me in.”

    A plea stripped of imperial authority or noble dignity. Upon hearing it, a smile spread to Sphrantzes as well. The secretary turned again to the monks and asked,

    “His Majesty responds thus to your statement. What will you do?”

    “…Very well. But please maintain silence inside.”

    The monks reluctantly stepped aside. Without hesitation, John and Sphrantzes entered the monastery. Despite being located in a decaying millennium-old city, the monastery retained a serene atmosphere steeped in faith.

    It felt removed entirely from the despair outside. The interior was much the same.

    Sunlight filtered in between the small windows, floating gently across the hallway.

    Had John come here alone, he would surely have wandered in confusion. But with the capable Sphrantzes by his side, there was no such trouble. Together, they made their way through the quiet monastery and finally found what they were seeking.

    There was someone unexpected there as well.

    “See, Your Majesty. I told you that John would come on his own, even without being summoned.”

    “…You’ve managed to find time in your busy days, John.”

    The woman holding the wrinkled hand of the aged monk lying in bed was someone John knew well. The warm mother who had always cared for her children—Empress Dowager Helena—welcomed him with a gentle smile.

    “I had a small wager with him. I said you’d come without needing to be called, but he insisted on being stubborn. Still doesn’t understand his children at all…”

    “Mother…”

    But John could not feel joy wholeheartedly. The moment he looked into the lifeless eyes of Manuel, he understood how little time remained.

    The thought that he hadn’t visited his father sooner weighed heavily on him. Empress Dowager Helena, observing silently, slowly rose and stepped back.

    “It seems you two have much to say to each other. I’ll take my leave for now with Sphrantzes. Have your talk.”

    “Then, Your Majesty, I shall accompany Her Majesty the Dowager.”

    With that, Sphrantzes stepped away in sync with the Empress Dowager.

    At last, the father and son were alone after many years. John, unable to speak at first, sat in the seat his mother had left. He reached out and gently touched the aged monk’s hand resting on the blanket.

    The hand, dried like an old tree, was calloused and coarse. As John caressed it, his throat tightened, and he could not bring himself to speak.

    It was the old monk who broke the silence first.

    “…I heard a familiar sound.”

    “……”

    “…The Ottomans have returned, haven’t they.”

    “…I’m sorry.”

    “There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

    After that, the two spoke no further for a while. Outside, the occasional boom of cannon fire continued. After several of those sounds, the monk lying still closed his eyes softly.

    “I was a father who drove his beloved children into slaughter… who made them fight one another. Rest is not something I deserve. I regret it each time I think of Theodoros, whose fate remains unknown. I wish I had done better by him.”

    “Father.”

    “Still… it was a wish I could not abandon.”

    Manuel’s eyes, already drained of light, surely recalled unforgettable images behind their heavy lids—the moment the city he was meant to protect collapsed by his own hands, the corpses reaching out to him, the flames devouring even the rubble and ruined walls with greedy hunger. Perhaps in that moment, he foresaw the empire’s end. John could not fully understand what his father felt.

    But the trembling of Manuel’s hand and eyelids conveyed his heart.

    His shaking hand could barely grasp John’s fingers. So feeble was his grip that a mere movement would break it, and yet John could not dismiss it—he knew that this was the last of his father’s strength.

    “I speak not as your father, but as an emperor.”

    “…”

    “Lead your brothers well, John.”

    “Father.”

    “…Take care of the children I leave behind. And do not doubt yourself.”

    Manuel tried to open his eyes, but his weary lids were too heavy now. Sleep was descending. Realizing this, John pressed his face to Manuel’s chest without hesitation.

    The frail body, sensing a familiar touch it hadn’t felt in so long, trembled for the last time. Holding that tremble, the old monk resisted the pull of slumber long enough to whisper—

    “…John.”

    That was the end.

    The former emperor accepted sleep as it came. His breath slowed, and the pulse that had long sustained his old body began to fade.

    Only then did John rise again. The Emperor of the capital kissed the index finger that had gripped his own—but he shed no tears.

    “Sphrantzes, are you still outside?”

    Rather than reply, Sphrantzes entered the room. He had known for some time that the old emperor’s life was nearing its end. Even with the emperor’s composed tone, he likely guessed what had happened. He could have accused John, asked why he was only now revealing this in his grief. But the Emperor said nothing.

    He couldn’t—because he understood, however faintly, the heart behind Manuel’s choice.

    “Let us begin preparations for the funeral.”

    “As Your Majesty commands.”

    This time, Sphrantzes nodded quietly.

    Moments later, the Empress Dowager re-entered with Sphrantzes support and gently caressed Manuel. John watched, not missing a single detail.

  • The genius martial artist who remembers everything Chapter 3

    Note : Hey everyone, I just realized the last chapter was incomplete, so I quickly fixed it. Please check it out so the content below makes sense.

    “So now you’re saying you won’t attend Busaeng Hall?”

    Chaos broke out in the Taeulmun Sect after the incident.

    Gye Yeonseung’s nephew, Gye Cheolyeong, had been injured, prompting his father—Gyeryong Merchants head Gye Yeonseok—to make a huge fuss.

    During the investigation, Gye Yeonseung’s careless teaching was exposed.

    As a result, he was held accountable and expelled from Busaeng Hall, and was now banned from entering the Taeulmun Sect entirely.

    Though Gye Yeonseok whined about losing someone to protect his precious son, the situation was already out of his hands.

    “I already received completion recognition from the previous Busaeng Hall Master. So there’s no need for me to attend anymore.”

    My father wore an even grimmer expression than usual.

    To others, his face might inspire fear. To me, it still stirred an ache deep in my chest.

    I quickly looked away, worried I might tear up.

    “I still can’t believe it. How could you possibly beat Gye Yeonseung? Did you cheat or something?”

    “Oh, that’s the same thing Gye Yeonseung said—right before his arm was broken. Want yours broken too, Father?”

    “What did you say?!”

    “In any case, I’m free until the other disciples finish Busaeng Hall.”

    “Of all people, why did you have to bust Gye Cheolyeong’s thick skull…”

    My father, Jin Taesan, is the head of the Outer Hall, responsible for external affairs of the sect.

    Since the Gyeryong Merchants are our biggest backers, this outcome couldn’t have pleased him.

    “The merchant lord already admitted fault. Isn’t that enough?”

    “You brat! Do you think Gye Yeonseok is the kind of man to leave it at just words?! If the Taeulmun Sect’s meals get cut down to two a day, do you think the other disciples will just sit quietly?!”

    “Watch your words, please. How is that my fault? That’s the failure of our incompetent Outer Hall Lord.”

    “You little—!”

    “Well then, I’ll be going now.”

    “Go where?! If you’re not attending Busaeng Hall, help out with the Outer Hall work!”

    “I’ve got personal things to do.”

    “Like what?”

    “I’m at the age where hair’s growing on my face. Please respect my privacy.”

    “What?!”

    Jin Taesan’s beard began trembling at my absurd response.

    But really—how could I just outright say, “I need to prepare to protect the Taeulmun Sect from the return of the Demonic Cult”?

    As his hand inched toward the club resting against the wall, I bolted out of the room.

    “Then, I’m off—!”

    “You brat! Get back here!”

    “Are you that rootless brat Jin Sowoon?”

    After escaping from his menacing father, a pig-faced old man with sagging cheeks blocked his path.

    “Who are you?”

    “You don’t… know who I am?”

    How could he not?

    Fancy silk robes that didn’t suit him. A jade-studded golden belt and a crudely oversized gold ring.

    There was only one person in the entire Taeulmun Sect who would wear such a tasteless outfit.

    Gye Yeonseok, father of Gye Cheolyeong—the man who turned the sect upside down day in and day out, his robes fluttering like banners.

    “What business do you have with me?”

    “You bastard! Watch your mouth! This is Lord Gye Yeonseok, the head of the Gyeryong Trading Company!”

    A man who seemed to be an escort glared fiercely, eyes wide and twitching.

    “Yes, I understand. Head of the Gyeryong Trading Company. And as I asked, what business do you have with me?”

    Gye Yeonseok snorted in disbelief.

    “Because of you, my Cheolyeong is injured and unable to get up. Do you think you can get away with doing that to the heir of the Gyeryong Trading Company?”

    He did bleed a little, sure. But calling a single hit to the head an incapacitating injury was pushing it.

    By that logic, what about all the Taeulmun Sect disciples who had been pummeled countless times by Gye Cheolyeong under the guise of sparring?

    “Didn’t we already agree to let it go?”

    “That was between me and your sect leader. But between you and me, things are far from over.”

    At this point, was this shamelessness a martial art in itself?

    “And if I don’t let it go?”

    The escort’s hand went to his sword, ready to draw at any moment.

    “If you’re afraid of getting hit, you should be teaching accounting, not martial arts.”

    “Y-You insolent wretch! How dare you—!”

    I ignored him and turned to Gye Yeonseok, who was silently rolling his eyes, deep in thought.

    “If Senior Gye is admitted into the Martial Academy, are you planning to chase him there and demand compensation from the heirs of the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Clans as well?”

    Both Gye Yeonseok and the escort looked taken aback.

    Had they not thought that far ahead?

    Or had they assumed the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans wouldn’t harm newcomers?

    “You’re not answering. Seems like you don’t have the guts for that. But if you’re here throwing your weight around at the Taeulmun Sect, I guess you think we’re easy targets.”

    “Y-You little…!”

    Gye Yeonseok’s booming voice drew the attention of the hall masters and even the sect leader from the Great Pavilion.

    “More than ten of our disciples have been bedridden for days from being beaten by Senior Gye. If you want to blame someone, maybe start with the one who caused that.”

    “You impudent…!”

    That was all he could say—“You impudent…!”—until suddenly he smirked with satisfaction.

    “What if, because of you, the Taeulmun Sect loses its sponsorship? Will you take responsibility for that?”

    That was always the problem.

    Half the current disciples were born and raised in the sect like me.

    The other half came from poor families, not even well-off by village standards.

    Most joined the sect to lessen the burden on their families.

    Just as hardship forces a child to grow up fast, we knew better than anyone how resisting Gye Cheolyeong could bring harm to others.

    “Responsibility?”

    And that’s precisely why Gye Cheolyeong and Gye Yeonseok could act so brazenly within the Taeulmun Sect.

    “There are other ‘One Hundred and Eight Peaks’ that want Cheolyeong. We can move him anytime. Will you still take responsibility then?”

    Cheolyeong’s enrollment meant a massive influx of sponsorship.

    And the Taeulmun Sect wasn’t the only struggling peak among the 108.

    “The fact that many places want Cheolyeong” was a hidden threat, forcing those living here to swallow their complaints.

    That’s why we had never harmed a newcomer like other sects.

    “Then by all means.”

    “What?”

    “Responsibility? I’ll take it. So go ahead.”

    From the distance, my father—who had been approaching while conversing with another hall master—turned pale and rushed over in alarm.

    “The special recruitment exam is less than a year away. Do you really think Senior Gye will be treated as well elsewhere as he is here? And what sect would welcome a mere one-year guest like him just for a bit of temporary funding?”

    “You… you—”

    My father stopped mid-step.

    “The disciples of Taeulmun Sect are not fools. We’ve learned the virtue of a gentleman. We simply choose not to associate with the low and vulgar people.”

    Gye Yeonseok trembled, grinding his teeth.

    “I swear I will bring great harm to the Taeulmun Sect. Because of you, the disciples will soon go hungry and wear rags!”

    A blatant threat.

    I whispered coldly in his ear.

    “Do you really think I’ll let that happen?”

    And with my father finally breaking into a run, I turned my back and left the Taeulmun Sect.

    There was far too much to do.

    In my previous life, after Gye Cheolyeong was specially admitted to the Martial Academy, Taeulmun Sect’s sponsorship rapidly dwindled.

    Though he was a secular disciple, it was as if he cut all ties. Within a few years, the funds dried up completely, and Taeulmun Sect’s disciples had to endure hunger.

    “If that’s going to happen anyway, someone other than Gye Cheolyeong should go.”

    Considering that the Taeulmun Sect would eventually get caught in the war between the orthodox and unorthodox sects, someone from here had to join the Martial Academy. Joining as a low-level warrior would just make them cannon fodder.

    “The problem is, Taeulmun Sect’s martial arts are just too…”

    Trash….

    According to Jegal Cheongi, the only usable techniques were the Socheon Sword Technique and the Taeulmun Internal Technique.

    All the countless martial techniques had no synergy whatsoever with the foundational Taeulmun Internal Technique.

    With roots and branches so disconnected, it was no wonder not a single great master had emerged in the sect’s hundreds of years of history.

    In my head, I carried the combined martial knowledge of the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Clans.

    “If I practiced any of that, the entire Taeulmun Sect would be wiped out before the Heavenly Demon Cult even returned.”

    Which meant the only way I could become strong now was by overwhelming others with internal energy.

    “Just as the Yangtze carves through stone.”

    But with the Taeulmun Internal Technique, it would take about 200 years of cultivation to build up even a first-rate warrior’s worth of internal energy.

    So I’d need to consume as many elixirs as possible—but elixirs aren’t called that because they grow on trees.

    “…Heh. But there is a way.”

    I immediately dove into the library I had constructed in my mind.

    While other disciples of the Martial Alliance died helplessly at the hands of the demonic cult, I remained behind, memorizing useless reports and documents that took up far too much space.

    But as the demonic horde overwhelmed even the last lines of defense, I had no choice but to memorize everything in Mantong Division and the Simhyeon Pavilion as well.

    More confidential and far more complicated than the usual reports.

    I stopped trying to understand or absorb it all and instead created a massive archive in my mind, simply to store it.

    And from the deepest part of that mental archive, I retrieved one book.

    The Compendium of Elixirs of the Martial World.

    A secret document covering the discovered locations, appearance times, and transportation routes of elixirs that would appear over the next 20 years.

    Though labeled “classified,” it was really just a record of elixirs already found.

    Back then, I worked myself to the brink of mental collapse memorizing such useless information—nosebleeds all day, every day.

    All that suffering paid off… with betrayal.

    “Still makes me furious. That damned Taechung Divine Sword…”

    He was my childhood idol.

    An unrivaled genius of the Heaven Beyond Heaven sect at our age.

    The hero who swiftly unified the fragmented Martial Alliance during the Great War of Righteousness and Evil.

    And the one who kept the Martial Alliance alive when it was on the verge of disappearing from the world.

    But to do that, the Taechung Divine Sword sacrificed nearly everyone.

    The Martial Alliance, rebuilt in the North Sea, stood atop the corpses and blood of the fallen.

    “I’ll never trust you or the Martial Alliance again.”

    Grinding my teeth, I made my way toward the location of the first elixir: the Thousand-Year Polygonum.

  • How to Live as a Magical Genius at the Academy Chapter 54

    “The atmosphere here is killer.”

    “It’s kind of creepy.”

    Just as Cain and Senia said, the catacombs had a rather eerie vibe.

    Walking through the dark tunnels felt like stepping into a grave.

    “I heard this used to be an underground tomb built by some ancient evil religion.”

    “An underground tomb? That’s news to me.”

    “They built a tomb on an uninhabited island like this?”

    When I shared what I’d heard from Ingrid, Cain and Senia looked surprised.

    “Don’t tell me we’re gonna run into undead.”

    “Didn’t the academy already clear all that out?”

    “According to the briefing, there won’t be any undead. What’s here is…”

    Squelch.

    Suddenly, a chill ran down the side of my head.

    “Slime!”

    …!

    I moved instinctively.

    If I had been just a moment slower, the slime falling from the ceiling would’ve latched onto me.

    “Burn it!”

    “Already on it!”

    I shot a short burst of fire magic to burn the slime.

    As expected, it had no resistance to fire.

    “That scared the hell out of me.”

    I let out a sigh of relief.

    This place was clearly not somewhere you could afford to drop your guard.

    “Even though slimes won’t kill you, I heard they leave horrible wounds on your skin, right?”

    “Yeah, they’ll leave you all torn up like a zombie.”

    “Getting hit in the face would be a disaster. Sure, we have healing magic, but still…”

    As we chatted, we kept moving deeper.

    After carefully watching all directions, we entered a relatively spacious area.

    “There’s a bunch of cabinet-looking things here.”

    “What do you think they were used for?”

    “Since this used to be a tomb, maybe they stored skulls in them?”

    The moment I casually said that, Cain and Senia swallowed nervously.

    “H-Hey, come on, they wouldn’t store skulls in a place like this…”

    “Maybe in deeper parts, but we’ve barely entered the place…”

    “I remember seeing it in a book once. A drawing of skulls all lined up neatly in cabinets like these.”

    “…”

    The two fell silent.

    Seeing that, I couldn’t help but feel dumbfounded.

    “You guys are fine with fighting undead, so why are you scared by this?”

    “Undead are just something you beat up. But this…”

    “It feels like something unknown… If a ghost popped out or something, that’d be terrifying.”

    I could kind of understand.

    “Anyway, if there was anything like that, the academy would’ve dealt with it already. Necromancy has spells to detect and control spirits, remember?”

    “Hmm, I guess that’s true.”

    “No need to stress about it. What we do need to worry about is…”

    I adjusted my bracelet and summoned my Protective Gloves.

    “The monsters deployed in here.”

    “…!”

    Slink…

    A giant leech emerged from between the cabinets.

    It was clearly a Great Leech, a leech-type monster that dwelled in caves.

    “Damn, bugs like this are hard to sense!”

    “A Great Leech already?!”

    Great Leeches were among the more dangerous monsters in this dungeon.

    They had sharp enough teeth to pierce even the academy’s protective uniforms, and if you were bitten properly, you’d lose so much blood that it could force you out of the survival test.

    “Be careful! That thing is seriously dangerous!”

    “Just one bite, and you’re done!”

    “Cain, Senia. Fall back.”

    Though they were clearly on edge, I spoke calmly.

    “I’ll handle this.”

    “…!”

    Thud.

    I pulled a drake fang from my pouch and dropped it on the ground. Immediately, theDragon Bone Soldier Deathvice appeared.

    As soon as I sent Deathvice forward, the Great Leech lunged straight at it.

    But…

    “Ah…!”

    Senia gasped.

    The Great Leech sank its huge fangs into Deathvice, but there was no blood to suck.

    Only the scraping sound of teeth on bone echoed through the space.

    “Ha. Stupid thing.”

    Just as Cain scoffed—

    Deathvice grabbed the leech’s torso with its massive arm and crushed it with brute force.

    “Good job.”

    I composed a spell and recalled Deathvice.

    The creature vanished immediately, leaving only the drake fang behind on the ground.

    “It’s hard to maintain for long, right?”

    “I can manage two to three hours a day. But I might need it again, so I’m better off recalling it for now.”

    Saying that, I turned to inspect the Great Leech’s corpse.

    “So, what should we do with this?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Didn’t we learn this in class?”

    I pointed at the spare canteen strapped to my waist.

    “If we can’t find any water, we’re supposed to purify the bodily fluids of monsters like this to drink.”

    “…!”

    Cain and Senia’s eyes widened.

    “W-Wait. You’re saying we’re supposed to drink leech blood?”

    “E-Eriol, that’s a bit much…!”

    “It might sound gross, but it’s not necessarily that bad. In some regions, people actually eat Great Leeches.”

    I remembered reading about it in a book and finding it oddly interesting.

    Of course, I had no desire to eat this thing’s meat, but if it was just extracting moisture, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

    “It’s not toxic or anything. If we use elemental magic to extract the fluids and apply a few purification spells, it should be safe to drink.”

    “N-No, Eriol… let’s rethink this.”

    Cain grabbed my arm and pleaded.

    “It’s not like we’re desperate for water yet. We’ll definitely find some eventually. Let’s save that idea for if we run out.”

    “Hmm… I guess you’re right.”

    “Yeah, let’s do that! Decision made! Let’s just dump the leech corpse and move on!”

    “Alright.”

    When I nodded, Senia let out a relieved sigh beside me.

    “Eriol, you’re sometimes absurdly bold, you know. No matter how thirsty I get, I could never quench my thirst with the bodily fluids of some creepy bug monster.”

    “No, I mean, it’s not like you’re drinking the fluids directly—I’d separate the moisture using elemental magic and then—”

    “Stop! That topic is off-limits!”

    Raising his voice, Cain cast a fire spell on the Great Leech’s corpse.

    As the giant leech burst into flames, Cain looked satisfied.

    “Good. From now on, the moment we kill a monster, we burn it before Eriol starts spouting nonsense.”

    “…”

    Was I really saying such outrageous things?

    Some of the survival techniques I read in books were far more disgusting than this…

    “Alright. Then let’s start by finding water. We’ll need a place to rest, too.”

    “Agreed!”

    “Let’s move quickly.”

    With both of them now motivated, we delved deeper into the dungeon.

    “Sir Monarch! Water!”

    “Looks pretty clean, doesn’t it? Seems we won’t have to worry about drinking water.”

    “Yeah, we got lucky.”

    Monarch Orson smiled as he discovered water flowing deep within the dungeon.

    “It should be enough for the three of us. Really, no need to worry about water anymore.”

    In truth, Monarch had been most concerned about finding drinkable water.

    Outdoors, it would’ve been possible to draw water from elemental magic. But the dungeon’s interior was so dry that gathering water was nearly impossible.

    He had even considered extracting fluids from monster corpses—but luck was on their side, and they found an underground stream.

    “Then, Monarch, how about we use this place as our base?”

    “The ground’s flat enough. We could lay out our sleeping bags and get some rest here.”

    “Hmm… not a bad idea.”

    Since they would be staying inside the dungeon for three days and two nights, they needed a base for rest and sleep.

    “But monsters might come here to drink water. We need to keep that in mind.”

    “Ah, right! I didn’t think of that!”

    “That’s Monarch for you…!”

    Monarch scanned the area.

    Judging from the terrain, he could predict where monsters might show up.

    “Then let’s fortify this place. Make sure we can fend off any monster attacks.”

    “That’s a great idea!”

    Defeating monsters yields higher scores.

    They could rack up points by defeating monsters that show up to drink water.

    “It’d be a problem if monsters attacked while we’re asleep… but we can take shifts for watch duty.”

    “Understood! I’ll start by using earth-elemental magic to build the fortifications!”

    “Good. Get to it.”

    Watching his teammates spring into action, Monarch wondered what the other teams were up to.

    Most of all, he was keeping a close eye on the team composed of Eriol, Cain, and Senia.

    ‘This time, I can’t lose to that guy, Eriol.’

    Currently, Monarch was ranked 5th overall.

    A fairly high rank—but not high enough for his taste.

    ‘I was second in the midterms… but I didn’t score well in the practical’s.’

    That’s why he had to take first place in this dungeon survival challenge.

    Only then could he catch up to Eriol.

    ‘Just a country noble propped up by Professor Kaisel’s favouritism. He’s not going to block my path.’

    And now, they had secured clean drinking water.

    Using this place as a base, they’d accumulate a high score… and this time, Monarch was going to defeat Eriol Valencia for good.

    “Look at this! There’s a stream running through here!”

    “Looks like clean water. Still, better purify it with magic just to be safe.”

    Cain and Senia smiled as they discovered the flowing water deeper inside the dungeon.

    “That was lucky. What a relief.”

    In fact, they had found it while tracing water-elemental energy.

    The catacombs were unnaturally dry, but by following the faint traces of water element, they were able to locate an underground stream.

    ‘But why is this dungeon so dry? Did the academy design it to prevent us from creating drinking water using elemental magic?’

    In this kind of extreme dryness, even using freezing spells would be difficult—there’s simply not enough water-element to create ice.

    Charlotte, whose specialty was ice magic, must be having a hard time right now.

    “Ahh, that’s refreshing. The water tastes fine, too.”

    “Should we make this our base?”

    “Yeah, not a bad idea.”

    Cain and Senia turned to look at me as they quenched their thirst with the underground water.

    “What do you think, Eriol? Should we set up camp here?”

    “The terrain makes it easy to notice approaching monsters. I think it’s a good spot.”

    “No, we can’t.”

    But I shook my head immediately.

    “A short rest here is fine, but it’s not suitable for sleeping overnight.”

    “What? What are you talking about?”

    “I read it in a book.”

    I raised my head.

    Then, while staring at the dungeon’s ceiling, I muttered,

    “On a normal day, it might be fine… but tonight, we must not sleep anywhere near here.”

    A tent set up outside the dungeon.

    There, professors were monitoring the students statuses via transmitted dungeon data.

    “Looks like three teams have set up camp near the water.”

    As Klein marked them on the dungeon map, Professor Murselt, watching from the side, let out a sigh.

    “Jeez, those idiots. Or should I say, those blissfully naive fools?”

    “Typical of noble kids who’ve only ever studied. They’ve got no adaptability.”

    Even Sylvia, who usually butted heads with Murselt, agreed for once.

    “They probably think they’re lucky to have found drinking water and now have the upper hand.”

    “But when has anything ever gone that smoothly? We told them this was a survival exercise under harsh conditions.”

    “…”

    As he listened to the biological professors speak so coldly, Klein turned his gaze outside the tent.

    Over the uninhabited island… dark storm clouds were rolling in.

  • A Veteran Player Becomes a Troublemaker Chapter 91

    “He’s far too young to be the lord.”

    Judging by appearances, this was a man who had just entered his twenties.

    Which meant…

    The infamous young master who lost his inheritance to his younger brother due to his eccentric and reckless behaviour.

    The young master who commanded troops in his late teens to repel hordes of monsters.

    The young master who advocated pioneering undeveloped lands and brought prosperity to the territory.

    The young master who secured victory in the territorial war!

    “W-why…?”

    The moment Redem realized who this was, his face turned deathly pale.

    No way. It can’t be. Impossible! Absolutely not!

    He desperately denied the reality before him.

    “You called me a ‘stray mutt from Schrantz,’ didn’t you? How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Ian von Schrantz.”

    “……”

    “And if you must know who sent me… let’s just say it was my father, Hugo von Schrantz.”

    The reality he had been denying had finally come crashing down.

    I’m fucked.

    Redem’s face turned from pale to white as he recalled every word he had carelessly thrown at the young master.

    He had insulted none other than the lord’s son—no, a member of the very family ruling this territory—to his face.

    And worse, Ian had come under the lord’s direct orders.

    This wasn’t just an insult to Ian—it could very well be taken as an insult to the lord himself.

    “Good heavens… Schrantz? As in, our new ruling family? The lord’s son?”

    “This just got much more serious.”

    Even the private soldiers grasped the gravity of the situation.

    No matter how dim-witted they were, they understood the magnitude of Redem’s blunder.

    “Young Master of Schrantz… what brings you here?”

    “Nothing much. Just heard you’ve been feasting at this territory’s expense.”

    “M-me? How could I? This is all a misunderstanding! Someone must be framing me!”

    Redem put on an Oscar-worthy performance of innocence.

    To an outsider, he might have looked like a poor, wronged man.

    Ian’s gaze swept over the surroundings—the extravagant mansion, far beyond Redem’s station, and the nearly hundred private soldiers standing guard.

    “The house is one thing, but this many private soldiers? Impressive.”

    “Ah, well, a recent investment paid off handsomely. I came into quite a bit of money.”

    “Oh? Feeding, clothing, and housing a hundred soldiers must cost a fortune. Business must be very good.”

    Maintaining such a private force wasn’t something just anyone could afford.

    Only the wealthiest could manage it.

    “Can’t be too careful these days. Public order has been… lacking, so I hired extra security.”

    Redem kept up his act, smooth as ever.

    His performance was worthy of a best actor award.

    “Hmm. At this point, this is just a waste of time.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean the investigation is already over, and the evidence is more than enough. So drop the act.”

    Crimson eyes locked onto him.

    “Not content with embezzling taxes, you’ve even dipped into narcotics and illegal slave trading. Will you come quietly, or do I have to drag you out? If you’re truly innocent, you can prove it during the investigation.”

    Ian smirked, but Redem wasn’t laughing.

    If Ian knew about the illegal operations, it meant they had dug deep into his affairs.

    “Damn it all!”

    Realizing the jig was up, Redem abandoned all pretense.

    “All units, prepare for combat!”

    At his command, the soldiers drew their weapons in unison.

    It didn’t matter if the man before them was the lord’s son—or even the lord himself. These were private soldiers, loyal only to the man who paid their wages.

    “Hope you won’t regret this. Last chance to surrender.”

    Ian rested a hand on his sword.

    This was his final warning.

    “Attack!”

    Redem chose violence.

    The moment the order left his lips, the soldiers surged forward, blades flashing.

    “Well, this is the North, alright. No hesitation—just charge in headfirst.”

    [Quest ‘Corruption’ has been generated.]

    [Corruption]
    Objective: Subdue private soldiers (4/100), Subdue Redem (0/1)
    ―Suppress Redem Roman and his private soldiers, who have been exploiting the territory and making life hell for the people.
    Reward: Territory security +10

    Ignoring the quest window, Ian drew his sword.

    Unlike the dull gray steel of the soldiers blades, his own gleamed a blue color.

    A hundred men rushed him—and Ian didn’t so much as blink.

    He only muttered one line.

    “I did give you a chance.”

    Redem was the one who threw it away.

    “W-what the hell is that monster?!”

    Redem couldn’t believe his eyes.

    He’d heard Ian was strong, but—

    “Since when can one man overpower a hundred like this?!”

    There were limits to human capability.

    And yet, here was Ian, shattering every expectation.

    Thirty soldiers were already down.

    A full third of his force.

    “Master, we must flee while we still can!”

    Amid the chaos, the butler whispered urgently to Redem.

    “Y-yes! Right!”

    Redem understood immediately.

    The soldiers were buying time—time for him to escape.

    Without hesitation, he and the butler slipped away, heading for the stables in the rear courtyard.

    The stablehand, who had been tending to the horses, looked up in surprise.

    “Master? What brings you here at this hour? There was quite a commotion at the front—”

    “Horses! A carriage! And fetch the coachman!”

    “Huh?”

    “Now!”

    Unfortunately, neither Redem nor his butler knew how to ride.

    The stablehand, puzzled by his master’s urgency, quickly hitched the horses to a carriage.

    “Drive.”

    “Where to, sir?”

    “Anywhere! As far as possible!”

    To flee without even a destination in mind…

    What’s happening? Did the villagers finally rise up? Or did a mob of vengeful enemies arrive?

    The former wouldn’t be surprising, but one thing was certain—it didn’t seem like a villagers’ revolt.

    When he’d been summoned earlier, the village had been as quiet as ever.

    Had the villagers risen up, the entire place would have been in an uproar by now.

    If only you’d lived a little more virtuously…

    But of course, he couldn’t say that out loud.

    And whenever Redem hired a carriage, he always paid generously.

    Even knowing the money came from embezzling the villagers, the stablehand wasn’t in a position to refuse—he took what he was given.

    “Drive at full speed!”

    “Understood. I’ll get us moving quickly.”

    The coachman cracked the reins. The back gates were already wide open.

    As the carriage sped toward the exit, Redem could only hope the chaos would buy him enough time to escape.

    Just as the carriage picked up speed and drove toward the gates—

    BAM!

    A deafening crash sent the carriage shaking violently before toppling onto its side.

    Redem, his head smashing against the interior, groaned as he clutched his skull and struggled to sit up.

    “Ugh! Butler, wake up!”

    He shook the unconscious butler, but there was no response.

    For a horrifying moment, he thought the man might be dead—but the faint rise and fall of his chest confirmed he had merely been knocked out.

    Miraculously, despite the severity of the crash, Redem himself was relatively unharmed, save for a bleeding gash on his forehead.

    But he had no time to assess his own injuries.

    Because when he finally managed to pry the carriage door open and crawl out, a gruesome sight greeted him.

    “What in the—?!”

    A mangled corpse lay before him—its skull and pelvis crushed, its stomach split open, entrails spilling onto the ground.

    The coachman.

    The carriage must have slammed into something at full speed, crushing him against the wall. Nearby, what looked like the remains of one of the horses twitched slightly.

    “Bleh—!”

    Redem retched violently, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the dirt.

    As he wiped his mouth, his eyes darted around—and then froze.

    The back gates were wide open.

    But something was wrong.

    “What the hell is this?!”

    At first, he couldn’t make it out in the darkness—but then he saw it.

    A translucent barrier, stained with blood, blocking the exit.

    That was what they had crashed into.

    But now wasn’t the time to wonder about its origins.

    ‘I have to run!’

    The sounds of battle from the front had gone silent.

    Either that monstrous young master had slaughtered all his men, or his men had somehow defeated him.

    Or, worst of all, they had surrendered in terror.

    The second option would be ideal—but Redem had a sinking feeling that monster hadn’t lost.

    He had seen Ian’s strength firsthand.

    ‘I have to run—no matter what!’

    “Impressive work, Sera.”

    “All I did was block the gate.”

    A man and woman’s voices echoed from the direction of the gates.

    Redem’s head snapped toward the sound.

    A knight with a drawn bow and a woman in mage robes approached calmly.

    ‘Wait. A mage? She blocked the gate?’

    Their conversation confirmed his suspicions.

    Magic.

    That translucent wall could be nothing else.

    And if they had deliberately sealed the exit…

    ‘They were sent by Ian!’

    ‘They anticipated my escape and cut me off!’

    Of course. No matter how confident Ian was, he wouldn’t have come alone.

    Blocking escape routes was basic strategy.

    The realization drained the color from Redem’s face.

    “It’d be nice if you surrendered quietly. Less painful that way.”

    Dwayne held his bow at the ready, arrow nocked but not yet drawn.

    The threat was clear: Try to run, and I shoot.

    ‘As if I’d surrender now!’

    He had already crossed the point of no return.

    He hadn’t just fled—he had tried to kill Ian.

    If he had surrendered peacefully, there might have been mercy.

    But now?

    This was a death sentence.

    ‘I can’t get caught here!’

    Redem was a man who clung to life with desperate determination.

    His mind raced for an escape.

    The gates were blocked, leaving only one option—scaling the walls.

    His only hope was to run for it and pray the arrow missed.

    He bolted toward the nearest wall.

    “Persistent bastard.”

    Dwayne saw right through him.

    The arrow loosed with a sharp sound, embedding itself deep in Redem’s thigh.

    “GYAAAAAH!”

    Redem cried as he collapsed, writhing in agony.