<—you fucking bastard!> roared Tak Chan-woo (???), grabbing the closest thing to him.

  That ended up being a cigarette-tray, already half-full of ash. The middle-aged man, though, was no Slayer. His aim was poor and ugly. The tray tumbled, spraying ash over the wooden floor and fine rugs. Its trajectory suggested it had a meeting with the far window, yet Chungmu effortlessly caught the projectile in his hard and sturdy palm.

  Chungmu carefully set the fragile thing on his desk, then wiped away cigarette ash on a few insignificant papers.

   rattled Hwa-yeon's father, his expression unbefitting for his finely-tailored suit.

   Chungmu adjusted his tie. He calmly walked around his desk and stood in front, doing his best to ignore the cigarette ash crunching underneath his shoes.

  

  

  His words did nothing to calm the enraged father; though, he wasn’t intending on calming him down in the first place.

  

  Tak Chan-woo wrenched his neck back, confused and disgusted.

  <—’excuse of a man,’ yes, I’ve heard everything before. You’re not the first to burst through my door, demanding prosecution for a valid and justified defeat. In fact, my schedule calls for our same conversation about…> Chungmu paused, recalling the incident.

  Chan-woo stood there, bewildered at the “disrespect” and “callousness” he was receiving. Due to his small mind, he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. As a wealthy and influential figure in the pharmaceutical industry, he had gotten plump off of flattery, favors, and biases.

  Yet within Baekyong Academy, populated with children belonging to equal or even greater reputations, the only worthwhile metric was survival. Those who fail, fail. Those who rise, rise. Thus, all were equal in this dichotomy.

  However, “equality” was no different to “prejudice” to Chan-woo and narrow-minded fools like him.

  Veins bulged from his clenched hands and tensed face. Dangerously, in fact.

   Chungmu stated as a matter-of-fact.

  

   We did not. And dealt by the person I least expected.

  Chan-woo was at a loss for words, though knowing his temperament, he would start yelling again and disturbing the peace.

  Thus, Chungmu closed the distance. A few steps separated him and the smaller, weaker man.

  Chan-woo shrunk, staring up at the veteran Slayer.

   Chungmu betrayed a rare and anticipatory smile.

  The man’s anger drained, and fear replaced his color instead. Chungmu imagined this was the expression Zhang had inflicted in her opponents: the idea of mortal terror. Interesting thought, though back to the matter at hand: Chan-woo stammered, unable to voice his next complaints.

  Chungmu politely patted his shoulder.

  With a subtle push toward the door, Chan-woo had no choice but to leave—lest he wished to test Chungmu’s threat. Thus, the poor father stumbled out of his office, finally knowing genuine defeat and helplessness.

  Though Chungmu wouldn’t publicly disclose this, such a sight was satisfying. He sighed, however, and stared at the trail of cigarette ash on the floor. An embarrassing mess. he announced to the shadow lurking in the corner of his office.

  The boy revealed himself, transforming out of the shadow thanks to an impressive concealment [Skill].

  Chungmu turned to Kim Min-jae as the boy browsed his desk without consent.

   Min-jae wiped some of the cigarette ash off his desk, crushing it between his fingers.

  Chungmu chuckled, fondly recalling the detailed reports of her first real spar.

   said the boy, ()

  Chungmu walked across the room, approaching his desk and his greatest interest.

  Kim Min-jae turned to the side, glum.

  

   Min-jae stepped up to Chungmu, the Headmaster, and arrogantly rubbed his dirty, ashen finger on his dress-shirt. A gray streak ran below his collar and over his heart.

  Chungmu was unfazed. Amused, even.

  Hearing those words, Min-jae’s mood soured further—whether out of pride or dread—and he marched off to the side of the room, blankly staring at a breacher’s skull mounted on the wall.

  

   Min-jae looked over his shoulder and scowled.

   Chungmu said.

   Min-jae bit his lip.

  Chungmu broke into an uncharacteristic laugh. He patted his chest and cleared his throat, getting his laughter out now.

  Kim Min-jae did not answer.

  Chungmu crossed his arms.

  Min-jae devilishly grinned.

  The boy marched to the desk and grabbed the files on Dorothea Zhang.

   asked Chungmu.

  He tucked the files underneath his armpit.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Min-jae exhaled, looking out the window and toward the beautiful blue sky.

  

  

  ***

  [Sung Yeong-ae]

  

  

  Admittedly, Chae Yo-han was intimidated by Yeong-ae despite their relationship. They were…simultaneously close yet distant, which was her fault. Conversations were either awkwardly short or thorough and nuanced; the latter occurring whenever Yeong-ae had advice to give whenever Baekyong proved too much.

  In the short amount of time Yo-han had gotten to know her, he realized that Yeong-ae was criminally anti-social. Not because she was afraid of talking, but she genuinely hated the idea of socialization. Small-talk, pleasant discussions, gossip, hated them. She would only speak her mind on a few things: magic, her books, or insulting someone.

  So tonight had to be important. Yeong-ae wouldn’t approach Yo-han normally, especially not in the dead of night.

  Well, it was the perfect timing anyhow.

  Yo-han couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t because of Zhang and her Duel with Tak Hwa-yeon; no, sleepless nights were depressingly common. There were numerous factors to blame: the stressful environment of the academy, the music playing through the walls, and his own ailing body.

  This trip should tire him out. For him, walking to the convenience store was a moderate challenge. Inclines, even the slightest ones, caused the muscles in his calves to burn and ache. A child would cross the distance in half the time while giving less effort, but using his own two legs unrestricted was a gift that he was immensely and sorrowfully grateful for.

  Almost there… Yo-han whistled a quiet tune, his voice blending within the nightly breeze. Outside the walls of Baekyong Academy, he spotted the fluorescent blues and whites beaming through windows of everyone’s favorite pitstop. The manager was notoriously a doormat due to years of abuse, yet tonight was a peaceful night for him and his employees.

  No one was inside, but outside? A woman in a long jacket sat at one of the tables, enjoying a toxic cigarette by herself. The carton laid on the table, open, recently purchased.

  Yeong-ae saw Yo-han approaching. Magically, she snuffed her cigarette and levitated the half-smoking bud into the nearest trash.

   Yo-han sat across from her, nose wrinkling as the smell of cigarettes wafted in the air still.

  A quiet cough left Yeong-ae, and her usually cold eyes pensively drifted to the street. ()

  Yo-han raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to say or think.

  

   A coughing spell interrupted him. The damn cigarette was getting to him.

  Yeong-ae waited until he was done coughing, tapping her foot against the pavement doing so.

   I knew Zhang wasn’t normal. You don’t simply enter Baekyong just because you were bored or wanted to visit Korea. She has greater plans in mind and the ability to execute them.

  Yeong-ae didn’t answer.

   exclaimed Yo-han in a whisper.

   Yeong-ae firmly told him.

  Yo-han bit down on his lip.

   Yeong-ae leaned forward on the table, elbows down, as she massaged her forehead.

   Who did she belong to? How did she have the connections to restrict even Noona? If she has that sort of power, then…

  Yeong-ae put her arms down and cracked a small yet rare smile.

  She gestured toward the Academy.

  If Tak Hwa-yeon and her five henchmen were any indicator… No, if Yeong-ae was saying this, then there was a real possibility.

  And somehow, Yo-han was involved as a satellite of Zhang’s schemes against Taeyang;.

   he asked.

  

  

  Yeong-ae gulped.

  Yo-han had to heal her first victims. He understood the potential damage she could cause. She was dangerous, and she went without her [Skills]. Yet he knew that her tongue was her most lethal weapon.

  Fortunately, that was also his most lethal weapon.

  Cozying up to the Demon of Baekyong was the least he could do for Lynn and Yeong-ae. They had taught him how to survive in this academy, and now, they must protect themselves from a new and greater threat.

  Whether or not that was Zhang or Taeyang, or both.

   Yo-han said with a firm nod.

  ***

  <...I found you.>

  Lee Yoon-ho approached him, Tae Jun-hyeok, as he sat in a secluded corner of the main academic courtyard. When Dr. Asche and Instructor Sung had ended yesterday’s Duel, he suddenly went missing—though, he was notorious for pulling disappearing spells among his agents and fellow idols.

  Yet this instance was worrisome, because Yoon-ho saw him back then. During the Duel, there had been a theatre’s worth of mortified and distressed faces. Even for the sadistic students, none could bear the carnage Zhang had performed in an act of psychotic revenge. Everyone was intolerably panicked.

  Except for Jun-hyeok.

  Although the sun had been rather bright and the bodies had jostled Yoon-ho around, his eyes did not lie.

  Jun-hyeok had his hands clamped over his mouth, cheeks pink and red, entire face contorted as if damming a roaring laughter.

  While… While Yoon-ho would never do this—because the anxiety in his heart trembled at the thought of conflict—he needed answers for what Jun-hyeok had done during Gold Rush.

  Yet when his “friend” saw his approach, he hardly reacted. Jun-hyeok performed his usual small wave and welcoming smile, occupying a lone seat on a bench.

   Yoon-ho said, standing in the shade to avoid the sun.
   Jun-hyeok politely asked, seeing right through his intentions. He’d always been the most observant of the section. More than Yoon-ho himself. More than Chungmu, even.

  Yoon-ho felt his heart pounding inside his throat.

  

   Why are you doing this now? What awakened you? I didn’t need this! I don’t want this!

   Jun-hyeok clapped to encourage him.

  I have to entertain his games. I… I can’t make him mad again. Yoon-ho gulped.

  Jun-hyeok shook his head side-to-side.

  You guided him towards the idea, because no matter what, you wanted to see the transfers be at each other’s necks.

  

  And that was how Min-jae knew about Won-sik’s Task. It led to Min-jae assaulting Zhang in public, though she refused to reveal her true abilities back then. Likely, it was a ploy to encounter Chae Yo-han and Dr. Asche.

  Yoon-ho inhaled as trees rustled above him as though the branches would snap off and fall on top of him.

  Jun-hyeok smiled and held his hands up.

  

   Jun-hyeok picked at his ear.

  Yes…The cleaning staff—specifically, the managers—had keycards that could enter into everybody’s rooms. With Hwa-yeon’s connections, I don’t doubt she has associates there as well. Had associates. Accessing Zhang’s room would be easy given enough persuasion, and afterwards, the incident would be officially reported as an unfortunate mistake.

  Yet to explain why Jun-hyeok went this far…

   Yoon-ho concluded.

   Jun-hyeok hopped from his seat and laughed—it was the laugh that he’d contained yesterday.

   Yoon-ho stepped away from the laughing and smiling idol.

   Jun-hyeok grabbed Yoon-ho by the shoulders, his bright gaze burning.

   Yoon-ho broke free, yet his footing slipped. He stumbled—

  Jun-hyeok caught him by the collar.

  Yoon-ho gritted his teeth.

   The idol let go.

   Yoon-ho exclaimed, walking backwards and keeping an eye on Jun-hyeok, knowing better than to turn his back on him.

  Without waiting for an answer, Yoon-ho turned tail and fled the courtyard, his heart pounding too viciously to handle a minute more of conversation. Not with him.

  Yet waiting for an answer would’ve been fruitless anyway.

  Tae Jun-hyeok never intended to respond to his wishes; he simply smiled, clicked his tongue as though addressing a naughty dog, and sat back on the bench, whistling a pleasant tune and thinking about tomorrow.

  [Complete: Part 1 - Orientation]

  [Next: Volume 1.5 - Welcome to Your New Life, Episode 2 - Psionic Blues]