I frowned. “How did you know?”
Lee Pyeonghwa was A-rank, so it made sense that she’d be sensitive to changes in mana flow or presence. Still, when I’d checked her breathing, she’d clearly been asleep. I’d kept my mana usage to an absolute minimum, not sloppy enough for a Hunter who had just awakened to notice…
“You know this counts as unauthorized departure, right? Go back immediately.”
“How did you know I wasn’t there?”
“I was heading to the bathroom, tripped, and fell into your spot. And what’s with putting magic on it?”
“…Did you tell anyone?”
“Are you insane?” Lee Pyeonghwa raised an eyebrow. “You want me to mobilize our entire class to look for you? Gather everyone in the auditorium and have them all chewed out?”
“So you didn’t report it. Good judgment.” That was a relief. I closed my eyes again. “If you just pretend you didn’t see anything, no one will find out. I’ll be back by morning. I just couldn’t sleep.”
Lee Pyeonghwa might be A-rank and able to notice my absence, but no one else would. Maybe after assignment to an actual unit, but this was a basic training camp, and there weren’t many high-ranked ability users here.
“…You really have no intention of cooperating with anyone, do you?”
Thud!
"Hey!"
The tree I’d been leaning against shook. Lee Pyeonghwa had kicked it. It was tall and thick, but a single kick from her made it creak ominously.
“What did that tree ever do to you?”
“Should I say it’s funny that you care more about a tree than a person?”
“You—”
In the end, I had no choice but to jump down from the tree and land on the ground.
Arms crossed, Lee Pyeonghwa glared at me. “Jeong Daon. What is wrong with you?”
“You tell me. Even if my sneaking out gets discovered, it wouldn’t hurt you.”
At worst, if I really couldn’t adapt to this place, I’d be sent for counseling and discharged early. The military wasn’t what it used to be, but more importantly, this was a training camp that gathered people with supernatural abilities. Each of us was basically an unexploded bomb. If something went wrong, it would be far more serious than with ordinary people, so the military had no choice but to handle things cautiously. And the one assigned to the same squad as me was Lee Pyeonghwa, a Youth Olympics gold medalist who, after awakening, had been rated A-rank. Even if I caused trouble, there was virtually no chance it would affect her.
Despite my answer, Lee Pyeonghwa showed no sign of backing down. “That’s not the issue right now.”
“…Then what
is
the issue?”
Now I was genuinely curious. I had no idea why she was this angry. Maybe she’d been annoyed that I ignored her when she approached me before the entrance ceremony.
Well, she probably thought getting close to me would make life easier.
That’s how group living works: even if you do nothing, people constantly evaluate one another, and an unspoken hierarchy forms. An S-rank evaluation entering that environment? Of course she’d assume it was better to be on good terms with me. At the very least, she wouldn’t want an enemy.
But in reality, the central figure of not just the barracks but the entire training camp was Lee Pyeonghwa. In the inevitable pyramid structure that forms wherever people live together, she naturally stood at the top.
Me? I’d stepped completely out of that pyramid and was doing my own thing, just like saltwater fish and freshwater fish can’t live together.
“I really don’t understand why someone like you is S-rank.”
The sharp tone, the hostility in her eyes… Maybe that was why, when Lee Pyeonghwa said it, I actually felt a bit deflated. The situation suddenly felt too predictable.
So she’s resentful because I’m ranked higher than her?
It was a familiar story, honestly. There had always been plenty of rumors about Lee Pyeonghwa. She was a nationally famous youth athlete, an Olympic gold medalist. Even though she hadn’t awakened yet because she was a minor, talent tends to show itself early. Her physical abilities had been exceptional even before awakening, and many people speculated about what rank she’d receive once she did. Some said S-rank was practically guaranteed. Since her sport was fencing, people even called her the next Yu Hanul. That was why, during this year’s Supernatural Test, there was intense interest in what rank Lee Pyeonghwa would receive.
And then the result came back: A-rank.
A-rank was still high, but compared to the expectations, it was bound to feel disappointing. To make matters worse, the attention that should have gone to her shifted to me, the suddenly appearing S-rank.
Setting aside the fact that I never wanted that attention in the first place…
“If you’re unhappy about me being S-rank, take it up with the system that assigned the—”
“No. I think you’re misunderstanding something.” Lee Pyeonghwa frowned. “I’m not that petty. Who cares about ranks? I don’t.”
“Petty…?”
“S-rank isn’t the problem, Jeong Daon.
You
are.”
"..."
That made things a little more interesting, though it also felt like I’d just been insulted even harder.
I lifted my chin. “Then say it. What’s my problem?”
“That arrogant attitude, for starters. You talk like you’re standing above everyone else.”
“…Anything else?”
“We’re going to be fighting monsters together whether we like it or not. With that kind of attitude, who’s going to trust you enough to step forward with you?”
So instead of resenting my rank like I’d assumed, Lee Pyeonghwa seemed far more bothered by the fact that I had no intention of cooperating with others.
“You’re talking about today’s training, right? Did I cause any problems then? I don’t think I did.”
There had been a minor unexpected incident, but the joint training had proceeded perfectly fine. There was no reason for me to struggle against a first-circle spell, and every strike I made had landed with precise force at the correct point. I hadn’t injured any of the swordsmen who moved in and out after striking the monster, either.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lee Pyeonghwa let out a scoff, as if I’d said something absurd. “Jeong Daon, when Seunghui collapsed during training, you clearly had the capacity to help.”
For a moment, I hesitated, trying to recall who Seunghui was. Then I remembered. The trainee who’d collapsed from mana exhaustion was named Lee Seunghui.
When I paused, Lee Pyeonghwa sighed as if she’d expected it. “You don’t even know your classmates’ names, do you? We’re even in the same barracks.”
“That’s your assumption—”
“Hey. I was an athlete. Do you think I can’t tell? You don’t know anyone’s names, and you don’t care to, either.” Her words were sharp and accurate. “At first, I thought you were just socially awkward. That happens. But Jeong Daon, you
could
have helped and chose not to because it was inconvenient. That’s the worst part.”
“…Choi Jisu, a squadmate, was there. And I was exhausted too—”
“Don’t make excuses. You’re the strongest one here. You’re S-rank. Of course you should help those who are weaker. That’s responsibility. That’s what being comrades means.”
“…”
A chill ran down my spine. Help the weak because you’re strong! Responsibility! Comradeship! Those were words you rarely heard in a capitalist society.
“Are you related to Yu Hanul or something?”
“Why would Hunter Yu Hanul suddenly come up here?”
I asked just in case, but the answer was, unsurprisingly, no. She was saying things that only someone like Yu Hanul would say, so I’d wondered if they were related, that was all.
Seeing the look on my face, Lee Pyeonghwa let out a long sigh. “Honestly, I’m disappointed. I had really high expectations after seeing the news.”
“Why would you expect anything from me?”
“They said you used magic to save people during the first Dungeon Break. But now that I’m actually looking at you, I get it. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”
“…”
“I knew it. The media really is garbage.”
Annoyingly enough, she wasn’t wrong.
“I came out here trying to talk to you nicely, too. Guess I was the idiot. You really don’t care about other people at all.” With that, Lee Pyeonghwa turned her back on me. “Whether you get caught by an instructor or not is your problem. Just don’t cause trouble for anyone else.”
She said what she wanted to say and walked away.
I tilted my head back and looked up at the sky. Tonight, it felt unusually deep, bright with stars.
…Should I just give up on everything and move to one of those stars?
There was some truth mixed into what Lee Pyeonghwa had said. It was true that I didn’t really participate in group life, and it was true that I hadn’t helped during training even though I could have. But saying that I’d used magic to save people during the Dungeon Break was a lie?
No. Actually, there’s no reason to feel wronged.
I hadn’t used magic for the sake of saving anyone. Things had just turned out that way.
In the first place, wasn’t I practically a walking calamity, something that could destroy this world if I felt like it? There was no reason to feel offended just because some teenager said she was disappointed in me.
And in fact, I didn’t feel wronged at all. Why would I?
The system reminds “Jeong Daon” of the quest “Doing Good Deeds Will Bring Blessings¿”.
The system informs User “Jeong Daon” that the quest is being successfully completed.
“What is wrong with this thing?”
No matter how I looked at it, the system message felt like it was mocking me.
I should ignore it. Getting worked up over something like that would only hurt me.
Voooom.
Since I was already on the ground beneath the tree, I circulated my mana and checked the surrounding magic formations.
At least the minimum level of safety is secured.
Over the past two weeks, I’d used my free time to move around the barracks and set up basic defensive magic. How did I manage to install defensive formations in such a restrictive environment?
I burned through another three hundred million.
Before entering the training camp, I’d checked what personal items were allowed. Wrist guards made the list. I tore the fabric open, stuffed in leftover gemstones from last time, and brought them in that way. Once inside, I ground them into powder, kept it on me, and gradually used it to draw magic circles whenever I had the chance.
It felt absurdly expensive to use gemstones to draw magic formations for a place I’d only be staying in for five weeks, but there was no helping it. It was the most stable way to set up defensive magic, and gemstones were also the easiest thing to smuggle in.
Since Leo hasn’t contacted me, it doesn’t seem like anything major has happened.
Ever since the last dungeon, my nerves had been on edge, especially after realizing just how deep my opponent’s malice toward me ran.
I brushed my hand over the dirt where gemstone powder had been scattered. This magic circle would attack anyone who approached with killing intent and alert me at the same time. Which meant that Lee Pyeonghwa, who had just approached me, hadn’t harbored any killing intent at all. In other words, she’d simply wanted to say her piece to someone who refused to fit into group life or look out for others.
That’s a rare personality.
Rarer than gemstones, for sure. Minerals change when exposed to heat; humans, on the other hand, don’t change; they die. That alone made them rarer. Of course, that didn’t mean I expected human character to be as sturdy as stone.
She reminds me of someone from long ago.
I knew a knight around her age once. Pure, idealistic, someone who painted the future with hope. Lee Pyeonghwa seemed similar: the type who believed that being more capable than others meant bearing more responsibility.
It’s the kind of mindset that could easily slip into meritocracy.
Not a personality I disliked, but not one I felt particularly drawn to, either. It could just be the rigidity of being twenty, or maybe she was posturing to hide her own sense of inferiority. Whether she could actually live up to her words through action was something no one could know yet. Good intentions were harder to prove than malice, after all.
In any case, what kind of person Lee Pyeonghwa truly was had nothing to do with me.
…I just hope the remaining two weeks pass quickly.
After checking the magic formations one last time, I climbed back up into the tree and went to sleep.