The conference room door closed.
The head professor spoke before he’d even taken his seat.
“Let’s start by checking the measuring devices.”
Another professor pulled out two measuring devices.
The same ones that had read zero back in the examination hall.
The head professor took them and aimed the first one at his own angel.
‘1,201’
“They’re working.”
The second device gave the same result.
The female professor aimed a device at the spirit knight.
‘981’
Last, her own griffin.
‘896’
The three looked at one another.
“So they’re not broken.”
“Then that summon’s mana really is zero.”
“Not exactly.”
The head professor corrected himself.
“The measuring device measures the amount of mana exchanged through a summoning contract.”
A summon draws on its summoner’s mana to sustain its existence.
The device measures how much mana that amounts to.
“Then… does that mean there’s no mana consumption at all?”
“…In theory, that’s one possibility.”
The conference room fell quiet.
“In that case, that summon…”
The female professor continued.
“It’s sustaining itself without Yu Se-ha’s mana.”
No one answered.
A summon needed a constant supply of its summoner’s mana to exist in this world.
That was the fundamental principle of a summoning contract.
Zero mana consumption meant existing without a contract—sustaining itself on its own.
A being like that was not a summon.
“Could it be…”
The second professor spoke carefully.
“Could it be an Awakened with illusory abilities? Someone making it appear as though a summon exists when there actually isn’t one?”
The female professor pushed back.
“That doesn’t explain the Salamander.”
The head professor quietly agreed.
“My angel detected no illusion either.”
“…Hmm.”
The professor crossed his arms and exhaled.
“Then why did the griffin go berserk?”
He glanced over at the griffin.
It was sitting calmly now.
“I think it got agitated from the crowd. It tends to react when there are too many unfamiliar summons around.”
“Is that so.”
The professors moved past it without much concern.
Griffins were notoriously temperamental creatures to begin with.
The occasional outburst was well within the range of normal.
“Come to think of it, you said it was demon-type.”
The head professor steered the conversation back.
“According to the records, the highest-ranked demon that can be successfully contracted is a mid-tier demon.”
He glanced toward his own angel as he spoke.
“Unlike angels or spirits, demons are fundamentally hostile to humans. That means the mana cost to control them is far greater, and even skilled summoners find it extremely difficult to manage anything above mid-tier.”
“The word ‘successfully contracted’ is the key distinction.”
“Exactly.”
There were records of summoners successfully calling forth demons above mid-tier.
But only three such cases.
All three summoners had died.
Killed by their own summons.
Which meant, in practice, there were no cases of anyone actually wielding a high-tier or above demon as a contracted summon.
“Anything above that, and the moment you summon it, it turns around and devours you. So realistically, mid-tier is considered the ceiling for summonable demons.”
“And with that appearance, it’s a low-tier demon, isn’t it?”
“Right. The higher the rank, the larger and more monstrous a demon’s form becomes. Low-tier demons can sometimes appear close to human in shape, but…”
The other professor let the sentence trail off.
“A low-tier demon annihilating a Salamander in an instant.”
“…”
The female professor crossed her arms and murmured.
“So its appearance and combat power are completely disconnected… can’t be measured, classification unclear.”
“There are far too many anomalies.”
The head professor recalled what he’d seen in the examination hall today.
White hair.
Red eyes.
A white suit.
Yawning in the middle of flames that exceeded several thousand degrees.
That expression of utter boredom, constant throughout.
The abnormal reactions from both the Salamander and the griffin.
“…”
The practical ceiling for demon summoning was mid-tier.
And according to the records, demons were known to exist up to the rank of Archdemon.
But.
Above that.
What if there existed something higher than an Archdemon…?
“…”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
‘Getting old must be making me fanciful.’
Say such a being existed.
Why would something like that take orders from a seventeen-year-old kid?
It made no sense.
“For now, I think we need to file a report with the Summoners’ Association.”
The professor said as much and rose from his seat.
“What do we report?”
“Only what we know for certain. Appearance of a summon that cannot be measured by current methods. Need for development of alternative measurement instruments.”
“Will that be sufficient?”
“The judgment is theirs to make.”
“Fair enough. That’s their job.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
The professors filed out one by one.
Only the two measuring devices remained, sitting alone on the table.
***
The moment they stepped out through the Academy’s main gate.
Se-ha said, with a dazed expression on his face.
“Da-hong.”
“Yeah.”
“I got first place.” Visit novelping.com for the full chapter.
“I know.”
“First place. Me.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never gotten first place since I started at the Academy.”
“Mm.”
“Up until yesterday, I was a failing student.”
Da-hong didn’t answer.
Se-ha kept talking as if it didn’t matter.
“Written exam first place and practical exam first place… that’s overall first place. Do you know what that means? I’m overall first place right now.”
“Congratulations.”
“It feels like a dream.”
Se-ha murmured.
“What if it actually is a dream. Up until yesterday I was a failing student…”
At that, Da-hong reached out and lightly pinched Se-ha’s cheek.
“Mwah.”
“Well?”
Se-ha flinched, clapping a hand over his cheek, face going red.
“…W-what was that for, all of a sudden?”
“Not a dream, is it?”
“…”
Se-ha looked like he was about to say something more, then just closed his mouth.
Instead, he picked up his pace.
Da-hong watched him for a moment.
How long had it been.
A face that happy.
It was the kind of thing you couldn’t see in hell.
Down there, everyone was hiding something.
Desire, fear, schemes—there was no such thing as an emotion worn plainly on the surface.
So she’d forgotten.
That faces like this existed.
‘Not bad.’
Da-hong thought to herself.
The reason she stayed by Se-ha’s side.
It wasn’t anything grand.
Simply—his reactions were fresh and entertaining.
And she happened to need a place to live, so it worked out nicely.
That was when it happened.
She felt eyes on her.
“…”
A reasonably concealed presence.
But nowhere near enough to fool senses honed in hell.
Da-hong didn’t slow her stride.
She swept a casual glance around.
Four behind her, two inside a building.
‘Following me.’
She wasn’t particularly curious.
Why they were following.
Who they were.
At this level of concealment, they weren’t even worth engaging.
They were clumsier at hiding their presence than hell’s lowliest foot soldiers.
‘They’ll get bored and leave eventually.’
Chasing down every insect was a waste of time.
Even in hell, Da-hong rarely bothered pursuing anyone.
Except when she was truly, deeply bored.
But right now, just watching Se-ha chatter away beside her was enough to keep boredom at bay.
“Da-hong, are you listening?”
Se-ha spoke up from beside her.
He was still buzzing with excitement, recounting everything that had happened today.
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Did you see Lee Sang-jun’s face earlier? The way he kept going ‘huh? huh?'”
“He did.”
“And the professors too. Standing up and sitting back down. By the way, how did you actually do it?”
“Hmm, well.”
Da-hong hummed a little tune as she walked.
***
Se-ha pulled out his phone the moment he got home.
“Da-hong, what do you want to eat? I’m treating today. To celebrate first place!”
Da-hong settled onto the sofa and said,
“Something good.”
“Almost everything around here is good. There are a lot of famous restaurants near the Academy.”
“What’s there?”
“Well… fried chicken and pizza?”
“Sure.”
“There’s Chinese food too.”
“Jjajangmyeon and jjamppong. And tangsuyuk.”
“You want all of it… Should I order tteokbokki too?”
“Do whatever you want.”
“Oh, this place has really good sundae and twigim—should I add those?”
“Get the offal too.”
“Got it!”
Even after that, Se-ha excitedly went through the options one by one, asking Da-hong whether to order each thing or not.
Da-hong didn’t turn down a single one.
And so.
Ding-dong!
“Delivery!”
Five separate deliveries arrived.
The dining table filled up with food.
Only then did Se-ha come back to his senses and laugh sheepishly.
“Oh no, I ordered way too much…”
“We can eat it over time.”
“It’ll be a shame if it gets cold.”
Da-hong didn’t worry about it and sat down at the table.
The delicious smells hit her nose.
Then, on a whim, she lifted her head and looked around.
The living room.
The kitchen.
The doors visible at the end of the hallway.
She’d noticed it the first time she came too—it was quite a spacious place for someone living alone.
The furniture wasn’t cheap either.
Being close to the Academy, the land value here couldn’t be low.
And then there was the spread of food now covering the table…
“Se-ha.”
“Yeah?”
“Your money—”
Pure curiosity.
And drawing on her faint memories of modern Korea, delivery food hadn’t exactly been cheap, if she recalled correctly.
Se-ha set out the chopsticks and spoons with a slightly awkward smile. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“My parents send it. Enough that I don’t go without.”
“…”
Da-hong swept her gaze around the apartment again.
Spacious home.
Well-furnished.
Expensive delivery food.
“Silver spoon?”
“Ah, it’s not quite like that. It’s just… well, they’re generous with it.”
“Where are your parents?”
“In the provinces. They’re busy with their business. I’ve been living alone since middle school. They let me come to the Academy when I said I wanted to… If it weren’t for you, Da-hong, I would’ve had to go back home this time.”
“Hmm…”
Da-hong looked at Se-ha for a moment.
Since middle school.
Alone.
In a big house.
Something about it reminded her of the days she’d spent in hell.
Da-hong picked up her chopsticks.
She scanned the table.
Fried chicken.
Jjajangmyeon.
Jjamppong.
Sundae.
Twigim.
And.
“What’s that.”
Something red and glistening sat in a disposable container.
And all manner of toppings.
The smell was quite pungent.
“Malatang.”
“Malatang?”
“It’s a Chinese dish. I heard it’s popular with the girls, so I ordered it.”
“…Never seen it before.”
Se-ha blinked.
“You don’t know malatang?”
“Nope.”
“That’s funny, considering you know what ramyeon is.”
Da-hong ignored him and peered into the container.
Tofu.
Glass noodles.
Fish cake.
Mushrooms.
Lamb.
It looked like someone had just thrown in whatever they could grab.
“Is it like budae-jjigae?”
“Kind of, kind of not. Just try it and you’ll see.”
She knew tteokbokki.
The kind sold at street stalls—rice cakes piled into a dull red broth.
Not something she’d ever particularly liked.
But.
“…?”
Da-hong paused her chopsticks for a moment.
It looked different from the tteokbokki she knew.
The rice cakes were plumper.
The sauce was richer and glossier.
There was cheese on top.
‘Somehow feels like a more premium version…’
It was practically a different dish entirely from what she remembered.
Da-hong picked up a rice cake.
Took a bite.
“…!”
Chewy and soft.
A spicy-sweet flavor spread across her tongue.
There was cheese inside.
Slightly melted, it blended with the sauce and gave it a smooth, mellow finish.
Da-hong’s eyes widened just slightly.
Se-ha caught the expression.
“This place is also really popular with the girls, apparently.”
Da-hong didn’t answer and picked up her chopsticks again.
Se-ha smiled quietly.
Da-hong took another bite of tteokbokki.
It wasn’t the tteokbokki she remembered.
Not that dull, flat taste she used to eat standing in front of a street stall.
Something was different.
Not bad.
…Honestly, if she was being truthful.
Quite good.
Da-hong worked her way through the tteokbokki, then shifted her gaze toward the malatang.
She picked up a spoon and scooped some up.
Put it in her mouth with a noncommittal expression.
“…!”
The sharp, numbing heat of the mala spice bloomed across her tongue.
A flavor unlike anything she’d tasted before.
The broth was deep and rich.
The lamb was tender.
The glass noodles had a satisfying chew.
A taste she’d never had when she was human.
Da-hong took a second spoonful.
A third.
A fourth.
Se-ha asked,
“How’s the malatang?”
“…*gulp*. It’ll do.”
A fifth.
A sixth.
Se-ha noticed that Da-hong’s spoon showed no sign of stopping.
The person who had lifted that first spoonful with such an indifferent expression was now emptying the bowl at a rather impressive pace.
Se-ha covered his mouth and held back a laugh.
‘She has a cute side to her.’
Da-hong paused her spoon and looked at Se-ha.
“Why are you laughing.”
“It’s nothing.”
Se-ha hid his smile and reached for the fried chicken.
Da-hong watched him for a moment, then turned her spoon back toward the malatang.