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Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Lecture
At the entrance to Ho-cheol’s dorm, So-hee lifted her head from her knees at the sound of footsteps halting nearby.
Ho-cheol stood, holding a black bag in one hand.
They exchanged a silent glance for a moment before he spread his fingers, still holding the bag.
“I’m back.”
Ẇ eb ǹо v̄ e l̊ Ѐ n ŭ m̊ а
“It took you five hours. Thought you’d be quicker.”
“Still pretty fast, all things considered.”
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
He’d skipped Lunard’s hospitality to keep his promise, hadn’t he?
After such a wild night, she’d probably never believe his story.
So-hee’s gaze dropped to his hand.
What’s that black bag?
Еǹü m̀_a .і ḋ
Noticing her look, he waved it.
“Ice cream?”
“That’s it? Gimme one.”
“Only got one.”
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He pulled out a split popsicle.
Seeing it, So-hee pouted.
W̊ e b̊nȯ v̆ еl Ӗ n ŭm à
“Could’ve bought two.”
“No cash.”
Not something you’d expect from someone who’d burned billions of hours ago, but he was unfazed.
Money came and went.
“Stingy.”
“What can I do? I’m broke.”
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The split popsicle was uneven—one side clearly larger.
He offered the bigger half, but she snatched the smaller one.
“You could’ve taken the big one.”
“Nah.”
He popped his half in his mouth and crouched beside her.
The dawn’s chill and cold wall seeped into his bones.
Е̂_ńu m̄ а̇ . і_d
Should’ve gotten something warm.
Halfway through the popsicle in silence, So-hee grumbled.
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“No more trouble, right? Every report and check-in call had me freaking out. My heart can’t take it.”
“I’ll try.”
The association wasn’t stupid enough to fall for such sloppy tricks again, so this probably wouldn’t happen twice.
Unless another critical situation with the organization arose—then he wouldn’t just watch.
Ӗ nu mа
Satisfied enough with his answer, she nibbled her popsicle and nodded.
“…Fine. Trying something.”
“Be grateful.”
“Yeah, sure.”
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The sun began to rise.
* * *
E̊ ńu.mа̃.іd
After the auction, number 8 returned to the “organization,” standing before a door.
Thick enough to withstand a missile, the cold knob chilled his palm.
The bone-deep freeze wasn’t just the knob’s coldness.
He took a deep breath and pulled it open.
Creak—
Rusty hinges screamed.
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Beyond lay pitch-black darkness.
A normal person would fear it, but he didn’t.
The real terror awaited inside, not this abstract void.
He stepped forward.
A few steps in, a voice echoed.
“Empty-handed.”
Ŵ еb̌ n̊о v̊é l̃ Е̃ ñům а
Despite his experience with all kinds of people, he felt like prey tossed into a beast’s cage.
The mere gaze felt like a cold blade grazing his skin.
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Number 8 froze, bowing his head.
No point in defiance—not with ten lives.
Flattening himself was best.
The voice’s owner clicked their tongue softly.
Е n̆ ůmа̃
“I told you to get the Peacemaker.”
He bowed lower, wiping cold sweat from his forehead, unable to answer.
“I’m sorry. The Peacemaker’s bids far exceeded our budget, so we couldn’t secure it.”
His excuse dissolved into the darkness.
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He stood silent, awaiting his fate.
He didn’t know this figure’s role in the organization—only that they were his superior, with power to crush him with a gesture.
W̄ е b n оv́ êl̂ Е̊ ň ům̃а
The organization was that secretive, that covert.
“Budget issues, huh. Explain.”
Promptly, 8 detailed the day’s events thoroughly.
“Hm. A financial snag.”
“…Yes.”
Clenching and unclenching his fist, he asked cautiously, hoping to steer things gently.
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He’d negotiated with Ho-cheol to secure the Peacemaker as ordered.
His judgment felt perfect, but he couldn’t predict his superior’s view, so he braced.
A brief silence passed.
The voice spoke lightly.
“No matter. Pay as negotiated. Honesty in deals is key. Their strength isn’t something petty thieves could snatch. Ending amicably benefits us all.”
“Understood.”
Е̊n ŭ m̈ӑ . і̀d̂
“Odd reaction. Thought you’d be scolded for getting fleeced?”
After a pause, 8 answered honestly.
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Lying to the organization was as foolish as failing a mission.
“Yes.”
“Pathetic. Money’s just a means. Mere paper. What matters is what it buys.”
“Wise words.”
W e b̊ň_о̊_v ě l Е n um̂a
“You may go… Wait.”
As 8 turned, he stopped. His sleeve trembled faintly.
The movement was so swift, so subtle, he didn’t realize a hand had brushed it.
“No Peacemaker, it seems.”
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“What?”
“A tracker.”
W̆ ēb̆ no v̄е̃ l Е nŭm а́
The voice’s owner peeled a tracker from his sleeve, crushing it to dust.
“Shook hands? Likely placed then.”
“Yes, but…”
“No listening function.”
The base was safe—its coordinates untraceable, a separate space.
But the route from Lunard was exposed, requiring cleanup.
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“Scrap this return route. Eliminate all mid-level operatives.”
“Yes.”
The voice muttered, irritated.
“Fool.”
With the brief rebuke, something invisible struck 8’s stomach.
Pain tore through him, bone from flesh, and he collapsed.
Еñ ú m а
Thud—!
Above his crumpled form, an annoyed voice rang.
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“Peacemaker’s deal is uncertain, so reset the top priority to S-1.”
Groaning silently, 8 barely lifted his head.
S-1 was the plan targeting the Swordmaster’s daughter, sidelined for the Peacemaker.
They’d outsourced surveillance and kidnapping to villains, but.
Ӗ n ũ ṁа̃ .ī d_
“Recent results suggest a strong guard. We’ll handle it directly.”
“Yes. I’ll prepare immediately.”
* * *
Monday morning, Education Hall.
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Ho-cheol stood before the gathered students.
Armed as before, they watched him tensely, likely recalling the recent villain attack in this hall.
Еn̊ u m ӑ . і̃ d̆
Not bad, this tension.
Counting heads, he nodded.
“As announced, today's practical trait application—specifically, handling overwhelmingly strong opponents.”
He folded his sleeve lightly.
“That opponent’s me.”
Despite the arrogant declaration, the students didn’t react much.
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It felt natural.
Having seen his strength up close, there was no room for debate.
“You’ll use your main weapons and traits at full power. Condition managed properly, right?”
“Yes—” they nodded in unison.
Relentless reminders to maintain condition had come for days.
No one wanted to hear his wrath if they slacked.
Ŵе b̌ no̊v e l E ň u m à
He pulled a sand timer from his bag.
“Seven minutes, thirteen seconds—the average time for a trait battle’s outcome. It varies by environment, type, or compatibility, but this is the baseline. Today, everyone gets seven minutes, one-on-one.”
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Some students tilted their heads, puzzled.
With forty-three students, seven minutes each far exceeded lecture time. Splitting them over six weeks?
Ignoring their confusion, he continued calmly.
“I won’t go all out. That’d end in seven seconds, not minutes. I’ll limit my strength to second-year academy level, with added handicaps.”
W е̃ b̊ n о̆v̀ е l̈ Éǹū m̂ а
Calling it a handicap, he gripped a twig tucked at his side.
Holding it horizontally at eye level, a single leaf dangled precariously.
“Picked this fallen twig on the way. I’ll face you with only this—no hands or feet.”
His next words stunned even students who’d accepted his superiority.
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“Your goal’s simple: knock off this leaf.”
Even with suppressed output, his physical specs outclassed theirs.
Е n ŭ.m̀ а. іd́
Their full effort wouldn’t scratch him.
It wasn’t his fault—no point faking pain or quantifying damage like a game.
Even perfect grading wouldn’t silence fairness complaints.
The twig was his clear, tangible goal.
“Knock off the leaf, you pass. Cut, break, or clearly damage the twig, you get full marks.”
To him, maybe.
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The students seethed.
Knock off a leaf that’d fall with a breeze?
Talk about condescending.
“We’ll go by attendance order. Any volunteers first?”
No one stepped up, despite their frustration.
In physical tests, going later was advantageous—early fighters might tire him, and lucky ones could spot weaknesses watching.
Ёń ům̃ á
As number 1, surnamed Kang, lamented always going first, a hand shot up.
“Oh.”
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Ho-cheol, expecting no volunteers for the same reason, let out a small, surprised hum.
The situation was unexpected, but the volunteer wasn’t.
Choi Da-yeon stepped forward.
“Good to see initiative. Or just confident?”
Е̂nù m a.ī d
Her lips curled faintly, unlike her usual blank expression.
Today, she seemed subtly excited.
“Honestly, it doesn't matter.”
She set down her case, unzipping it.
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Ho-cheol understood her faint thrill.
It wasn’t her usual generic bow or the one he’d called trash.
Е n̂ǔ m̌ а̇. і d̈_
Though repainted, its outline gave it away—Dread Archer’s bow, won at Lunard two days ago.
She couldn’t resist bringing it.
She flicked the string lightly.
“Gotta test its performance in action.”
He laughed, incredulous.
I get it.
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A new weapon made your hands itch to use it.
But bringing it to combat in two days?
A bit cheeky.
He’d match her enthusiasm.
Resting the twig on his shoulder, he nodded.
“Start now? Come on up.”
Е ň ù m̃a
“Yes.”
She hurried to stand before him.
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Holding an arrow between her index and middle fingers, twirling it, she said.
“I’ve got a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“You said knocking off the leaf is a pass, damaging the twig is full marks. Isn’t there one more?”
E̊n̂ um̂ a. і̂ d
“You’re right.”
He nodded, as if just realizing, pulling his empty hand from his pocket.
“If you make me use anything but this twig—hands, feet, whatever—it’s recognized. Full marks too.”
“No, not that.”
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She gripped the arrow with her whole hand.
“If I take you down, do I get full marks?”
É n̆u m а̄ .іd
“Hah.”
Her bold question stunned him.
Scratching his temple with the twig, he nodded after a pause.
“If you manage that, not just full marks—I’ll grant a wish. Anything I can do.”
The students buzzed at his blank-check promise.
But Da-yeon, right in front of him, was more shocked.
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No, not shock—excitement.
“…Anything?”
“Yup.”
At his brief, firm declaration, her eyes blazed with unprecedented drive.
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