Academy's Gumiho is a Magic Genius

The recovery of all the bodies was completed.

Pieces of flesh and bone, barely recognizable as bodies, were collected and placed in coffins.

Those coffins were delivered to the families of the victims.

The families expressed their grief in their own ways.

A woman clutching the coffin and crying all day. A couple screaming and calling out for their child. A child searching for a father they could no longer meet. And people directing their anger toward Seven Stars Academy.

The forms of expression varied, but no one held back their tears.

The surroundings were filled with wailing and tears.

In such a situation, studying was impossible.

Seven Stars Academy gave the students a week of rest.

As a result, the performance evaluations and midterms for all grades were postponed.

Out of the 6,000 students, no one opposed this decision. They, too, were acutely aware of the gravity of the situation.

Total injuries: 241.

Total deaths: 36.

Security guards: twenty-one.

Teaching assistants: six.

And nine first-year students.

They were just children who had barely shed their freshman labels.

They were elites. They were the new sprouts expected to bloom brilliantly, receiving the hopes and trust of their respective countries.

One of the professors teaching the first-years muttered.

"We overlooked too much. The daggers of demons are everywhere."

He taught martial arts to the students, guiding them in the basics of self-defense.

He felt a deep sense of guilt and responsibility for the current tragedy.

Beside him, another professor spoke in a voice filled with emotion.

"If I had known this would happen, I would have taught them more magic. At least enough to protect themselves."

Someone clicked their tongue and retorted.

"Don't talk nonsense. One must protect themselves. Those kids simply didn't know how."

The tone was harsh. It wasn't the right thing to say in front of so many coffins.

Yet, no one objected to his words.

Because he wasn't wrong.

In this world, death is always close by. You never know when it will come.

A sudden dungeon break could occur, turning the city into a wasteland. Or bounty-hunting demons could launch a terrorist attack, sweeping you up in the chaos.

But if you were strong enough, you might be able to save yourself.

That's why, in this world, weakness is a sin.

Everyone present knew that.

They just chose to look away from that fact.

Because acknowledging it was too painful, and denying it was too reasonable.

"We all knew. We knew the life expectancy of hunters was short."

"But I didn't think they'd be crushed before even turning twenty."

"...."

Spring was in full bloom. Colourful flowers were in full bloom, announcing the arrival of April.

But the most brilliant buds in this academy had withered before they could bloom.

People moved on, carrying their sorrow.

It was almost time for the funeral to begin.

The vast forest where the bodies were found.

That vast land became a cemetery, and people began the burial.

Starting with the families of the victims, all the professors and teaching assistants. Most of the students who had the strength to attend were present.

There were no reporters or cameras.

There was no need to record this moment.

This moment was meant to be buried in the hearts of everyone present.

Soon, the chairman's eulogy began.

He explained the circumstances that led to this tragedy and recounted the lives of the deceased. There were no grand eulogies.

Their lives had been too ordinary.

That's why it was so regrettable.

Why did they have to leave so meaninglessly?

Cries echoed from all around.

The gloomy forest, which seemed to echo with ghostly wails, was now filled with people's tears. The cries of the first-years who had lost their friends were especially loud.

They had learned the pain of loss at too young an age.

They cried and mourned, grieving the deaths of their friends.

Among them were Seo Yerin and Noh Yura.

Seo Yerin, who always seemed mature, had reddened eyes, and Yura, who had comforted me, shed thick tears.

A completely different appearance from when she had comforted me last time.

'...Well.'

Yura was young.

The pain of loss isn't something you get used to, no matter how many times you experience it. How could a young student endure such pain?

Surely, she must have put on a brave front in front of me.

Because she could sense fragments of my feelings.

"...."

I stood silently among the teaching assistants, observing everything.

Even though I wanted to close my eyes and turn away.

I kept my eyes open until they turned red, engraving the sight before me into my heart.

I could have erased all of this from my memory.

I felt nauseous. A headache so intense it made me lose my balance.

'If only I had stopped even one professor.'

The situation would have been different.

Then, Yuren and the horde of demons would have been killed sooner.

The protagonist's awakening, the innocent students getting caught up in it—none of that would have happened. This gathering of people wouldn't have taken place.

But I chose an irreversible path.

I kept silent about what would happen in the future.

I rationalized it by telling myself no one would believe me anyway.

'And yet, in the end, I tried to take responsibility for everything.'

The old me would have undoubtedly chosen survival over morality.

I blinded myself, telling myself that all of this was a sacrifice for a happy ending. But my half-baked sense of morality made me change my choice.

This is the result.

Open your eyes wide and look straight ahead.

Engrave all this death and sorrow into your heart.

This world is no longer just a novel.

It's a demonic realm where all sorts of villains exist, and innocent citizens die according to a predetermined script.

The old me would have chosen to be a bystander to survive in this demonic realm.

Because there's no surer way to survive.

In fact, even now, I desperately want to live.

But I'm thinking a little differently now.

'I don't want to leave them to die.'

I don't know if it's a pity for the characters trapped in the predetermined script or a sense of guilt and morality toward those who will die.

If I'm going to live, I want everyone to survive.

I've seen enough of people dying.

I've seen enough of death to be sick of it.

***

When I was young, I had a brilliant talent.

A talent that could dominate the battlefield and change the course of war.

Because of it, I became the hope of frightened citizens and a beacon lighting the path for soldiers.

Hope became the driving force for people to live, and the beacon illuminated the darkness where even a step ahead was invisible.

Up to this point, it was good.

It was just good.

Until I realized how heavy the hope of everyone was and that keeping the beacon lit required fuel.

At some point, more and more people around me began to die.

In war, human life is worth less than a fly, but that was too much.

I grieved their deaths but fought even harder to ensure their deaths weren't in vain. That was all I thought.

And so, after every battle, I was surrounded by mountains of corpses.

The bodies of demons and humans piled up like mountains, and the blood flowing from them blocked my path like a moat.

A mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

Every time I saw it, my sensitivity to corpses and death diminished.

I thought it was strange that it happened every day, but I didn't dwell on it too much. My heart and mind were being worn down in inverse proportion to the piles of corpses accumulating daily.

Then, one day, when I was on the brink of a mental breakdown.

During a time when the war with the demons was usually at a lull, a large force of demons launched a covert attack.

Many people died in the process, and I swung my sword in resistance.

The situation was dire.

After a large-scale battle the previous day, there were more patients than soldiers in the barracks. At this rate, everyone would die.

Right then, the soldiers in the barracks made a decision.

Save Baek Seung-woo.

Not everyone could die.

At least one person had to escape.

So, they forcibly expelled me from the attack.

"You are the hope of the people."

"The only beacon that can light this hellish darkness."

"So even if we all die for you."

You must live.

They attacked me and transported me while I was unconscious.

Through my blurry vision, I saw soldiers dying.

They weren't just one or two.

Tens of thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands.

Beyond a single unit, an entire battalion sacrificed themselves to save me.

The people transporting me changed every moment.

If someone got tired or injured their leg, someone else would carry me.

They burned their stamina and lives as they ran.

Only then did I realize.

The corpses surrounding me were there to protect me.

They were desperately blocking the path to me so that the spark of hope wouldn't be extinguished.

That's when I felt the weight of the burden on my shoulders.

Too much was piled on top.

The hopes and wishes of the people. And countless lives were on my little shoulders.

It was heavy.

Too heavy.

I had never known that being someone's hope could be this heavy.

As my consciousness began to clear, I heard news that the 3rd Battalion guarding the outskirts had been annihilated.

No, to be precise, it wasn't annihilation.

I was still alive.

I survived reluctantly.

No one mourned their sacrifice.

Instead, they praised it as a noble sacrifice and celebrated it. What a mad world.

Calling the sacrifice of hundreds of thousands to save one person a noble sacrifice.

It was a thoroughly mad world.

From then on, I began to hear voices in my ears.

"You must live."

It was a curse.

A curse that bound and gnawed at me.

Even after so much time had passed, I still occasionally see the scenes and hear the voices from that time. Especially during funerals like this one.

Feeling sick, I stepped away from the funeral for a moment.

With no one around, I felt like I could finally breathe.

"...This is why I hate funerals."

"Oh my, you sound like someone who's been to a lot of funerals."

"Do you enjoy appearing behind me like this?"

As I leaned against a nearby tree.

A familiar voice came from behind.

Even if I couldn't sense her presence, I just accepted it.

The woman before me, Nam Hwa-yeon, was a mage who could hide her presence effortlessly.

"Yes. It's fun."

"...Then do as you please."

"Just kidding, just kidding. Don't take it so seriously."

She patted my shoulder as she spoke.

I had no strength to respond or resist, so I just took it.

Nam Hwa-yeon looked at me blankly and handed me a cube.

What's this?

I took it, but it looked like a Rubik's Cube.

Except it had no colours, unlike a regular Rubik's Cube.

"What is this?"

"Why don't you try solving it first?"

"...There's no colour on it?"

"Does it really look like there's no colour?"

When I asked her how to solve it, she answered with a question.

Puzzled by the cryptic response, I tilted my head.

Suddenly, my red eyes were covered in purple.

Through the amethyst-like shimmering eyes, mana became visible.

Thus, the colourful cube became visible to the naked eye.

But something still felt off.

It was tightly binding each piece of the cube.

A kind of lock, perhaps.

If I couldn't decipher it, this cube couldn't be solved.

And 'it' was a form I knew well.

"A spiral...?"

No, not an ordinary spiral.

Not even the double helix I had created when I came to this world.

There was another thread-like thing tangled above it.

"A triple... helix?"

"Oh, you recognized it right away."

"You want me to solve this?"

"If your knowledge and experience can support it, it should be possible."

A triple helix.

I don't know why Nam Hwa-yeon handed me this cube.

But a triple helix is beyond my current ability.

I haven't even properly handled a double helix yet.

Stepping into a higher level isn't easy.

"At least, it's not something I can solve right now."

"If I teach you the knowledge, do you think you can do it?"

"...Maybe? Experience and trial and error can be done anytime if you have the knowledge."

"Then, how about becoming my disciple?"

"...!"

My pupils dilated at her words.

Nam Hwa-yeon's disciple.

It would be both a gain and a loss for me.

To put it metaphorically, it's like a poisoned chalice.

The Demon King's disciple... It's not like that setting wasn't considered, but there's a certain dignity that comes with the title. Even if the Demon King isn't the king of demons but the 'king of mages,' and not a villain, the dignity that comes with the title requires someone fitting.

Huh? What about the protagonist?

Of course, that's a no. A hothead becoming the Demon King's disciple would be a bit unsightly. The same goes for the main characters.

Then isn't it almost like a non-existent setting?

Of course, it would be interesting if included. But suddenly adding a talent worthy of the Demon King's eyes into the scenario would break plausibility.

Nam Hwa-yeon is a genius who will leave her mark on magical history.

She advanced modern magical history by hundreds of years, and her achievements were recognized by the system, earning her the title of Demon King.

Given who she is, you can imagine how picky she is about choosing disciples.

At the very least, they must have talent just below hers or equal to hers.

Daring to surpass her talent is out of the question. That's just how significant Nam Hwa-yeon is in the magical world.

Right at that moment.

A trait I possessed came to mind.

'Magical Aptitude....'

[Magical Aptitude], an absolute talent for magic.

A trait that grants the potential to become a saint of magic.

At first, I didn't know why I had this trait.

I just accepted it as something good.

Because I judged it wasn't something I could figure out by thinking.

But at this very moment.

I think I know why I have this trait.

'...Eve.'

The arrangement of my old friend.

That's the only explanation.

Then why did she make such arrangements for me?

Why did she send me into this novel?

The questions only deepen, but nothing is clearly resolved.

All I can do now is move forward.

That's the only thing.

"Um, Professor...."

"Ah, let's hear the answer to your question later. You're going to the dungeon, right? You took a day off."

Nam Hwa-yeon left the cube in my hand and walked away.

There was still time before the funeral ended.

As a professor, she couldn't be away for too long.

As I watched her leave, my pocket buzzed.

Vrrr!

The vibration of my phone.

It wasn't a call, but a text message.

"...Who sent me a text?"

I barely have ten contacts, and now I'm getting a text.

In the month I've been alive, this is the first time.

Maybe it's an emergency alert.

Wondering, I took out my phone, and there was an unfamiliar contact.

The stiff writing style reminded me of something I saw a few days ago.

"Baek Seol-hee?"

My biological younger sister.

In the novel, she was the one scheming to take over the family head position.

She confirmed my day off and said she'd send a car on the day.

Something feels off.

Last time, she sent an old-fashioned letter, and now she's suddenly sending a text?

There's definitely something up.

'...It wouldn't hurt to show my face to the family once in a while.'

Thinking I'd play along with Baek Seol-hee's scheme, I sent a positive reply.

***

A few days later.

The day of my day off arrived, and she replied that she'd have a car ready at that time.

Thinking I shouldn't be late on such a day, I left 30 minutes early.

But the car was late.@@novelbin@@

What's the deal with this?

***

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