“I scoured all the related sites, and it’s a plant without edible approval. The dungeons where it’s harvested are dangerous, and the side effects are certain, so…”
“It probably won’t get approved in the future either.”
“There is some effect of amplifying strength as a reward, though.”
“But the losses outweigh the gains.”
“…He realized that too late. I wanted to help him somehow. His grades were dropping too fast, and he was getting anxious because of it.”
Yoon Taeha recalled the torn photograph atop the water purifier.
“I understand.”
Hong Eunsoo coughed awkwardly to hide the sudden lump in her throat. Pulling her hand out of her pocket, she hesitantly approached the pull-up bar. She couldn’t quite bring herself to sit next to Yoon Taeha, so she clumsily leaned against the pole instead. Yoon Taeha pretended not to notice.
“During the Dungeon Plants and Emergency Medicine class, I could enter the greenhouse. I secretly took a few ingredients and made something like an antidote on my own.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes. But it was a mess. There was only a pain-relief effect, nothing else. Lately, I thought he might be improving after taking it, but…”
“The fight with Lee Kyungtae from Class A happened, right?”
Hong Eunsoo spoke with surprising firmness.
“I’m not going to defend that. It’s true Kwon Min-gi attacked first. The students’ favorite spot is Training Field 1-3, and there was an issue over securing space…”
“And then he got sent to the disciplinary class?”
“Lee Kyungtae was badly injured. He returned to Class A, but have you seen him?”
Yoon Taeha remembered her late-night patrols. Lee Kyungtae was one of the Espers whose face she had memorized beforehand. His ability was B-grade physical transformation. He was the boy who occasionally walked around with a cane near the dormitory.
“I saw him from afar.”
“He can’t walk comfortably without the cane. Because he’s an Esper, Kwon Min-gi didn’t get expelled.”
Hong Eunsoo’s expression looked apologetic, as if she were apologizing on behalf of her friend. Seeing her distressed face, Yoon Taeha turned her head to look for a vending machine.
It should be around here somewhere…
Finally spotting one, she teleported directly from her seated position on the pull-up bar.
Hong Eunsoo, suddenly finding the space beside her empty, gaped and began looking around frantically. Exactly ten seconds later, Yoon Taeha returned with a cold beverage can in hand after finishing payment.
“Drink this.”
Seeing her reappear on the pull-up bar, Hong Eunsoo refrained from screaming. Instead, she protested in a muffled voice.
“You startled me!”
“We won’t be able to play badminton today. Consider this a bribe.”
A bribe? The mismatched word choice left Hong Eunsoo with an indistinguishable expression between laughter and tears as she accepted the drink.
“…If you skip due to personal reasons, it counts as three absences.”
“I’ll let it slide. This isn’t exactly personal.”
“I’ll make an exception just for today.”
“And stop using honorifics. They don’t suit you.”
“Why are you bringing that up now…”
The crisp sound of opening the can lid rang out twice in quick succession. After watching Hong Eunsoo take a sip, Yoon Taeha pressed her lips to the can.
Having drunk about half, Hong Eunsoo grimaced as if she’d taken a sip of alcohol. Finally smacking her lips, she solemnly declared:
“Hwang Sungbin is a bastard. Kwon Min-gi warned me about him. Told me never to talk to him.”
She started cursing immediately after being told to speak casually.
The abrupt shift in tone was dizzying. Yoon Taeha blinked, slightly taken aback.
“Really?”
“You didn’t know?”
“I had my suspicions.”
“Do you know why I begged and pleaded with that half-baked guy to be my Guide? He’s seriously suspicious.”
Hong Eunsoo was now entering the anger phase. It seemed she had a lot pent up inside.
With no one to confide in, her friend gone, and something off-putting about telling the teachers, it was only natural that her words spilled out upon meeting someone who already knew the situation.
“There’s a pattern in the posts on Daesoo. During specific periods, the demand for certain books spikes too high. The same person repeatedly posts, and if they really wanted to buy something, they’d at least change the conditions—it’s common sense.”
Hong Eunsoo’s homemade mini-drone was now flying lazily above Yoon Taeha’s head in figure-eight patterns. Perhaps its mode had changed, as the sound it emitted was friendlier than before.
“You’re well-informed.”
“I investigated because of Kwon Min-gi.”
She had a high level of understanding of the situation. Strong in information warfare, skilled with her hands—Yoon Taeha was also aware of Hong Eunsoo’s website hacking incident.
Looking up at the drone, Yoon Taeha instinctively sensed that Hong Eunsoo would make a fairly good ally.
Her field of vision was broader than Woo Joo Han’s…
She couldn’t have Cheon Geonyoung monitor all the students alone. The principal and Shin Jae-il were also his responsibility.
She needed to focus on Kang Jin-ho and Kim Soochan during the evaluation matches.
Understanding student psychology and responding flexibly wasn’t the forte of the existing agents.
And Shin Jae-il, whom they had dispatched, had completely crossed over to the other side. Using the enemy within wasn’t a bad strategy.
Hong Eunsoo spoke in a low voice.
“He’s definitely playing around with Daesoo.”
“So I need some help.”
The empty can in Yoon Taeha’s hand crumpled into a clean cube. Hong Eunsoo swallowed hard, suddenly feeling reluctant to become the target of those slender fingers. Though she didn’t know much, she was certain Yoon Taeha was no ordinary Esper.
With such an extraordinary face, her abilities must be extraordinary too.
Arriving at a rather illogical conclusion, Hong Eunsoo quickly replied, as if she had been waiting for this moment all along.
“I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“How can you say that so carelessly without knowing what I’ll assign? You shouldn’t lower your stance before hearing the contract terms.”
“I just want to help.”
Her voice was eager. Gone was the fear from earlier; the face now glued to Yoon Taeha’s side was innocently earnest.
Hong Eunsoo cautiously asked:
“Can I ask one thing about our partnership?”
“What is it?”
“Do Jeon Seong-ha and Kwon Hee-sung actually exist?”
“Why are you curious?”
“I was curious a while back… so I sneaked in and confirmed it.”
Her words twisted awkwardly. As Yoon Taeha squeezed the can, it emitted a crinkling sound, folding the aluminum as thin as paper. Yoon Taeha voiced her suspicion.
“Did you hack into the East and South Shelter networks?”
“…Is that something that could land me in jail?”
“This one was close.”
“I didn’t look at anything else! No one else in the West can do this kind of thing, not even the teachers.”
The company wouldn’t sue a student for uncovering their secrets. On the contrary, they nurtured such talented students, strengthening the system further.
If all deviant Espers were locked up or sent to protective custody, the Ark would have fewer passengers than it does now. Yoon Taeha reassured Hong Eunsoo appropriately.
In truth, Hong Eunsoo likely already knew. An intelligence-type Esper with her level of ability was a rare resource even within the Ark. Her confidence wasn’t annoying.
“If it were our boss, they wouldn’t believe me, but I’m a little softer-hearted.”
Yoon Taeha lightly hopped down from the pull-up bar. Sensing the conversation was nearing its end, Hong Eunsoo whispered rapidly:
“Both Jeon Seong-ha and Kwon Hee-sung were real students. All the personal information you have matches perfectly.”
Yoon Taeha shrugged silently. Of course, it was something the company had prepared in advance.
Cheon Geonyoung was fine since school officials already knew he was an agent—even if his background was a bit flimsy.
But for her fake identity, a more intricate operation was necessary.
It was only natural to coordinate with the East Shelter’s director beforehand. That was the first thing they did.
In fact, the principal here had requested Jeon Seong-ha’s records from the East as soon as he transferred. The director there handed over the pre-prepared response and documents.
Whether through official or unofficial channels, from the day of his transfer, “Jeon Seong-ha” was the clueless new Esper from the East.
“No matter how much the teachers investigate, they won’t find anything beyond the fact that you came from there.”
“The company has many capable people.”
Students eager for morning exercise were beginning to appear on the field.
Yoon Taeha signaled with a glance to move. Holding her barely half-crushed can, Hong Eunsoo matched her stride closely.
Yoon Taeha’s can was now a perfect cube, ready for block stacking.
“Could I do work like that?”
“Were you planning to go into the field?”
Hong Eunsoo shot her a glare.
“You know my shooting skills suck.”
“Didn’t you feel anything after hacking the website? You’ve been flagged for special monitoring ever since.”
“Because I’m competent? Did I catch the eye of higher-ups?”
Espers, always obsessed with their utility. Having grown up under brainwashing-like education from a young age, it was inevitable.
As she headed back to the dormitory, Yoon Taeha confidently declared her intention to skip class. Hong Eunsoo responded that she’d provide a suitable excuse, her face trustworthy.
“Thanks!”
The gratitude thrown into the air without context carried meaning she understood.
Truthfully, there was someone else she should thank.
Thinking of the man who subdued the fire-type Esper without singeing a single hair, her stomach churned again. Despite the drenching, her lips felt dry.
Rubbing her palm, now free of wounds, she swam upstream like a salmon against the flow of students heading to class.
Entering her dorm room with a password, she showered in icy water cold enough to wake the dead.
Buried in artificial floral scents, Yoon Taeha collapsed onto her bed. Within seconds of resting her head, she fell asleep.
---
The principal’s office was on the top floor of the building.
He moved as usual—neat suit, straight tie, and a kindly face that smiled with an unusually wide mouth.
After finishing Monday morning’s regular meeting, the principal returned to his space.
Kwon Min-gi’s rampage and the resulting fire wouldn’t be disclosed to the students for now. It was the Ark’s decision. With the evaluation matches approaching, they couldn’t afford to disturb the students.
Seated in his large, heavy chair, he glared at the opposite wall where Kwon Min-gi had been confined—with terrifying eyes.
A decisive piece of evidence had slipped from his grasp.