Everyone had been dragged into the principal's office faster than you could say "disciplinary hearing."
Il-seong and Jeunk in front of the director's desk, the hall monitor and Madame Ha-Kan stood awkwardly along the wall.
The rest of the class had been sent to study hall until the next period.
Si-woo had been swept up with the crowd of nameless spectators and dispatched along with them.
He doesn't need a skill, Il-seong smirked. He's stealthy by nature.
— You find this funny, Mr. Park?
Il-seong straightened his back.
— No, sir.
— Let me remind you—bullying is a very serious business in this school !
Il-seong shot the principal a dark glare, but the man had already launched into a speech full of empty platitudes. All his talk about non-violence, respect, and discipline hit differently when you knew what his own son was like.
Jeunk nailed the part of the repentant student flawlessly—head down, muttering apologies to his father. But that satisfied smirk he wore, visible only to Il-seong, gave away the act.
Il-seong clenched his fists and glanced at the interface:
[Skill: "Stealth" – Level 1]
Cooldown: 6 hours
If only he could go invisible for ten seconds and punch that smug little face into the floor. His father would've seen it with his own eyes—his darling son acting like a lunatic. He would've believed Il-seong when he said Jeunk was faking. With all that evidence, the principal would've had no choice but to expel him…
— You should focus on your studies, sighed the principal. With your physique, it's the least you can do for your future.
Jeunk stifled a laugh. Il-seong snapped.
— Sir, this is ridiculous!
— Excuse me?
— Come on! Look at your son! You really think I had the strength to knock him over that easily
— That's what I saw. You were beating my son half to death in front of two adults who stood there and did nothing.
Il-seong gritted his teeth, glaring at the monitor and Madame Ha-Kan cowering in the corner.
Neither of them dared look up.
Damn it !
Where was this guy when Jeunk was forcing him to play human chair, using him as an ashtray—or a punching bag? If he'd shown up just two minutes earlier...
A dark thought crossed his mind.
Revenge—against the father this time.
Use "Stealth" to snap some compromising photos, plant something illegal in his drawer, call the cops. The principal would be ruined, shamed into resignation. Forced to move. Jeunk would have no choice but to follow.
The idea made Il-seong smile.
A smile the principal didn't appreciate. His scolding grew louder.
Si-woo could hear everything from the outside. Sitting on one of the chairs lined up like a mockery of a waiting room, he winced.
Jeunk's dad had shown up at the worst possible time. A few more hits and the guy's precious reputation would've been in the gutter.
Disgusted by this bad timing, Si-woo had bailed on study hall as soon as he could—this time remembering to take his bag.
While he waited to hear the verdict on his friend, he dove into the interface.
Some key elements were finally starting to make sense.
Now that the tutorial was over, Si-woo had full access to Il-seong's profile. And a better understanding of the situation.
The percentages weren't random.
They were stat points—just like in a classic RPG.
Il-seong had been evaluated and scored across six categories and sub-groups:
Physical Constitution (Recovery and Endurance) – 2%
Physical Strength (Speed, Strength, Reflexes) – 30%
(+5% Speed, +15% Speed, +5% Reflexes, +15% Reflexes, +5% Overall Physical Strength)
Charisma – 10% (+5% bonus)
Perception (Intuition, Intelligence, Wisdom) – 15%
Mana Manipulation – 0%
Potential – C
Once Il-seong reached 100% in every category, the system would consider him to have the average capabilities of a normal male human of his age. Only then could he grow beyond those limits.
In other words—he still had a long way to go.
Si-woo bit the side of his thumb.
His base stats were seriously low.
Pathetic, Jeunk would've said.
But that C in potential? That was a good sign. The system believed in him—at least to an average degree. Si-woo was determined to push past even that.
The Mana Control stat intrigued him, but with everything going on lately, he wouldn't be surprised if magic really was involved.
That would explain the interface's horrible personality.
Too bad Il-seong didn't have any.
Digging deeper into his friend's stats, Si-woo found more things to worry about. Enough to seriously hinder his progress.
His asthma's worse than I thought. And his eyesight... might as well be blind.
He was discovering parts of Il-seong's life he'd never known before. As he scrolled through diet logs, favorite films, music preferences, even hygiene habits… he felt like peeping Tom.
There was even a tracking system!
Si-woo could generate a map and see Il-seong's location marked with a yellow dot.
With enough focus, he could even see through Il-seong's eyes.
He hesitated to try, when suddenly the principal's door burst open.
Il-seong stormed out without even closing it behind. Si-woo jogged after him.
— What did he say?
He'd been so lost in thought, he hadn't caught the end.
Il-seong stopped in his tracks, leaning his head on Si-woo's shoulder.
— Three-day suspension, he muttered. I can't come back until Wednesday.
PERFECT ! thought Si-woo.
That gave Il-seong time to train—away from school. Away from Jeunk.
— Got any plans? Si-woo tried to lighten the mood.
Il-seong snorted against him.
— Console myself with the new Zelda, maybe…
He looked up at Si-woo with a sheepish expression—then froze.
His eyes widened in horror.
He sees the blue aura?!, Si-woo panicked.
But Il-seong had something else on his mind.
— Si-woo… I did beat Jeunk, right?
Si-woo hesitated.
— Well… I think he had to actually pass out for it to count as a win.Don't you?
The countdown was still running:
[6 days, 22 hours, 38 minutes and 7 seconds]
Il-seong looked like a dead man walking.
But Si-woo remained confident.
He'd set the deadline long on purpose—to make sure he had time to prepare him.
He even had a plan.
But first, something needed checking.
— I'll let you go ahead. See you tomorrow?
— You haveclass, remember? Il-seong scowled.
— And you really think I'm gonna hang around this school without you? No way.
— You're skipping?
Il-seong looked shocked—then burst out laughing.
Si-woo laughed with him.
— Don't tell my mom. But if you're gonna start fighting, I wanna be your coach.
— Hard to picture you in that role…
— Just trust me.
Il-seong paused, taking in his friend's determined expression.
Maybe I didn't win, he thought, but something's already started. Even Si-woo can feel it.
They parted at the stairwell.
Il-seong descended to head home, as ordered.
Si-woo went up—towards the nurse's office.
An idea had struck him.
To send Il-seong the Player invite, he had to enter his name and imagine his face.
That meant whoever had sent the system to Si-woo… knew him.
There's another Master in the school, Si-woo realized.
Someone who could guide him—teach him how to help his friend grow stronger.
Two suspects came to mind:
The student who'd seen him with Jeunk on the stairs, and Dr. Kim.
They'd both appeared when he was at his lowest—the same day the interface had activated. That couldn't be a coincidence.
Dr. Kim's words echoed in his mind:
Do you want to change?
Yes, Si-woo answered inwardly. I do want to change.
He hopped into the infirmary.
A senior student and Dr. Kim both turned to him in unison. On the table between them sat a neatly placed box of pads.
— I hope someone's dead or dying! Dr. Kim roared.
A vein on his forehead looked ready to pop.
"I—I'll come back later!" Si-woo stammered, fleeing for his life.
Dr. Kim shouted something after him. Probably curses.
Something didn't add up.
Master eyes were supposed to see the aura of Players and Masters.
If Dr. Kim had been one, he'd be glowing blue—or have blue eyes.
But he seemed… Like usual.
— It's the student, Si-woo muttered.
The worst-case scenario !
He didn't know their name, or class. Wouldn't even recognize them in a crowd.
And judging by their smug grin last time, they probably wouldn't help him anyway.
Si-woo sighed and pulled his backpack strap tighter.
He wasn't about to give up because of one dead end.
His intuition had just been wrong, that's all.
Truth was, the Master who sent the request could be anyone.
The guy at the convenience store, the train conductor, even one of his mom's coworkers.
He didn't matter.
Il-seong did.
And Si-woo already knew what he'd send him for training.
Or rather—where he'd send him...