Two days passed quickly. Ji-hoon—who was beginning to accept the name, though a sense of duality remained in his heart—spent his time studying his new world.
He read the monster theory textbooks on Min-jae's shelves. He watched documentaries about Gates and Hunter battles on the internet. He also intentionally tried to access Min-jae's memories, calling forth fragments of information about customs, family, and the academy. The process was like visiting a half-burned library; some parts were clear, while others were blurred or missing entirely.
His strange power, which he called 'telekinesis' following the system's definition in his head, appeared sporadically. He couldn't control it at will. Sometimes, when he was deeply focused and his emotions were calm, he could feel the presence of objects around him—their weight, texture, and position—and give them a small nudge.
A book might shift a few centimeters. A pen might roll across the desk. Nothing more than that.
The mysterious system only spoke occasionally, usually providing brief notifications like [Psychomotor control increased by 0.3%] or [Soul Coordination: 89%]. He no longer felt the pressure to suppress his memories. It seemed that after the protocol was rejected, the system was merely monitoring and recording.
Friday morning arrived. Ji-hoon stood before the bathroom mirror, wearing the provided Hunter Academy uniform: a black jacket and trousers with silver stripes along the edges, and the academy logo—a crossed sword and book—stitched onto the chest. The clothes fit Min-jae's lean but toned body perfectly. Ji-hoon was still unfamiliar with this reflection. Every time he shaved or combed his hair, the movements felt like controlling a clumsy puppet.
"You can do this," he told his reflection. "It's just field research. Observation. Gather data."
His editor mentality became his shield. He treated this like a character research project for an ultra-realistic novel. He was the protagonist thrown into a new world. His task was to observe, learn, and survive.
Uncle Dae-hyun drove him to the academy. Along the way, he offered advice.
"Don't be nervous. This re-test is just a formality because you were in a coma. Show your best, but don't push yourself if you haven't fully recovered," Dae-hyun said.
"What matters is that you show intent and discipline."
"I understand, Uncle."
"And… be vigilant," Dae-hyun added in a lower tone. "Your father had many friends, but he also had enemies. Your name still carries a burden. Don't trust easily."
That warning echoed in Ji-hoon's ears. It turned out the Hunter world wasn't just about monsters and adventure, but also politics and dirty competition.
Hunter Academy looked like a futuristic campus. High iron fences surrounded a vast area with several modern, minimalist buildings. In the center, a twenty-story observation tower stood magnificently, its peak emitting a faint blue light. The main gate was guarded by officers in tight uniforms wielding weapons that weren't ordinary—their hilts contained colored crystal stones.
Ji-hoon got out of the car, a backpack filled with documents slung over his shoulder. He felt like a new student on his first day of school, compounded by the anxiety of being an impostor.
"I'll pick you up this afternoon. Good luck, Min-jae." Dae-hyun waved before his car drove away.
Ji-hoon took a deep breath and walked toward the gate. He showed the temporary student ID card he had been given. The guard scanned it with a handheld device, nodded, and allowed him in.
The atmosphere inside the academy was different from the outside world. The energy felt… denser. The air seemed to vibrate subtly. All around him, other students passed by. Some looked ordinary like him, but many had distinct traits: some had eyes that glowed slightly, some had skin with faint scales, and others carried strangely shaped, folded weapons. They all moved with confidence, full of energy.
Ji-hoon felt very ordinary. Too ordinary.
Following the signs, he reached the Administration Building. The lobby was spacious and crowded with students queuing or discussing. A low rumble of voices filled the room. Ji-hoon headed to the re-enrollment counter.
"Name?" asked the officer behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with glasses.
"Kang Min-jae."
The woman typed something into her computer. Her eyes narrowed as she read the screen. "Kang Min-jae… yes, the one delayed due to the accident. You are scheduled for a talent re-evaluation in room 304, 3rd floor. Take this queue number." She handed him a slip of paper with a QR code.
"Talent re-evaluation? I thought it was just a medical check-up?" Ji-hoon asked, slightly worried.
"New policy. All students with long absences or severe physical trauma must undergo re-evaluation to ensure there are no changes in potential," the officer replied in a routine tone. "Now, please wait to be called."
Ji-hoon nodded and went to the waiting area. His heart began to race. A talent test. That meant they would measure his power—or rather, his lack of it. Min-jae's memories mentioned that in the initial test a year ago, his potential was measured at level E, the lowest. He was barely fit for this prestigious academy. He was only accepted because of his family name and his father's donations.
Now, with a different 'soul' and a bit of uncontrolled telekinesis, what would happen?
He sat on a plastic chair, trying to calm himself. He observed the other students waiting. A boy with red hair anxiously twiddled his fingers, and his fingertips emitted small sparks. A girl with pointed ears—perhaps of elf descent?—was concentrating deeply, a small ball of water floating above her palm.
They all had clear, measurable, and controllable powers.
Ji-hoon clenched his fists. He tried to feel the energy around him, as he had with the curtains. He felt that subtle vibration in the air, the faint flow of energy that might be 'mana.' But he didn't know how to channel it, how to turn it into something useful.
"Kang Min-jae! To room 304!" a voice announced over the speaker.
He stood up, his steps feeling heavy. Room 304 was a white room with several pieces of equipment he didn't recognize. A man in a white lab coat and a woman with a tablet were waiting.
"Kang Min-jae? Please, come in," the man said. "I am Instructor Park, and this is Assistant Kim. We will conduct a re-measurement. Please cooperate."
"Understood, Instructor."
The first test was standard physical: blood pressure, heart rate, reflexes, and blood samples. Assistant Kim deftly pricked his arm with a small needle. Ji-hoon groaned softly. He was still not used to this body, to sensations that sometimes felt different.
"Physical condition is improving, consistent with the medical report. No anomalies," Instructor Park muttered while taking notes.
Then, the main part began.
"Now, we will measure your mana capacity and elemental affinity," Instructor Park said. "Step into that circle."
In the center of the room was a metal circle on the floor with intricate symbols. Ji-hoon stepped into it. As soon as his feet touched the circle, the symbols glowed blue.
"Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Try to feel the energy inside your body and let it flow out," Assistant Kim instructed.
Ji-hoon closed his eyes. He tried. He felt that subtle vibration, a strange sensation throughout his body. But it was like trying to grasp smoke. Every time he felt he 'had it,' it immediately slipped away.
The lights in the circle flickered but remained unstable. The monitor on the wall showed a flat graph with only occasional, meaningless spikes.
Instructor Park sighed. "Same as the old data. Mana capacity is very low. Almost at non-Hunter levels." He turned to Ji-hoon. "Try to focus on an element. Fire? Wind? Earth? Water? Think of whatever feels most comfortable."
Ji-hoon thought. He wasn't Min-jae, who might have had a preference. As Ji-hoon, he had always liked calm and stability. Books. Paper. Words. Still things. Earth, he thought. Something solid.
He tried to imagine himself standing on firm ground. Roots spreading. Solid rock.
The circle lights remained blue, not changing to brown as expected for the earth element. The graph stayed flat.
"No elemental affinity detected," Assistant Kim reported flatly. She tapped her tablet. "Moving on to psychic and kinetic tests."
They moved him to a chair with a helmet full of wires. The helmet was placed on his head. "This will measure psychic potential—telepathy, telekinesis, clairvoyance, and the like," Instructor Park explained.
Ji-hoon felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this was the way.
The device was turned on. A light electric tingling sensation spread across his scalp. Ji-hoon again tried to feel his power. This time, because the helmet might have triggered something, it felt easier. He could feel the presence of a small metal ball on a table across the room. Without opening his eyes, he 'reached' for it with his mind.
On the monitor, the previously flat graph suddenly spiked. Not high, but significant.
"Hmm?" Instructor Park approached the monitor. "There is psychic activity. Are you concentrating on a specific object?"
"I'm… trying to move that ball," Ji-hoon said honestly.
"Try again. Focus."
Ji-hoon tried. The ball wobbled, then rolled off the table with a 'click.'
"Basic telekinesis," Assistant Kim muttered, taking notes. "Power is very weak, estimated level F to E. Limited radius, low precision. But… this is a development from the old data, which recorded no psychic ability at all."
Instructor Park nodded, his expression no longer flat. "Min-jae, it seems the accident or your coma triggered something. Although small, there is progress. That's good."
Ji-hoon felt a small sense of relief. At least he wasn't entirely 'ordinary.'
The final test was a response simulation. He was placed in a pod-like virtual simulator and given a scenario facing an F-rank monster—a goblin. His task was to survive for one minute.
Ji-hoon had no combat experience. As the digital goblin lunged with a club, he tried to dodge clumsily. His instinct as Ji-hoon was to run or find cover, not to fight. He tried to use his telekinesis to drop a virtual rock on the goblin's head, but his power was too weak and his accuracy was poor. The rock missed.
The pod opened after one minute. He 'survived' only because the simulator was programmed not to kill students in this test.
"Passive defensive reflexes, evasion tactics. No aggressiveness or offensive capability," Assistant Kim noted. "Recommendation: Support or Strategist path, not Frontline."
Instructor Park looked at Ji-hoon. "With these results, your potential remains classified as Rank E, with a note of minor development in the psychic field. You will be placed in the Remedial Class—a special class for students with limited potential or delays—for the first semester. If you show progress, you can move to the regular class."
Remedial Class. The words stung. But Ji-hoon nodded. It made sense. He was just starting.
"Thank you, Instructor."
After all procedures were completed and he received his new student ID with the status "E-Rank Potential, Class 1-R (Remedial)," Ji-hoon left the building with mixed feelings. He was relieved to have passed the test without being caught as an 'intruder.' But he also felt small. In a world that valued strength, he was at the bottom.
As he walked down the corridor toward the lobby, a group of students passed him. They wore uniforms with rank badges on their shoulders—some were silver (C-Rank), and some were even gold (B-Rank). They were talking loudly about a practical mission to a D-Rank Gate.
"…got three crystals yesterday, enough to pay for the semester…"
"…goblins are easy, but you have to be careful with the Hobgoblin boss…"
Ji-hoon looked down, trying not to attract attention. But one of them, a tall student with dyed blonde hair, stared at him.
"Hey, look at that. A red card," the student sneered toward Ji-hoon. Ji-hoon's red student ID signified the Remedial class, unlike the green (regular), blue (honor), or black (elite) cards.
His friend smirked. "The Remedial Class has started taking new students? I thought they'd close down because no one wants to be a burden."
Ji-hoon tried to stay calm. He kept walking, ignoring them. But the tall student stepped in his path.
"You, the new guy. What's your name?"
"Kang Min-jae," Ji-hoon replied shortly, trying to move past him.
"Kang?" the student frowned. "The Kang family with that crazy scientist?"
A surge of heat flared in Ji-hoon's chest—a mix of Min-jae's anger and Ji-hoon's hatred for bullies. "Speak with respect."
"Or what? You'll report me? With your E-rank potential?" the student laughed at him. "Listen, Remedial kid. Don't dream too high. Just survive this academy, then go home in shame. That's enough."
Ji-hoon clenched his fists. He wanted to retaliate. But what could he do? His weak telekinesis wouldn't move this guy. His physique? He was sure Min-jae might be more trained, but Ji-hoon lacked the muscle memory to fight.
As his emotions peaked, without him realizing it, his power reacted. Not toward the student, but toward a decorative potted plant at the edge of the corridor.
The clay pot cracked with a loud snap, then shattered into pieces. Soil and plant scattered across the floor.
The tall student and his friends jumped, turning toward the sound.
"What was that?"
"Did the pot just fall on its own?"
Ji-hoon himself was shocked. He hadn't meant to do it. His power had responded wildly to his emotions.
But the incident diverted their attention. The tall student exhaled, looking at the mess. "Whatever. Let's go. It's not worth arguing with a Remedial kid."
They left, leaving Ji-hoon alone in the corridor with the broken pot.
A groundskeeper arrived with an annoyed expression. "What happened here?"
"Sorry, someone accidentally bumped into it," Ji-hoon said quickly. He helped clear the pot shards with trembling hands.
The groundskeeper grumbled but eventually accepted his help.
Once finished, Ji-hoon walked quickly out of the building. His heart was still pounding. That encounter reminded him: this world was harsh. The hierarchy based on strength was real. And he was at the very bottom.
But beneath the shame and anger, there was another spark. His power had reacted to emotion. That meant there was a link between his psychic state and his telekinetic ability. Perhaps, if he could learn to control his emotions and focus, he could control his power too.
He arrived at the bus stop within the academy complex. While waiting, he opened his student ID. The words "Remedial Class" were clearly displayed.
[Situation analysis complete.] The system voice suddenly appeared. [Recommended survival strategy: avoid frontal conflict.
Focus on developing psychic abilities and accumulating knowledge. Use the cognitive advantages of 'Ji-hoon' for tactical analysis.]
Ji-hoon's cognitive advantage. Yes. He wasn't a fighter, but he was an editor. He was used to analyzing stories, characters, and plots, looking for weaknesses and patterns. Perhaps that was his weapon in this world.
"Min-jae!" a familiar shout broke his concentration.
He turned. A girl with short brown hair, bright large eyes, and the same academy uniform ran toward him. Yoo Na-rae.
"Na-rae," he greeted, trying to smile.
"I heard you had your test today! How was it?" Na-rae asked, out of breath. Her face was full of hope.
Ji-hoon reluctantly showed the red card. "Remedial Class. Rank E potential."
Na-rae's expression dimmed for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by an encouraging smile. "It's okay! That's just the beginning. I'm sure you can rank up! I'm in Regular Class C, Support department. We can still be a team later, right?"
Na-rae's sincere belief made the weight on Ji-hoon's chest lift slightly. "Yeah. Sure."
"Are you going home? I'll walk you to the outer stop. I'll tell you all about the academy!" Na-rae took Ji-hoon's arm familiarly, pulling him along.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Ji-hoon felt a sense of genuine warmth. Not from memory, but from direct interaction. Perhaps, amid all the danger and pressure, there were still good things left.
As he rode the bus alone, staring at the futuristic cityscape outside the window, his resolve strengthened. Remedial Class? No problem. That was just the starting setting. Every great protagonist always starts from the bottom. And he, with two sets of memories and a mysterious system, had more tools than people thought.
Tomorrow, classes would begin. And the journey of Kang Min-jae—and Kang Ji-hoon within him—as the most unusual Hunter, had truly begun.
In the academy control room, Instructor Park and Assistant Kim were still discussing the test results.
"His psychic activity was strange," Assistant Kim said, replaying the graph recording. "The spike wasn't natural. It was as if another source suddenly lit up, then went out."
Instructor Park nodded slowly. "And that potted plant… did you see the security footage?"
They replayed the footage from the corridor camera. It showed Ji-hoon clenching his fists, his face angry, then the pot behind the other students suddenly cracking and shattering. No one had touched it.
"Telekinetic outburst. Triggered by emotion. Raw and uncontrolled power, but… there is latent potential there," Instructor Park analyzed. "Monitor him. Report to the psychic research department. Who knows, this kid might not be just an ordinary E-Rank."
Assistant Kim made a note. The name "Kang Min-jae" was now on the special observation list.
Meanwhile, on the bus, Ji-hoon had no idea he had attracted unwanted attention. He just watched the sky turn to dusk, thinking of the system's last words before it went silent:
[Next objective: Survive the first week of the academy. Increase basic psychic control to 5%.]