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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: I Want to Eat a Hero (4)
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4
3
2
8
I pressed the four numbers in sequence, and with a familiar beep-boop-beep, the door lock clicked open.
Maybe because it had been so long since I'd heard the sound of home, my heart felt strangely unsettled.
It was like dropping by the house I'd moved away from as a kid after ages.
...Not that I'd ever actually done that, so I wouldn't know what it really felt like.
I fumbled with the switches, clicking them on and off as I mixed up the bathroom and kitchen lights, but that didn't last.
Once I hit the right switches, the room—darkened by the pitch-black rain pouring down outside—began filling with white light.
I shrugged off my coat, which squelched with every movement, and took in the familiar sight.
Ten pyeong. A decently comfy one-room for a solo dweller. Great soundproofing, too.
The only downside was the landlady grandma, who was so affectionate she turned every phone call into a pointless twenty-minute chat. Other than that, I liked the place.
It's been a while here, too. My first one-room, bought with money I earned myself back in my first year of high school.
The second I got my deposit, I signed for a two-room place and got totally scammed on the lease.
After that, I moved to an officetel.
A bit messy inside, true to my unclean nature.
I grabbed a 2L water bottle haphazardly left on the floor, cracked it open, and chugged it down.
With the boiler off, the icy water filled my stomach.
And as I drank, a single trivial thought crossed my mind.
When I'd slapped her cheek so hard blood splattered the table.
When I'd ditched the "company" contract on my own whim.
When I'd nearly gotten hit by that truck.
Even when I'd chatted with that aspiring hero whose name I still didn't know.
A dreamlike haze lingered, tickling one corner of my heart.
After thoroughly probing her "tastes" as a test.
Only now, stuffing cold plain water down my gut while keeping it all perfectly memorized in my head...
For the first time.
"Phaa..."
...I felt alive.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Typing practice was over.
After a quick shower, I set the notepad by the window and searched up all the things that had been nagging at me.
Past regression, time reversal, thinking you're back in time due to mental illness, and so on...
A bit on depression and schizophrenia popped up, but disappointingly, nothing caught my eye.
So, whose doing was it that I'd gone back to the past?
Or why had ten years' worth of memories suddenly jammed into my head?
The open internet had its limits for digging deeper.
And even seeing a psychiatrist didn't seem like it'd help.
What if I introduced myself like, "I came from ten years in the future"?
The outcome was obvious.
Until I nailed some major future events, both the doc and I would end up labeled as lunatics.
Whatever. Skip the shrink.
Once a real incident blows up, my story becomes truth overnight.
Hmm.
If I'm still uneasy, maybe just embrace these ten gifted years of youth and enjoy it. That could work.
...No way it's schizophrenia.
I figured not and firmly hit backspace.
Next up: recruitment info for Miren Academy, one of the hero training institutions.
I typed "Miren Academy" roughly and scrolled down half-heartedly—whirr, whirr.
First thing: practical exam.
Not a big deal.
Might matter for middling Transcendents, but Healing-type ones are irreplaceable manpower.
Next: written exam.
I stared at those two words for a while, then gave up and looked elsewhere.
Simple reason.
Villains don't study.
Then my mouse paused somewhere.
There it was: "Recruitment Period."
The key digit was a 1 up front.
December. January.
Current date I'd checked on my phone earlier: February.
Looks like meeting that girl needs a different approach.
She mentioned hunting for weekend gigs, so scout shops with those flyers.
Or fake a coincidence on her walk home after classes.
Something like that.
If even that's a hassle, ditching her's an option.
It's not like the old days when cities had just a couple heroes each.
These days, every high school class has a couple Transcendents.
Just that few have powers strong enough to be useful.
Anyway.
I could drop her if lazy, but she's a Miren Academy student—chance to meet other heroes through her?
If luck's good, build some ties. No need to kick away luck falling in my lap.
Plus, tons of famous heroes are Miren alums, so who knows...
...Gonna keep tabs on her for now.
I dropped the ~22KB notepad titled "1" into the "Puppy" folder on my desktop and was about to shut down when...
I spotted a word way down past the recruitment info, near the very end, and scrolled further.
What it said was...
"...Hmm."
...None other than "Job Opening."
"..."
Click.
Whirr,
whirr.
The quiet sound of the mouse wheel rolling spread through the room.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The slogan "The Greatest Heroes, From the Greatest Academy" was so embarrassing he couldn't even look at it.
Seok Jae-hwa, principal of Miren Academy, kept tapping the desk with his fingertips.
Of course, it wasn't the first part that embarrassed him.
How many heroes had they produced...!
The embarrassing bit was the latter.
The Greatest Academy.
That meant more than just prestige.
As a former hero turned teacher-trainer, Principal Seok Jae-hwa had pulled every string to invite top active heroes from all fields as instructors.
He prided himself on having the latest combat dummies and AI of any academy,
and spared no support to hone students' abilities to the max. (Strictly speaking, it was their tuition.)
In those facilities, students commuted freely, set their own schedules, trained as they liked, hung out with friends, and bloomed.
Like many flowers.
Seok Jae-hwa thought Miren Academy was first-rate among first-rates.
He was satisfied.
As long as things went to plan,
and the person to back up that "free training" showed up.
It would've stayed satisfying.
"No word of him enrolling elsewhere."
The principal muttered quietly and pulled up the enrollee list again.
His eyes stopped at the "Seo" section in the alphabetical order.
Nothing.
Even after checking twice, thrice, over and over.
Healing-type Transcendent. Seo Woo-jin.
This guy.
Where'd he go?
Already scooped up as a sidekick at some agency?
"Urgh..."
Of course, a Healing-type didn't need an academy.
Domestic big-name heroes, even overseas—they were special. Crave cash? Just join whoever offers top dollar.
Plus, he'd investigated rumors long ago: the kid shunned media exposure.
If he'd quietly joined somewhere without fanfare, even the principal couldn't know right away.
Connections, sure—but ears to hear news were limited.
Still, cross-verified facts from the interview reporter
and a same middle school classmate.
Reporter called Seo Woo-jin "a cold, stiff kid who knows way too much about heroes."
Classmate dubbed him "creepy hero otaku bastard who digs into heroes' backgrounds despite looking normal."
In other words, he liked heroes.
Specifically, heroes' "info."
A ton of it.
So Principal Seok judged: a guy like that would skip big agencies with all the public info and pick the academy teeming with "fresh" heroes...?
Kimchi soup dreams.
"Screwed up."
Money beat new intel, apparently.
Seok Jae-hwa closed his laptop with a sigh.
This turn made him regret things he hadn't done.
Worried it'd burden the kid, so no contact.
And that heartfelt thousands-word email begging him to join—written but unsent. Etc.
'But if he really doesn't come, what the hell am I supposed to do...'
Only one Healing-type his age: Seo Woo-jin.
Next one's a chubby fifth-grader.
Hence the embarrassing farce unfolding.
They'd assumed he'd enroll, so...
they'd set up a little health office for him on the first floor of the main building.
"..."
It's fine.
They'd made it quiet and cozy with great soundproofing, figuring hikikomori vibes, but fine.
Stuff in any regular medic, and emergencies are covered.
Say the old health office was overcrowded, needed expansion—fool the students somehow.
Couldn't dodge the pitiful stares of "Why waste money there when it's not even busy?" though.
Bonus glares: "Give more hero activity support instead."
Sigh. Stomach churning from stress, Principal Seok Jae-hwa stood from the sofa and straightened his clothes.
Then.
"Hm...?"
Fishing out his phone from his pocket, he belatedly noticed two calls from an unknown number.
Ah. Must've been on vibrate-silent during that jjajangmyeon lunch.
Such a slip-up.
"Hmm..."
Spam usually shows just one.
Whose call?
Bypassing admin, straight to him?
The principal rubbed his grumbling gut and picked up.
"Hello?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"I'm telling you, it's true."
"Yeah, yeah."
"My swollen ankle just... poof, right there."
"Got it. Lee Ha-yoon. Enough already. You're making me dizzy."
"Ah, okay!"
"...Anyway, glad it worked out. Ankle fixed, full grant money too. Living tight this month."
Miren Academy gymnasium, second floor.
Girls' shower room entrance.
Her hair—black as the night sky—bobbed lightly while she blow-dried it with a whirr.
And then, again.
Less than five seconds later, the still hair started bouncing excitedly.
"You haven't been healed by a Healing-type yet, right?"
"...Yeah."
"Feels so weird? Like this warm energy wriggling inside..."
"...Shut... ...Sigh..."
"Then it spreads all over, squirming every which way, and bam! Done."
"..."
"Healing-types fix you this fast—no more settling for casts..."
"..."
"H-hey? Ji-yoon? Your hair's still wet here and here."
"If you know, dry it yourself. I wanna wander the academy more."
"Ehh... That's mean... Sister's got makeup class soon..."
"..."
Clack, clack. Her swaying hair paused mid-stride.
Nearly all white from mana,
a short bob where inner black strands peeked only when it shook.
"...You'll stay quiet?"
Mouth full, "Like thith, yeth."
"Don't have to chew. ...Head hurts. Just quiet. You know, chronic migraines."
"Yeth yeth."
Feels like sister's the migraine cause.
She thought it silently.
"...Sis."
"What?"
"What's that room on the first floor corner of the main building? No nameplate."
"Huh?"
"Saw it heading to class."
Hmm, a thinking hum.
Then the whirring dryer drowned even that.
Evolution-type Transcendent. Limiter Release.
Miren Academy 2-B aspiring hero Lee Ha-yoon pondered seconds more before answering.
"Dunno?"
"...My bad for asking."
"No, really, no such room... A classroom?"
"Yeah. Now quiet."
"Hng..."