No matter how much he didn’t want to engrave, he still had to choose at least one. It wasn’t like he could avoid it entirely. But even if he turned down being a Quadruple and chose Dual, if he picked something like Enhancement, the jealousy and envy from his classmates would be obvious as daylight. They’d think he was mocking them.
And in truth, it would be mocking. Dual, Triple, Quadruple—these were things others couldn’t have even if they wanted them.
Swallowing, Sihyeon glanced around. He could feel the gazes of people who seemed ready to be swayed by his every word, and he slowly closed and opened his eyes.
“I’m thinking of going with Healer.”
“Sounds good.”
Even if he chose a strong ability while considering appearances, people would still be jealous—that was just how the world worked. If that was the case, it felt better to pick something advantageous.
For example, something rare, something that could even be used to threaten people’s lifelines—something so valuable that no one would dare oppose him.
Right. Like the Healer class.
Now that he had become a Quadruple, living quietly was no longer an option. Not just the neighborhood—the whole world would come to know him. If that was the case, then at the very least, his personal safety needed to be secured. At his choice, the teacher smiled.
He wasn’t sure why the teacher kept smiling at him like that, but good was good. Bowing his head lightly, Sihyeon walked toward the teacher holding the completely empty Healer class sign.
“Please proceed with the engraving.”
“Ah, yes, yes!”
Ignoring the gazes pouring onto him as best as he could, he stepped into the tent. The teacher, who was oddly polite, nodded and placed the registration device in front of him. Unlike the crystal orb from before, this device had the word “Healer” written on it. It seemed each class had a different device.
“You’ve done this before, so you know the method, right?”
“Yes.”
As he nodded in response, the teacher stepped back. Sihyeon placed his hand over the orb and spoke the word.
“Engrave.”
Once again, a brilliant light enveloped him. Just like before, he felt all the information about the Healer class being input into his mind.
Starting from basic healing to sustained healing, area healing, detoxification, curse removal, mana recovery—various healer skills unfolded in his mind. With his eyes closed, Sihyeon quietly etched them in, finding it more interesting than expected. Only after the final skill finished did he slowly open his eyes and look down at his hand.
“Just because you’re a Healer doesn’t mean you can use all Healer class skills. Depending on your proficiency and talent, there will be skills you can use and ones you can’t, and the mana cost will also differ. And those are things you’ll have to figure out yourself by using your abilities going forward.”
After murmuring his thanks at the kind explanation, he stepped out of the tent. A sigh escaped him. Before transmigrating, he hadn’t sighed this much—but afterward, his sighs had noticeably increased.
He could feel all kinds of gazes directed at him—hostility, admiration, awe, jealousy. Suddenly craving a place of comfort, Sihyeon scanned his surroundings and, spotting Haru at just the right moment, began walking toward him.
Step by step, the gazes clung to him the entire way. He tried not to be conscious of them and approached, only to find that the boy at the end of those stares looked more dazed than usual.
“Hyung?”
“Huh? Oh—!”
The way he startled and responded was the same as always. In this situation, that familiarity felt like comfort.
“Did you finish your engraving?”
“Y-Yeah. You?”
“I finished.”
“I see….”
At the short reply, Haru nodded and fiddled with the pairing on his hand. It was no different from his usual behavior.
“…Aren’t you surprised?”
“…Huh?”
Someone who had been a new class until just yesterday had suddenly appeared as a Quadruple overnight. It wasn’t something you could not care about. Yet Haru remained as usual, so Sihyeon cautiously asked. Haru tilted his head, looking like he didn’t understand.
“About what?”
“My class.”
“Ah….”
At the clarification, Haru let out a small exclamation and then closed his mouth. Seeing him struggle silently without answering, Sihyeon looked at him curiously. After hesitating with an “Uh…,” Haru finally spoke.
“Um… d-do I have to be surprised?”
“…What?”
The answer was absurd. Haru lowered his head and fiddled with the pairing ring on his ring finger.
“…No matter what your class is, it doesn’t matter to me….”
Muttering hesitantly, his words were small. Sihyeon blinked. Had he thought Sihyeon was angry because he didn’t react? Lifting his head in a panic, Haru hurriedly added,
“I-I can be surprised if I’m supposed to. I just didn’t know….”
Hah. Everything he said was ridiculous. Watching Haru shrink back and lower his head again, Sihyeon let out a faint chuckle and gently placed his hand on Haru’s head.
“……?”
“…You don’t have to be surprised. I’m not angry or anything.”
Is this what it feels like to receive a carnation on Parents’ Day? Haru saying it didn’t matter what his class was felt both admirable and heartwarming, and with the mindset of a twenty-three-year-old, Sihyeon patted his head. He playfully ruffled the messy hair before smoothing it down and let out a relaxed breath.
The tension he’d felt since the engraving began slowly melted away. The nickname he’d secretly given Haru—human sanctuary—fit perfectly.
At first, Haru seemed flustered, but maybe he actually liked it. Without saying anything, he accepted the touch, then subtly rubbed his head against Sihyeon’s hand. He probably thought it wasn’t obvious, but to Sihyeon, it was painfully clear. Smiling, the corners of his eyes curved without him realizing it. It almost felt like animal therapy.
“Having fun, I see.”
“Ah….”
At some point, Dawoon—who had finished her engraving and was now with Jihye—approached them with a frown. Sihyeon stopped patting Haru and asked her the same question he’d asked Haru.
“I finished earlier. So what’s this about?”
“What?”
With her arms crossed, glaring at him, Dawoon spoke as Sihyeon avoided her gaze despite already guessing the reason.
“I’m asking when you became some frail boy who collapses after walking five minutes and breaks at the slightest touch.”
“I don’t think I said it that badly.”
“…….”
“…Help me out here.”
As her expression darkened, Sihyeon quickly changed his tone and asked for cooperation. Dawoon, still frowning deeply as if displeased, reluctantly nodded. Just as he was about to thank her—
“Ah, ah. Can everyone hear me?”
Their conversation was cut off by a sudden voice. Looking around at the familiar voice of the principal, they saw teachers closing the iron gates leading out of the school.
“What the—?”
“Why are they closing the gates?”
“A-Are we trapped in here?”
With the teachers suddenly turning the situation into a thriller, anxious voices rose from all around. Sihyeon was just as startled by the abrupt genre shift.
“I’ve just received confirmation that all of you have completed your engravings. As freshmen, your newly discovered abilities must feel both unfamiliar and fascinating.”
The principal’s voice echoed from all directions, as if amplified by some ability.
“However, now that you’ve entered the strongest high school, there is one thing you must understand. This is a world of strict meritocracy.”
What kind of insane school teaches that outright?
Wasn’t school supposed to instill dreams and hope? Well, reality wasn’t quite like that—but still, that was the general idea, wasn’t it? Yet here they were, bluntly declaring it a merit-based world, leaving him dumbfounded.
“You likely don’t yet know which class you’ve been assigned to. That’s because the results haven’t been announced. So here’s a question: what criteria do you think your class assignment is based on?”
“…….”
No one answered. But Sihyeon could tell that everyone already had a rough idea. Their eyes were filled with anxiety, dissatisfaction, and confusion.
“A survey has just been sent to your pairing devices. If you check, you’ll see a question asking whether you agree to receive the same placement test results as your partner.”
The students began murmuring. Each of them checked their pairing. Sihyeon pressed his as well. A holographic screen appeared, showing his name, Haru’s name, their classes, and individual heart rates. Above it floated a notification: “A survey has arrived.” When he pressed confirm, he saw exactly what had been described.
“Mir Military Academy High School has only four classes: A, B, C, and D. Students are divided based on their talent and ability. If you select ‘Agree’ on the survey, you and your partner will both be assigned to the class of the lower-ranked individual. On the other hand, if you select ‘Disagree,’ you will be assigned based on your own results, and if your results differ, you and your partner will be placed in separate classes. Now, this leads to another question: what exactly is the placement test?”
Furrowing his brow at the principal, who kept dragging things out like a riddle, Sihyeon watched as the man suddenly straightened and projected his voice with force, like a military instructor.
“Mir Military Academy High School is a Mir Military Training Institution. What do you think you’ll learn here? Academics? How to use your abilities? Those aren’t entirely wrong—but they’re not the ultimate goal. Here, you will learn how to fight Irregulars. So let me ask you this: if a high school that teaches you to fight Irregulars conducts a placement test, what do you think that test will involve?”
“…….”
The silence grew heavier than before. As the principal continued, Sihyeon’s expression hardened, and at the final question, he let out a hollow laugh, his face twisting.
He had a bad feeling. Ever since transmigrating, every “no way” he’d thought of had turned into reality.
Looking over the students—frozen for various reasons, fear, tension, disbelief—the principal slowly opened his mouth.
“You will be fighting a ‘Containment-grade’ Irregular.”
“…This is insane.”
While everyone gasped in shock, Sihyeon muttered quietly to himself—but no one paid attention. That alone showed how overwhelmed everyone was.
In the silence that fell like the world had been muted, Sihyeon narrowed his eyes and clenched his fist as he looked at the principal, who was smiling as if nothing was wrong.
Just as always, what he had hoped wouldn’t happen had become reality.
They were telling students—who had only just finished engraving—to fight a Containment-grade Irregular. These students were only seventeen. Well, except for two who were mentally twenty-three and another who had repeated a year and was eighteen.
A battle where injuries were guaranteed—and it was being arranged by the school principal himself.
Something intangible seemed to rise into the sky.
It was Sihyeon’s disbelief.
“Hah.”
Letting out a hollow laugh, Sihyeon stared at the principal.
There was no doubt about it.
This school was completely insane.
