The administration building was quiet compared to the chaos outside. Cool air, polished floors, the smell of paper and coffee.
I approached the front desk where a middle-aged woman sat typing at her computer.
"Excuse me," I said. "Park Su-ho, first year. I'm checking in after suspension."
She looked up, adjusted her glasses, and pulled up something on her screen. "ID, please."
I handed over my student card. She scanned it, compared my face to the photo, and nodded.
"Your suspension ended today. Here's your updated schedule." She printed a sheet and handed it to me. "You've been assigned to remedial combat training under Instructor Baek Cheol-su. Report to Training Ground C after your morning classes."
"Understood."
"You're also required to meet with Student Affairs once a week for the rest of the semester. Behavioral monitoring."
Of course they were monitoring me. Su-ho had tried to murder another student.
"Anything else?" I asked.
She gave me a long look. "Don't cause trouble, Mr. Park. You're on thin ice."
"I'll keep that in mind."
I took the schedule and left.
First Period: Dungeon Theory - Room 204
I arrived five minutes early. The classroom was already half-full—about thirty students scattered across tiered seating.
The moment I walked in, conversations stopped.
Everyone stared.
I ignored them, found an empty seat near the back corner, and sat down. Pulled out my notebook and pen. Adjusted my glasses.
The whispers started immediately.
"Is that Park Su-ho?"
"Holy shit, he actually came back."
"I thought he'd drop out for sure."
"Didn't he try to kill Han Min-jae?"
"Yeah, with poison or something. Psycho."
"He looks different though. Is he wearing glasses?"
"Still the same piece of shit."
I kept my eyes on my blank notebook, pen ready. Pretended I couldn't hear every word.
More students filtered in. The whispers intensified.
"That's him? The guild master's son?"
"Ex-son to the guild master. Got disowned."
"Good. Violent asshole."
"He looks skinnier. Maybe prison food, ha!"
"He wasn't in prison, idiot. Suspended."
"Same thing."
My jaw tightened. I focused on breathing steadily.
They're just noise. Ignore them.
But it was fucking annoying.
A girl sat two rows ahead, talking to her friend just loud enough for me to hear: "I heard he attacked Min-jae because he was jealous. Couldn't handle losing to someone poor."
"Typical rich kid behavior."
"Not rich anymore though."
They giggled.
I gripped my pen harder.
Ignore them. You're here for a reason. Focus.
The professor walked in—a tired-looking man in his forties with a coffee mug that said "I'd rather be dungeon diving."
"Settle down," he said without enthusiasm. "Open your textbooks to chapter seven."
The lecture began. I took notes meticulously, grateful for something to focus on besides the stares and whispers.
But even during the lecture, I caught students glancing back at me. Phones appeared briefly—people were definitely texting about me being back.
By the time class ended, I was exhausted and it had nothing to do with physical training.
Second Period: Mana Control Fundamentals - Room 118
Same thing. Different classroom.
More stares. More whispers.
"He's in this class too?"
"Great, just what we needed."
"Stay away from him. I heard he's unstable."
A guy deliberately moved seats when I sat near the back. Made a big show of it, grabbing his bag and relocating three rows forward.
His friends laughed.
I said nothing. Opened my textbook.
The instructor—a stern woman with sharp eyes—noticed me immediately.
"Mr. Park," she said coldly. "Glad you could join us. I trust you'll behave yourself in my classroom."
"Yes, ma'am."
"See that you do."
She turned to the board and began her lecture on mana circulation techniques.
I took notes. Ignored the eyes on me. Counted down the minutes until this period ended.
Seventy-five minutes.
Felt like seven hours.
Third Period: Combat Theory - Room 301
This class was worse because Han Min-jae was in it.
I saw him immediately—sitting in the middle section with a group of friends. B-rank student, scholarship kid, talented fighter. The person Su-ho had tried to kill.
He noticed me the moment I walked in.
His expression went cold. His friends' faces darkened.
The entire classroom's energy shifted. Conversations stopped. Everyone watched to see what would happen.
I maintained eye contact for exactly two seconds—long enough to acknowledge his presence, not long enough to be threatening—then found a seat on the opposite side of the room.
The whispers exploded.
"They're in the same class?"
"This is going to be a disaster."
"Should we tell a professor?"
"Min-jae looks pissed."
"Wouldn't you be? That psycho tried to murder him."
Han Min-jae was staring at me. I could feel his gaze like physical weight.
I kept my eyes on my notebook.
I need to apologize to him. But not here. Not like this. Too public, too volatile.
The Combat Theory instructor—a grizzled former A-rank hunter—walked in and immediately sensed the tension.
"Everyone sit down and shut up," he barked. "I don't care about your drama. This is my classroom."
The class settled reluctantly.
But the atmosphere remained toxic. I could feel Min-jae's anger radiating across the room.
This was going to be a long semester.
Lunch - 12:30
By the time lunch break arrived, I was mentally drained.
The cafeteria was massive—easily fit a thousand students. Long tables, multiple food stations, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the training grounds.
I grabbed a tray: rice, some kind of meat stew, kimchi, water. Cheap but filling.
Now came the problem: where to sit.
The cafeteria was packed. Groups of friends clustered together. Study groups. Club members. Social hierarchies made visible by seating arrangements.
I scanned the room, trying to find an empty table.
That's when I saw her.
Jung Hye-jin.
Third-ranked second year. A-rank hunter. The buffer specialist I'd watched sparring that morning.
She sat at a table near the windows with three other second-year girls, laughing at something one of them said. Her long dark hair was tied in that same practical ponytail. Even in the standard academy uniform, she had a presence—confident, athletic, approachable.
And she was exactly who I needed to talk to.
I made my decision and started walking toward her table.
The first girl noticed me approaching. Her smile vanished. "Oh hell no."
The second girl turned. "Is he coming over here?"
The third grabbed her tray. "I'm out."
By the time I reached the table, all three of Hye-jin's friends had fled.
Just stood up and left, abandoning their lunches.
Hye-jin blinked, confused. "Wait, where are you—"
"Hey," I said, stopping beside the now-empty table. "Mind if I sit here?"
She looked up at me. Recognition flickered across her face—everyone knew who Suho Park was.
For a moment, I saw fear in her eyes. Just a flash, quickly hidden, but unmistakable.
She knew what Suho had done. Knew his reputation. And she was scared.
But Jung Hye-jin was too nice to tell me to leave.
"I... I guess that's okay?" It came out like a question.
I sat down across from her. "Thanks."
Around us, the cafeteria noise dimmed. Students were staring. Phones appeared. This was apparently worth documenting.
Hye-jin glanced around nervously. "Um... did you need something?"
"Yeah, actually." I pulled out my notebook. "You're a second year, right? Third-ranked in both combat and theory?"
"...Yes?"
"A-rank?"
She nodded slowly, clearly wondering where this was going.
"I'm trying to catch up on material I missed during suspension. Combat theory especially—I'm way behind." I met her eyes. "I was hoping you might have notes or study guides I could reference. I'd really appreciate it."
Hye-jin blinked. "You... want to see my study material?"
"If you're willing to share. I know it's a weird request, but you're one of the top students. Your notes are probably better than anything I could find in the library."
She stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
Around us, whispers intensified.
"What's he doing?"
"Is he threatening her?"
"No, wait... is he flirting with her?"
"That's Jung Hye-jin! She could kick his ass!"
"Then why isn't she leaving?"
Hye-jin seemed to realize we had an audience. Her cheeks reddened slightly. "I... I have some study guides on my tablet. For combat theory and practical applications..."
"That would be amazing. Would you mind sending them to me? I can give you my student ID to transfer the files."
"You really just want study materials?" She sounded suspicious now, like this might be a trap.
"Yes. That's all." I kept my voice calm and sincere. "Look, I know my reputation. I know what people say about me. But I'm trying to actually pass my classes this time. You're ranked third for a reason—your understanding of combat theory is probably top-tier."
Something in her expression shifted. The fear faded slightly, replaced by cautious curiosity.
"Most people don't ask me about academics," she said slowly. "They usually want to know about my buffing techniques, or just plain out ask for a buff."
I figured I should start with the basics. Zero times infinity is still zero. Buffs won't be very useful if I don't understand the fundamentals."
She actually smiled a little. "That's... surprisingly mature."
"I'm trying to turn things around."
Hye-jin studied me for a long moment. Then she pulled out her tablet. "Okay. What's your student email?"
I gave it to her. She typed for a bit, then hit send.
"There. Combat theory notes for the first semester, plus some supplementary materials on weak point identification and tactical formations."
"Thank you. Seriously."
"You're welcome." She hesitated, then added, "You really do look different. The glasses, I mean. And you seem... calmer?"
"Two weeks of suspension gives you time to think."
"What did you do during suspension?"
"Trained. Studied. Tried to figure out how not to be a complete disaster."
She laughed—actually laughed. "Well, points for self-awareness."
Around us, the cafeteria was buzzing. This was clearly not the interaction anyone expected.
To them, it probably looked like either:
A) I was flirting with one of the academy's top-ranked students, or
B) I was threatening her and she was too polite to up and run.
Neither was true, but perception was reality here.
We talked for a few more minutes—mostly about class schedules and which instructors were hardest. Hye-jin relaxed gradually, the fear disappearing entirely.
She was genuinely nice. Not naive, but kind in a way that seemed rare at this academy.
First potential ally, I thought. This could work.
Eventually, she checked the time. "I should get to my next class early. Professor Kim hates when we're late."
"Thanks again for the notes."
"No problem. Good luck with catching up." She grabbed her tray and stood, then paused. "And Suho?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't really seem like a bad guy."
"How can you tell from just one interaction."
She smiled slightly. " Call it a gut feeling. Okay. See you around."
She left. I finished my lunch alone, very aware of dozens of eyes still watching me.
My phone buzzed—the study materials had arrived. I opened them briefly. Her notes were immaculate. Detailed, organized, with diagrams and supplementary explanations.
Definitely the right person to approach.
After Lunch - 13:15
I had fifteen minutes before my next class. Time to handle something important.
Han Min-jae.
I needed to apologize. The redemption quest required it, but more than that—I owed it to him. What Suho had done was unforgivable.
I spotted him walking across the main courtyard with two friends, heading toward the academic buildings.
I adjusted my course to intercept.
The moment Min-jae saw me approaching, his expression hardened. His friends noticed and immediately moved closer to him, protective.
We were about five meters apart when a voice cut through the air.
"Stay the FUCK away from him!"
A girl stepped between us—Lee Ye-jin, Min-jae's girlfriend. C-rank support student. The one who'd reported Su-ho for the assassination attempt.
She was shorter than me but stood her ground, practically vibrating with anger.
"Get lost, Park Su-ho!" she screamed. "Haven't you done enough?!"
"I just want to—"
"You want to WHAT? Finish what you started? Try to kill him again?"
"No, I want to apologize—"
"Bullshit!" Her voice cracked. "You're a liar and a psychopath! Stay away from Min-jae!"
A crowd was forming. Students stopped to watch the confrontation.
Min-jae put a hand on Ye-jin's shoulder. "It's okay, I can handle—"
"No!" She shook him off. "You're too nice, Min-jae. This bastard tried to murder you with poison and you still want to give him a chance?"
"I'm not asking for a chance," I said quietly. "I'm trying to apologize."
"Nobody believes you!" Ye-jin shouted. Tears were forming in her eyes now. "You're just trying to manipulate him! Well it won't work! I won't let you near him!"
Before I could respond, someone else stepped forward.
A tall guy, early twenties, with the confident bearing of an upperclassman. A-rank badge on his uniform. He positioned himself beside Ye-jin, facing me.
"Back off," he said coldly. "She told you to leave."
I recognized him from Su-ho's memories—Kang Joon-ho. Third-year A-rank, one of Min-jae's senior friends. Known for being protective of underclassmen.
"I'm not trying to cause trouble," I said.
"Then walk away."
"I'm trying to apologize—"
"You think an apology fixes attempted murder?" Joon-ho stepped closer. "You think saying 'sorry' makes it okay that you ambushed him with poison?"
"No. I don't think it makes it okay. But I'm trying to—"
"You're trying to make yourself feel better. That's all this is. Selfish bullshit."
My jaw clenched. I could feel anger rising—not Su-ho's anger, but Jin-woo's. The frustration of trying to do the right thing and being blocked at every turn.
"Kids these days have no respect," I muttered.
Joon-ho blinked. "What?"
The words had slipped out—Jin-woo's perspective bleeding through. I was thirty-two years old mentally, dealing with a twenty-one-year-old acting like I was dirt.
"Nothing," I said. "Forget it."
"No, what did you just say?"
"I said forget it." I looked past him to Min-jae. "I wanted to apologize. That's all. When you're ready to hear it, I'll be around."
I turned and walked away.
Behind me, Ye-jin's voice: "Don't you dare turn your back on us!"
But I kept walking. Fighting them here would accomplish nothing. This wasn't the time or place.
The crowd parted as I passed through. More stares. More whispers.
"Did he just try to talk to Han Min-jae?"
"Gutsy. Or stupid."
"Ye-jin looked ready to kill him."
"Can you blame her?"
I made it to my next class—Physical Training Assessment—and tried to focus.
But the interaction replayed in my head.
The redemption quest requires me to apologize. But how can I apologize when no one will let me near him?
This was going to be harder than I thought.
After Classes - 16:45
The day finally ended. Six hours of stares, whispers, and hostility.
I was exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
I packed my bag and headed for the exit, planning to go straight home.
The sun was low, casting long shadows across campus. Most students had already left or were in after-school clubs.
I took a back path through campus—less crowded, fewer stares.
That's when I heard footsteps behind me.
Two sets. Moving quickly.
I glanced back.
Two guys in academy uniforms. Second-years, based on their badges. Both C-rank from their insignias.
They were following me.
I kept walking, but adjusted my route toward a more populated area.
They adjusted too, cutting off that direction.
Shit.
I changed tactics, heading toward the parking lot instead. More open, harder for them to corner me.
Too late.
They broke into a jog and caught up, positioning themselves to block my path.
I stopped walking.
We were in a relatively isolated area now—between two buildings, minimal foot traffic, poor lighting from the angle of the setting sun.
The taller one spoke first. "Park Su-ho. We need to have a conversation."
I recognized them from Su-ho's memories. Choi Dae-jung and Park Hyun-woo (no relation). C-rank combat students. Not particularly talented, but decent enough.
"About what?" I asked.
"About you thinking you can just come back like nothing happened," Dae-jung said.
"I served my suspension."
"That's not enough," the shorter one—Hyun-woo—said. "You tried to kill someone. You should've been expelled."
"That's between me and the academy administration."
"Wrong answer." Dae-jung cracked his knuckles. "See, we have friends who are friends with Han Min-jae. And we don't like that you're walking around like you own the place."
"I'm not walking around like anything. I'm just trying to go home."
"Not happening." Hyun-woo moved to flank me. "You've got no guild backing now. No rich daddy to protect you. You're fair game."
My eyes narrowed. "You're planning to assault me because I have no protection?"
"We're planning to teach you a lesson," Dae-jung corrected. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"See, the thing is—" Dae-jung stepped closer, "—you were always a piece of shit. But you had your family name protecting you. Now you're just a piece of shit with no protection. And pieces of shit get flushed."
Around us, the shadows lengthened. No one else was visible.
They'd chosen this spot deliberately. Isolated. No witnesses.
I set my bag down carefully. "So this is a two-on-one ambush because I'm vulnerable now."
"Smart boy."
"And you're doing this for what? Justice? Or because you want to beat on someone weaker without consequences?"
Hyun-woo grinned. "Does it matter?"
I looked at both of them. C-rank. Probably decent fighters. Definitely better than the old Su-ho.
But I wasn't the old Su-ho.
I'd spent two weeks in hell building this body. My stats were D-rank now. And I had three SSS-rank skills.
Still, two-on-one was bad odds. Especially in an actual fight with witnesses potentially coming.
"Last chance," Dae-jung said. "Get on your knees and apologize for existing. Then maybe we won't beat you too badly."
I adjusted my glasses. Felt that familiar calm settling over me—Jin-woo's combat experience from military service, combined with Su-ho's younger reflexes.
"No," I said simply.
Dae-jung's expression darkened. "Wrong choice."
They both moved forward.
And the air filled with tension as the real test began.