Chapter 133

“Did you take the exam?”

“Of course.”

“And the score? Hand it over.”

“Here.”

A cafe on the first floor.

After dropping Yoo Se-byeol off at the Central Hospital and returning to the Bureau, I fortunately managed to make it in time for the exams. I finished everything: the physical fitness test, the knowledge test, and the personality and aptitude test.

When I handed the transcript to No Yeon-hwa, she checked the scores and nodded with a look that suggested she wasn’t entirely impressed.

“Well, this much isn’t bad.”

“Right?”

“Now, get going.”

“…….”

Despite her dismissal, I didn’t leave the spot immediately.

Even though I had barely scraped past the cut-off with a 61 on the personality test, I was an expert in ‘No Yeon-hwa Psychology’—proficient enough to take the top spot among the entire Special Unit, or even the combined populations of Seoul and Busan.

If I were to just bolt simply because she told me to go, it would be a ruthless ‘Fail.’ Since she had called me personally, we had to exchange dialogue for at least five minutes.

Today, No Yeon-hwa’s coordination was a somewhat avant-garde color palette of black, orange, and white reminiscent of a calico cat, styled in a casual fit. Notably, her socks were brand new.

Her outfit alone telegraphed an intent so transparent it was practically crystalline: ‘I’m not so busy that I have to stay at the Bureau until this late hour, but it’s not like I dressed up specifically to hang out with you, and though I’ve cleared my entire schedule after this, I won’t say a single word until you suggest dinner first, and if you’re so dense that you don’t notice this and just leave, I will use Word-Spirit to drop lightning from the sky on your head.’

“Come to think of it, about that Italian bistro we were supposed to go to this weekend. I heard the owner is closing that day due to a fishing trip schedule.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So I was thinking, how about we go now? To have a modest celebration for your advancement to the Upper-rank.”

“Hmm…”

No Yeon-hwa appeared to deliberate. She disliked seafood, but she didn’t seem to hate the fact that I was the one making the invitation. Since we ate together once a weekend—a ritual for which I paid a monthly ‘friendship fee’—it wasn’t an unusual request.

“Do whatever you want.”

Having perfectly passed the No Yeon-hwa Psychology exam, I successfully finished dinner with her and returned to the dormitory. Alexei had finished his treatment at Division 6 and had returned to the room ahead of me.

Though we had been fighting with our lives on the line just a few hours ago, not even a hairline fracture had formed in our friendship. He greeted me while reassembling his split axe with superglue.

“Are you back, brother? You are later than expected.”

“I had a few scheduled items to clear even after the battle with Alexei, so it took some time.”

“Being busy is a good thing. Kang Ha-neul said there have been some position changes, so you should check them.”

“Is that so? Understood.”

When I turned on my smartwatch, a notice had been sent out under the name of Commander-in-Chief Seona. It was a reorganization of Division 3’s positions based on the Special Advancement System from the year-end evaluation.

The main takeaway was that due to Commander Yoo Cheol-jin’s prolonged medical leave, his resignation had been processed, and Yoo Se-byeol had ascended to the position of Commander. And surprisingly, the person chosen as the new Deputy Commander was none other than Kang Ha-neul.

“The decision was made faster than I thought.”

“I suppose the higher-ups had anticipated it to some extent.”

“Then who will take over as the disciplinary officer?”

“It seems they’ll leave it vacant for the time being. We’ve settled in to a degree, and it’s not yet time for new recruits to enter.”

“Hmm…”

What a shame. If I had become the disciplinary officer, I would have shown the new recruits the meaning of hell. According to the notice, my title had changed to ‘Adjutant to Commander Yoo Se-byeol,’ so it seemed difficult to throw a tantrum asking to be the disciplinary officer.

Above all, both Alexei and I were nearly entering our first full year in the Special Unit. I suppose it’s time to start acting more maturely…

“Anyway, head up to the second floor. From today, the first floor is mine.”

“Understood.”

…But I decided to start living like that tomorrow. For now, I had to savor the joy of winning the battle for the bed. As Alexei hauled his massive frame up the ladder, the steel bed frame let out a shriek akin to a death rattle. When he laid his body on the mattress, my vision wavered from the perspective of the bottom bunk like an optical illusion.

It was the fear of death approaching in real-time. However, I wasn’t afraid at all.

“Because even if I turn from ‘Pure White’ (Sae Hayan) to ‘Deep Red’ (Sae Ppalgan), Mala-nim will be with me. Right?”

『…….』

I whispered toward the inside of my sleeve, but no answer came. It wasn’t exactly rare for her to ignore me, but today the weight felt different. To be precise, it was the sensation that the literal weight inside my sleeve had vanished.

I clearly remember our last conversation was me telling them to soak in the chili sauce. I had completely forgotten about it while having dinner with No Yeon-hwa.

“Mala-nim?”

Once again, like a python invading a rabbit hole, I thrust my face into my sleeve to check on her pure white body. The moment I confirmed that the only thing there was a scrawny human forearm—namely, my own left arm—the true fear of death finally set in.

“So, you’re saying you lost the pet tentacle you’ve been raising with such care for a long time?”

“Uwaaaaaah……!”

“It wasn’t lost; it seems it ran away from home on its own… and that happened last night.”

“Hee-unghhh!”

White Magic Tower, 4:30 AM.

The Tower Master’s room.

Inside a room so stark white it could have been a psychiatric ward, Moon Ah-rin listened to Sae Hayan’s story and let out a sigh so deep it felt like her very soul was flickering out.

Since the Great Invasion, the number of mages raising tentacles had increased significantly. Especially after the apprentices from various Magic Towers who took summer sessions in Busan were seen fighting demonkind on equal footing using tentacles, “tentacle handling” had become something of a trend.

But even so, to think there was a member of the Special Unit—which was supposed to be on high alert against the apostles of Outer Gods—actually raising one. If such a person existed, she knew it would undoubtedly be Hayan, but actually confirming it made a headache bloom behind her eyes.

“Sigh… why don’t you just buy a new one? I heard flower shops sometimes bundle them in these days.”

“How can you say something so cold! Mala-nim… that tentacle is a precious child who has shared my life!”

“Even so, how could you climb up the outer wall of the Magic Tower!”

“Agh!”

He averted his eyes from the light emitting from Moon Ah-rin’s wings.

Currently, Hayan had spent the night scaling the tower’s exterior, neutralized the defensive spells through some unknown means, and intruded into the circumpolar floor of the White Magic Tower. He had been caught by Moon Ah-rin while messing with the Circumpolar Mirror—a device used to observe the movements of Outer Gods and predict Gate appearances—turning it in strange directions.

Since the Outer God of Salvation had their Star Scar stolen by the Archduke of Flames, the roles of the other three Outer Gods had become even more critical. His actions were, in themselves, a major crime. However, Moon Ah-rin couldn’t bring herself to report him and had instead brought him to the Tower Master’s room where she was staying.

“But why are you here, Ah-rin?”

“This and everything else is because of you, Hayan.”

“Me?”

“Yes. If it weren’t for you, I would never have been called the ‘Saint of Salvation,’ nor would I have ended up as the interim Tower Master of the White Magic Tower.”

The position of Tower Master of the White Magic Tower had been vacant for a long time as there were no Transcendental-rank Awakened. However, during the Great Invasion, all mages active externally had to be summoned back to their respective towers for defense. Among the White Mages gathered from all over the world, there wasn’t a soul who didn’t know Moon Ah-rin—the Master of Tartaruga and the Saint of Salvation.

Thus, to defend against the demon invasion and protect the White Magic Tower, she had been appointed as the interim Tower Master. It was a unanimous decision, made without fierce debate or dissenting opinions.

Moon Ah-rin herself was the only one who adamantly refused, claiming the position was beyond her and that she lacked the qualities of a Tower Master. However, the others simply pushed ahead, saying, “Is that so? Well, we’ll take care of everything.” Because of the humble attitude she showed then, no one had asked her to step down from the Tower Master’s room even after the Great Invasion ended.

Ha Yeri even praised her, saying that the Special Unit’s political influence had expanded without her having to do anything. From the perspective of the person involved—who was still only a Middle-rank, far from Transcendental—the situation was like walking on thin ice.

“Do you have any idea how much I’m suffering because the small rumors you inflated grew so absurdly large? Gastritis from stress, insomnia… I can’t even go to volunteer work or confession anymore!”

“Tsk, talk about being spoiled.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing. So, the bottom line is that you are the master of this Magic Tower right now.”

Hayan, deep in thought, offered a proposal to Moon Ah-rin.

“It seems we can be of help to each other. If you help me find my tentacle, I will liberate you from this burdensome position of Tower Master.”

“I heard a similar proposal from you last time, and it backfired horribly.”

She still remembered it vividly. A few days after receiving a hot spring trip ticket from Hayan and returning, the whole world was shouting her name. The trauma from that time was so severe that Moon Ah-rin had never once used the Gyeongbu Line since. She had found out that every time they passed near Daegu, where the pillar of fire rose, the conductor would shout, “Behold the attraction personally created by the Saint of Salvation!”

“Aside from becoming friends with Yeon-hwa, there hasn’t been a single good thing.”

“Oh, a mistake like that won’t happen twice. The me of back then is different from the me of now. That was when I was immature and hadn’t even earned the epithet ‘Light Mage.’”

“Did you actually have an epithet like that?”

“…….”

After agonizing over it for a long time, Moon Ah-rin asked in a small voice.

“Are you truly confident?”

“Of course.”

“Sigh… fine, I understand.”

Since Hayan wasn’t the type to give up even if she refused, she decided to listen for now. If he went to another Magic Tower and messed with their Circumpolar Mirrors, things would truly be irreversible. She figured that since the tentacle didn’t have legs, nor was it a Special-grade monster with intelligence like Gargantua, a simple inquiry and search would suffice to find the lost creature.

“Exactly what happened? Did you bully the tentacle or something?”

“It’s not that, and the explanation is quite long…”

The relationship between Hayan and that one special strand of tentacle went back much further than she thought. From the time he joined the Special Unit—no, presumably long before that—until now.

Though some parts of the explanation were lacking, she heard most of the things he had done to the tentacle he carried in his sleeve. How he would throw it toward the ceiling whenever he was bored lying on the dormitory bunk bed. How he gave it piles of clam shells from the cafeteria or side dishes he didn’t want to eat. How he played “Bori-Bori-Ssal”¹ by putting his fist in his sleeve.

The most recent event was leaving it soaking in chili sauce while he went to eat with another woman.

“I wonder why? I didn’t do a single thing that would make it hate me.”

“…After doing all that, how could you possibly think it wouldn’t hate you?”