"Do you know the wisest way to handle individuals society can't contain?

It’s by creating more of them."

『Kwini Cowan's response to why she founded an academy』

 

Commander Kwon Mongju opened his eyes in pain.

Instinctively, he tried to rise but found his body wouldn’t obey. Slowly, he drew on his mana to assess his condition.

'…Every bone in my limbs is shattered, and not a single organ is unscathed. It’s a miracle I’m alive.'

Only after seeing the catheter tubes and medication attached to him did the reality of his survival sink in.

An ordinary person would be left with lifelong disabilities, and even a superhuman would need at least six months to recover from such injuries.

He accepted his condition stoically, his long years as a mercenary hardening him against minor setbacks like this.

In a field where it was common for comrades he ate breakfast with to be laid to rest by nightfall, it was better to be grateful for surviving.

Considering the opponents he’d faced…

Ah.

Only then did Kwon Mongju fully recall what kind of battle he’d been in.

They’d fought against mysterious figures wearing beast heads, superhumans who soared through the sky, and a vengeance-driven dragon… and had saved Manju.

For a moment, he was left speechless. Even a veteran of twenty years like him had no words for a fight like that.

Nothing about it felt real. It seemed more like something out of a novel or drama, or an outlandish legend from another dimension.

'Cheon Yeomyeong. What happened to the rookie?'

Kwon Mongju remembered the main figure in the recent battle—a new recruit who’d joined under a fabricated resume and the hero who had fired a shotgun into the dragon’s eye.

Given that he was still alive, it seemed they’d won the fight against the superhuman in the sky...

Yet, regardless of the outcome, worry filled his mind.

The last glimpse he’d had of Yeomyeong before losing consciousness showed a state even worse than his own.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to look far for an answer.

“Commander? You’re awake.”

An all-too-familiar voice spoke from beside his bed.

Suppressing the throbbing pain, he turned his head and saw a young man sitting on a recovery bed identical to his own.

“How are you feeling?”

Golden eyes sparkled above a face free of even a scratch.

Despite suffering worse injuries, Yeomyeong didn’t have a single IV attached to his bed, a sign that he’d already fully regenerated. Commander Kwon couldn’t help but ask in disbelief.

"…How many days has it been since the fight ended?”

“Four days.”

“Four days?”

Those injuries healed in just four days? No, judging by his relaxed demeanor, he’d clearly finished regenerating well before then.

In comparison… Kwon Mongju had only just regained consciousness.

He sighed, realizing the difference between their bodies. There was no bitterness or jealousy.

He wasn’t foolish enough to harbor such feelings toward a comrade he’d crossed life-and-death boundaries with.

Instead, he felt something akin to awe.

"…Yeomyeong."

Kwon Mongju looked thoughtfully at Yeomyeong, who seemed lost in thought.

“Would it be out of line if I asked about your true identity?”

At first, he’d thought Yeomyeong was just a drifter who joined the mercenary corps with a fake resume.

But from his first mission, fighting alongside the Saintess against Kahhal Magdu, to slicing through the dragon’s ribs, his actions defied that assumption.

While Manju’s military and the dwarves focused on Yeomyeong’s connection to the Saintess, Kwon Mongju saw something more. To him, Yeomyeong was more noteworthy than the Saintess.

He couldn’t explain why, but… he had a feeling. The same feeling that had saved him countless times in war.

In the end, he’d been right. Yeomyeong had found the Golden Royal Seal, fought a deranged dragon, and saved Manju.

An achievement so incredible, it was almost unbelievable. In fact, witnessing it firsthand only made it harder to believe.

Yet, Yeomyeong seemed indifferent to his accomplishments—or at least pretended to be.

With a casual shrug, Yeomyeong replied, “I’m just Cheon Yeomyeong. You know that, don’t you?”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking. In my twenty years as a mercenary, I’ve only met one other person like you.”

Kwon Mongju thought back to his younger days, a time when chaos reigned, and he remembered one superhuman of Yeomyeong’s age who had performed similar feats in South America.

Could Yeomyeong be his child? Probably not. If that man had had a child, they’d be about Yeomyeong’s age, but there was no resemblance.

But what about his background? There weren’t many places that could produce a superhuman with this level of talent at such a young age.

Thinking along those lines, his connection to the Saintess seemed even more meaningful.

Kwon Mongju recalled that the superhuman in his memory had been a holy knight secretly sent to Earth by the Holy Kingdom.

“Please, tell me. This could determine the future of our mercenary corps.”

"…Is my identity really that important?"

“As you know, the Korean government isn’t fond of foreign or other-dimensional mercenaries. If you are… who I think you might be, you’ll have to leave Korea.”

“And what exactly do you think my identity is?”

“Are you… a holy knight sent by the Holy Kingdom?”

Kwon Mongju waited for his response, eyes serious.

But contrary to his expectations, Yeomyeong wore a baffled expression, as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

"…A holy knight? Me? I can’t even use holy power.”

“Yet, you’re the only one among us blessed by the Saintess.”

“…Everyone received healing blessings, didn’t they?”

“You know I’m talking about the Red God’s blessing. Only those with a sacred artifact can withstand such blessings…”

At that point, Kwon Mongju suddenly closed his mouth, then let out a long sigh before speaking again.

“Phew… I guess it’s unfair to demand you reveal everything. I apologize for being intrusive. Forget my question.”

Watching the commander question and conclude things on his own, Yeomyeong blinked in surprise.

“No, really, I have nothing to do with the Saintess…”

“…Now I understand why her mother hesitated to kill you.”

“Uh… that…”

Yeomyeong fumbled for an answer, realizing that the only way to clear up this misunderstanding was to reveal an even bigger truth.

He kept his mouth shut, which Kwon Mongju took as silent confirmation.

‘I knew it…’

With that mutual misinterpretation hanging between them, a heavy silence filled the room until the Saintess and Darulma entered.

 

“Hey! Get ready for a visitor!”

With that rowdy announcement, the recovery room’s door slammed open.

It was unmistakably the sound of someone kicking it.

As Commander Kwon looked up in shock, the Saintess entered the room, her waist-length white hair flowing as she walked in.

She was dressed in an ornate priestess robe that matched the very image of a “Saintess,” a far cry from the simple garb she’d worn last time.

“Saintess?”

But the first to greet her wasn’t Yeomyeong, but Kwon Mongju, lying among all his IVs and medications.

“Oh… this isn’t a private room?”

The boisterous atmosphere vanished instantly. The Saintess coughed, cleared her throat, and adjusted her posture as if nothing had happened.

While Kwon Mongju struggled to hide his bewilderment, a dwarf followed her into the room.

It was Darulma Doon, a major investor in the mercenary corps and the wealthy industrialist behind Doongan Heavy Industries.

Whether he’d grown accustomed to her antics or had simply given up, Darulma entered with a neutral expression, addressing Yeomyeong and Kwon Mongju.

“How are both of you holding up?”

It was a routine question, given their visible states.

“Not too bad.”

“…I’ll manage.”

Their responses were just as routine. Darulma sank into a chair prepared in the recovery room and continued.

“What would you like to hear first? Business news? Or the mercenary corps situation?”

“…Let’s start with the mercenary corps.”

Commander Kwon answered. Yeomyeong, meanwhile, was too preoccupied lifting a pillow to push the Saintess off his bed to respond.

Watching the playful back-and-forth between Yeomyeong and the Saintess, Darulma massaged his temples.

“The state of the corps isn’t too bad. Thanks to the military keeping other mercenaries out, we’ve avoided outside interference for now, even though most of our elites are stuck in hospitals after this mission.”

“The military?”

“An overt show of affection, you could say. We have something they want.”

“…The dragon.”

Commander Kwon groaned. Last time, they’d tried to take it by force; now they were attempting a friendlier approach.

“Well, you won’t need to worry about the military or other mercenaries for a while. They’re too busy rebuilding North Manju. Besides…”

Darulma turned his gaze to Yeomyeong.

“…The dragon belongs to you, not the corps. Isn’t that right?”

Commander Kwon understood Darulma’s intent. Yeomyeong had defeated the dragon, and the rights to it belonged to him.

While the mercenary corps and the Saintess had aided in the fight, no one could deny that Yeomyeong had the greatest claim.

“The only other issue… would be the reporters.”

“…Reporters?”

Those damned war reporters. Kwon Mongju sighed. He could only imagine the trouble brewing outside.

“Everyone in the corps is busy avoiding the press. That cursed ‘right to know’ of theirs.”

“…And what about the deputy commander?”

Kwon Mongju thought of Kim Mansu, who’d escaped with the least injuries, and asked. Darulma shrugged.

“Deputy Commander Kim Mansu seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He’d probably lop off one of his own limbs just to hide in a recovery room.”

“….”

“Well, he’s not that foolish. There’s a reason I appointed him as deputy, after all.”

Darulma turned to look at Yeomyeong, who had finally managed to push the Saintess off his bed.

“Anyway… Cheon Yeomyeong?”

Ignoring the Saintess’s angry finger-wagging, Yeomyeong looked at Darulma.

“Yes, Darulma?”

“It would be best if we discussed our business matters in private. Confidentiality is key. When could we arrange a meeting?”

“…Let’s do it now. Where should we go?”

No sooner had he spoken than the Saintess jumped into the conversation.

“Wait, wait! What about my story?”

"…What story?”

Darulma thought to himself that Yeomyeong’s expression was anything but respectful as he looked at the Saintess.

Ignoring that, the Saintess pulled a small envelope from her priestess robe.

“Yeomyeong, are you planning to keep working as a mercenary? Wouldn’t you rather… play in bigger waters?”

“…Bigger waters?”

Seeing his interest, the Saintess grinned as she tore open the envelope.

Inside was something Yeomyeong recognized immediately.

An application form on high-quality paper adorned with vintage decorations, with boxes for filling in personal information.

The precise title read… Lord Howe Academy Application Form.

“…Would you like to attend the academy with me?”