1. The evaluation sheet collected from the students' feedback on the lecture was handed over to the receptionist, whose eyes widened as they gasped.

“A perfect score!”
“?”
“This is the highest score ever recorded at our academy—it's only happened once before! What on earth did you teach to make the trainees this satisfied?”

Unlike the overly excited receptionist, the person responsible for setting the record remained indifferent.

[The lecture is over now, right?]
“Yes, of course. Your payment for today’s lecture will be deposited into the account you provided, along with a bonus incentive based on your evaluation score.”
[Then I’ll take my leave.]
“Wait a moment! You didn’t leave any contact information! When can we schedule your next lecture…?”
[I’m not interested.]

Contrary to the disinterested Hae Eung-eung, the receptionist clung desperately to her, trying to convince her otherwise.
Joo Ah-young, who was watching from the side with a grin, casually linked her arm with Eung-eung’s.

“Sister, let’s go.”
“Wait, wait...! Oh no, the principal’s going to scold me for this!”

While the receptionist nervously stomped in place, the two left the academy and strolled down the street.

“How was today’s lecture?”
[Do you want the honest truth?]
“Of course!”
[I was disappointed.]
“In what way?”
[The trainees’ skills, the instructors’ teaching, the unnecessarily extravagant facilities—everything.]

She had initially held some expectations, wondering how advanced modern education might be.
What she encountered instead was sheer mediocrity.

[Student. What is that strange posture you’re using?]
“It’s the stance for activating an assist action.”
[Assist action?]
“Don’t you know? Of course, you need the proper stance to activate a skill.”
[You mean you rely on external aid just to execute something as simple as a diagonal slash?]

Even basic movements that could be performed purely through willpower had devolved into dependent techniques.
Postures, balance, and force were all flawed, tailored to rely on skills unlocked after awakening, rather than mastering fundamentals.

[It’s a pitiful third-rate martial art.]

These forms and stances didn’t lead to enlightenment but cultivated bad habits and broken techniques, offering nothing but meaningless swordsmanship.
And students were paying exorbitant fees to learn this nonsense.

“I didn’t like it either. That’s why I really wanted you to teach here at least once.”
[You must have gone through a lot.]
“Hehe, I knew you’d understand, Sister.”
[Why not quit?]
“I’ve thought about it, but this academy isn’t just about martial arts. Besides, awakening is nearly impossible without going through an Awakener Academy.”

The monsters invading humanity through the Gates.
The only force capable of opposing them: the Awakeners.
And the academies that sold the qualifications to become one.

"It’s all a sham."

Even in Murim, the capitalist logic determined what techniques disciples could learn and their roles in their sects based on wealth.
Yet even the poorest had a chance to become low-ranking disciples and learn the basics.
Those with talent were taught higher techniques, and sects provided opportunities for success as martial artists.
That was the bare minimum of morality.

"Joo Ah-young is different. It’s not because she follows me—she truly has talent."

She wasn’t blindly digging aimlessly; her effort was focused and her body disciplined.
In a place filled with incompetents who could be called the “Assist Clan,” she was one of the few exceptions.

“I think I’m on the right path, but the academy keeps saying otherwise, and the instructors keep nitpicking. I’ve been losing confidence lately.”
[Leave. Staying here will only cause your skills to deteriorate.]

In a den of abnormality, the normal are labeled as outliers.
This academy didn’t suit Joo Ah-young.

Most of all,
Awakener Academies often had ties with local guilds.
The Awakener Academy in Myungho-dong was inevitably linked to the Myungho Guild.

[Do you really want to stay here and end up connected to the likes of the Myungho Guild?]
“I don’t want that, but... I don’t see another path to becoming an Awakener.”

Concerns about her future weighed on her.
She had already invested years into this path.
Even quitting required courage.

"I hope she finds that courage."

Helping someone take their first step.
That too required bravery.
For Joo Ah-young,
and for Hae Eung-eung,
it was still a step they hadn’t yet taken.

2.

“A mute instructor was actually helpful?”
“Here’s the lecture record from the virtual capsule class. Feel free to review it, Steven.”

The material presented by the academy’s education planning team showed a virtual reality lesson.
There were no “assist actions” or skill-enhancing techniques—the core of modern Awakener martial arts.
Instead, the lesson was pure martial arts, stripped of gimmicks, corrected, and restructured into a solid foundation.

Instead of rehearsing flashy skill motions meant for a distant awakening moment,
the trainees received personalized corrections in basic swordsmanship directly from Hae Eung-eung.

“Following this lecture, the average training level of students using the practice rooms rose by 2.3 levels. Compare that to the 0.015 level increase seen in students attending Steven’s lectures—it’s a dramatic difference.”
“It’s just a coincidence! This kind of swordsmanship won’t help them understand skill motions. It’ll only hurt them in the long run!”
“Our education planning team disagrees. Furthermore, we’ll be conducting a serious evaluation of Steven’s lectures to assess their effectiveness.”

Watching the footage, Steven’s heart sank.
It was real swordsmanship.
Not the patched-together motions designed for skills but genuine techniques built from the ground up.

Hae Eung-eung demonstrated stances and adjusted the trainees’ sword paths individually,
adapting techniques to suit their physique, skill, and growth direction.

The respect in the trainees’ bright, admiring eyes contrasted with the disappointment briefly flickering in Hae Eung-eung’s.

“As you can see, Hae Eung-eung still has much to teach. We’re considering recruiting her as a full-time instructor.”
“So what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Prepare a curriculum capable of raising trainees’ levels by at least one within the next week. This directive comes directly from the Myungho Guild.”
“!!”
“I trust you understand the gravity of this request.”

Steven stormed out of the planning office, his face flushed with anger.

"She wasn’t just some nobody. I’ve invited a viper into my den."

Her meticulous corrections and foundational training were undeniably effective.

Now he had two options:
implement the improvements demanded by the planning team
or eliminate Hae Eung-eung as a rival.

The choice was clear.

“Michael, it’s Steven. Could I borrow some of your guys?”

Danger gleamed in Steven’s eyes.

3.

Despite her initial disappointment with the trainees,
the experience of teaching left Hae Eung-eung with lingering thoughts.
The respectful greetings from the students and their genuine admiration reminded her of her time as a junior disciple of the Hae-nam Sect.

"I had my clumsy days too."

She hadn’t been extraordinary from the start.
She often stumbled over her own feet, struggling with feminine steps she couldn’t adjust to.

"It’s not fair to blame the trainees for their flaws."

The fault lay with the academy that taught them.

Even after a week had passed since the lecture,
Hae Eung-eung found herself surrounded by students,
their reactions akin to fans meeting a celebrity.

“Wow! Instructor Hae Eung-eung, are you heading to lunch?”
“Oh my gosh, it really is Instructor Hae Eung-eung!”
“Kyaa~! What do we do? I’m so excited! Please sign this for me!”

She needed to adjust to this newfound attention,
especially the swarm of trainees fawning over her,
like fans around an idol.

“The posture you taught us is amazing, Instructor! I never thought my body could achieve something so refined!”
“I used to practice using overly wide, clumsy movements, but the more precise techniques you showed us are much better—they don’t hurt my body!”
“Um… I wouldn’t mind if you corrected my posture again… I mean, if you touched me.”

Could they please phrase that better?
Hae Eung-eung’s face showed her discomfort as she felt the awkwardness building.
And sure enough, the passersby were already murmuring.

“Refined posture? Less painful movements? Enjoys being touched?”
“Whoa, hold on.”
“What kind of lecture did this stunning instructor and these beautiful students just attend? What are they implying?”
“Hey, are you seriously ogling her while your girlfriend’s right there?”
“Be honest—you’re curious too, right?”

A couple walking nearby suddenly found themselves at odds.
The boyfriend earned a sharp jab to the ribs from his irritated girlfriend,
but even she couldn’t help but stare at Hae Eung-eung, her own expression softening.

"Wow… she’s truly beautiful."

“Ow! Why did you do that again?”
“Because I’m mad.”
“This is ridiculous.”

While the couple teetered on the edge of a breakup,
no one was more upset than Joo Ah-young,
who felt her rare, exclusive time with her sister being stolen away.

“Sorry, everyone, but the instructor has prior plans with me. We’re leaving now.”
“Huh? Wait, what?”
“Ugh, seriously, who is she to hog the instructor all to herself?”

Dragging Hae Eung-eung away from the crowd of trainees,
Joo Ah-young sighed in frustration.

“Sorry, Sister. My request ended up making you more recognizable. Is it bothering you?”
[It’s fine.]
“You don’t like being the center of attention, though.”

Her tone was apologetic, but her expression was filled with concern.
Feeling the need to reassure her, Hae Eung-eung replied with a calm gesture.

[It’s really fine. People were noticing me even before the academy.]
“They were? Where? Why?”

In the days spent resting and playing games to recover her peace of mind,
whenever she ventured out with Joo Ah-young,
she could feel the intense gazes of others following her.
Her sharp hearing even picked up snippets of their conversations.

“Isn’t that the Silent Swordmaster?”
“Holy crap, the resemblance is insane!”
“At this point, isn’t it just the real thing?”
“Who the hell is the Silent Swordmaster, you weeb?”
“Seriously? Get out of here, man. Stop just attending Awakener academies and watch some streams for once. Haven’t you heard of the Silent Swordmaster Challenge?”

Silent Swordmaster.

It wasn’t her imagination.
They were talking about her game character.

Even the least observant person would have figured it out by now.

[It seems I set some sort of record in one of the competition modes.]
“What?”
[You know those racing games where, if you set a record, your car appears as a ghost silhouette that others can race against? It’s like that, but in the game.]
“Wow, Sister, you’re that good at gaming?”
[I didn’t know either, but apparently so.]

Unfortunately, her understanding only scratched the surface.
The Silent Swordmaster’s live streams were relatively short,
but the challenge-based content and competitive modes had gained immense popularity.

Most of the buzz wasn’t about her live streams but about the record-breaking Silent Swordmaster ghost runs.

Unaware of the automated streaming systems that had developed over the past 20 years,
and still thinking in terms of outdated gaming cultures from the 2030s,
Hae Eung-eung misunderstood the true extent of her fame.