The sun had reached its zenith, and the time came when students clutched their growling stomachs.

The pounding footsteps of hungry students rushing to the cafeteria echoed against the windows, but Yeomyeong remained in his room, engrossed in study.

To be precise, he wasn’t reading a book but two notebooks. Identical in size and content, he read them alternately as if verifying something.

His demeanor was intense, his focus unbroken.

The weight of the information in those notebooks warranted such seriousness.

 

"The Chapter 1 boss, the Leather Priest, is still alive. Chapter 2 is about to begin, with the boss being the elven hunter, Juan..."

 

These notes were written by Baonik Lerak, a man who fancied himself the creator of this world—the "author."

The pages were filled with information about an alternate reality that might have come to pass if Yeomyeong hadn’t intervened, as well as exhaustive details about the academy.

Future incidents and their orchestrators, personal histories of specific individuals, and the academy’s hidden opportunities were all meticulously recorded.

Some entries were so bizarre they bordered on implausible.

For instance, the mention of a dragon lurking in the academy's sewers or an elven raid during the first-year winter break sounded far-fetched.

Yet Yeomyeong committed even these details to memory. Especially the entries regarding opportunities—he read those so thoroughly he could recite them verbatim.

Was it to monopolize those opportunities? No, not exactly.

For him, these were both bait and clues.

"…Clues to finding the player."

The player, hidden somewhere within Lord Howe Academy.

That person, like Baonik, would know about the academy’s hidden opportunities and would be waiting for the right chance to seize them.

Judging by their past actions—killing people for "leveling up"—the player was undoubtedly scheming to claim as many opportunities as possible.

"...They might already have taken a few."

Yeomyeong hoped so.

If the player had already seized some, then the missing opportunities would serve as breadcrumbs to track them down faster.

Lost in thought, Yeomyeong flipped another page.

Creak.

The door, previously closed, opened slightly with a faint noise.

No one appeared on the other side. The corridor beyond was empty.

But Yeomyeong’s sharp senses—honed further by his familiarity with the Transparent Cloak—detected an unseen presence crossing the threshold.

"...Was that the dorm warden passing by?"

Feigning indifference, Yeomyeong closed the notebooks.

Rising from his chair, he retrieved the Transparent Cloak tucked at his side, ensuring it was ready to be thrown on at a moment’s notice.

Despite his subtle preparations, the invisible visitor made no moves.

But the instant Yeomyeong shut the door, he felt a cold, metallic sensation pressed against the back of his head.

Click.

The familiar sound of a revolver being cocked.

Yeomyeong exhaled deeply, half in frustration, and asked:

"Just to be sure I don’t misunderstand—this isn’t someone I know, right?"

 

The Saintess bit her lip.

Her attempt to seize control with a surprise attack had been thwarted far too easily.

Was Yeomyeong simply too accustomed to situations like this?

Even with the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his head, he remained calm.

No, more than calm—he seemed outright bored.

Her grip tightened on the revolver, intending to make her threat more convincing.

But it was futile. Yeomyeong turned his head to look at her without the slightest concern.

"What are you doing in the boys’ dormitory?"

"…."

Only then did the Saintess realize she had come to Yeomyeong without any real plan. Well, no coherent plan.

She had questions. About Seti. About the rumors swirling around the dormitory shrine. About what Yeomyeong and Seti’s relationship truly was.

And…

What do you think of me?

But none of these thoughts reached her lips. Only Yeomyeong’s voice broke the silence.

"If a staff member catches us like this, it won’t just end with demerits or expulsion. This could turn into a scandal."

"…A scandal? What scandal?"

Her question hung in the air, unanswered. Yeomyeong tilted his head slightly, his expression blank.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

The Saintess, sneaking into the boys’ dormitory—it was the definition of scandal.

One that gossip rags worldwide would eagerly pounce on.

"Let’s skip the long explanations. Go back the way you came."

Yeomyeong brushed past her, heading for his desk.

The Saintess clenched her fists as she stared at his retreating back.

Under normal circumstances, she would have heeded his advice.

But after days of being ignored by Seti and driven to exhaustion by all-night prayers, the Saintess made a different choice.

"...Stop. I’m not done talking."

"…."

"I’ll shoot. If you don’t turn around, I’ll really shoot."

Her uncharacteristic threat came with a trembling hand emerging from under the Transparent Cloak.

The revolver aimed squarely at Yeomyeong’s head, but he only sighed deeply.

The cylinder of the revolver was empty.

Of course, it was. Academy regulations strictly prohibited students from carrying live ammunition. How could the Saintess, of all people, be carrying a loaded gun?

The mere fact she was holding an empty revolver to him…

"…She’s completely lost it."

Yeomyeong shook his head, spreading the Transparent Cloak gifted to him by the Saintess’s mother.

As he raised his hand, the Saintess jabbed the barrel of the revolver forward.

"Do I look like I’m joking? Huh? Think I won’t shoot?"

"…."

"Turn around! Now! And answer my—"

The next moment, Yeomyeong vanished from her view.

"Wait, wha—?"

Before she could comprehend what had happened, Yeomyeong had moved behind her.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hoisted her off the ground.

"W-Wait—! Put me down! Let go of me!"

The Saintess flailed in the air, punching and kicking at Yeomyeong.

Despite her outburst, she didn’t pull the trigger. Even in her frenzied state, it seemed she had no intention of shooting him.

Not that it mattered now.

Holding her like a sack of flour, Yeomyeong raised his other hand.

And then—

Smack!

His palm landed squarely on her backside.

A muffled yelp escaped her lips as the peach hidden beneath her cloak and uniform turned bright red.

"You—you…! What are you doing?! Kyaa!"

Ignoring her protests, Yeomyeong swung his hand again.

Just as the foreman had disciplined unruly dung beetles back in his youth.

Smack!

"This… This is blasphemy! Blasphemy!"

Smack!

"W-Wait! I was wrong… Ahh!"

Smack!

"Stop! Please…!"

Only when her tearful sniffles replaced her words did Yeomyeong finally lower his hand.

Debating whether to toss her out the window, he ultimately decided to place her gently on his bed.

After all, he needed to understand why she had done this before sending her away.

Removing his cloak, he turned to the sniffling Saintess.

"If you’ve calmed down, explain yourself. Why did you come to find me?"

"…."

"You’ve been skipping class for days. Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking."

The Saintess remained silent, her face a mix of contemplation and embarrassment. Slowly, she removed the cloak.

Her tear-streaked face emerged, blotched with new marks from her crying.

…Maybe I went too far.

Yeomyeong averted his gaze awkwardly, giving her time to compose herself.

"Yeomyeong."

"What?"

"In the past few days… have you broken curfew?"

The moment he heard "curfew," Yeomyeong realized her question was about Seti.

But why would the Saintess care so much about Seti? What did Seti represent to her?

As his thoughts spiraled, the Saintess reached out and grabbed his hand tightly.

"You haven’t, right? Tell me you haven’t."

"…."

Yeomyeong debated lying but decided against it.

The Saintess, with her Transparent Cloak, would dig through attendance records if necessary. A lie would only backfire.

"…I have."

Her reaction was as dramatic as he expected—like someone struck by a hammer, she gaped at him in stunned silence.

Thirty seconds passed before she stammered her next question.

"Y-Yeomyeong… Are you… and Seti… like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know… lovers?"

Her blunt and direct question made Yeomyeong stifle a bitter laugh.

How much shame must she have endured to ask such an uncharacteristic question?

Suppressing his pity, Yeomyeong reached into his pocket and pulled out the Uragan’s hilt.

The unicorn horn glowed faintly in his hand, radiating purity.

The Saintess couldn’t hear the unicorn’s voice, but even its glow was enough for her.

"Ah…."

"…Satisfied?"

She nodded. Her flushed cheeks sparked guilt in Yeomyeong, but he rationalized it.

Better she believe this than involve herself in his quest for vengeance.

"That’s all you wanted, right? Now go. It’s almost the end of lunch."

The Saintess didn’t move.

"Yeomyemeong."

"...What now?"

"The, uh… the thing about spanking… If I act foolish again… could you do it again?"

Her sudden confession caught Yeomyeong completely off guard, his body stiffening in shock.

Seeing his reaction, the Saintess let out a soft, mischievous laugh—a victor’s smile.

"...I’m joking, you pervert."

With that, she donned the Transparent Cloak and rose from the bed.

As the door opened and she left, Yeomyeong remained frozen, unable to muster a response.

He only snapped out of it when a crow began tapping at the window.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

A massive crow, large enough to obscure the entire windowpane.

Seeing its irritated expression, Yeomyeong let out a long sigh.