Episode 107: Final Exams (3)
Gaon’s cozy and charming café.
Most students come here with their significant others or to chat with friends.
While there are open tables, there are also small private rooms that can accommodate four or five people.
In one such room sat three objectively beautiful female students.
“Sip.”
A soft sound as she took a drink of coffee.
Kang Arin effortlessly swept her hair back and set the cup down.
Across from her sat Ha Sion and Yu Hana.
This was their monthly, almost subconscious, routine gathering.
“Report any variables in the group chat. No flaunting—just variables.”
Kang Arin had said those words months ago.
But the group chat had devolved into exactly that—flaunting—forcing them to resort to these in-person meetings.
Why these faces kept gathering was unclear, but it had become a habit.
Their conversations were usually simple:
Future plans and other important information.
They all knew that openly antagonizing each other would be exhausting.
So the four of them (though one was missing today) had reached an unspoken agreement.
Until they secured their own fragments, they wouldn’t engage in emotionally draining fights.
With the serious discussion wrapped up, it was time for casual chatter.
“Finals are coming,” Yu Hana started.
“Seems so,” Kang Arin replied flatly, swirling her coffee cup.
“…Everyone here is on the Blue Team,” Ha Sion added with a short nod.
“Cheon Yeoul and… him are on the White Team,” Yu Hana murmured.
Her voice was quiet, but there was a peculiar weight to her words.
“Annoying. We can’t even interact with the opposing team starting today,” Ha Sion grumbled.
Her frustration was understandable.
Exam details had been announced yesterday, and from today onward, Blue and White Teams were completely segregated.
Originally, Cheon Yeoul should’ve been at this meeting too.
But since she was on the White Team, she had no reason to avoid Jung Haein.
And of course, Cheon Yeoul wouldn’t miss such an opportunity—so naturally, she skipped the meeting.
Gaon’s philosophy for exams was always “treat it like real combat.”
And treating it like real combat meant preparing like it was real combat.
In real battles, heroes and villains didn’t casually chat or mingle—so this separation made sense.
(Well, there were exceptions, but generally speaking.)
“Just unfortunate, I guess,” Kang Arin said nonchalantly.
Having monopolized Jung Haein’s time most recently, she was relatively unbothered.
The ones truly simmering were likely Yu Hana and Ha Sion.
But at Kang Arin’s words, Yu Hana tilted her head slightly.
“…Just unfortunate?”
A brief silence followed the question.
“What do you mean?” Ha Sion asked.
Instead of answering, Yu Hana tapped her watch.
A moment later, both Kang Arin and Ha Sion’s watches buzzed simultaneously.
—Ding.
—Ding.
The Gaon battlefield map unfolded on their screens.
Certain areas were highlighted in blue—marked by Yu Hana herself.
“Revival points,” she explained simply.
“……”
“You know how it works. The reviver gains partial control over the revived’s points, a mental link forms…”
She set her cup down slowly.
“It’s like a contract. In exchange for a second life, you become their subordinate for the duration of the exam.”
“Ah.”
Ha Sion’s eyes widened in realization.
If a defeated player was chosen, they’d be given a new chance.
Meaning—even if Ha Sion (on the opposing team) were eliminated, Jung Haein might take pity and revive her.
And then, she’d be with him.
As his loyal subordinate.
“…Might not be so bad?” Ha Sion muttered.
Yu Hana stood up.
“Think about it yourself.”
Her footsteps were quiet as she left.
Soft café music filled the space again.
As if nothing had happened at all.
***
The atmosphere at Gaon had distinctly shifted.
Starting today, all classes had been suspended under the guise of “self-study.”
Lessons up to the exam scope had already concluded days prior.
After all, the finals were what truly mattered.
And now, during this self-study period, with the strict separation of Blue and White Teams—
Students began clustering together in groups across campus rather than in classrooms.
Yet despite this, Gaon’s grounds felt noticeably emptier.
For second-years, third-years, and especially fourth-years, finals often took place in external locations or alternate dimensions.
So they had already departed for their exam sites with well-wishes of “See you alive on the other side!”
There was a reason the board game club seniors had phrased it that way.
In the end, only first-years remained at Gaon now.
Days that felt free yet strangely tense.
And today—
I was spending time with Cheon Yeoul.
Practical skills were important, but theory couldn’t be ignored either.
Unlike the midterms, which only covered basic divine arts, the finals gradually delved into intermediate applications.
The content grew more complex, the difficulty steeper.
Cheon Yeoul had asked for help, and I’d agreed lightly.
“Think you’re getting it?”
“Mmm…”
She shook her head side to side.
Given how advanced the material was, that was understandable.
But her focus wasn’t bad—she’d learn with time.
“Why is this fun?”
Yoon Chae-ha was there too, of course.
Since we were all on the White Team anyway, we’d casually decided to study together.
She was quietly practicing the basic divine arts from the textbook in front of her.
No one had even asked her to.
I paused at her words.
That’s just how studying worked.
For some, it was an engaging puzzle. For others, the exact opposite.
‘And no, that wasn’t a commentary on Yoon Chae-ha and Cheon Yeoul.’
“Let’s stop here for today…?”
I closed the book as I spoke.
“We should start discussing practical exam prep too. Sitting too long just makes your brain sluggish—”
Before I could finish, Cheon Yeoul slammed her textbook shut like she’d been waiting for this.
Tilting her head back, she looked up at me with a slight smirk.
Her eyes sparkled, one eyebrow playfully raised.
The relief of being done was palpable—a small grin already tugging at her lips.
Yoon Chae-ha closed her book with a reluctant expression.
Brushing hair from her cheek, she wordlessly watched me.
Two pairs of eyes locked onto me simultaneously.
My next words, the faintest twitch of my lips—
It felt like all their focus zeroed in on those details.
I smiled wryly.
Their contrasting reactions were amusing in their own way.
But lately, I’d been noticing something.
No concrete evidence—just a gut feeling.
Cheon Yeoul, Yoon Chae-ha, and several other key figures…
Their glances, their tones, their actions.
Small hints, piling up one by one, all suggesting something beyond friendship.
To deny it would be a lie.
And honestly, I welcomed it.
We’d soon face trials that ordinary bonds couldn’t withstand.
The void left by someone’s death would need to be filled by another.
I’d take the heaviest role, but ultimately, we’d have to overcome it together.
Deeper, stronger connections would be the right path forward.
So when it came to “more than friends,” I was all for it.
But—
“Do they actually like me?”
Lately, it felt like some were crossing from friendship into romantic interest.
Some might call it conceited, but I had to prepare for every possibility.
Even if true, pretending not to notice was the right move for now.
It wasn’t that I disliked the idea.
These were characters I’d shaped and written.
Each uniquely compelling, each someone I cared for deeply.
And besides—
‘I’m still a man.’
Being drawn to attractive women was only natural.
But right now, I couldn’t afford to be swayed by emotions.
I had a duty—to support these key figures, to help them grow.
Letting things become even more tangled might destabilize what we had now.
At least until they obtained their Fragments.
I refused to see them as anything beyond allies until then.
A player might’ve brushed it off with “whatever works.”
But I wasn’t a player anymore.
This was fully real. They were all living, breathing people.
My conscience prickled. My sense of responsibility weighed on me.
Standing up, I finally spoke.
“I’ll go grab us drinks.”
Yoon Chae-ha and Cheon Yeoul both opened their mouths to respond—
“Iced chocolate and strawberry latte, right?”
I cut them off with a small smile.
Their faces brightened simultaneously, as if surprised I’d remembered.
No words needed. The air between us felt strangely comfortable and familiar.
For now—at least for now—
This was the cleanest way forward.
