I remember hiding underneath my bed.


    I remember the screaming.


    I remember the touch of Ochre swelling inside my uncles, my aunts, my friends.


    I remember the smell of burning flesh and the sight of ash.


    I remember standing in what remained of my home, of my village, as the blazing sun charred the bodies of my sister, my brother, and my mother.


    I promised myself on that day…


    I would return the destruction. I would return the needless deaths. I would return everything, tenfold, and bring the villains endless despair.


    Today, I finally know your names.


    Lee Seung-chul. Lee Na-yoon. Lee Yoon-jung (???). Lee Yoon-ho. The Taeyang Group.


    You will face death by my hand.


    I swear it.


    [ROUTE: HERO]


    ***


    <...Who’s that?>


    <I didn’t know the transfers were arriving already.>


    <She doesn’t look that strong. You know who she is?>


    <I should contact the others and tell them the transfers arrived.>


    <Is she a foreigner?>


    Good news! I entered Baekyong Academy without any trouble at all! In fact, the employees treated me like royalty. They had volunteered to move my bags into my assigned dorm-room while I could attend a meeting with the Headmaster of the Academy. I’d already informed the bosses that my transfer was smooth and painless.


    That was one problem solved, a hundred more to go.


    Walking around Baekyong Academy was… It was something else alright. I''d watched hundreds of videos and read countless articles and threads about its history, culture, and everything in-between. Baekyong was founded around forty years ago as a glorified college, focused on teaching the next wave of prestigious Slayers through competition—cutting the bullshit aside, it was a private Slayer academy for kids of the rich and famous to beat each other up. It never lost that reputation.


    I gotta admit, though: the place was pretty. The architecture really made you feel like you were a part of the upper-class. Everything was pristine and clean and advanced and nice-looking. Our dorms were amazing; we all had our own room, bathrooms, and warm beds. The dining halls were even more crazy, giving out fuckin'' gourmet dishes like it was fast food. Most of all, we got a million different services to entertain ourselves and fulfill our every need and vice.


    I wouldn’t be fooled, though. This place was as rotten as rotten could be.


    I ventured into the administration district of campus, identifying important halls that I’d studied on the campus-map. Along the way, I passed students. First-years, second-years, and third—everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone, gave me a lingering glance. It was a small world here, and I had already marked myself as an outsider. Oh well.


    It wasn’t time for my introduction yet.


    After walking for at least a mile, I found the Headmaster Building, the main administrative hall for the academy. The front was populated by annoyed faculty, pouty students, and bitchy parents. Guess they had some problems to resolve from the previous semester. In Korea, the academic year actually started in March—not August or September like in the States—and ended in February. Because I enrolled in the fall (or second) semester, I was transferring in the middle of the academic year.


    It meant my section—the Year 1 Combat Section—had already settled its hierarchy and split themselves into factions.


    Which made my position as a transfer more impactful.


    According to the kind employees who’d brought my bags in, the Headmaster explicitly ordered me to wait at the back entrance. Made sense. They didn’t want me to fight through half-a-dozen different families of Korea’s elites. Going around the building, the traffic was hilariously minimal. Just a few faculty members entering and leaving, someone was smoking off to the side, and a guy my age was standing at the bottom of the stairs.


    He loitered by himself, scrolling through his phone with a steady frown.


    If you looked up the word “emo” online, his mugshot was the first thing you’d see. Hair dark as dead ravens, hung like a criminal from the gallows! His left blood-crimson eye was buried in bush-thick bangs! His entire existence was bathed in anguish. There wasn’t any love left in him, just pure contempt for fate itself. The sort of guy who’d say, “You don’t wanna get involved with me,” when you first approach him. And how he liked his coffee? With lots of cream, but in public, black as his soul.


    Sheesh, though, he definitely wasn’t your average pretty boy. He was handsome, strong, and probably a ruthless assassin sent to murder spoiled kids. Just like me! If I had to take a guess… He was also in a combat section. Which one, though, your guess was as good as mine. I couldn’t match his face against the section roster (that I''d mostly memorized, but I had it in my [Notes].)


    Well, time to make my first friend!


    I approached him and spoke in perfect Korean: <What’s up?>


    He didn’t respond.


    <What’s your name?>


    No response.


    <…I’m a student here, what about you?>


    Nothing.


    <I’m gonna keep bothering you ‘til you open your mouth.>


    The jerk clicked his tongue and kept his one eye glued on his phone. <Quiet. You don’t want to get involved with me.>


    <I KNEW IT!>


    My sudden shouting startled him—and everyone else in our vicinity—but that got him to pay attention to me. He said, trying to deflect eyes off us, <Are you mentally deranged?!>


    I dramatically pointed at him. <I knew you’d say that! You got that look written all over your one eye!>


    His head snapped back, confused. <What?>


    I laid a hand over my forehead. <’Oh, pretty girl I just met, you’re so beautiful and sweet, but I can’t! I have a dark and mysterious past, so let me push you away! I beg of you, don’t get involved with me!''>


    My new friend blinked several times. <...I’m going to call the police.>


    <Am I wrong, though?>


    <Very. I have no idea who you are, but given your deranged personality, I hope you do stay out of my way—>


    <’Otherwise you’ll regret it.’>


    <Otherwise, you’ll regret—>


    He glared bloody death at me.


    Man, I’m doing such a good job at making friends!


    <You two are already acquainted, I see,> a voice called out from behind.


    It belonged to a middle-aged man who had the same composure as Uncle. His posture was impeccably rigid as though he was marching to an invisible drum, and his suit was immaculate—like, picking-every-ball-of-lint-with-tweezers immaculate. Even without my previous knowledge, I could figure out he had experience in the military. With my knowledge, he was a high-ranking naval officer—and, oh, also formerly the No.3 Slayer in Korea. Meet the Headmaster of Baekyong Academy, Baek Min-seok (???) or otherwise known as Chungmu (??).


    Chungmu rubbed his freshly-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard with a gloved hand, the other behind his back, and observed us. <Normally, the transfers will have an orientation ceremony tonight; however, I had to meet with both of you. You’re here through extraordinary circumstances, and you both know that.>


    <Huh?>


    I looked at Mister Emo. <Him?>


    He looked at me. <Her?>


    <Yes. You are the only two transfers in the Year 1 Combat Section.>


    Oh.


    This… This was not in our initial intelligence. No wonder why I didn’t recognize him. He was a surprise transfer just like me. Dammit all, I gotta send a report to Ordo after this and see what we could dig up.


    I mustered the brightest smile possible. <You’re stuck with me!> I reached out for a handshake—


    He slapped my hand away. <Don’t touch me.>


    Chungmu raised his hand and immediately, we settled down. <Allow me to make introductions if you hadn’t done so already. This fine lady is Dorothea Zhang, recommended by Hwarang herself.>


    Mister Emo stiffened like steel, his expression twisted in surprise but in the most insulting way possible. It''s like he was asking, “How the fuck is this girl recommended by the fuckin’ Murim-in Throne?!”


    Chungmu followed, <And this young man is Kim Min-jae (???), here on my recommendation.>


    Now it was my turn to look at him with that same surprise. <How did you—?! Actually, why am I surprised? You look like you can send me to the hospital with a flick of your finger.>


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Kim Min-jae gritted his teeth, looking like a million thoughts were swimming in that emo-head of his. <You’re a foreigner who somehow managed to acquire Hwarang’s recommendation.>


    He was fishing for information. Better play my cards right. I said, <It’s not a big deal. She came into town, I surprised her with a few secret martial arts techniques, and now I’m here. Guessin’ that’s how you got Chungmu’s recommendation?>


    <Student Min-jae did more than impress, but let’s leave it at that,> Chungmu said before gesturing toward his castle. <Let’s continue our conversation inside, shall we?>


    Without waiting for our answer, he scaled the steps.


    Got no other choice, right?


    I looked at Kim Min-jae and smirked, knowing we would have a long relationship in this shitty place. He knew it too; I saw it in his eye(s). Pretty sure I already made him regret his transfer.


    Go me, I was doing good things for the world one joke at a time.


    ***


    Every square inch was decorated to reflect the academy’s prestigious history. Y’know, portraits of previous headmasters and department heads, a mile’s worth of trophies and accolades, and over on one wall, it was dedicated to a memorial for the alumni who’d passed away in the line of duty. Most of the memorial was filled by casualties sustained during Hangzhou.


    Everything smelled like cleaning solution and flowers and copper.


    Chungmu led us into an open lounge: half-lobby, half-museum. It displayed old signatures, weapons and armor and items, stored in thick glass cages while some were mounted on walls like taxidermied kills. Don’t ask me about anything here. I knew Korean pretty well but not so much its systemic history.


    Min-jae on the other hand didn’t give a shit ‘bout any of this. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.


    Chungmu admired the years and sighed in a masturbating way. <This is where I would rehash the introduction speech to the new transfers and pretend I’m a lovely man, but I’ll drop the act for the two of you. You seem much more mature than your future peers.>


    Min-jae eyed me.


    The hell you’re looking at me for?


    Chungmu turned around and faced us with the pressure of a high-ranker, his small smile dropping into a damning chill. We weren’t kids to him anymore. We weren’t adorable or cute; we were warriors. Soldiers. For that, I knew immediately he wasn’t gonna give mercy no matter the circumstance.


    <I consider Baekyong’s curriculum, programs and courses, sponsored internships, and so on—I consider them as garbage. They’re second to the real value of this university: the competition. You’re paying for the experience of the Student Rankings and nothing else, sort of like a military academy in that aspect. Yes?>


    I gulped. Here was his famous educational philosophy. Probably the only headmaster in Baekyong’s history to intensify the Student Ranking system instead of cooling it down. I’d already familiarized myself with its mechanics, but reading a hundred articles online was nothing compared to the real experience.


    And y’know, Min-jae didn’t seem to give a shit or give much of a reaction at all.


    Chungmu continued, taking our silence as affirmation, <Unlike colleges such as Ordo University, in which they divide their students into classes to act as ‘family’ throughout the program, you’re in one pod holding onto one ladder. Your classmates are your opponents. Your so-called ‘friends’ will backstab you when the opportunity arises. Not even your professors can be fully trusted either, as they often play favorites and I encourage them to do so. The both of you might even be enemies as soon as you walk out that door.>


    <Ah, well, I sorta already made him my enemy, hehe…> I said to disarm the tenseness. Didn’t work. Nobody laughed. I felt stupid.


    <Regardless, this is a better representation of the world we live in. You may prefer we hold hands and act as brothers and sisters like the dribble OU feeds, but there are carnivores hungry for power. The earlier you learn that lesson, the better you’ll survive in this environment.> He glanced at me when he said that. <Do you understand? I am only saying this because you both are transfers from peculiar backgrounds.>


    <I understand completely,> Min-jae answered first, his voice layered with seething contempt.


    Chungmu couldn’t help himself from forming the smallest yet devious grin. <Good. I’ll inform you regarding the circumstances of the Student Rankings. I’ll explain from the beginning, actually, to ensure we’re on the same page. You and your classmates are ranked based on performance through its currency: Ranking Points, awarded in multiple ways such as exams, exercises, extracurriculars, and so on.


    <There are five tiers in descending order: Gold, Jade, Ruby, Gray, and Black. They have a limited number of seats adjusted for total population. For Year 1 Combat, there are two-hundred-forty-two students including you. Currently, I believe they are: five, fifty-five, one-twenty-two, fifty-five, and five. Each tier has unique privileges offered. For example, Golds have access to an exclusive menu in dining halls and convenience stores within the area; when the time comes for internships, they have first pickings.>


    <And drawbacks,> muttered Min-jae.


    <That’s right. Grays perform mandated community service within and outside campus, and they are forced to take remedial classes. As for Blacks, they’re in danger. If you remain in Black for three consecutive weeks or enter Black three times in a given academic year, you will be automatically expelled.>


    Chills. Leo had sat me down and told stories about Baekyong. This was the experience I was in for: a constant war within my section for the top rung of the ladder. Although Chungmu highlighted a few privileges, they were nothing compared to the unspoken consequences. Golds were treated like monarchs while Grays and Blacks were treated like hobos. Everything felt like a fucking psychological experiment performed by sadists and perverts, wanting to see how kids tore each other apart just to move up one place in the Rankings.


    But there was a reason why Baekyong kept getting applicants.


    People were attracted to power and dominance, sort of like politics or corporations. Betrayals, bloodshed, corruption, they were the name of the game—don’t me and Alex know that?


    I raised my hand. <Where do we fit in?>


    <Where you fit in?> Chungmu had a little laugh to himself. <I suppose this leads into where you’re placed. We accept so few transfers because we’re the only academy—only successful academy—that uses this system. It’s too much for most people, so we look for wild cards that will significantly impact their sections. Until you officially receive your first Ranking Points, you are unranked but will be treated as Rubies.>


    Min-jae huffed steam. <Not bad.>


    <It’s the middle-tier, and for that reason, it’s the most tumultuous. I find that more students fight to not fall into Gray and Black rather than clawing up; that philosophy spreads just enough where everyone is perpetually at each other’s throats in order to not be a step-stool for someone else’s schemes. For you, your placement doesn’t matter as you''ll be ranked soon.>


    I nearly asked about details of our first exercise, but realized that was a pretty dumb question. Instead I asked, <Are there any people we need to look out for? If you wanna help us, I dunno.>


    <You can find that out for yourself, but we’re honored to welcome the youngest heir of Taeyang,> answered Chungmu. <As you expect, he’s the No.1 student in the entire section. If either of you can scratch him, that’s an accomplishment in itself.>


    The emo-guy had been biting his thumb as soon as he was mentioned.


    <Any other piece of advice for us?> I popped another question.


    <Value your interests first.>


    <Alright, is that everything?> Min-jae was next.


    Chungmu thought about it then shook his head. <Other than the general informational meetings, no. Oh, use the school app to check on your status; it’ll be your most useful tool here.>


    Thank goodness I got a new phone and phone number. Didn’t want to risk getting my data tracked.


    We had nothing else to say. We knew what we were in for and Chungmu made his expectations clear: we gotta shake up the ladder somehow. At least I was expecting this. It matched Leo’s anecdotes: the Student Rankings always changed shortly after the second semester—


    <Yoohoo!> a cheery voice startled me.


    I turned ‘round and—


    “Holy shit,” I said in English.


    I saw quite possibly one of the most gorgeous guys ever in the history of the world. Look at how sparkly he was in-person! He had better skin than most runway models; his features were so soft and pretty that even Rector would get jealous! This season he’d dyed his hair hot red and tar black to reflect his rebellious phase. Everything about him was perfect. White teeth, pretty eyes, strong body, everything—as though a mathematician had invented the ultimate equation for beauty and applied it to him.


    This was the most talented K-pop idol of today: Tae Jun-hyeok (???), and the star of MS Entertainment, a talent agency owned by the Taeyang Group. In other words, he was Lee Yoon-ho’s best friend.


    I was standing in the same room as the Tae Jun-hyeok. He made the other guy look ugly.


    <Tae Jun-hyeok,> Chungmu began,


    He checked his watch. <An administrative meeting to attend in twenty minutes.>


    In spite of his rebellious phase, he saluted the authority figure in the room. <Yessir! Have fun with your meeting, Chungmu.> Jun-hyeok spun on his feet and led us away.


    Once we were home-free, I half-thought the idol would drop his smile and start acting like a conceited asshole. However, he maintained his carefree attitude as we went downstairs. As though on stage, he smoothly skipped down, deft and agile, gliding over every step. He was the first to reach the ground-floor and ended his small performance with a cute bow towards his new friends.


    Min-jae murmured, <Unnecessary.>


    I quietly applauded the idol while nudging the buzzkill. <This is the part where you clap and ask for his autograph.> I cleared my throat. <Can I have your autograph—huh?>


    Jun-hyeok pulled out a small note with his autograph. <Yesterday, I’d given out at least a couple dozen autographs so I came prepared.>


    I took it. <I’m gonna cherish this forever. Or maybe sell it.>


    Min-jae, against his will, took an autographed note. He held it by the corner like it was covered in vomit. <Yeah, thanks…>


    <No problem!> Jun-hyeok began walking backwards toward the back exit. <Chungmu barely disclosed anything ‘bout you guys, so we’re pretty excited to meet you.>


    <We?> I asked.


    <Who do you think? The other Golds. You’re staring at No.5, and before you start accusing me of anything, I earned my place fair-and-square like everyone else—or, well, as fair as fair can be.>


    Min-jae scratched at his cheek. <So we’re meeting the other Golds, then?>


    <That’s right. Chungmu has high hopes for you guys, so you can say we have equally high expectations. Not necessarily me or Yoon-ho, but the other Golds. They wanna know who you are, where you came from, what [Skills] you have, and whether or not you’re a threat—spoiler alert: they’ll think you’re a threat regardless. So for that reason, I apologize on our Headmaster’s behalf. You’re getting thrown right into the frying pan.>


    Not as bad as, hypothetically, getting thrown right in the middle of a city-wide crisis and having to fight an Alternate by yourself, but this could get second place. This was to be expected anyway. We possibly had the stopping power of Golds, so naturally the existing superpowers wanted to check us out.


    Min-jae scowled, cynicism bleeding from his teeth. <Why are you telling us this? Are you trying to recruit us into your faction?>


    Jun-hyeok laughed.


    Yup, yet another anecdote proven true. Everyone was involved with a faction one way or another. That meant I had to conduct field research before planning any big moves. Like for example, acting against the Taeyang Faction. Who were their biggest supporters, who were their biggest enemies?


    This operation sounded exhausting already…


    When we left the building, Min-jae stopped just outside the doors. <And you’re taking us to those people?>


    Jun-hyeok detected hostility in his voice and flashed a disarming smile. <I won’t force you to meet them, but I kinda suggest you do. You don’t wanna make enemies on your first day on campus.>


    <Hey.> I raised a finger. <Why don’t we start our own faction right here? The Transfer Faction, just the two of us. I can annoy people to death and you can stand there and be intimidating.>


    Min-jae glowered. <I’d rather hold hands with the idol than work with you—put your hand away.>


    <Aw man.> Jun-hyeok’s arms dropped to his side. <But yeah, this is your one and only chance to back out now. Otherwise, you’ll meet the rest of the Golds.>


    I glanced at Min-jae, he glanced at me. Neither of us were running away.


    The silence gave Jun-hyeok his answer. <Let’s go!>