Chapter 8 – An Extra Wanted to Live (1)
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Translated by Jinmu
Read only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net
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“Mmm…”
Chloe rubbed her half-open eyes like a hamster.
“Huh? Where did Geom-ma go?”
It seemed that while she had been unconscious for a moment, Geom-ma had disappeared. Even the window that had been letting in the cold night breeze was now shut tight.
Then Chloe let out a short groan and pressed at her temple. She remembered washing the dishes, but after that, her memory seemed to cut off abruptly.
She definitely remembered secretly watching Kang Geom-ma sitting by the window while doing the dishes…
Unlike the people of her household, who had always been full of nothing but coldness, he was the first person who had ever thrown himself forward for her sake. Every time she thought of him, her face reddened like a ripe persimmon.
As she gently massaged the throbbing back of her head, Chloe reflexively looked for her katana. The blade was leaning against the white wall just as it had before.
She let out a small sigh of relief. The people in her household had often told her that her sleep-talking could get a little severe, so she had been inwardly anxious, but fortunately it seemed that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Since when had it started? Perhaps because of the harsh assassin training of House Auditore, there were times now and then when she would lose consciousness without even realizing it.
And for some reason, every time right after she blacked out, the people of House Auditore treated Chloe with a satisfied air quite unlike their usual behavior.
The people of House Auditore had told her not to worry about it.
But it felt as though her true self was being denied, and so she wanted to avoid losing consciousness whenever possible. Added to that, every time it happened, the family’s strangely encouraging gaze toward her settled deep inside her in layers of uneasy discomfort.
“Chloe! You idiot, stupid! Why did you have to faint at that exact moment?!”
As the stray thoughts cleared, embarrassment surged up. Chloe buried her face in the pillow, beat it lightly with her fists, and scolded herself in a mutter.
“Geom-ma…”
With a small eek, she buried her face back into the pillow again.
She had lost her memory at times before, but of all times, for it to happen during the time she had spent with Geom-ma…
Then, all at once, she slightly raised only her head at a sense of incongruity that felt different from usual. Something seemed a little off.
Slowly getting up from the bed, Chloe stepped away from it and looked around. The few pieces of furniture were all the same, and if there was anything different, it was only that a box cutter was lying on the floor.
Chloe tilted her head.
“Huh?”
Only then did she notice. Her hair, which had come down to just below her ears, was shorter. When she felt around with her hand, not just the side hair but the whole thing seemed to have been cut shorter.
Chloe stood there blankly, thinking for a moment, then shook her head. It seemed she had cut her hair too, just for a change of mood.
Did he use the box cutter for that?
Seeing hair thrown away in the trash bin, it seemed Geom-ma had even cleaned up for her while he was at it.
“Geom-ma really is too kind.”
At the thought that perhaps she had said something wrong while she had lost consciousness, the ended of her words trailed off. Her cheeks reddened even more in embarrassment.
She clasped her hands to her chest, gave a small shake of the head, then sat at the desk and opened her diary.
When she swept her hair back behind her ear, it felt much fresher than her usual unruly hair had.
Her little fern-like hand moved the pen scratch, scratch across the page.
Geom-ma, I love you.
A shy, girlish smile spread over her face.
* * *
After running out of the dormitory with a hand clamped over my mouth, I braced myself against the wall outside.
“Ugh- urk-”
My stomach twisted, and the pain wringing at my optic nerves made me vomit up every bit of the dinner I had enjoyed so much.
This was what happened after going just five seconds over nine seconds.
After throwing up enough to settle my insides a little, I collapsed onto the bench in front of me. Come to think of it, this was the very bench where I had first activated the Blessing of the Sword God. An odd sense of unease came over me, and I leaned back against it as though half-lying down, propping my neck with an arm.
Nothing but the sounds of insects filled my ears. The heart that had been raging so wildly gradually began to steady itself. Half-closing my eyes as I recovered from my fatigue, I sank into thought.
What exactly was Chloe?
Normally, the purpose of swordsmanship was to cut down an opponent in a single blow or subdue them.
But the sword Chloe used had come obsessively for vital points alone.
A rapid succession of strikes that seemed specialized not for direct battle, but for ambush. Thinking back on it now, it was a miracle I managed to deflect that flurry at all. If she had ambushed me in the dead of night, it would’ve been my neck rolling across the floor.
Feeling my life threatened, I had instinctively aimed for the back of her neck. Fortunately, the blade had been short enough that it only ended at cutting her hair.
At least I cleaned up afterward, so there shouldn’t be any trouble over it.
I rubbed a hand over my chest.
As I calmly looked back over everything that had happened in the past week, it really hit me just how insane an academy I had ended up enrolling in. I’d tried hard to deny reality, but in the end I had no choice but to acknowledge it. The variables in this place were tied directly to life and death.
Ordinary, uneventful, safe.
I repeated the principles I had set for myself at the entrance ceremony.
People said being ordinary was the hardest thing of all, but the reality here had already gone so far beyond that it felt as though it were pinching at my skin.
Truth be told, it wasn’t as if I had no ambition at all when I was first thrown into this shameless game. For someone like me, who had once stood at the top with nothing but a sashimi knife, it had not been easy to cast aside a man’s romantic dreams.
But each person had their assigned role to play.
Miracle’s Blessing.
The name of the game itself, and the unique blessing of the protagonist of this world, whom I had not yet met.
As far as I remembered, along with the blessing of the Hero of Origin, Balor Hoakin, it had been one of only two legendary-grade blessings in the game.
Like mine, the wording of that blessing was concise, but its content was extremely straightforward.
Please save the world from the Demon King.
More than that, the protagonist was chosen by Balmung, the holy sword that was also a demonic sword.
By contrast, all I could use was a sashimi knife the size of a chopstick.
Did that really need any more explanation?
I slapped both cheeks hard with my palms. It was a habit I’d had since childhood whenever I needed to pull myself together.
Ever since entering the academy, it had been one unreal event after another. Had I let my guard down because the game was set in Korea?
If I wanted to stay true to the three principles I had laid down at the entrance ceremony, then I needed to cast off this weak version of myself.
To shake off the heaviness in my head, I pressed my thumbs against my temples. Then I slowly raised my body and leaned back on the bench, looking leisurely up at the night sky. A cluster of stars glittered overhead like someone had scattered gold dust across the dark.
It was a strange night sky, unlike anything I had ever seen on Earth. The comet streaking down in threads of golden light felt like a kind of consolation.
Tomorrow, I should go to the library.
I knew the important figures of the game only vaguely, but the truth was that my understanding of this world itself lagged seriously behind.
Besides, it had already been a little over a week since I entered the academy. If the story timing was right, this was around the point when the protagonist would finally awaken his blessing and complete his late admission procedures.
If I prepared properly in my own way, I could at least be ready for unexpected situations. I knew the broad outline of the story.
Of course, it would’ve been better if I had known what happened even in the very late game.
But regretting it now would change nothing. Even so, the fact that I still knew the official storyline up through the middle of the game was clearly an advantage.
No matter what happened, follow the official storyline. If I got entangled in everything around me, I’d only be kicking away the little advantage I still had.
Suddenly, I remembered why I had quit after only playing through the middle of the scenario. The end of cheerful academy life came much sooner than expected.
Since I had wanted the small, charming pleasures of the youth life I never got to enjoy in my teens, my interest had cooled sharply at that point and I had deleted the game without hesitation.
If memory served, the story started to become sharply darker from the final semester of the third year onward.
Once the demon race realized a hero had been born, they united their forces under their corps commanders and began moving in earnest, threatening the academy. In the end, the scale kept expanding until it turned into a typical mass-market fantasy plotline: a world war between the demon race and humanity.
But the moment I imagined that hellish picture of the world unfolding in the very world I lived in now, a chill raced over my entire body.
I shook my head almost violently to chase those thoughts away.
I still had nearly three years of grace period left. More than those escapist three principles, I needed a realistic goal.
To become strong enough to survive.
After all, the storylines of these mass-produced games usually end happily, and the world would be saved by the protagonist. Few things were more foolish than being swept up by a hero complex and hastening your own death.
What I needed wasn’t noble strength like the protagonist’s, the kind that saves the world. I needed strength to protect my own skin. I couldn’t keep living like an autumn leaf that might be swept away at any moment.
I had to train myself as much as possible without attracting attention. If I stood out, there was a chance I’d get drafted into fighting the demon race. I wanted absolutely no part in that kind of disaster.
And the extreme nature of the Blessing of the Sword God also seemed likely to cut both ways, which meant I needed to exercise restraint in using it.
I had always held a sashimi knife because I needed it, but my body, already barely fed as it was, felt like it was slowly breaking down.
The performance definitely seemed real enough, though…
I pulled up the status window.
Fwaat-
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[Blessing of the Sword God]
What was cut would be severed.
Physical Body Rank: 2 -> The permitted sword specifications were relaxed.
Mind Rank: 3 -> Words and actions were imbued with intimidation.
Weapon Rank: 1 -> Unlock conditions had not been met.
Synchronization Rate: 1.5%
【???】
[The blessing activates only when the blade is no longer than 32 centimeters and less than 6 centimeters in width.]
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The messages in the status window were clearly different now. Fortunately, it seemed this world had not abandoned me just yet. Even if I was only a background character, maybe it had given me growth elements as if telling me to struggle and survive anyway.
Rubbing my chin, I examined the status window carefully.
That rank written after physical body, mind, and weapon was probably a concept replacing what normal games would simply call levels.
Naturally, physical body would refer to bodily growth, and judging by what had just happened, mind seemed to have something to do with wit or intellect. And weapon meant exactly what it sounded like: the weapon’s performance.
The problem was the synchronization rate written at the bottom and the line that said only ???.
Unlike the messages above it, the synchronization rate was written as a percentage. If even one more word had been written beside it, I could at least had tried to infer something, but there was no explanation at all. On top of that, why was it a decimal? It should have just been 1 or 2.
But more than anything, the thing provoking my curiosity was that line with nothing but three question marks. No matter how many times I tapped it with my hand, all that appeared on my retina was a shrill beep and dry text stating, “Access denied. Conditions have not been met.”
Rubbing my chin, I put my thoughts in motion. The blessing was already full of questions as it was, and now another one had surfaced out of nowhere. Since it was an ability branded into my body like a tattoo, it clearly seemed necessary to understand it.
That said, with no information at all, no matter how much I wracked my brain, all I’d be able to produce were branching hypotheses, not a clear answer.
Well, it wasn’t urgent right this second. I should come to understand it naturally with time.
For now, I had to train my body for survival, and I had to gather information if I wanted to adapt quickly to this world.
Fortunately, the reward for next month’s practical subjugation training, which would replace the midterms, was a longsword called Murasame.
Its grade was B-rank, and if I could learn to use it skillfully, then a weapon of that level would be more than enough to carry me through graduation. Since its dimensions lay outside the activation conditions of the high-risk Blessing of the Sword God, it wouldn’t be a burden as a primary weapon either.
I couldn’t keep relying forever on the thirty seconds of the Blessing of Painlessness. I needed to train my swordsmanship even with blades that did not meet the blessing’s conditions.
There was more to do than I thought.
I had been staring blankly at the stars and sorting through my thoughts for quite a while when
“Hey, that’s my spot.”
At that spotless, crystal-clear voice, my gaze turned before I even realized it.
Neatly combed bluish hair and a beauty that went beyond grace into something almost mystical.
A girl standing against the backdrop of the Milky Way, stars caught in her eyes.
Abel von Nibelung.
The moment when the storyline changed came at midnight, with the insects chirping in the dark.