Creator’s Favoritism

T/N: Lmaooo you guys, Korea Ability Gifted School sounds so awkward doesn’t it? So I’ll be changing it from now on to Korean Academy for Gifted Talents. I’ll change the name in previous chapters when I find the time to do it. Now, on with the chapter!

The first place I went to the next morning was the administrative office located inside the school.

“Hello. I’m Maeng Sun-woo, a first-year student.”

The staff members seemed startled by my sudden introduction.

“I’m sorry, but could you print something for me?”

“What do you need?”

One of the administrative staff readily asked me.

“Could you please print out the past questions from the National Basic Academic Ability Assessment?”

“Pardon?”

“The past questions. For first-year high school students—all subjects, please.”

Perhaps because most Haniyeong students didn’t care much about academics, she gave me a puzzled look.

“Which year do you want?”

“All of them.”

“Excuse me?”

The staff member asked again, furrowing her brow. I replied once more with a completely serious attitude.

“From 1996 to last year, please print out all the past questions.”

At this rate, it was obvious I wouldn’t make even a nail-sized impression at the entrance ceremony.

If physical prowess wasn’t an option, intellectual ability was the only way to go.

Unlike regular mock exams, the National Basic Academic Ability Assessment doesn’t have much discriminatory power in its questions. Fortunately, I was originally good at studying. If I devoted myself to past questions for about a week, getting a perfect score wasn’t an impossible goal.

This strategy wouldn’t work at all for companies that only evaluate Hunter abilities.

But it wasn’t the companies I wanted to impress. It was the gods who would be watching this world from beyond the comic panels.

I decided to bet on the fact that they would take notice of a Hunter who achieved an overwhelmingly high score on the written test.

* * *

“Ugh, I’m dying.”

I stretched after circling the last question. My eyes were sore from burying my nose in all those past exam papers for a solid week.

There was something I realized while solving the problems: it seemed I really had attended high school, just as the devil had said.

As I read the questions, a strange sense of déjà vu crept in, as if I had learned this all before. The knowledge I gained from this process was far beyond what an ordinary middle school student could grasp.

While I was reviewing the questions I got wrong, a narration box appeared after a long absence.

「Tito, slightly tipsy, returns to his studio apartment and collapses at the entrance.」

“Looks like he had some drinks.”

Thanks to Hyun So-ra being out of the dorm, I muttered freely to myself.

「Tito, still wearing his shoes, recalls the meeting he had with the webtoon platform representative today and chuckles.」

“Seems like he got some good news.”

「Tito fumbles to take out his phone from his coat pocket and sends a text to his mom. He hurriedly presses ‘send’ after typing the message: ‘I got a serialization deal.’」

“…Congratulations.”

The tone of my voice, even talking to myself, was gloomy. There was absolutely nothing for me to celebrate.

I let out a small sigh and stared at the tattered bundle of past exam papers. Would this really help?

Whether it would or not, the day of the entrance ceremony dawned mercilessly soon.

* * *

On the morning of the entrance ceremony, the staff at the Korean Academy for Gifted Talents were bustling around.

“You know that from today, the other first-year students will be moving into the dorms too, right? Wear your uniforms properly and be mindful of your behavior.”

The dorm supervisor, who had visited our room early in the morning, emphasized the importance of today several times.

Following the supervisor’s instructions, So-ra and I adjusted our uniforms and headed toward the auditorium, chatting about trivial things. 

The waiting room, connected to the auditorium stage, was our designated spot.

When I opened the door to the side room after crossing the gymnasium, where broadcasting equipment was being set up, I was slightly taken aback by a presence.

I thought So-ra and I would be the first to arrive, but someone was already there. A boy with an unfamiliar face.

Even though he sat slouched, I could tell he was tall. His jaw moved rhythmically—probably chewing gum.

Hong Ji-sang. I easily read his name tag. His short black hair barely brushed his eyebrows, and his expression showed just how unbothered he was by the entire situation.

‘He looks intimidating to approach.’

Hong Ji-sang sprawled on the wooden stairs leading up to the stage, eyes fixed on his phone, not even acknowledging us.

Next to arrive was Kang Chagyeong. As soon as he opened the door, his eyes met mine and widened slightly.

His damp brown hair clung to his head, as if he’d been trying to tame his curls.

“Hi. Long time no see.”

“Huh? Oh… hi.”

Kang Chagyeong mumbled awkwardly, quickly avoiding eye contact.

‘If only I had half the attention the creator showers on this guy, I’d have nothing to fear in this world,’ I clicked my tongue inwardly.

Kang Chagyeong found the furthest corner of the room and crouched down quietly. A flash, drawn by Tito, popped next to him.

Before I could strike up another conversation, the door swung open again, revealing another boy scanning the room. His name tag read Yeo Wook.

As soon as our eyes met, Yeo Wook flashed a somewhat mechanical eye-smile.

“Hello.”

He had the kind of looks that made him even more handsome than Kang Chagyeong, with a teardrop mole near his eye. He seemed like a character Tito had designed with extra care.

“Uh… hi.”

But there was something unsettling about his smile.

As my grandmother used to say, there are plenty of good-looking scammers out there.

‘What’s with this guy.’

Yeo Wook smiled brightly once more before turning his attention elsewhere, thankfully not attempting to strike up a conversation.

Lastly, a girl and a student affairs teacher dressed in a suit entered. After closing the door carefully, the teacher looked us over as if checking.

“Hong Ji-sang, where’s your tie?”

I glanced at Hong Ji-sang. His uniform was a mess. Not only was he missing his tie, but he had also unbuttoned two buttons, revealing the T-shirt underneath.

The teacher crossed his arms, watching as Hong Ji-sang reluctantly pulled a crumpled tie from his pants pocket.

“As you all know, today’s entire entrance ceremony will be broadcast live. Every one of your actions will represent our school, and by extension, Hunters.”

Since everyone except Hong Ji-sang wore their uniforms relatively neatly, there were no further scoldings.

‘How much time is left until the entrance ceremony starts?’

Just as I was about to check my phone, a clear voice cut through the room.

“Hello.”

I turned to see a girl standing there, her face expressionless. She was about half a head shorter than me, so I instinctively looked down at her.

Her features were soft, with a pale complexion, but her total lack of a smile gave her a cold demeanor. Her jet-black hair, cut just above her shoulders, swayed slightly.

“My name is Lee Chan-yu. You’re Maeng Sun-woo, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

-Pop!

Right on cue, a glowing rectangle appeared. I accepted her greeting somewhat reluctantly, trying to make sense of the situation.

Next to me, Hyun So-ra shifted uneasily, glancing between us. Lee Chan-yu continued, her voice flat and emotionless.

“You’re the one who died saving people in Yeouido, right?”

Her tone was oddly sharp, her expression unreadable.

“Well… let’s try to get along. It’ll be tough, though.”

Lee Chan-yu spoke bluntly, staring straight into my eyes.

What did she mean by that?

―We will now begin the entrance ceremony for the Korean Academy for Gifted Talents. First on the agenda: introducing the new students.

A booming announcer’s voice rang out from the speaker mounted on the ceiling of the side room.

But what concerned me more was Lee Chan-yu’s strange greeting.

―Representative of the new students, Hunter Lee Chan-yu.

Without a word, Lee Chan-yu stood up and left her seat. Through a gap in the blackout curtains, I saw her sitting in the farthest chair, back perfectly straight.

It was the first time I’d met someone whose greeting felt like a declaration of war.

I narrowed my eyes, scanning the other first-years. Now that I thought about it, aside from Yeo Wook, no one here seemed particularly friendly.

Even Yeo Wook, who had greeted me earlier, gave off an unsettling vibe.

‘Maybe Tito… isn’t very social?’

「As Tito sketches ‘Lee Chan-yu’s’ face, he feels an itch and scratches his ear vigorously.」

Whether Tito was struggling with my suspicion or not, I focused on observing Lee Chan-yu. Yeo Wook, called next, confidently took the center seat.

Hyun So-ra was up after him. Before stepping through the curtain, she glanced at me with anxious eyes. I mouthed, “Fighting,” clenching my fist.

「Tito is completely absorbed in drawing new characters, his hand working furiously to meet the two-month deadline.」

I lifted the edge of the curtain and saw flashes going off around Yeo Wook.

The disproportionate attention I had worried about was already becoming reality.

“The fifth new student: Hunter Maeng Sun-woo.”

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and climbed the stairs. The lights on stage were so bright, they felt almost scorching.

At the front, a crowd of camera crews from major broadcasters were packed in tight. Once all the new students were seated, the ceremony began in earnest.

There were at least twice as many guests as students. Most of the attendees were soldiers in uniform.

I fought to suppress a yawn, making sure the cameras didn’t catch me nodding off during the long-winded speeches.

As we moved to the written test venue, I briefly took out my phone to check the internet. The headlines were dominated by the high-ranking trio: Kang Chagyeong, Yeo Wook, and Lee Chan-yu.

I clenched my fist, trying to rally my energy. My only hope was that my written test results would make even the slightest impact.

* * *

After the written test, the new students changed into gym clothes and gathered on the field. In the center, a 30-meter square iron cage loomed.

The bars were packed tightly, resembling a prison to prevent any monsters from escaping. Hunters in white combat uniforms stood at each corner of the cage, where a heavy door was installed on one side.

Behind the cameras set up at a distance, staff with tense expressions scurried around.

‘When did they bring that in?’

A massive crane was connected to the top of the cage, clearly intended to lift it in case of an emergency.

“The most important thing is not to get hurt. Understand? Whether you use your abilities or not is up to you, but for the sake of sponsorship, it’d be wise to show what you’ve got,” the teacher advised as he prepped us under a tent near the cage.

My only ability was drawing aggro from monsters. It didn’t seem like that would be of much use here.

All the cameras for the broadcast were automated—no cameramen. Drone cameras buzzed overhead, circling above the cage to capture everything.

The commentary was handled by the male announcer from the entrance ceremony and a female Hunter. They were seated in a makeshift broadcast booth in the corner of the field.

―Well, the moment you’ve all been waiting for is here. The Korean Academy for Gifted Talents’s entrance ceremony ability evaluation will begin shortly.