As the midterms drew near, the students’ fatigue steadily accumulated.

Those who studied consistently were relatively okay, but the burden was immense for students who had neglected studying due to Otherworldly raids, outside activities, or simply playing around.

Unfortunately, there were many like that in our class.

That burden and pain sometimes manifested as nonsensical complaints.

“The realm of knowledge is infinite, but the exam scope is finite. Then how much meaning can a test based on such limited knowledge truly have? Are the scores we get from studying like this even meaningful?”

“Right. I don’t know if it’s right to define and measure us—who possess such brilliant and infinite potential—by scores. There are many problems in the current exam system that our generation needs to understand and solve. Maybe it’s time to question whether studying for exams is really what we should be doing now.”

“You two sound tired. Drink some water.”

Ong Gil-dong and Gu Seul-bi, while diligently studying and discussing elegant swan-like footwork, occasionally spewed half-baked nonsense.

Anyone who has felt the agony of studying can experience philosophical doubts about the justification for exams.

Even so, those two had already completed studying their areas of interest.

Gu Seul-bi had perfectly prepared for subjects related to druids, such as Otherworldly botany and special lectures on the Jin clan connected to druids.

But even with elective freedom, all Eungwang High students, including those in our class, had to prepare for common subjects.

Eungwang High, as a Player Meister high school, required following a curriculum covering player history, related laws, Otherworld theories and information.

Of course, practical exams were mandatory, not optional.

‘Still, they just dislike it but are good at it. Knowledge and abilities as players, those two are already comparable to adults.’

Moreover, common subjects weren’t too difficult.

Eungwang teachers knew that while players’ brains are generally excellent, some could compensate with physical abilities even if their brains weren’t top-tier.

A prime example was in our class.

“But you two didn’t even take math. How do you know more than me?”

“You have to take the CSAT to get into college. I self-studied just enough to meet the minimum score.”

Everyone guessed Song Dae-seok would go to university.

Most researchers in the satellite management team’s labs held doctoral degrees.

Though Song Dae-seok was a visiting researcher hired specially, his passion for satellites made it unlikely he’d be satisfied.

Though few labs focused on satellites and competition was fierce, Song’s outstanding work had professors creating and holding positions for him, so no worries there.

Maeng Hyo-don accepted Song’s tutoring and understood why Song was good at math, but another tutor was the martial artist Jin Jeong-muk.

“I was resting nearby and heard the Vice-Captain teaching you. I learned then. His explanations are polite and clear, so even new topics are easy to grasp.”

I’d heard that some adults who liked math in school sometimes solved problems to relax, but hearing a martial artist did so was new.

Martial arts and math didn’t match the concept, so Jin Jeong-muk likely didn’t study alone but understood principles well enough to help Maeng Hyo-don.

Since I usually explained assuming Maeng Hyo-don knew nothing, if Jin Jeong-muk listened well, he probably solved problems too.

‘Jin Jeong-muk not only excels at English but also at math. If he strategically chose subjects, he wouldn’t need extra studying.’

I looked at Jin Jeong-muk’s brush pen and notebook.

He was copying classical poems in the exam scope, struggling to memorize and interpret, so he just practiced writing.

His handwriting improved much since first learning Chinese characters, but his pace meant low scores were likely.

Unlike the attention seekers, he seemed focused on studying itself, uninterested in grades, and was already affiliated with a martial sect without career worries.

“Don’t grip the brush so tightly. Your hand will tire quickly and controlling the brush will be hard. Hold it as naturally and comfortably as when wielding a sword.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

While talking with Jin Jeong-muk, Maeng Hyo-don, looking at him like an alien, resumed his battle with numbers and formulas.

Considering current power levels, defeat was inevitable, but Maeng Hyo-don did not give up.

He also had comrades and a teacher.

Though Tak Geosan wasn’t good at math, he helped keep Maeng Hyo-don’s body flexible so he could focus on exams, and Tanrae Middle’s math teacher answered questions through devices.

Besides kids like Kwon Rena or the attention seekers struggling just to study, classmates helped Maeng Hyo-don.

Reluctantly, the White Tiger was unexpectedly helpful.

“...Sounds like the Vice-Captain’s explaining.”

Well, the white tiger can read my mind, so naturally.

He claimed, “I understood and said it myself,” but he hadn’t opened a math book.

Still, since kids besides Maeng Hyo-don needed help, the white tiger sharing my role was appreciated.

But given accumulated experience and current trends, unwelcome events awaited.

‘Not all subjects overlap with the white tiger, but some do—common subjects, Gongcheonghwon’s classes. How will the midterm results turn out?’

Before I worried, the other tigers reacted sensitively and questioned.

Cheong-ho, who planned to keep scores near 40 points like always.

Hwang Ji-ho, who would hold everyone above 40 points like usual.

No issues with those two.

But the white tiger shamelessly scored identically to me in physical and ability wave stats.

Though tied for first in ability waves, his physical stats were shamelessly obvious.

White tiger was a stupidly talented brute, and he clearly adjusted to match me.

“Hwang-ho, isn’t there a barrier that temporarily blocks blessings?”

“I cast a powerful Jinmyeong. If we also cast Jinmyeong, it might block it.”

“Eunho will probably cast Jinmyeong. He really hates Baekho.”

In the classroom with only the tigers and me, fierce talk ensued.

What kind of high school midterms are these, using Jinmyeong and ability waves?

Absurd as it was, if I had Jinmyeong, I’d cast it too and block the white tiger.

“Missing Jinmyeong? Be content with the Jinmyeong I gave you.”

The white tiger laughed, turning everyone’s insides upside down.

Hwang Ji-ho lowered his hand from his temple and looked at me, his pretty eyes shining with resolve.

“Jo Yi-shin, how about receiving new blessings from me instead of Baekho? I won’t stoop to Baekho’s cowardly tricks and will keep getting 40 points.”

A pretty good offer.

Whether reading my mind {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} or not, Hwang Ji-ho would keep scoring 40 points on both practical and written exams.

I’d dismissed his past offers as nonsense but seriously considered this one.

The white tiger, sitting on the desk, read my mind, lifted his chin, and arrogantly said,

“I won’t take Jinmyeong back anyway. Jo Yi-shin will stay linked to my blessing.”

“Ugh, so annoying.”

“Agreed.”

Cheong-ho openly showed annoyance, and Hwang Ji-ho agreed.

If Jeok-ho had come alone without Ungnyeo, he would have fiercely rebuked the white tiger beyond agreement.

Imagining Jeok-ho’s fierce words, I muttered to the white tiger inside my head.

Just thinking about what Jeok-ho might say made the white tiger laugh loudly.

“Study hard, Jo Yi-shin. Jeok-ho doesn’t use cute insults like that.”

“Yi-shin’s imitating Jeok-ho in his head? Tell me too.”

“I want to hear that as well.”

Surprisingly, annoyed Cheong-ho and Hwang Ji-ho joined forces attacking the white tiger.

Whenever the white tiger lightly recited words I thought of, the others first pitied, then laughed.

When done, my face blushed.

After surveying my face, the white tiger said,

“Don’t worry. I’ll grade you fairly according to your ability.”

“Baekho, show your skills to the kids?”

“Got a problem?”

Many problems existed, but no way to stop it.

Midterms ended, and results and ranks were announced.

Kim Yuri was top 10 as usual.

Gu Seul-bi and Ong Gil-dong, the attention-seeking duo, scored fairly well, though not outstandingly.

Cheong-ho and Song Dae-seok ranked in the upper tier.

Mok U-ram, Min Geurin, and Sawol Seyum were mid-tier, likely able to move up with more effort.

Jin Jeong-muk and In Seon-oh ranked low.

Jin Jeong-muk’s choice of subjects matched his concept, and In Seon-oh seemed to deliberately keep low scores.

‘It’s fortunate Maeng Hyo-don survived math again... but this is...’

Dokgo Miro, Maeng Hyo-don, and Kwon Rena barely passed with shaky scores.

Hwang Ji-ho maintained 40 points in all subjects as planned.

So far, so good.

The problem was the white tiger.

“Jo Yi-shin, you should accept reality.”

No matter what the white tiger said, I pressed the refresh button repeatedly.

Then, on the hologram screen, familiar text appeared.

[Second Year, Second Semester Midterm Final Rankings]

[Joint 1st: 2-1 Ahn Da-in, 2-1 Joo Soo-hyuk]

This part was beautiful, perfect, and cool.

It recorded the expected, known, and deserved results.

But the underline wasn’t.

After processes like appeals and error corrections, the results wouldn’t change unless altered.

[Joint 2nd: 2-0 Baekho, 2-0 Jo Yi-shin]

This midterm ended with the white tiger and me tied for second place...