The Support Ate it All-Chapter 563: Finals Week 17–18 (18)

During the temporary storage facility infiltration, Song Cheon-hye and Han So-mi saw through the [Mimicry Totem], and they realized the true identity of Inferno Fist was me.

The situation had been too urgent to press me about it then, and they had to let me go, but it wasn’t something that would just fade away like that.

So I’d expected they’d definitely bring it up at least once—and finally, the time had come.

We sent the others inside first, then moved our steps to a corner of the base.

After facing me for a while, Song Cheon-hye lowered her gaze.

“...Show me your hand.”

“Here.”

When I held it out without hesitation, she inspected it from every angle, then, as if something occurred to her, she added a comment.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t pawing at you. I was double-checking.”

“I know.”

“...So you really are fine even if you use Inferno Fist.”

“I’m fine.”

Song Cheon-hye’s eyes narrowed.

“Then why didn’t you get permission?”

“Because it’s annoying.”

To get authorization to use forbidden items/skills, you have to go through a long, complicated procedure.

If Inferno Fist were important enough to put up with that hassle, sure—but hadn’t I been doing just fine with other things up until now?

Of course, Song Cheon-hye looked like she didn’t accept it at all.

“Feels like you’re hiding more.”

“Honestly, I am.”

“...What is it?”

The big issue is that in the process of getting permission, I’d have to reveal [Elemental Resistance] too.

But I couldn’t spill that much, so my answer was—

“Nope.”

“You always say you won’t tell me.”

“Ask something else.”

Song Cheon-hye grumbled internally, but gave up fast.

From experience, she’d learned that when I acted like this, I really wouldn’t tell her.

Then she shifted the question slightly.

“You learned it at the start of the first semester, right?”

“Right.”

I learned Inferno Fist during the first temporary storage facility.

There was a skillbook, so I grabbed it and learned it on the spot.

Then I sent Gwak Seungjae flying with it, and calmly slipped out of the encirclement.

“And you’ve been using it ever since.”

“Yup.”

“And you’re going to keep using it?”

“Probably, yeah?”

Someday, when it hits its expiration date, there’s a chance it’ll be replaced by another skill—but at least until then.

Song Cheon-hye’s expression tightened.

“So you’re saying, openly, you’re going to violate the school rules.”

“Sorry, but yes.”

“You know you’re sorry?”

“Of course I do.”

What did the disciplinary committee club do wrong? They were just doing their assigned job diligently.

The bad ones are the people who cause problems—me included.

Song Cheon-hye kept asking.

“You know, and you still have to do it? Why?”

“I have to. World peace is on the line.”

“......??”

A whole bunch of question marks popped up over Song Cheon-hye’s head.

“What are you talking about all of a sudden? What does that have to do with breaking school rules?”

“It does.”

But my expression stayed serious the whole time.

I glanced up at the sky and asked,

“You’ve been keeping up with what’s going on outside, right?”

“...Yes. I’ve been hearing it.”

“Most of it’s bad. You never know when something’s going to blow up. Even just at our school—how many times did the Blood Cult and the witches raid us this year?”

“...!”

At midterms, the Bloodburst Corps incident happened, and the Witch of Corruption took over the dungeon building with Dark Ubleks; during the tournament, Blood Cult elders infiltrated, and we even went through a Witch of Depletion subjugation operation.

There was no guarantee something similar wouldn’t happen again.

“There isn’t time or breathing room to grow while following every rule to the letter.”

“...I understand, at least.”

Song Cheon-hye nodded slowly.

She stayed like that for a moment, thinking, then spoke as if she’d steeled herself.

“But if you make exceptions every time, what use are rules? You might think I’m rigid and narrow-minded, but if it’s something you should keep, you should keep it.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“So... if you try to break the rules again, I’ll stop you.”

Whether you storm the temporary storage facility again, or sneak down to the underground floors.

If she caught me on the spot, it’d be awkward for me to just shove through with force—and even if I did, she could still hit me with demerit points or disciplinary action afterward.

I was impressed, and asked at the same time.

“That’s a fine ambition, but... can you do it?”

“Why do you think I can’t?”

“Because...”

“Because what?”

“Because you’re...”

“I don’t even need to hear it. And you’re wrong!”

Song Cheon-hye looked extremely wronged.

She was elite among elites everywhere else, but only I treated her like this.

Then she declared, as if making a proclamation.

“Just watch. See what happens next year.”

“School-rule violations? Or ‘that’?”

“Both!”

*****

I had a dream.

The first thing I saw was a fluffy gray-furred cat, and a scruffy, dirty red-furred dog.

Before, the two of them would bicker and watch each other warily, but now, maybe they’d gotten used to each other—they were resting together, pressed close.

Then, from somewhere, a hedgehog appeared.

Its spines had a light brown tint, and it looked a lot like someone.

As it crept closer, the dog, which had been sound asleep, sensed something and snapped awake.

Then it bared its teeth, showing hostility.

“GRRR....”

The hedgehog curled up into a round ball like a chestnut burr.

It held that posture for a while, then uncurled and crept closer again.

Immediately, the dog started growling again, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I stepped in to mediate.

“Quit fighting.”

“Whine....”

When I covered its eyes, it calmed down right away and lay back down in its original spot.

The hedgehog looked back and forth between us with an unreadable gaze, then kept creeping closer.

It settled down at a distance where it was almost touching, and crouched.

‘Guess that’s comfortable for it.’

So I left it be and looked at the dog and cat—but at some point, my shoulder started stinging.

The hedgehog had raised its spines and was poking me over and over.

Like it was asking why I was ignoring it.

“What. What is it.”

But it just curled up again.

Its personality really did resemble someone, too, I thought—and when I opened my eyes, it was already morning.

The cat and dog were nowhere to be seen, but the situation was even worse.

Seo Ye-in and Hong Yeon-hwa were using my body as a pillow together, all friendly-like.

With my freedom of movement stolen, I said,

“Shouldn’t we be getting up soon?”

“We cannot....”

The one who answered—unexpectedly—was Hong Yeon-hwa.

She burrowed in even closer and mumbled,

“Waking up is... not... permitted...!”

“Why are you a queen again today? Before, you were like national authority-tier.”

“How dare you...! To dare... question... it....”

At this point, there’s no helping it.

I have to play along.

I sucked in a dramatic breath and bowed my head.

“This humble subject has committed a grave discourtesy. Please kill me!”

“Only this once... I’ll let it slide. Kim Ho is... hee.”

“Your mercy is beyond measure!”

“Heehee, I shall... bestow a reward... upon you....!”

First she gets mad, then she forgives me, and now she’s handing out rewards.

What on earth is going on in her dreams?

Unfortunately, the good time didn’t last long.

Still in queen mode, issuing commands to her vassal (mostly Kim Ho), Hong Yeon-hwa’s eyes suddenly fluttered open.

She stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, then realized reality and let out a low sigh.

“Ah....”

The disappointment seemed enormous, so I decided I’d be a vassal a little longer.

I leaned to °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° her ear and dragged my voice out long.

“Yooour Majestyyyy—! Have you coughed, perchance—!”

“KYAAAH!!”

“Bestow— a reward— upon this humble subject—!”

“No! No! No!”

Overwhelmed by peak embarrassment, Hong Yeon-hwa thrashed like a freshly-caught live fish.

Thanks to that, even Seo Ye-in, who’d been sleeping soundly, woke up too.

“...What.”

“So what happened was—”

“Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!”

Hong Yeon-hwa waved her hands with a face gone bright red.

While we were making all that noise, Song Cheon-hye poked her head into the room.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

Hong Yeon-hwa answered instantly, regaining her composure in a flash.

At the same time, she shot me a desperate look that practically screamed, ‘Please don’t say it....’

Well, she’d want to avoid her rival finding out about her cringe past.

And I never planned to spread it around anyway, so I gave a small nod, and Hong Yeon-hwa visibly relaxed.

Song Cheon-hye seemed to sense something suspicious, but other things looked more important right now.

She glanced between the three of us and said,

“So the three of you really did sleep together.”

“Because it’s comfortable.”

Hong Yeon-hwa answered calmly.

Then she even counterattacked.

“You tried it yesterday too. You looked like you liked it.”

The unspoken add-on—‘You were about to move in, so I had to drag you out later’—seemed to transmit itself without being said.

You could tell from Song Cheon-hye’s face twitching.

“I’m trying to behave as normally as possible.”

“Is that really that far outside common sense? I think it’s fine, as long as you’re close enough.”

Meaning: you and I aren’t close enough.

Song Cheon-hye narrowed her brow steadily.

“We’re closer than you think. And we’ll get closer.”

It felt like the conflict was escalating, so I cut it off here.

“Let’s go eat breakfast. We need to move diligently today.”

“Mm....”

Hong Yeon-hwa suddenly turned docile as if the argument had never happened, tidied up, and we walked together to the cafeteria.

A swordsman couple nearby greeted us.

“Hi hi! Good morning!”

They had even more energy than yesterday—probably because they slept well in a good lodging.

They’d been singing about a new house, and now they got what they wanted.

After breakfast, I gathered the people who would be moving together in one place.

Go Hyeon-woo and Han So-mi, Seo Ye-in and Hong Yeon-hwa, and Park Nari—plus Bukgung Hansol.

Next, we checked the item cards.

There weren’t any major changes in the normal cards.

[Return] *19

[Observe] *7

[Recon] *6

[Discharge] *16

[Protection] *13

Overnight at the Card Shop, and again right after breakfast, we did pull a few more [Protection].

Same with [Duplication].

[Defection] *1

[Freeze] *2

[Concealment] *2

[Duplication] *7

How we’d distribute them was already settled, so I decided to use all the [Duplication] first.

PHAASH—!

Seven cards shone brightly and transformed into something else.

One [Defection], and all the rest were [Freeze].

I handed Song Cheon-hye two of them, and the full stack of [Discharge].

“You manage these.”

“Got it.”

If Bukgung Hansol accompanied us, the main base’s defense would become even more vulnerable—so if we got raided, the only option was to defend with cards.

We took only as many [Return], [Observe], and [Recon] as we needed, then left the rest in her care.

And we decided to take all the [Protection] with us.

After all, from the standpoint of defending a base, getting hit by [Discharge] doesn’t matter, and the enemy wouldn’t use it either.

All together, the cards we were taking looked like this:

[Return] *8

[Observe] *1

[Defection] *2

[Freeze] *6

[Concealment] *2

[Protection] *13

Why are there eight [Return] if it’s a seven-person party?

There’s a reason.

Same for why we increased [Defection] to two.

Anyway, with that, all preparations were finished.

I took in the party members one by one and said,

“Let’s finish this fast. Before another group strikes first.”

Then, building speed little by little, we started down the slope.