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Memorize Chapter 210
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 03:25:08 +0000 UTCThere’s a term called Easter Egg. It refers to fun or surprising things that a creator hides within their work.
Of course, the analogy isn’t perfect, but when I discovered this place, it felt exactly like finding an Easter Egg. Sure, it makes sense that a vast site like this wouldn’t be filled solely with buildings, but I never expected to find a refreshing forest-like atmosphere in the Player Academy. The fact that I hadn’t known about this place during my first life only heightened the fresh sensation.
The fragrant scent of trees and the fertile aroma of the field made my head feel clear. Lately, I’d been sleeping lightly, my mind cluttered, but breathing in this refreshing air, even just a little, seemed to restore some vitality. For the sake of smoother operations moving forward, this brief moment of rest was absolutely necessary.
Beside me was a neatly laid-out square piece of cloth, topped with an assortment of appetizing cookies. Han-Byeol had brought them, saying they were snacks for the head instructors. They looked far too fancy to be considered mere treats.
With the clan’s funds likely strained after the failed expedition, I couldn’t understand why they’d spend money on something so trivial. But, as someone on the receiving end, I had no complaints and happily reached for a nearby cookie. A sweet aroma wafted into my nose. The cookies smelled so delicious that if Vivienne saw them, she’d probably lose her mind and dive right in.
“You seem to have changed a lot.”
As I was brushing off the crumbs that had fallen onto my clothes, a calm voice came from behind. Turning around, I saw a female mage looking at me with her usual expressionless face. It was Kim Han-Byeol.
I looked at her with a bored expression. Up until now, our conversations had mostly revolved around instructor duties. Even when we exchanged pleasantries or checked on each other’s well-being, they were brief. This was the first time she’d brought up something that could be considered personal.
After lightly brushing off the last of the crumbs from my collar, I asked in a deliberately flat tone, “What?”
“Well… you used to always seem like you were relentlessly doing something or other.”
“Got it. So I should get up and stop slacking off, right? Just tell me to work instead of beating around the bush.”
“…That’s not what I meant.”
It was a joke, of course. Han-Byeol shot me a slightly petulant glance before closing her mouth. I extended my right hand toward her and picked up the cookie bag with my left, handing it to her. Han-Byeol looked at both my hands, hesitating briefly. She then placed the tablet she’d been holding under her arm into my right hand and took the cookie bag.
“Not to your taste?”
“No, they were fine. By the way, we finished the morning tasks, but is there anything left for the afternoon? Oh, you should try one too.”
“I’m fine…”
“Let’s see.”
I gave a casual reply and flipped through the tablet, revealing neatly written text in a refined script. As I carefully read through each item, I noticed something odd. I tilted my head, about to ask about it, when—
“Pfft.”
Kim Han-Byeol was cautiously nibbling on a cookie. When she noticed me looking, she let out a startled puff of air, causing the cookie she’d just bitten to fall to the ground.
“I have a question. What’s this about afternoon training control support?”
“It’s a request from Instructor Na Seung-Hye, who’s handling the demonstration training for the magic talent group. She said there are too many trainees and asked for help with crowd control.”
Han-Byeol’s response was quick. I tilted my head further, puzzled.
“No way. They need control instructors for teaching the magic talent group?”
“It’s not specialized training yet, just a demonstration, so it’s aimed at all players.”
“Oh, I see. Still, it’s a bit odd. If it’s for everyone, aren’t there plenty of control instructors available?”
“…She also said we should have dinner together afterward. It’s a message from the Han Clan Lord.”
It was only after Han-Byeol’s additional explanation that I could piece together the situation. Since Sung Hyun-Min and Na Seung-Hye belonged to representative clans from different eastern cities, it was clear that Dalbam had made a request to the Han Clan. I’d expected some interest after three weeks, but to think they’d make a move after just one week.
Sighing, I closed the tablet. Regardless, someone like Sung Hyun-Min was worth building a connection with. For some reason, I felt like he’d been persistently courting me since the summons, but I just hoped it wouldn’t veer in the wrong direction—like a coming-out or something.
“Guess I should get going.”
Lost in silly thoughts, I let out a big breath. About an hour had passed since lunch, so the trainees were probably gathering by now.
Hearing faint shouts of effort from afar, I started walking slowly. Then, I sensed Han-Byeol following me with quiet steps. What was this strange sense of déjà vu?
*
When players teach other players, the teaching methods vary depending on the individual. Broadly, they can be divided into theory-based and practical-based approaches, but delving deeper, it’s as complex as the multiple interpretations of pure literature.
As training progresses to advanced levels, the efficiency of different methods does vary. However, the basics are generally similar. In other words, discussing skill differences in the foundational stage is meaningless.
Magic is the most critical stat, as it’s used by all classes. In the Player Academy, training starts with defining magic and teaching basic theory. Then, in the demonstration phase, trainees learn how to generate and manipulate mana based on the theoretical lessons from the first week.
The incident erupted from a single player’s question, which could be summarized as, “There’s a difference between what we learned in theory and how we’re being taught to generate mana now.” If Na Seung-Hye, the instructor in charge, had just compromised a little, it could have been brushed off. Since slight differences can arise from personal interpretation, she could have resolved it by not emphasizing her own perspective and sticking to the established method.
But Na Seung-Hye didn’t do that. She called out the questioning player, went over the theory lessons point by point, and then openly sneered.
“I never imagined you’d all be taught such low-level, inefficient methods. I hate to say it, but you’d be better off forgetting everything you’ve learned about magic so far.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. You need to be guided properly from the start. I don’t know who taught you like this, but most of it is utterly unconvincing. It’s like they’re deliberately trying to drag down the new players’ level.”
There were other clans’ control instructors present besides me. In fact, the instructor who had taught the first week’s lessons was also there, so it was bound to cause a problem. The new players’ gazes immediately turned to the previous instructor, who, with a flushed face, stormed out of the training area.
The demonstration training somehow wrapped up, but of course, it wasn’t going to be swept under the rug. After the session ended and the new players left, instructors from the Dalbam Clan and the Goryeo Clan swarmed in. Leading them were Na Seung-Hye and the previous instructor, Jo Eun-Yung. A quick check with my Third Eye showed that Jo Eun-Yung had decent stats, though undeniably inferior to Na Seung-Hye’s.
“Seriously, how can you teach so recklessly and then switch instructors? Now we have to start over from scratch!”
“What did you say? Oh, I’m speechless.”
“I was going to let it slide, but this is just unbearable. Do you think magic training is the same as physical training?”
“Hey, you’re going too far. Even if you’re a rare class…”
Park Hyun-Woo’s decision to rotate instructors after the first week had caused this mess. But it couldn’t be pinned solely on him. From my perspective, the scene unfolding before me looked like more than just nitpicking or putting someone down.
As I watched the situation unfold like a bystander across the river, Jo Eun-Yung’s sharp, trembling voice finally exploded, filled with frustration and even a hint of tears.
“So what do you expect me to do now?! If you had a problem, you should’ve said something earlier! You didn’t even show up during the first week’s training, and now you’re telling me what to do?!”
“Ugh, so loud. All you’ve got is a big voice. I’m not expecting anything specific. If we trust you and let you keep going, you’ll just waste more precious time. If you lack the skill, just stay quiet and watch. Don’t butt in and make a mess.”
Just as Jo Eun-Yung was about to explode at Na Seung-Hye’s scathing remarks, members from various clans arrived and quickly stepped in to mediate between the two groups.
Their intervention diffused the clash between the clans, but this incident was nothing short of a signal that the tensions, barely suppressed by the godmother’s mediation, had flared up again. It was impossible to predict how much the clans would check each other under the pretext of promoting themselves to the new players.
While calming Na Seung-Hye down, Sung Hyun-Min approached me to apologize, saying we’d have to postpone the dinner plans. I smiled, assured him it was fine, and decided to head back to the instructors’ dorm with Kim Han-Byeol.
As we made our way to the dorm, I suddenly felt an unsettling atmosphere permeating the Player Academy. It was a stark contrast to the refreshing mood I’d enjoyed after lunch. Reflecting on the cause, one face came to mind.
Park Hwan-Hee. The player I’d noticed in the plaza. The one who had asked Na Seung-Hye the question. Since I’d also attended her training session, I’d seen his face, and now I felt that same sense of unease again. His question didn’t seem driven by genuine curiosity but rather like he was aiming for something. And it wasn’t just him—most of the new players around Park Hwan-Hee had a strange air about them.
The atmosphere I’d sensed earlier suggested that something unsettling was brewing within the Player Academy.
The surroundings were quiet. It was the kind of stillness that precedes an event… the thought of a calm before the storm briefly crossed my mind.
*
“Shall we call it a day?”
Go Yeon-Joo paused her steps. The six players following her stopped in unison. In that moment, Go Yeon-Joo spun halfway around and delivered a sharp kick toward the player behind her.
“Ugh!”
With a thud, An-Hyun, struck by Go Yeon-Joo’s kick, tumbled to the ground. Reddish liquid left traces on the ground where he rolled—not his blood, but likely something smeared on his equipment that rubbed off onto the dirt.
Despite his fall, no one stepped forward to help. They all held their breath, faces tense, showing no intention of assisting An-Hyun. Or rather, it wasn’t that they didn’t want to—they couldn’t. Go Yeon-Joo looked down at him with a cool gaze and spoke in a chilling tone.
“Do you know why you got hit, rookie?”
“Y-Yes.”
“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said this. Su-Hyeon specifically asked me to train you well because you’re talented. Was he wrong, or do you just have no intention of listening to me?”
“I’m sorry.”
An-Hyun bit his lip hard and pushed himself up. Go Yeon-Joo stared at him with a piercing gaze, shaking her head slightly.
“Unlike the kind-hearted Su-Hyeon, I get frustrated when people don’t get it after being told once. I have a ton of other things to do, and if you keep holding me back like this, even his request won’t make me want to keep going.”
“I’ll be more careful.”
“Good. Make sure you are. If I see you come out with that shield again next time, I won’t let it slide.”
Go Yeon-Joo spat coldly before turning and walking away. The group, who had been quietly watching, cast sympathetic glances at An-Hyun before following her.
Watching their retreating figures, An-Hyun hurriedly chased after them. His lips, bitten hard, bore clear teeth marks.
