It was a moment in time—perhaps the future, perhaps the past.

The war showed no end in sight.

Jeong Haein and Yu Hana were trapped within an ever-tightening siege of enemies.

To say they were surrounded didn’t do it justice.

A cold shiver ran down Yu Hana’s spine, and instinctively, she turned her head.

—Shhk—!

A blade sliced through the air.

This is the end...

For a split second, Yu Hana cursed herself for letting her guard down.

But the blade hadn’t struck her.

—Thud!

A deep wound tore through Jeong Haein’s chest as he cut down the enemies in front of him. His body staggered and collapsed against a wall.

“No—!!”

Yu Hana’s scream tore through the battlefield.

Even as he fell, Jeong Haein never lost sight of his surroundings.

Even as he slashed through the advancing enemies, he kept his allies behind him in his view.

“...I’ll never get used to this.”

He coughed up blood, his voice trailing off.

Clutching at the gaping wound in his chest, he forced out the words that wouldn’t come.

“Please, please, please...”

Yu Hana’s trembling hands pressed against his wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

But the blood kept slipping through her fingers, flowing endlessly.

“Haein...”

He lifted his gaze.

“I’ve thought about this a lot... Maybe I was wrong.”

“No, don’t say that... Please.”

—Aagh!

—Uwaaaaaah!

Screams of fallen heroes echoed behind them. The enemy forces surged forward, the last defensive line crumbling.

The moment Jeong Haein fell, the tide of battle had turned.

He hadn’t just been breaking through the enemy ranks.

He had been controlling the entire battlefield, detecting threats, and holding the team together.

The instant he disappeared, chaos erupted.

Everyone had been hiding behind the shield that was him.

Yu Hana shut her eyes.

“...Then I’ll go with you.”

She leaned in and gently kissed his forehead before rising to her feet.

A new shield was needed in his absence.

But Jeong Haein shook his head.

“You won’t die. Not ever.”

His voice was weak, but his words were firm.

At that moment, Yu Hana didn’t understand what he meant.

And this memory—

This was only one of countless memories where she had watched him die.

***

Back in time, on the day of the entrance ceremony.

Yu Hana sat quietly in the corner of the auditorium.

Among the murmuring students, her gaze was fixed on a single person.

There he is.

Neatly dressed, his delicate features sharp and refined. Haein sat in his seat without drawing any unnecessary attention.

But his expression wasn’t great. His brows were slightly furrowed, lost in deep thought.

Thinking alone again, aren’t you?

Watching the pensive look on his face, Yu Hana smiled softly.

This time, I won’t leave you alone. I won’t let you struggle by yourself.

Just then—

Cheon Yeoul approached him.

Wearing a natural smile, she struck up a conversation with him as if they had known each other for years.

“...That whore.”

Yu Hana’s fingers curled unconsciously.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He already has enough to deal with. These so-called ‘saints’ were always the problem.

Acting ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) as if they could help him. Pretending to be compassionate.

Yu Hana took a deep breath.

For now, she would wait.

But her patience snapped during the weapon selection.

Cheon Yeoul’s irritating behavior continued.

Jeong Haein stood in front of the spear.

He hesitated but ultimately stopped before it, as if making a decision.

Pick it up.

Yu Hana silently urged him.

She wanted him to choose the spear again.

Because you were never wrong.

We were the ones who were wrong.

But Cheon Yeoul blocked his choice. Even physically restrained him.

Yu Hana understood her reasoning—but this crossed the line.

So, she stepped in.

After a brief clash of words, Cheon Yeoul reluctantly backed down.

“I’ll handle this.”

Haein left only those words behind and stuck to his choice.

He probably would have done the same even if she hadn’t intervened.

Watching his determination, something deep inside Yu Hana stirred.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

His grip on the spear, the sheer presence in his stance.

His unwavering gaze, the firm tone in his voice—

It was exactly the same.

He had never changed.

***

It wasn’t me who flipped the situation—it was Yu Hana.

“Hm? Answer me.”

Having boldly stirred things up, Yu Hana looked at me with an innocent, mischievous expression.

I had the urge to flick her forehead, but every instinct in my body screamed not to.

Well, it doesn’t really matter.

I never planned to hide it.

Not that I even had the chance—that old man made sure of that.

Some students probably already knew.

With someone like Yu Hana—who came from a powerful family with excellent intelligence networks—it was hardly surprising that she figured it out.

It also explained why she kept running into me during weapon selection and morning runs.

She was from the Yu family.

It was only natural for her to build connections with promising students here.

As for Cheon Yeoul... I still wasn’t sure, but she was likely operating under a similar reasoning.

“Wait... you’re really that ‘Silent Ghost’?”

Yoon Sanghyuk’s voice was still shaking. He was struggling to accept reality.

Silent Ghost.

A name that had spread because I supposedly disappeared after dealing with the Wave.

For a while, it had been a hot topic, but it had started to fade.

Though, to be honest—I never actually disappeared.

I had just sat there, waiting for the association to arrive.

And when I opened my eyes the next day, I had somehow become the Silent Ghost.

A product of hero commercialization. The perfect image crafted by the Hero Association.

The association offered me admission to Gaon Academy, and I accepted.

I wanted to come here, after all.

Naturally, my admission was classified.

And as a result, my rank was officially recorded as—

[Unmeasurable].

‘Haha. How the hell do you measure this?’

I remembered the examiner sweating bullets as he explained it.

I had already cleared the entrance exams. My abilities far surpassed the average level of new students.

"Wait, but can we really admit him like this? We don’t even know his background or previous academy—"

"Then go find a random student on campus and ask them to stop a Level 5 Wave."

"..."

The vice principal’s face had gone completely blank.

Anyway, until the official school tests began, I technically had no rank.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

I answered flatly.

There was no reason to keep hiding it.

The rumor was already spreading—denying it wouldn’t change anything.

Yoon Sanghyuk stared at me, unable to respond.

Unbothered, I turned my attention to Yu Hana.

“And for the team...”

She was still looking at me.

As if waiting for my next words.

“Let’s all stick together. I feel like that’s the right call.”

The moment I said that, Yu Hana studied me for a second before breaking into a smile.

“Okay, sounds good.”

She agreed surprisingly easily.

Honestly, she didn’t seem to care much about who was on the team.

“What about you, Daehyun?”

“...I’m fine with it.”

Kim Daehyun looked bewildered but nodded.

Now, only two remained.

Yoon Sanghyuk, who was hesitating. And... what was his name again?

“What’s your name?”

The student who had been standing next to Yoon Sanghyuk flinched.

“Uh... I-I'm Lee Sangbong. Rank 189.”

“Oh, right. Sangbong. Sanghyuk. Want to join?”

I casually placed my hands on their shoulders.

Then, with a slight smile, I added—

“If you don’t want to, you can go off on your own.”

““...We’ll do it....””

Both of them answered as if they were being dragged to the gallows.

But this is for your own good.

This entire training ground was a test.

The instructor hadn’t just assigned students randomly.

Each unit was carefully composed of:

1 top-ranked student2 mid-upper ranked students2 lower-ranked studentsIt was an intentional distribution.

The top students who entered Gaon Academy tended to have extreme self-confidence. As a result, they often ignored or outright oppressed lower-ranked students.

Naturally, this led to internal conflict and fractures within the team.

But pride isn’t exclusive to the top rankers.

The so-called lower ranks were once considered elite prodigies wherever they came from.

Being suddenly labeled “low-rank” was a humiliating experience.

The result?

The top ranks' arrogance and the lower ranks' resentment would eventually tear teams apart.

And that kind of clash?

It’s exactly what the instructor wanted.

The purpose behind this was clear, considering how the dense forest ahead was split into multiple entry paths.

—Units have been finalized. The real training begins now.

—With your team, break through the forest ahead.

The sharp voice rang through the air.

As the announcement ended, the magical barriers blocking the forest paths dissolved.

“Finally, some familiarity.”

For the first time, things felt like they were progressing the way I expected.

I looked back at my teammates.

“Let’s go.”