[… A total of 50 students were taking the test. Thanks to Phoenix Guild’s swift response, the situation was quickly contained, though regrettably, six casualties were reported.]

The outbreak news was already being broadcast. 

In the original story, this wasn’t announced until three days later.

‘Is this because of me?’

Due to my intervention, the death toll had decreased, and what would have been labeled an “unmanageable disaster” was now just a “manageable accident.” 

A butterfly effect in action.

[…Initial investigation suggests a mana disturbance caused certain containment devices to malfunction. The exact cause is still under investigation. Phoenix Guild has announced compensation of 100 million won for the bereaved families and has pledged to take full responsibility for the incident while implementing measures to prevent future occurrences…]

On screen, Ha Sunwoo appeared in an immaculate suit, bowing deeply in apology.

“An outbreak? Inside the Tower?”

“Wait, were you at the outbreak site?”

Yeon Sora’s family was shocked. 

They’d only been told there had been some kind of accident during the test, not an outbreak. 

What followed was chaos. 

The family panicked, Yeom Juwan calmed them down with surprising maturity, and we all shared hugs and tears, grateful to be alive. 

I went through the motions, playing my role as Yeon Sora, while carefully noting the family’s reactions. 

This part was crucial—understanding how they processed the news.

“Ah, those poor six… how tragic.”

“Their families must be devastated.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be impossible for outbreaks to happen inside the Tower? Phoenix Guild isn’t even obligated to pay compensation…”

“They’re just doing their moral duty as test administrators.”

“Impressive! That’s Phoenix Guild for you!”

‘So, no parent protests this time.’

Perhaps the only difference between a “tragedy” and an “accident” lies in the casualty count. 

Fewer deaths had transformed the awakening test incident from “a crisis that could happen to anyone” into “someone else’s tragedy.” 

People might sympathize with the victims, but they wouldn’t take collective action. 

There would be no nationwide movement against the tests, no protest tents in City Hall Square, and no surge in camping gear stocks. 

This butterfly effect was more far-reaching than I’d anticipated.

As I observed these ripple effects, using Yeon Sora’s family as my test sample—

Pop—

The TV suddenly went dark, and Yeon Sora’s father began setting up a camera in the living room.

“Since Juwan and Sora need to rest early tonight, let’s do the interview now.”

Yeon Sora’s father was an independent filmmaker. 

In the <Doomed Academy>world, however, the film industry was practically extinct—one reason for this family’s poverty. 

Still, Sora’s father was determined to create a documentary chronicling Yeon Sora and Yeom Juwan’s lives. 

With an event as momentous as the awakening test, there was no way he’d let it pass undocumented. 

Before I knew it, Yeom Juwan and I were seated side by side for the interview.

“What kinds of abilities did you two awaken?”

“Dad, you can’t just pry like that! Their piracy is private, you know!”

“Privacy, not piracy. Are you sure you want to be an English teacher?”

For the record, Yeon Sora’s younger brother dreamed of becoming an English teacher, though his English was… creative, to say the least. 

Something told me poverty in this family may continue. 

If I don’t succeed as a hunter, this family was doomed. 

Anyway, to maintain my role as a conscientious impostor, I answered the questions honestly while respecting my agreement with Ha Sunwoo about confidentiality.

“Thank goodness Juwan was there! Imagine if our princess had to take the test alone!”

“Our princess always has her knight beside her; nothing to worry about!”

I cringed. 

There it was—the embarrassing nicknames. 

Yeon Sora’s family affectionately called her “princess” and Yeom Juwan “knight,” due to his dedication in looking after Sora’s fragile health.

“Sir Yeom Juwan, I entrust my daughter to you.”

This… was a bit much, wasn’t it? 

I was already planning to propose banning these nicknames at the next family meeting when I heard a quiet voice beside me.

“I… didn’t do anything. She saved me instead. Sora… saved my life.”

Yeom Juwan bowed his head with a bitter smile, clearly discouraged. 

While the credit for today’s achievements belonged to Yeon Sora, her family—unaware of the details—assumed, as usual, that Yeom Juwan had protected her. 

They were busy praising him for being a good knight, which only deepened his gloom.

‘Don’t feel down! You were amazing today, too!’

“Juwan saved me!” I cut in. 

“I can’t say much, but during a truly dangerous moment, he risked his life to protect me. Without Juwan, I wouldn’t be here. He’s always been so dependable.”

“… Until now.”

“…?”

“Sora’s much stronger than me now.”

“Come on, what are you saying?”

“Yeah, no way.”

“Her abilities are said to be one in a million. Meanwhile, I’m… just ordinary.”

Yeom Juwan seemed to be struggling with his sense of purpose. 

It must feel like suddenly discovering the spoiled young master you’ve always protected has become a martial arts prodigy—or that the boss you shielded every day has transformed into Iron Man.

‘The fire magic I used—it’s originally yours! You’re a catastrophic-level talent! Hold your head high!!!’

…But of course, I couldn’t say that.

“Congratulations, Sora. I always knew you’d make it.”

Yeom Juwan forced a smile, and guilt clutched at my chest. 

I was at a loss for words.

“I’m a little tired… I’ll head to bed now.”

With a melancholy smile, he retreated to his room.

#

‘Should I follow him?’

But wouldn’t trying to comfort him now just make things worse? 

Deciding to give him space, I looked around. 

The atmosphere here was awkward too. 

I was an impostor surrounded by the real Yeon Sora’s family. 

I felt like a criminal lingering at the crime scene. 

Maybe I should just go to bed as well.

“But don’t you think Ha Sunwoo from Phoenix Guild is really amazing?”

Now that was a topic I couldn’t ignore.

“I know, right? He’s young, talented, and kind!”

“He’s a prodigy, yet so humble. You can just tell he’s a good person. No wonder he’s so popular.”

Ahem. 

I believe I could contribute to this conversation.

“The Deputy Guild Master? He really is as kind as he seems.”

“You met him in person?”

“Yes, during the investigation after the incident…”

“What was he like? Does he really look like he does on TV?”

“What about his voice?”

Yeon Sora’s mom, aunt, grandmother, and younger sister were practically chanting in unison. 

Tell us more! Tell us more! 

Clearing my throat, I prepared to satisfy their curiosity. 

I’d been itching to gush about Ha Sunwoo anyway.

“When he entered the room, it was like a prince had walked in. His presence alone exuded grace, and he spoke to us students with such respect…”

His regal aura, refined manners, unmatched gentleness, precise movements, flowing hair, smooth forehead, sharp eyes, flawless skin, tall stature, slender fingers… 

I was in the middle of my rhapsody when:

|Ha Sunwoo| Did you get home safely?

A direct message popped up. 

My heart skipped a beat.

|Yeon Sora| Yes, I arrived safely. Thank you for the ride!

|Ha Sunwoo| Good. Get some rest, and I’ll contact you soon about the mana settlement.

|Ha Sunwoo| Let me know if you recall anything, anytime. 🙂

As I replied, trying to calm my racing heart:

“Sora? Why did you stop mid-sentence?”

“Yeah, don’t leave us hanging.”

The family urged me to continue.

“Oh, sorry. I was just overwhelmed by the memory…”

I quickly closed the message and wrapped up my Ha Sunwoo praise before considering the implications of his DM.

‘Why would he message me at this hour?’

Right now, Ha Sunwoo must be swamped managing the incident’s aftermath. 

If he still took the time to DM me, there could only be one explanation: his alert had triggered. 

Ha Sunwoo has a “language tracking” skill that notifies him when marked individuals use specific keywords. 

He probably set keywords like “outbreak,” “insect,” or “silencing spell” for our group. 

But I hadn’t used any of those—I was just praising his appearance. 

This meant…

‘I’m under special surveillance too?’

Ha Sunwoo typically marks his special cases with keywords like “Phoenix Guild,” “Deputy Guild Master,” or “Ha Sunwoo.” 

Whenever someone mentioned him, he’d DM them, creating a sort of telepathic effect. 

In the original story, Ha Sunwoo did this with Gyun Junhwi, who cleverly used it as a panic button to summon the Deputy Guild Master of one of the Four Great Guilds.

‘Looks like I have that panic button now too!’

I hadn’t even entered the academy yet, but I was already living with my third favorite and getting special attention from my seventh. 

What a promising start! 

Speaking of roommates, maybe I should embrace this shared living arrangement more.

“Well then, I’ll head to bed. Goodnight!”

With that, I headed to Yeon Sora’s room in high spirits. 

In this family, I share a bed with Yeom Juwan. 

Well, it’s a bunk bed, but we share the room nonetheless. 

Unfortunately, it’s not just the two of us—the twins, my aunt, and my uncle are also in here.

“Juwan, are you asleep?”

Yeom Juwan was wrapped up like a burrito in his blanket, already fast asleep. 

I’d wanted to hear him say goodnight, but decided not to wake him just for that. 

I climbed up to the top bunk and lay down.

‘Tomorrow will be better, right?’

Yeom Juwan’s dejected expression still nagged at me. 

But this was still better than the original storyline, where Yeon Sora would be dead by now, and Yeom Juwan would have turned to darkness in his grief. 

In this timeline, Yeom Juwan hadn’t lost his childhood friend. 

He’d grow strong, pure, and happy. 

I was already helping my favorites find happiness! 

As I celebrated a successful first day in this new life, sleep began to overtake me. 

I heard a faint rustling sound and felt a presence watching me, but my eyelids were too heavy to open.