I Don’t Have Any Magic Power but I’m Having a Blast at the Academy

54

All eyes in the classroom focused on me, the chosen class monitor. I paused for a moment before nodding my head.

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

Apparently, my decision was unexpected; the students buzzed with surprise.

“Wow, volunteering to be a slave.”

“Is that a top student?”

Han Seyeon rolled her eyes again. I repeated, as if to assure them I wasn’t mistaken.

“Wait for me after class; I need to step out for a bit.”

I had to feed the phoenix.

“Sure. I’ll wait.”

Han Seyeon nodded with a smile.

As I lay back on my desk, Eungaeye subtly asked,

“Hey, what’s gotten into you? Will you really do all the duties voluntarily?”

“Why, can’t I?”

“Well, it’s not that you can’t, but···”

Eungaeye scratched her cheek, squinting at me suspiciously.

“You haven’t done it before, have you?”

“It’s my call.”

I vaguely answered and turned my head towards the window. On such days, Eungaeye would gaze at me like a strange creature. It wasn’t the first time this semester that such miscellaneous tasks had to be done, and every time, Han Seyeon took them all on alone. Unless it was a special case, she would likely handle it alone this time too. Han Seyeon hadn’t chosen me with any expectations. So, no one would care if I refused. But, I felt fortunate to have been chosen.

“I almost forgot.”

At this year’s Eternity Festival, someone approached Han Seyeon. I don’t know much about it. That’s because Han Seyeon wasn’t the main character, and the approach was just mentioned in passing in the game. So, I had forgotten about it, but it all came rushing back when she was singled out.

In the game, it wasn’t something to worry about, but now, Han Seyeon had become a significant force, as important as Cheon Woojin, if not more, so it was necessary to get involved regardless of the nature of the approach. And the easiest way to do that was to stick by Han Seyeon’s side under the guise of a “class agent.”

Ultimately, even if Han Seyeon hadn’t singled her out, I should have voluntarily taken on the role. Being a class agent just meant staying after school, and it wasn’t that difficult of a task. (Even that, Han Seyeon was more than capable of handling on her own.)

“Now that the class agent is decided, we need to divide the members for the stage performance. If anyone wants to participate, please raise your hand.”

Han Seyeon wrote three words on the board: “swordsmanship,” “fantasy,” “collaboration.”

While the abilities of the Academy students varied, they were broadly categorized into magic, swordsmanship, and firearms, so each class had to prepare a stage based on these themes.

“I want to do swordsmanship with guns!”

“What are you saying, Kim Hayoon? You can’t handle guns.”

“Oh, you hurt my pride. Are you better than me?”

The students, who had shown no interest when selecting the class agent, started clamoring uncontrollably.

Considering that among those coming to watch the Eternity Festival were prominent figures from various groups, it was essential to impress them.

The relaxed atmosphere following the midterm exams made the students more enthusiastic about participating.

“I’ll take charge of the collaborative performance!”

Amelia, who was always busy with guild tasks, raised her hand enthusiastically, shining like a star. (I’ve noticed this before, but she seems genuinely interested in costumes and event planning.)

The students, who found Eungaye tapping away at the game console uninterestingly, dragged her into their conversation.

“What’s up?”

“Eungaye, let’s do swordsmanship together.”

“Shouldn’t Cheon Woojin do that with you?”

“No. He’s too stiff; if we make him do swordsmanship, it’ll be a disaster. But you? Trust me once; we’ll choreograph it for you.”

Eungaye’s agile movements, resembling those of a cat, made her a perfect fit for swordsmanship. In contrast, Cheon Woojin was too neat and lacked excitement. It was more like dancing than swordsmanship.

“Alright, I’ll do it. So, let me go.”

Although she seemed hesitant, Eungaye, who couldn’t refuse the students’ insistence, ended up being assigned to swordsmanship.

Meanwhile, Nikolai was so eager about “gunsmanship” that he jumped up from his seat to write his name on the board.

Although it seemed odd for someone not using guns to be interested in gunsmanship, it strangely suited him.

Uncertain about what to do, Cheon Woojin eventually succumbed to the students’ persuasion and had his name written down for gunsmanship along with Nikolai.

“Being a class agent is not bad at all. Even if you don’t participate, you can still be a class agent.”

Lying on the desk, observing the bustling classroom, I suddenly raised my head.

Han Seyeon, who always seemed aloof among the students, had, to some extent, been affected by the atmosphere, making her soul’s color slightly richer.

***

The week before the festival, there were no afternoon classes, and instead, it was a preparation period for the festival. This was when the work of the class agents began.

“The budget for the stage is too low. Can we allocate more?”

“Can we extend the gunsmanship performance by 5 minutes? I want to finish it perfectly.”

“This sword doesn’t feel right in my hands. Instead of a wooden sword, can I use my real one?”

Requests for budget adjustments, prop procurement, performance time adjustments, and various other tasks flooded the temporary “agent desk.” Watching Han Seyeon handle it all so effortlessly, I clicked my tongue in amazement.

Checking the prop list I organized with my eyes, adjusting the performance time with my hands, and attending to the students’ requests with my mouth.

Eyes, hands, and mouth working separately. Can a person really do all that?

Unable to ignore her visibly busy state, I diligently resolved the students’ grievances.

Requests to change teams at this point were mostly disregarded, Eungaye’s absurd idea of using a real sword instead of a prop sword for the swordsmanship performance was rejected. Nikolai’s audacious request to extend the stage time shared with another class was naturally turned down.

Handling each complaint one by one, the afternoon classes ended.

“Thanks to Haesol’s help, everything is going smoothly.”

Even if someone says it’s going smoothly while dealing with such monstrous tasks, I can’t relate at all.

By the way…

As I watched Han Seyeon organizing the printouts, I blinked.

“It’s gotten darker.”

The feeling I had earlier, that the color of her soul had become darker, was not a mistake. Han Seyeon’s soul was emitting a faint but murky white color.

Surely, she wasn’t feeling exhilarated while working, but she seemed to be enjoying the company of the students to some extent.

“Is it a good thing?”

As I smirked, the classroom door opened, and Hajinwoo walked in.

“It seems like everyone is preparing well.”

Hajinwoo, who chuckled at the mess in the classroom, informed us of the changes in the festival.

“Originally, the joint performance was voluntary, but now it’s mandatory for the whole class. Just so you know, class officers will receive additional points.”

“Ugh! Hey, that wasn’t the deal!”

“Oh, if I knew it would turn out like this, I would have done it myself.”

The students, who hadn’t even looked at the class officers, protested about the additional points, but all their complaints were rejected, as there was meaning in doing it voluntarily.

Eungaye, enviously trying to change it, sent pleading looks, but stare all you want. No one’s going to change it.

Being a class officer isn’t subtly sweet; it’s simply a tough job.

***

In the completely empty classroom, Han Seyeon and I sat facing each other at the desks.

At first, she tried to sit next to me, but I insisted on sitting across from her.

It was fine when we were getting tutoring at the library, but being alone like this felt awkward, so I couldn’t sit next to her.

But now, seeing her struggle with this, I realized she’s not good at everything.

“Um, is this how you do it?”

I clicked my tongue as I watched Han Seyeon unfold a book, fold and unfold a piece of colored paper dozens of times.

She’s making tissues out of perfectly good colored paper.

“Give it here.”

Frustrated, I snatched the colored paper from Han Seyeon’s hand.

After folding it a few times while looking at the book, I effortlessly crafted a paper crane.

Han Seyeon marveled, “Wow, you’re good at folding?”

“Oh, I used to fold them a lot when I was young.”

I don’t know if this was just a thing in our neighborhood, but paper folding used to be a trend.

Trying to recreate that feeling from back then, I swiftly made five cranes.

Swoosh!

Throwing the completed paper crane, I steered it with an imaginary sword, making the red crane fly around the sky. This is kind of fun.

While I was flying the paper crane, Han Seyeon was still producing bits of tissue.

By the way…

“What are you doing with that?”

I asked, tilting my head as I watched Han Seyeon read something in between folding the paper.

“I’m memorizing the script.”

“Script?”

Han Seyeon replied while flipping her bangs.

“Yeah, I’m performing this time.”

“Ah. Are you continuing that?”

With so much on her plate, Han Seyeon was enthusiastic about class activities to the extent of performing. The issue was she truly couldn’t act well.

She was good at smiling, but lacked the ability to express emotions in other ways.

So, I thought her classmates had talked her out of doing it, but is she really continuing?

Han Seyeon, who had been staring at me intently, tilted her head and spoke.

“Do you think I can’t do it now?”

“Uh.”

An individual already lacking empathy trying to act? That’s a bit early.

Han Seyeon, with a puzzled expression as if she truly didn’t know, shook her head.

“Why does everyone say they can’t do it? I think I’m good at it.”

“Well, maybe they say ‘can’t’ because they really can’t?”

I don’t think there’s a need to lie even in situations like this. If you can’t do something, you should quit quickly.

“···Hm.”

Suddenly, Han Seyeon leaned in, pushing her face closer. Startled, I instinctively pulled my head back.

“···What are you doing right now?”

“Ghost acting.”

“···”

“Does it suit me well?”

Why say she can’t do it? Han Seyeon tilted her head.

As she once again brought her face closer, I pushed her forehead away in embarrassment.

‘Is she thinking I was surprised because she looked ghost-like just now?’

Calming my startled heart, I lowered my head.

“I’ll be back in a moment. I’ll handle the classroom, so leave it to me.”

“Yeah, but did I really do bad?”

“Yeah, terribly.”

Emphasizing my words, I left the classroom as is.

Come to think of it, I had forgotten about fetching the phoenix’s food after school.

[Phoenix requests a Red Jasper.]

[Phoenix requests a Red Jasper.]

[Phoenix requests a Red Jasper.]

[Phoenix requests a Red Jasper.]

[Phoenix requests a Red Jasper.]

[Phoenix requests a Red Jasper.]

[Argh.]

“Alright, shut up.”

This is getting out of hand.

Ignoring the phoenix’s alarm messages blaring like an alarm clock as 4 o’clock struck, I exited through the main building’s back door and entered the alleyway.

[Chirp! Chirp!]

“Eat up.”

I tossed a ruby gemstone, and the Phoenix dashed over gleefully.

▶ Phoenix Lv.3

[Regeneration Count: 1/5]

[Phoenix’s Satiation: 0.02%]

Contemplating what to do with the satiation obtained from hunting the Eastern Ear, I decided to convert all the satiation into levels the day before.

Filling up to 100% seemed distant, so leveling up seemed more practical.

“Come to think of it, I’m out of ruby gemstones too.”

Even though Seo Harin had brought them, they fell short of satisfying that glutton’s palate.

In less than a month, they were all gone.

“The most certain thing is hunting a properly enchanted mine.”

Should I give it a try?

As I stroked my chin, I witnessed the Phoenix nibbling on the ruby gemstone.

“Wow, such a cute bird.”

“!”

A sudden voice from behind.

When I stiffly turned my head, Han Seyeon was gazing at the Phoenix with sparkling eyes.