On that evening, Sang-ho ventured to the path where he had first encountered the girl.
It wasn’t the agreed-upon day for their meeting. There were still two days remaining until the 11th. Nevertheless, he had decided to come out, just in case.
However, the girl did not make an appearance.
“Of course, we hadn’t arranged to meet today anyway…”
Suppressing a glimmer of unease in his heart, Sang-ho made his way back home.
***
The following day and the day after that, the young girl remained conspicuously absent.
Even as he waited into the late hours on the day of their planned rendezvous, she never materialized.
Leaning against a tree that the young girl had once playfully kicked, Sang-ho gazed into the void with vacant eyes.
“If only I had encountered her earlier and had the opportunity to teach her sooner…”
It wasn’t a matter of personal regret. Their connection had been a product of happenstance, and it was impractical to significantly enhance her skills within just a week.
Sang-ho hadn’t done anything wrong. His resentment was directed at a world that had stifled her potential before it could flourish.
The autumn night’s chill penetrated his bones.
“Is this the reason you appeared before me?”
Murmuring to himself, Sang-ho retrieved his cellphone.
And made a call.
“Bro.”
[Hey, do you realize what time it is to be calling…]
He clutched his cane firmly.
“I’m ready to proceed, Teacher.”
***
Ye-hyeon High School for Gifted and Talented Girls
It was an imposing edifice, unusual for a high school.
The campus sprawled expansively, almost resembling a university, adorned with numerous contemporary, gleaming structures.
Sang-ho paused at the entrance gate of the school.
In bold gold lettering against a black backdrop, he could discern the school’s name.
“Ye-hyeon High School for Gifted and Talented Girls.”
Though it didn’t overtly declare itself a private institution, the building itself made that proclamation loud and clear. Even on a Sunday, students in casual attire wandered about, hinting at the presence of dormitories.
Meeting students still instilled a degree of trepidation in him, particularly due to his limping gait. Children rarely concealed their curiosity about such matters.
Yet, he bore no shame. Having committed to the path of a teacher, he had steeled himself for all eventualities.
“Here goes…”
Muttering under his breath, Sang-ho stepped through the school gate.
As expected, all eyes swiftly fixated on him.
The limp and the cane; together, they constituted a spectacle that drew attention wherever he went.
The journey to the main building felt endless. Finally, as he entered it, he managed to escape the piercing gazes.
“The staff room… where can it be…”
Scanning the lengthy corridor, he located a directional map and approached it.
“Second floor.”
Surveying the hallway, Sang-ho felt his heart race.
There was no elevator.
“I have to climb the stairs?”
A cold sweat trickled down his back.
For him, stairs were akin to scaling a mountain, for his left leg throbbed with pain even from the slightest contact with the ground.
As he approached the stairs, Sang-ho surveyed his surroundings. The building was unusually quiet, given that it was the weekend.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind – perhaps crawling up the stairs was an option.
“No, I can’t do that…”
Sang-ho clutched his cane and the handrail firmly, summoning his resolve, and began his ascent.
With gritted teeth and a determined spirit, he climbed one step at a time, enduring the pain that shot through his leg. Then, a shadow materialized before him.
“Are you alright?”
Sang-ho raised his gaze.
A petite woman peered down at him, her eyes filled with concern. Her sophisticated, adult attire made it clear that she was a teacher, not a student.
She clapped her hands as if she’d realized something.
“Oh, you must be the one scheduled to come today…”
“Yes, I’m Sang-ho.”
“I heard you have difficulty walking. You couldn’t find the elevator, I assume? I’ll show you where it is later.”
“There’s an elevator?”
Sang-ho let out an exhausted sigh.
The woman wore a beige cardigan over her curly brown hair and a long, bronze-colored skirt. Though small and youthful in appearance, had her clothing been a bit shorter or a different shade, he might have mistaken her for a student.
Her expression shifted from surprise to warmth.
“Let me assist you. Let’s continue upward.”
He was in no position to decline such help. With her support, Sang-ho conquered the remaining steps.
Once they reached the top, the woman inquired,
“Are you feeling alright? Should I escort you to the principal’s office?”
“No, level ground poses no challenge for me.”
He walked alongside her, leaning on his cane.
“What’s your name, Teacher?”
“I’m Seolmi. Lim Seolmi. How old are you, Mr. Sang-ho?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
Upon hearing his response, Seolmi appeared taken aback.
“You’re quite young. I had expected you to be around my age or older.”
“How old are you, Teacher Seolmi?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“I see.”
Sang-ho merely nodded, as if to say, “I understand,” when Seolmi added with a hint of protest,
“But still, I’m the youngest among the teachers.”
Sang-ho was on the verge of saying, “That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore,” but restrained himself.
Soon, they arrived at the principal’s office.
Seolmi knocked on the door and announced, “Principal, Mr. Kang Sang-ho is here.”
“Come in.”
The door swung open automatically at the sound of a mature woman’s voice.
They entered a well-organized room. Orchids adorned the windowsill, and a black nameplate rested on the desk. The mother-of-pearl decorations were particularly eye-catching.
The name engraved on it was Lee Haelan.
Behind the desk sat a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, her white hair neatly tied back with a few strands framing her forehead.
“Hello.”
Sang-ho offered a deep bow in greeting.
The principal examined him with keen eyes. It was as though her age was better determined by the silver in her hair than her facial features. She appeared to have grown younger somehow, an unusual sight that was not unfamiliar to Sang-ho.
The principal seemed to share this sentiment. Her eyes sparkled.
“From the military, correct?”
“Yes.”
Sang-ho nodded in response to her inquiry.
“It certainly appears that way.”
Seolmi interjected, her eyes widening, “Do you two know each other?”
“We’ve crossed paths once or twice,” Sang-ho vaguely replied.
They had crossed paths during the war. Haelan’s unit held the frontline position, while Sang-ho’s unit served as an assault team, tasked with actively eliminating the creatures beyond that point.
Both units carried immense responsibilities and consisted of the most formidable individuals. Unsurprisingly, rumors had spread. Whispers of a white-haired, middle-aged swordswoman at the forefront of the battlefield circulated.
When Sang-ho’s unit returned to the frontline for supplies, their paths occasionally intersected.
However, that was the extent of their interactions. Belonging to different units, they knew little about each other and had never exchanged words. He had retained only a memory of her appearance.
“You seem considerably younger than the last time I saw you,” Sang-ho remarked.
During the war, she had appeared decidedly middle-aged, but now her complexion bore a youthful tautness, as if she had aged in reverse.
Haelan appeared to have heard more detailed rumors about Sang-ho. A subtle smile graced the corner of her mouth.
“Kang Sang-ho, the Hunter. Your moniker was ‘Mad Dog,’ correct?”
“Hmm!”
Sang-ho cleared his throat awkwardly. Haelan continued her conversation.
“They say you had quite a temper. I wonder how you’ll get along with the students.”
“That was in my youth.”
He lowered his head respectfully. Haelan exchanged a glance with Seolmi, who was present.
“Good job, Teacher Lim. You may return to your duties.”
“Yes.”
Although Seolmi appeared exceedingly curious, now was not the appropriate moment for inquiries. She offered a respectful bow and departed from the principal’s office.
Haelan addressed Sang-ho, who remained fixated on the closed door.
“Please have a seat, Hunter Kang.”
Sang-ho settled on the sofa she indicated, while Haelan occupied the seat across from him.
With a gesture, a cup of tea floated gracefully and was placed before Sang-ho, filled with steaming green tea.
“In my old chambers, there’s only this to drink. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’ll eat and drink anything.”
Having endured a month without proper meals and subsisting on rainwater, he could consume almost anything. Sang-ho took a sip of the green tea.
Haelan briefly glanced at his eye patch and his leg.
“The members of the Underworld Unit appeared unstoppable. What happened?”
Unlike others who might have hesitated to inquire out of politeness, Haelan felt comfortable asking, having shared the same circumstances.
The Underworld Unit was the name of Sang-ho’s unit—a unit that operated on the opposite side of the frontline. Its name hinted at its members being almost like beings from another realm.
Nonetheless, it was also an elite unit, comprised of the most formidable among monsters. In line with Haelan’s comment, they had indeed seemed invincible.
But that was merely on the surface.
“People perished, you know.”
Many had truly departed to the other world. Sang-ho responded in that manner and tilted his cup.
Haelan refrained from posing further questions about his eyes or his legs.
“Did you always aspire to become a teacher?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Sang-ho took another sip of tea to moisten his dry throat before responding.
“To safeguard the children…”
To shield them from the specter of death.
“I applied to keep them from enduring the kind of pain I’ve endured.”
“How do you plan to achieve that?”
“I intend to prioritize hands-on training over theory.”
“Do you have a concrete plan in mind?”
“Well…”
Sang-ho’s gaze was unwavering.
“Trust me, and I’ll demonstrate it.”
Haelan regarded him in silence.
***
“Sang-ho!”
As Sang-ho turned around, Seolmi was rushing toward him, her hand raised in greeting. They had both just entered the school grounds.
It had been three months since Sang-ho had passed Haelan’s interview and become a teacher.
The year had rolled on, and Sang-ho was now twenty-three years old. It was February, and a new school term was on the horizon.
Walking alongside him, Seolmi glanced up at him, her breath visible in the chilly air.
“You know you’ll be introducing yourself to the students today, right?”
The formalities of addressing him as “Mr” had disappeared; they spoke to each other informally.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you nervous? Do you have an idea of what you’re going to say?”
“A general idea.”
He wasn’t particularly anxious. Sang-ho directed his gaze towards the gymnasium next to the main building.
There were a total of eight buildings: the main building housing the teacher’s offices and classrooms, and an annex containing all other educational facilities.
Three dormitories were designated for students, with two smaller ones designated for teachers.
Lastly, there was the expansive gymnasium.
Ye-hyeon High School was the nation’s premier hunter-training institution. Being a private institution, they conducted monthly orientation sessions from December to February for prospective students and their parents.
Today marked the final orientation day. The teachers would introduce themselves to confirmed students and their parents.
“What did you do last year, Teacher Seolmi? What did you say?”
“I possess an affinity for elementals, so I demonstrated a few elemental abilities and expressed my commitment to do my best. You don’t need to say much.”
“Is that so?”
Nodding as if he comprehended, Sang-ho quickened his pace.
Seolmi grabbed his arm and placed it over her shoulder.
“Let’s hurry. The early bird gets the worm, even for the youngest among us.”
They swiftly entered the gymnasium.
Cliche Novel 