The Academy Geniuses I Raised and Dressed

The Giant Spikewilds, wounded by their own ally's unexpected spike explosion, stumbled and collapsed to the ground.

Their blood pooled across the stone floor.

“Yes!”

I grinned in triumph as I looked down at the fallen beasts.

Just as I’d hoped, the Spike Bombs were enough to take down the Giant Spikewilds.

[Inferior Spike Bomb]

A bomb made from the quills of a Giant Spikewild. When detonated, the shattered spikes become countless blades that shred anything in their path.

Attack: +200–300

Now, the floor was littered with the Spikewilds’ quills. The mana crystals were right beside me, and I still had four demonsteel left.

“Perfect.”

I grabbed another quill and began hammering away at the crystal.

[Inferior Mana Crystal x5]

With the materials replenished, I crafted more Spike Bombs and used them to take out the remaining Spikewilds one by one.

Each time a Spikewild died, its death triggered a spike explosion.

The moths flying above and the other monsters nearby were impaled and fell in quick succession.

After a while, the monsters’ bodies dissolved into black particles, leaving behind only materials.

Once I’d used about five bombs, there were no monsters left standing. The chain explosions from the Spikewilds had taken care of the rest.

“Whew…”

The immediate danger was gone.

I carefully surveyed the area.

Scattered around were low-grade materials and students in odd uniforms still lying flat, avoiding the spikes.

There were stalactites, stalagmites, and stone pillars glowing faintly with blue light—mana crystals.

Putting all these details together, there was only one conclusion I could draw.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all places, I ended up in Trashcan Academy.”

I didn’t know if I’d been sucked into the game or if the world had turned into a game, but one thing was clear.

These kids were characters from Latessai.

More specifically, they were Hunter trainees from Gwangcheon Academy—also known by its infamous nickname, Trashcan Academy.

That nickname wasn’t something I made up. It was how they were viewed in the game.

And the dungeon I was currently in was the first floor of “Seawater Cavern.”

It was a beginner dungeon for levels 1 through 10 and also the starting point of the Gwangcheon scenario’s prologue.

“Come to think of it, what’s my level?”

As if to answer my question, a status window appeared.

[Nam Yein] Lv. 3

Special Ability:

HP: 8/15

MP: 9/9

Stamina Aptitude: F

Energy Aptitude: F

Mind Aptitude: C

“So it’s not just the equipment that’s trash…”

I felt a dull ache in my head.

This Nam Yein character had absolutely pathetic stats.

The Stamina and Energy aptitudes—both crucial for combat—were at the lowest rank, F.

The only half-decent stat was Mind, which affected things like mana regeneration and resistances, but even that was just a C.

Most characters start with stats between B and S, unless you intentionally give them penalties.

“…This is a complete background character.”

These weren’t protagonist stats—definitely not.

That’s when it hit me.

Wait. I remembered who Nam Yein was.

“Right… He was the first one to die in the Gwangcheon scenario.”

That voice from earlier echoed in my head—someone had shouted, “Nam Yein! Get out of the way!”

In the game, that line came right before a male side character was killed by a monster. Just part of the story to raise the tension.

I hadn’t played the Gwangcheon scenario much—it was such a slog that I only cleared it four times—so the memory didn’t come back to me right away.

“So what now?”

The character who was supposed to die is alive, and the protagonist is nowhere to be seen.

The Gwangcheon scenario normally begins with the protagonist saving students in danger, so they were probably still at another academy. One thing’s for sure—they weren’t here.

Then—

“What did you do, exactly?”

“There were explosions going off under the Spikewilds. Was that you, Nam Yein?”

“Wait… is that your hidden ability?”

The students who had been cowering moments ago were now crowding around me.

“If you had that kind of power, you should’ve used it sooner!”

“With a skill like that, why are you even in Gwangcheon? You could’ve easily gotten into Woochun or Daeo.”

“Nam Yein, have you joined a squad yet? If not, wanna team up with me?”

“J-join ours! We just need one more person! With you, we can start field practice right away!”

“Our squad has a third-year upperclassman! Come with us!”

I looked around from the center of this little circle they had formed around me.

Judging by the dungeon and the students’ condition, this really was the beginning of the Gwangcheon prologue.

The first Demon Realm field training for first-year Hunter trainees.

Normally, this was where the protagonist swooped in, saved everyone, and became the rising hope of Gwangcheon.

So that person should’ve been here too.

But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t see them.

“…Don’t tell me.”

A terrible thought crossed my mind.

“Did the monsters get them already? That can’t happen…”

To clear the Gwangcheon scenario, that companion was essential.

“Ah!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a green figure behind the other students.

“Hang on. Let me through.”

I gently pushed aside the students blocking my way and walked toward the outer edge of the group.

Their faces darkened, probably thinking I’d rejected their squad invites, but I didn’t care about that.

Pushing my way through, I finally stopped walking.

Hidden behind everyone’s backs, standing on the outermost edge, was a short girl.

The moment I saw her, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah…”

The green-haired girl stared at me, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

“She’s here…”

Lumina Cueva.

A Hunter trainee from London.

She was a first-year student, with green hair cut in a soft, rounded bob and long bangs that nearly covered her eyes.

“U-um… d-do you need something… from me?”

Suspicion, confusion, disbelief—the whole situation felt unreal to her, and her expression showed it.

Lumina had one especially pitiful trait.

People barely registered her presence.

She had practically no presence at all.

So little, in fact, that even if she disappeared while standing right next to someone, they might not notice until the next day.

There was even a story about how her parents and sisters didn’t realize she was missing until half a day later.

It was the kind of ridiculous background trait only possible in a game character.

It was also tied to Lumina’s ability—but for now, all that mattered was that she was alive.

Unlike the others, her uniform wasn’t dirty, and she didn’t have a scratch on her.

“There were so many people around, but I couldn’t see you anywhere. I thought maybe the monsters got you… so I was worried.”

Her eyes widened.

“You… you were worried about me?”

She looked at me like she couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re okay.”

I turned around after saying that.

“I think that was the last of the monsters. Let’s find the portal and get out of here. Bring the wounded with us.”

I spoke to the students, replaying the Gwangcheon scenario in my mind.

Defeating all the monsters on the first floor of Seawater Cavern was the prologue quest of the Gwangcheon scenario.

Maybe because I was the one who took out the Giant Spikewilds and the other monsters, the other students followed my instructions without complaint.

And the few who looked annoyed at me started moving when I simply stared at them.

They were probably afraid that whatever unknown power I had used to blow up those Spikewilds might be turned on them next.

Once I confirmed they were helping the wounded, I took the lead and began walking, searching for the portal.

A little further ahead, I snuck a glance toward Lumina.

Tucked among the others, she was watching me with curious eyes. The moment she noticed me looking, she quickly turned her head away.

The other students looked back and forth between me and Lumina like they’d just been handed some unsolvable riddle.

“Everything’s going according to plan.”

Lumina Cueva had a complex about her lack of presence. That’s why she was especially weak against anyone who showed interest in her.

“She’s probably incredibly conscious of me right now.”

I wasn’t the protagonist of the game anymore. I was a character named Nam Yein.

A background extra who dies less than a minute into the prologue.

If Lumina—who was supposed to have low presence—was actually a companion character for the protagonist, then the one who lacked presence now was me.

So first, I had to make sure Lumina recognized me.

I’d shown my power by defeating the Spikewilds, and I’d made it clear I was interested in her.

“It’s questionable whether a nobody like me without any protagonist buffs can recruit a companion character…”

But I had no choice.

Lumina’s ability wasn’t just important for the Gwangcheon scenario. It was essential for everything that would come later too.

Luckily for me, I’d recruited every academy companion character in the game.

I knew exactly what they wanted. What they liked, what they hated.

All of it was still in my head—stored in the form of dialogue options and choices.

I led the students out of the dungeon.

We passed through the portal deep inside the cave and emerged outside.

Blue skies. White clouds.

Towering skyscrapers that stretched into the heavens.

Asphalt roads with cars zooming past.

It was an ordinary cityscape—at first glance.

But here and there were holographic billboards, and robot workers sweeping the sidewalks. Things I’d never seen in the world I came from.

That was because Latessai was set in a near-future version of Seoul.

I tore my eyes away from the futuristic city and looked back.

Behind us stood a massive rock formation, several meters tall, with a gaping hole in the center.

It looked like something out of a theme park.

“So this is the entrance to Seawater Cavern. It’s way bigger in person.”

The dungeon’s entrance stood right in the middle of the city, as if it had always been there.

Just like in the game—dungeon entrances were scattered throughout the city in the same way.

“Hmph. You came out in better shape than I expected.”

A man’s voice called out.

I turned and saw an older guy dressed in white pants and a violet jacket.

It was the uniform of a Gwangcheon Academy instructor.

“Jeong Jooil.”

If I remembered right, he was the one in charge of the first-year field training class at Gwangcheon.

“But you all took too long. Everyone gets a zero.”

The students let out groans of frustration and disappointment.

“Tch. Guess it’s no surprise. You all ended up in the trash because you weren’t good enough to get in anywhere else. Doesn’t matter how high you try to fly—flies in shit are still just flies.”

The irritation started to boil in my chest.

Jeong Jooil was the worst kind of teacher—the type who tore down his students just to boost his own ego.

In the game, if the protagonist came out alone, he’d use that as an excuse to give them a zero for not caring about their teammates—because Hunters were supposed to work as a team.

But if you brought everyone out like now, he’d say you exceeded the time limit and still give you a zero.

He was literally designed to be hated.

“What are you all standing around for? Get on the bus. Or do you plan on walking back?”

The students, all frowning, started filing toward a bus parked nearby. The word “Gwangcheon” was written in Chinese characters on its side.

I took a deep breath to calm myself and headed for the bus.

No point getting angry at Jeong Jooil right now.

He was going to die soon anyway—and it wouldn’t be because of me.

I boarded the bus last and scanned for a seat.

Everyone who had gotten on before me was now staring in my direction.

“Hey, Yein! Sit with me!”

Some guy I didn’t even know patted the empty seat next to him. I remembered he was the one who had mentioned having a third-year senior in his squad earlier.

“Sorry. I already picked a seat.”

I said that and walked to the back of the bus.

As expected, I spotted her right away.

Lumina was sitting by the window in the third row from the back.

Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Uh… uh-huh?”

Her pupils visibly shook.

“I-I mean…”

But I hadn’t really asked because I needed an answer.

Without waiting, I sat down next to her.

“Hiccup.”

A small, startled hiccup reached my ears.

(End of Chapter)