Remedial Class 1-R was not located in the magnificent main building, but in an old structure at the back of the campus, near the field equipment warehouse. Ji-hoon found it after getting lost twice, guided by a groundskeeper who saw the red card in his hand and nodded with an expression that was almost pitying.
The classroom was small, with high, grimy windows and twenty worn-out wooden chairs. Only about ten students were present. They sat scattered, each looking gloomy, ashamed, or indifferent. There was none of the enthusiasm he had seen in the academy's main corridors.
Ji-hoon took a seat in the middle row, near the window. He set his bag down, his feelings a tangled mess. As Ji-hoon, this reminded him of his school days when he felt out of place. As Min-jae, it was a blow to his pride—tangible proof that he was the weakest.
The teacher who entered was a middle-aged man with graying hair and thick glasses. He wore a lab coat instead of a field instructor's uniform. His face looked tired, but his eyes remained sharp.
"Good morning. I am Teacher Choi. I will be teaching you monster theory and Mana management this semester," he said in a flat voice. "I know you are here for various reasons. Some have low potential, some are late bloomers, some are injured. But in this class, I emphasize one thing: despair is your greatest enemy. If you've already given up on day one, you'd better leave now."
No one moved. Scholarships or family pressure kept them in their seats.
"Very well." Teacher Choi began writing on the dull chalkboard. "Let's start with the basics. What is a monster?"
A student in the front raised a hand.
"Creatures from the Gates?"
"Correct, but inaccurate. A monster is a biological or energetic entity formed from unstable Mana concentrations in another dimension. They are not 'demons' or 'mythical beasts.' They are products of nature—and a threat."
Ji-hoon listened intently. Teacher Choi's explanation was clear and logical. It was like reading a textbook, but with deeper nuance. He took notes, an old editor's habit of recording every vital detail.
"Monsters have a hierarchy based on power and intelligence. Starting from F-Class: creatures with basic instincts like Goblins or Slimes. Up to S-Class: entities almost equivalent to natural disasters, sometimes possessing intelligence equal to or exceeding humans."
Teacher Choi drew a simple diagram. Ji-hoon noted it down quickly, his mind analyzing the data. This classification system was similar to many fantasy novels he had edited. But here, it was real. Lives were at stake.
"Question," Teacher Choi said suddenly, pointing toward Ji-hoon. "Kang Min-jae. In your opinion, what is the primary weakness of an F-Class monster like a Goblin?"
Ji-hoon was startled but quickly gathered his thoughts. He recalled what he had read and heard. "They… lack coordination? They have pack instincts, but their tactics are simple. And they fear fire."
"Good. That is the textbook answer." Teacher Choi nodded. "But in the field, that answer can get you killed. Goblins fear fire, yes. But in a forest Gate, fire can trigger a blaze that traps you as well. And a starving or cornered Goblin can ignore fear and become more ferocious. So, what is the real weakness?"
Ji-hoon thought for a moment. His logic as an editor took over. "Patterns. They move based on simple patterns. If we can read the pattern, we can predict, rather than just react."
Teacher Choi smiled thinly for the first time. "That's better. Analysis over memorization. That is what we will train here. Not your strength, but your way of thinking."
The class continued, and Ji-hoon felt intrigued. This was a field where he could excel without superpower strength. Analysis, patterns, understanding cause and effect—these were his specialties.
However, in the middle of an explanation about Slime habitats, a powerful flash of memory suddenly ambushed him.
Not his own memory. Not Min-jae's either.
It was a blurred image: a white laboratory room. The hum of machinery. A man with glasses—Dr. Kang Min-soo—shouting something, his face panicked. Then, a burst of bright green light followed by violent tremors. Screams. And an electronic voice saying: "Stabilization failure. Resonance waves out of control."
Ji-hoon gasped, his hand gripping his pen until his knuckles turned white. His head throbbed. What was that? Min-jae's father's memory? But why did I feel it so clearly?
[Warning: Deep memory leak from 'Kang Min-jae' detected. Cause: External stimulation (discussion of unstable energy).] The system voice appeared, more alert than usual.
External stimulation? Ji-hoon looked around. Teacher Choi was explaining 'Mana instability' as the cause of monster births. Those words had triggered something buried deep within Min-jae's psyche.
"Min-jae? Are you alright?" Teacher Choi noticed him.
"Yes, sorry. Just a little dizzy," Ji-hoon replied quickly, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.
"If you're not fit, you may go to the clinic."
"No need, Teacher. I'm fine."
Teacher Choi observed him for a moment before continuing. But his attention was clearly fixed on Ji-hoon more than before.
Ji-hoon struggled to focus for the rest of the lesson. The memory flash had left him with a deep sense of unease. He felt as if he had peeked through a keyhole into a traumatic past, and what he saw was grim.
When the bell rang for break, Ji-hoon went outside for fresh air. He sat on the back steps of the building, taking deep breaths.
"Tough for your first day in Remedial, huh?"
Ji-hoon turned. A large student with a gentle face sat beside him. He looked strong, like a young bodybuilder, but his eyes were friendly.
"I'm Ji-woo. Kim Ji-woo," the student said, extending a hand. "You're Min-jae, right? I've heard about you."
Ji-hoon shook his hand. "Yeah. Why are you here?" he asked, then worried it might sound rude. "I mean…"
Ji-woo smiled wryly. "I have great physical strength; I can even compete with some C-rankers. But… my Mana capacity is nearly zero. I can't use Mana-based skills or enhancements for long. I just have my muscles. In the tests, they called it 'unbalanced' and 'limited potential.' So, here I am."
Ji-hoon nodded, sensing a kindred spirit. They were both flaws in the academy's grading system, albeit for different reasons.
"I have weak telekinesis," he admitted. "Almost useless."
"At least you have that. I can only punch and parry," Ji-woo laughed softly. "But whatever. Teacher Choi said we have to find our own way. Maybe I can be a 'tank' who relies solely on physical defense."
Their conversation continued. Ji-woo was easy to talk to and had strong resolve. He came from a poor family on the outskirts of the city and was attending on a scholarship. He had to succeed—not just for himself, but for his little sister.
"My motivation is simple. I need to rank high enough to get a stipend from a guild. That will pay for my sister's school and my mother's medical bills," Ji-woo said flatly, but his eyes burned with determination.
Ji-hoon was moved. In a world seemingly full of arrogance and competition, there were people like Ji-woo fighting for deeply human reasons.
"I'll help however I can," Ji-hoon said without thinking.
Ji-woo grinned. "Thanks. Me too. We're both underdogs; we have to back each other up."
This first friendship in the new world felt genuine. Ji-hoon felt a little lighter.
The next class was Basic Physical Training in a small gym. The instructor was a woman with an athletic build and a cold stare.
"You are here because your bodies or Mana are weak. But that is no excuse for laziness. Basic physical training is the foundation. If you can't use skills, at least you must be able to run from a monster," she said firmly.
The training was grueling: treadmills, light weights, agility drills. Ji-hoon found that Min-jae's body was actually quite well-trained. His muscles responded, but Ji-hoon himself struggled to coordinate the movements. He often stumbled or reacted too slowly, as if there were a lag between his brain's command and his body's execution.
"Min-jae! Concentrate! Move your feet, don't look so drowsy!" the instructor barked.
Ji-hoon pushed himself. But in the middle of a sprint, another memory flash surfaced.
This time, it was clearer. He—Min-jae—was standing before a metal door. A plaque read "Ouroboros Research Division – Restricted Area." His father, Dr. Kang Min-soo, held his shoulder, his face grave.
"Min-jae, no matter what happens, remember: my research is for the greater good. If anyone asks you one day, or if I am gone… do not blindly trust Ouroboros. Find the truth for yourself."
Then, the scene shifted. Sounds of explosions. Smoke. Alarms blaring. A younger Min-jae running in a panic, guided by a lab assistant. Shouts of "Doctor Kang!" filled the corridors.
Ji-hoon tripped and nearly fell. His heart hammered not from the exercise, but from the onslaught of emotion—fear, confusion, and a deep sense of loss.
"Hey! You're really out of it today!" The instructor approached, concerned. "You're pale. Take a break."
Ji-hoon nodded, walking to a bench with shaky steps. He drank from a water bottle, his hands trembling.
[Warning: Intense emotional memory integration. Soul fusion increased to 92%.] The system reported. It seemed Min-jae's traumatic memories were accelerating the merging process.
Is this a good thing? Ji-hoon wondered, confused. He felt bombarded by someone else's feelings. Sadness, anger, and fear that weren't his, yet were starting to feel like they were.
As he sat recovering, a female student approached the nearby water fountain. She was slender, with the green cross of a Healer on her sleeve. Her face looked gentle, but there was tension in her eyes.
"Min-jae, right? I'm Seo-yeon, also from the Remedial class. Healer department," she said softly. "Are you okay? You looked like you were in pain."
"Just… dizzy. Still adjusting," Ji-hoon replied.
Seo-yeon nodded. "I understand. I'm recovering from an old injury too.
Sometimes, the body heals, but the memory of the trauma remains." She held out her hand, her palm glowing with a soft green light. "May I? I can ease your headache a bit. It's good for first aid."
Ji-hoon agreed. Seo-yeon placed her hand near his temple. A warm, soothing sensation flowed into his head. The throbbing subsided.
"You're amazing," Ji-hoon praised sincerely.
Seo-yeon gave a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "My healing… it's not as strong as others. I'm here because like you, I was judged 'not enough.' But I want to prove that healers can be useful too, even with limited abilities."
Ji-hoon saw the resolve behind her humility. It seemed the Remedial class was a gathering of people with their own reasons and spirit. They weren't just discarded trash; they were people who hadn't found their way to shine yet.
The first day of the academy finally ended. Ji-hoon headed home with a tired body but a full mind. He had met the physically strong Ji-woo, the gentle healer Seo-yeon, and many other faces. He also gained vital memory flashes about Min-jae's father and the Ouroboros incident.
As he walked toward the bus stop, someone called him from behind.
"Min-jae! Wait!"
He turned. A well-dressed student with a handsome face and a friendly smile approached. He wore a silver C-rank badge on his shoulder. Ji-hoon didn't recognize him.
"Yes?" he answered cautiously.
"I'm Song Min-hyuk. We were in the same academy prep course, remember?" the student said. His smile remained, but his eyes appraised Ji-hoon from head to toe.
Ji-hoon searched Min-jae's memories. Yes, there was a faint shadow of a rival named Min-hyuk. They had competed academically, and Min-hyuk often looked down on him due to his own higher potential.
"I remember," Ji-hoon said shortly.
"I heard you finally got in. Unfortunately, in Remedial," Min-hyuk said, his tone sounding regretful, though there was a mocking edge to it. "But that's fine. At least you can learn the basics in peace there. Unlike the regular classes—the pressure is high."
Ji-hoon could feel the patronizing attitude. "I'm doing fine there."
"Sure, sure." Min-hyuk nodded. "Oh, I heard about your father. They say his research was very promising. A shame about the accident. Maybe if you had more potential, you could continue his work, right?"
It was a deliberate jab. Ji-hoon felt Min-jae's anger boil in his chest, mixed with his own irritation.
"My father's business is my own," he said flatly.
"My apologies. I only meant well." Min-hyuk raised his hands. "Anyway, I'm in class C-3 now, and I've already been recruited by a small guild. If you need help, or… if you want to get out of Remedial quickly, I might be able to find you a tutor. For a fee, of course."
Ji-hoon almost laughed. This was clearly a fake offer. Min-hyuk just wanted to display his superiority.
"No need. I can take care of myself."
"Suit yourself." Min-hyuk smiled again. "Good luck, Min-jae. Don't let a second accident happen, okay?"
After Min-hyuk walked away with confident strides, Ji-hoon stood still for a moment. That encounter reminded him that this academy was full of politics and dirty rivalries. And the name 'Kang' still carried weight, drawing unwanted attention.
On the bus home, Ji-hoon reflected. Today, he had found potential allies (Ji-woo and Seo-yeon), a clear enemy (Min-hyuk), and clues about the mystery of Min-jae's father. He had also experienced an acceleration in memory integration.
As he looked out the window, the system in his head provided an update:
[Academy Day 1: Complete.]
[Achievements: Established social bonds (2 people). Obtained vital background information. Increased soul fusion.]
[Next Objective: Increase basic psychic control to 3% by the end of the week.]
[Recommendation: Practice focus and meditation to manage memory leaks.]
Ji-hoon nodded slowly. He had homework to do. Not just from the academy, but from himself.
That night in his room, Ji-hoon tried to meditate as the system suggested. He sat on the floor, trying to clear his mind and feel the energy around him. This time, he didn't force telekinesis; he just tried to 'feel.'
Gradually, he could map out the room in his mind without opening his eyes. The desk, chair, wardrobe—their positions. He could even feel the flow of warm air from the vent.
Then, he tried something new. Instead of pushing an object, he tried to 'sense' it in detail. He focused on a book on the desk. Not just its position, but its weight, the texture of its cover, even the thickness of its pages.
His mind worked like a scanner. And as he focused, an image appeared—the book cover, the title, even the first paragraph on the first page. It was as if he were reading it with his eyes closed.
This wasn't telekinesis. This was… enhanced perception. Or perhaps, a very weak form of clairvoyance.
[Ability detected: Psionic Sensing (Variant). Estimated Level: F+.]
[Basic psychic control: 1.5%.]
A small development, but a real one. Ji-hoon smiled thinly. Perhaps the path to power wasn't just about physical strength or energy blasts, but about self-mastery and sharp perception.
Before bed, he opened Min-jae's desk drawer. Inside, along with stationery, was a small photo album. He opened it. Family photos: a young Min-jae with his parents, beach vacations, birthdays.
On the last page, there was a loosely tucked photo. It showed Dr. Kang Min-soo standing before a chalkboard full of formulas, alongside several others. In the corner of the photo was a logo: a serpent eating its own tail—the symbol of Ouroboros.
On the back of the photo was handwriting that was almost illegible: "Resonance Stabilization Project. If it fails, the consequences are unimaginable."
Ji-hoon stared at the photo for a long time. The mystery was deepening. The lab accident, the missing father, the secret Ouroboros project, and now himself, pushed into this world by a mysterious system.
It was all connected. And he was at the center of it.
With growing resolve, he carefully tucked the photo away. Tomorrow was a new day. He would keep learning, keep training, and keep uncovering the truth—about this world, about Min-jae, and about himself.
From outside his window, the full moon shone brightly. In the distance, in a skyscraper where the Ouroboros logo flickered faintly, an emergency meeting was underway.
"The signal detected at the hospital and the academy is consistent with Dr. Kang's patterns," a scientist reported.
"Is his son involved?" a deeper voice asked.
"It's unclear. But surveillance must be increased. If that boy has inherited something… we must get him before the others do."
The night grew late, but for Ji-hoon, his long journey had only just begun.