S-Classes That I Raised to Devour - Chapter 33

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 33. The Tortoise and the Hare (3)
Word spread quickly through the Training Facility—Kim Yeo-ul had been chosen by Jin Tae-jin, while Lee Min-ji had been cast aside.
But Lee Min-ji felt neither regret nor shame.
‘He foresaw even this situation.’
If Jin Tae-jin rejected her, he had already told her which instructor to approach as a backup.
‘Though I doubt he expected the Secret Manual to be given out.’
Dae Ryeok Moo Hon.
The cover was written in Korean, so she’d assumed the contents would be too, but they weren’t.
‘Why is it all in Classical Chinese?’
She tried translating it with her phone, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
‘I’ll have to ask him to interpret it for me.’
Lee Min-ji was no expert in martial arts or secret manuals, but she at least knew how precious this was.
Tap.
“Min-ji, clear your mind of idle thoughts.”
The instructor in the blue training uniform, surnamed Chung—known simply as Chung Instructor—struck Lee Min-ji’s shoulder with his bamboo sword.
“But I was just standing still with my arms extended like you said. How can you tell?”
It was a somewhat challenging question, but Lee Min-ji asked it with genuine curiosity.
Outwardly, she and the other hunters looked identical to her.
“Through the tremor in your muscles, the rhythm of your breath. That alone tells me what thoughts are crossing your mind.”
“Come on, that’s not true. You don’t have a skill that reads minds.”
“You want to do something. But you’re disappointed that you can’t do it here, now. Yet you have someone who can help you. You were thinking of that person just now, weren’t you, Min-ji?”
“…Creepy.”
The other hunters turned their heads in wonder at Chung Instructor’s insight, only to be met with the bamboo sword.
“Maintain composure in any situation. Your eyes and senses must not be drawn by curiosity. People are most defenseless at exactly those moments. If you cannot concentrate while merely extending your arms, you will never live to retire.”
Only eight hunters out of a hundred received lessons from Chung Instructor. Yet those eight didn’t mind the small numbers—they had all come knowing what he truly was.
Chung Instructor’s Level was 101, the lowest among the instructors, but he possessed extraordinary experience. Ten years of service with the Dungeon Exploration Division. Ten years of survival in the profession known as “Diver.”
‘But Chung Instructor didn’t introduce himself that way.’
If you wish to retire alive, come to me—that was the entirety of his introduction.
‘How did he know to point me specifically toward Chung Instructor? Or—if he knows about Ma-jon, how could he not know Chung Instructor?’
Tap!
“Min-ji. Are you thinking of a man you secretly love again?”
“I’m not secretly in love with anyone!”
“…If you shout that loudly, anyone would know you’re lying.”
Lee Min-ji refused to admit it. It was just that thinking of various things had scattered her concentration.
The fact that Chae Mu-jin kept coming to mind was inevitable—he was such a mysterious person, there was nothing she could do about it.
‘I was never meant for love anyway.’
Taking a deep breath, Lee Min-ji resolved to focus only on the present. As Chung Instructor said, everything she was doing now was mere distraction.
Meanwhile, Chung Instructor was observing each of his chosen students carefully.
But his gaze kept returning to Lee Min-ji.
‘A girl with a story.’
She appeared cheerful, yet beneath that cheer he sensed hatred and rage.
‘Vengeance. This girl is prepared to throw away her very life for that revenge.’
All the other hunters had come to him to “survive.” But Lee Min-ji was different. She had come for revenge.
That troubled Chung Instructor.
There had been a time when he, too, lived only for vengeance. Of course, he had long since abandoned it and lived now as an instructor, but seeing Lee Min-ji brought back memories of his former self.
‘If you become consumed by vengeance and never dream of a life beyond it, then even if you achieve your revenge, nothing will remain.’
Chung Instructor wanted to tell her that. But he shook his head.
‘In that state, she won’t listen to anyone. She’ll only grow more defensive. She must discover it herself.’
It was a pity. He would have only one week with her.
‘I can only do my best to teach her.’
Fortunately, Lee Min-ji had a strong hunger for learning, so she not only kept up even as he raised the intensity, but thrived on it.
After this day, Kim Yeo-ul and Lee Min-ji were so busy with their training that they barely crossed paths, and after four days, they finally met again.
At the mid-term evaluation of the intensive training.
* * *
On the first day of training, the trainees had undergone a Heart-Mind Comprehensive Test.
Physically, they were tested on strength, agility, endurance, and flexibility. Mentally, on reaction time, concentration, and memory—all combined into a composite score. This was the test component Chae Mu-jin had mentioned for the intensive training.
Kim Yeo-ul scored low on physical ability but high on mental capacity, receiving 42 points out of 100—
Lee Min-ji scored high on physical ability but low on mental capacity, receiving 38 points out of 100.
This fell below the average hunter score of 52 points. The instructors all made the same comment about these scores.
“A low composite score doesn’t necessarily mean weakness, nor does a high score mean strength. There are countless variables in real combat.”
“However, a higher score is never a bad thing. We hope that during this one week of training, you will each add at least 10 points to your initial score.”
“Trainees who exceed 70 points will receive a special reward.”
Thus, Kim Yeo-ul’s target was 52 points, and Lee Min-ji’s was 48 points.
Lee Min-ji asked Chung Instructor a question.
“Why specifically 70 points? Isn’t the standard usually 100 for a full score reward?”
“The Heart-Mind test was designed very rigorously by the government to sift out true hunters. Reaching 60 is possible with moderate effort, but beyond that requires more than ordinary effort.”
“Doesn’t someone with high stats automatically get a high score?”
“It has nothing to do with stats. The higher your stats, the higher the standards become.”
“Then how difficult is it to get 90 points?”
Chae Mu-jin had said he would give a reward for 90 points or above, and Lee Min-ji desperately wanted to achieve 90 points or higher.
Chung Instructor paused at the mention of 90 points before answering.
“Seven people.”
“Seven out of a hundred? That seems doable.”
“Only seven have ever achieved it. For reference, this test has been running for 37 years.”
In 37 years, tens of thousands of certified hunters must have taken the test. And only seven of them had achieved 90 points.
‘Dammit, he gave me an impossible mission?’
It was clear he’d deliberately set an impossible target just to avoid giving her a reward. Yet oddly, this only fueled Lee Min-ji’s determination.
‘If I get 90 points, he’ll be shocked, won’t he? He probably thinks I’ll fail and didn’t even prepare a reward.’
Imagining Chae Mu-jin’s surprised face, Lee Min-ji felt her resolve burning.
Thus, the second Heart-Mind test began. Only three days had passed since the first day.
Seventy-two hours—a span in which even exercise and study yield no great change.
Naturally, the hunters’ scores didn’t differ much from the first day.
On average, 4-point increases, with the highest jumps capping at 6 points.
But there were two people whose growth was remarkable.
“Next, Kim Yeo-ul—65 points!”
The test was conducted in a public space where all hunters gathered, and everyone knew the initial scores.
Kim Yeo-ul, who had scored 42 on the first day, had raised her score by 23 points in just four days.
“Is the machine broken?”
“I’ve never seen a jump of more than 20 points before.”
It wasn’t just the spectating trainees who spoke—the instructors themselves were astounded by Kim Yeo-ul’s dramatic improvement.
But there was also a certain acceptance in the air.
“Ma-jon has really stepped up.”
“She’s sold her soul.”
Ma-jon Jin Tae-jin.
The “Ma” prefix to his nickname wasn’t there without reason. Kim Yeo-ul’s growth was a number that couldn’t be achieved through effort alone.
The instructors concluded—or rather, were certain—that Ma-jon had used “irregular methods” to accelerate Kim Yeo-ul’s progress.
If the instructors believed this, the trainees were no different.
The gazes fixed on Kim Yeo-ul were filled with envy, jealousy, and contempt.
‘If I had been Ma-jon’s student, I could have grown so much more.’
‘If she trained under a villain, doesn’t that make her a villain too?’
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Yet one person applauded with genuine enthusiasm.
“Magnificent, Yeo-ul! That’s what my partner should be like!”
It was Lee Min-ji’s turn right after.
Lee Min-ji’s growth was also remarkable.
“Lee Min-ji—48 points.”
The reaction to this score was different. Everyone nodded, accepting the result.
“Isn’t that the person who started training first and finished last every day?”
“If anything, I’d say she should have gained more than 10 points.”
The training schedule wasn’t grueling. There were sufficient breaks, and formal classes ended at seven in the evening.
Everything after that until bedtime was free time, and sleep wasn’t even mandatory.
Most hunters spent these free hours building camaraderie. Some had even come for that purpose.
But Lee Min-ji had trained instead. Rejecting every hunter who approached her seeking friendship.
Even now, after seeing her score, Lee Min-ji headed straight to the bathroom.
Splash.
Washing her face with cold water, Lee Min-ji muttered to herself in the mirror.
“90 points—it really is difficult.”
For three days she’d pushed herself until blood came to her lips. Yet even that effort had only raised her score by 10 points.
Four days remained. The gap was 42 points. This wasn’t a problem positive thinking could solve.
“Yeo-ul could do it, though, right?”
In front of others, she’d given her applause coolly enough, but inside—
Drip, drip.
The tears welling up wouldn’t be held back.
Kim Yeo-ul, whom she’d always thought was far below her, had grown so dramatically.
“It’s not jealousy. It’s just… I feel like I’m the pathetic one.”
When she returned and showed her score, Chae Mu-jin would naturally prefer Kim Yeo-ul. He’d be disappointed in her. She could see that future clearly, and the thought frustrated and hurt her.
“God, this is ridiculous. Why do I even care what that guy thinks?”
Splash!
She dried her tears with cold water and used the Mind Regulation Technique she’d learned from Chung Instructor to calm her turbulent emotions.
“Okay… let me at least say hello to Yeo-ul before she goes back to the mountains. Does it look like I’ve been crying?”
She carefully wiped away every trace of moisture with tissue and stepped out of the bathroom—only to find Kim Yeo-ul waiting awkwardly.
“…I’m sorry.”
“You heard all that?”
“Yeah…….”
“Ugh, now I’m embarrassed and crying again.”
“I… I’ll get going.”
“No. I’ll go first.”
Lee Min-ji was too ashamed to even look at Kim Yeo-ul’s face, so she fled at her fastest speed.
Four more days passed in an instant, and at the test site, Kim Yeo-ul and Lee Min-ji naturally crossed paths again.
“Yeo-ul.”
“Yeah?”
“You keep secrets well, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t tell anyone what you heard then. I’d rather die of embarrassment.”
“Got it…….”
“And let’s make a bet.”
“A bet? Out of nowhere?”
“A score bet. Whoever gets more points.”
Kim Yeo-ul had been 17 points ahead in the mid-term evaluation. Knowing that gap, she was reluctant.
“Why, scared you’ll lose?”
Lee Min-ji was provoking her, but Kim Yeo-ul nodded.
“Yeah. I have no confidence.”
“Wow, that’s annoying. You mean you can’t imagine losing, right?”
“That’s not what I meant… I just don’t like competing with you.”
“Not even worth competing against?”
“That’s not what I’m saying…….”
“Either way, we’re doing it. Whoever scores higher gets formal speech from the other. If I win, you call me ‘sister,’ and if you win, I’ll call you ‘brother.'”
Lee Min-ji left without waiting for an answer, and Kim Yeo-ul pondered seriously.
‘Should I intentionally score lower?’
Lee Min-ji was competitive by nature. The thought of her feeling sad again if Kim Yeo-ul scored higher pained her.
But on second thought, it wasn’t possible.
‘My manager told me to get 90 points.’
He had actually only said he’d give a reward for 90 or above, but Kim Yeo-ul’s memory had warped it.
She recalled Chae Mu-jin’s earnest insistence that she absolutely had to achieve 90 or higher.
‘I’m sorry, Min-ji.’
Though Min-ji was an important teammate, she couldn’t disappoint her manager.
When the Heart-Mind Comprehensive Test began, Kim Yeo-ul did her absolute best. Lee Min-ji did the same.
The two took their tests last, so the scores of those who went before were announced first.
The instructors had said 52 points was the average, and most exceeded it.
But scores of 70 or above were rare. Over fifty people had gone without reaching it.
Then, at the eightieth person, someone finally broke 70 points. The blonde man who’d spoken to Lee Min-ji on the first day—Bae Ji-ta.
Despite training consistently while also building friendships, he received congratulations from many, but his gaze was fixed on one person.
Lee Min-ji.
She met his eyes and gave a slight nod of congratulation.
“Next, we will announce the score of trainee Kim Yeo-ul.”
The numbers on the scoreboard began rising rapidly from zero. The relaxed atmosphere grew tense.
Both trainees and instructors watched the board with held breath.
Bae Ji-ta, with 72 points, had been first until now, but Kim Yeo-ul shot past 75 in an instant. The board didn’t stop.
[76]
[77]
[78]…….
It climbed relentlessly, breaking past 80.
“80 points… that’s the first time in seven years.”
An instructor spoke as if it were over, but it was premature. The board continued.
Past 80, it kept rising.
[87]
[88]…….
The instructors tensed. Could she actually reach 90?
The last trainee to score 90 was fifteen years ago. Though merely a test, a trainee achieving 90 points after fifteen years would be a historic moment.
Among those who’d scored 90 or above, not a single one had failed to become an A-rank Hunter.
Everyone stared without blinking, barely breathing.
In that silence, only the ticking of the board was heard.
[89]…….
The number reached 89, just one point from the 90 that everyone was waiting for—
[89]
Kim Yeo-ul failed to break through to that elusive 90, finally settling at 89 points.
“Phew!”
“Ha, haha. Why am I sweating like this?”
“Even Ma-jon himself couldn’t pull off 90 in a week!”
Breath was released all around as people relaxed. It was then—
“Excuse me, but my score hasn’t been announced yet?”
At Lee Min-ji’s words, both the trainees and the instructors let out snorts.
Lee Min-ji had scored 48 in the mid-term. For her to reach 90, she’d need to gain a whopping 42 points.
It was obviously impossible.
Even Kim Yeo-ul, trained by Ma-jon himself, couldn’t do it. How could she?
Yet one instructor spoke gravely.
“Would you please be quiet?”
Chung Instructor. He glared at the other instructors.
“We’re witnessing a historic moment. Show some respect.”
The other instructors started to object, but the moment Lee Min-ji’s scoreboard began rising rapidly, they fell silent.
Her score shot past 70 in the blink of an eye, reaching 80.
Even this much was dazzling to witness, but it wasn’t over.
[85]
[86]
[87]…….
The numbers kept climbing, and before anyone could fully process it, 89 had been reached.
Even Kim Yeo-ul, trained by Ma-jon, had failed at 89. But—
Tick.
[90]
“Ahhhhh!”
“Wh-what?!”
Tick.
[91]
“……?”
Tick.
[92]
“…….”
[92]
Lee Min-ji’s final score broke through 90, stopping at 92 points.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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