The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master

Saki Hina had a very distinctive presence. It was the geta, the traditional Japanese wooden clogs, that she wore.

Step, step.

The sound of her footsteps, followed by a slammed door, showed just how full of rage she was.

Choi Seol-Ah immediately pressed herself against the wall. Even standing that close, it seemed as though Saki Hina didn’t notice her silhouette. Hina was murmuring, biting her lower lip with her upper teeth.

“…How could you do that? How could you do that to me, Ryozo?”

From the director’s office radiated a cold so intense it seemed to chill the entire hallway.

‘I think it’s colder than the iced americano I brought…’

Oh, right. Just as Saki Hina was about to walk by without even looking at her, Choi Seol-Ah dared to speak up.

“Excuse me, Prime Minister.”

“…Hmm?”

The Prime Minister of Japan turned her face. Her gaze was just as icy as the director’s—though slightly less piercing. It seemed like an inherited trait of the Saki family.

Choi Seol-Ah nervously motioned toward the messy coffee spilled all over the hallway floor. The geta could splash droplets onto Hina’s clothes.

“Ah.”

Though the floor was wet, Saki Hina reacted as if she’d had ice water thrown directly on her; her eyes regained a sharp clarity.

“Thank you for the warning. I let my anger get the best of me.”

She bowed slightly in courtesy, and Choi Seol-Ah frantically waved her hands.

“No, it’s nothing, Prime Minister.”

“Your face looks familiar…”

“I’m the director’s assistant. People call me Instructor Kim.”

“I see, Instructor Yang.”

“Uh… the Instructor is just a title. My real name is—”

“Instructor Yang, could I have a moment of your time?”

Ha! What I said went straight in one ear and out the other!

Choi Seol-Ah glanced toward the director’s office. From inside, Ryozo’s eyes met hers, and a moment later, she gave a subtle nod with her chin.

Choi Seol-Ah immediately understood the silent message, and with a mischievous smile, hooked her arm around Saki Hina’s.

“How did you know I’m a gossip specialist?”

Hina flinched. Raised in Japan, she wasn’t used to someone being this forward.

“I wasn’t trying to gossip…”

“I’m also a specialist in speaking bluntly!”

“I wasn’t trying to insult anyone…”

“Either way, let’s go!!”

Choi Seol-Ah practically dragged the Japanese Prime Minister away.

Before Hina could react, she was already far from the office.

Ryozo watched the entire scene from the wide-open office door. She saw the two women disappear into the distance and then slumped deeper into her chair.

“…Haa.”

She was exhausted. In moments like this, she desperately wanted to see Kang Geom-Ma.

‘He said he’d come today.’

When would he arrive?

She took out her phone and opened the tracking app. The green dot was already racing across the Chinese continent.

He was almost here.

Ryozo’s lips curled into a slight smile.

***

The Pope had passed away.

The whole world was shaken, though in Korea the press remained relatively discreet. The reason was that the government was focused on two massive national projects: the restoration of the old capital, Seoul, and the relocation of the new capital.

Beyond that, the reality was that the Church of the Outsiders had never enjoyed much popularity in Asia. In this region, a new religion dominated firmly—one that left no room for rivals.

A church that worshiped me, a living man.

The Church of the Heavenly Sword.

‘Why does its power keep growing…?’

It was terrifying to be revered like a savior. I wasn’t someone worthy of the veneration given to the Pope. Maybe that’s why it pained me that his passing was overshadowed by my own presence.

Anyway, we had just returned to Korea. Right after visiting the Pope, we had gone to the Catacombs to pay brief respects to the dead.

But we weren’t alone. Pilgrims with chrysanthemums in hand were also there, offering their respects.

The status of the ancestors—once seen merely as undead—had changed after the Parsy tragedy. Though they were dead, they had sacrificed their bodies to protect their descendants.

The pilgrims expressed their gratitude with white flowers. Abel, overwhelmed with emotion, felt her nose turn red.

She was so moved that I didn’t have the heart to rush her. We spent the night in Geneva and only returned home today—to Joaquin Academy.

As soon as we entered through the main gate, we opened NouTube together. Korean news outlets offered only sober tributes about the Pope’s death.

“If I know the Pope well, he’d rather be remembered as the death of a simple man, not with a fuss.”

Abel’s words eased the sting of guilt in my chest. Yes, she was right.

‘He always wanted to be remembered as part of the world, not as someone special.’

It didn’t matter if Korea or the rest of the world was in shock. As long as the truth reached people’s hearts, they would understand.

The same went for the Catacombs.

Once stigmatized for years as a cursed dungeon, the sight of the white chrysanthemums—so pure they hurt the eyes—proved that the ancestors’ devotion had never been tainted. It was irrefutable proof of their unblemished nobility, including my father-in-law.

“Thank you.”

I pulled Abel’s head into my chest. Her face nestled against my heart.

“I always rely on you, Abel.”

“Only with words?”

Huh? But… yesterday was an even-numbered day. I could’ve sworn I gave it my all…

Abel smirked mischievously.

“If you account for the time zone difference, in Korea it’s also an even-numbered day today, you know?”

Is that how it works? Man, it looked like my poor body wasn’t getting a break.

“Just kidding.”

Abel stepped back.

“Anyway, I have to go train.”

“Weren’t you going to take a few days off?”

“That was with Dad. Now it’s personal training time. I need to use my body in a different way today so I don’t get rusty.”

When someone emphasizes a phrase like that, it’s best not to bite the bait.

“See you tonight, Geom-Ma.”

“Alright.”

And just like that, we parted.

I was left alone in the clock tower square of the Academy. It was vacation season, and the place was nearly deserted. I felt like a kid lost in an abandoned amusement park.

“Maybe I should take a nap…”

But when I turned around, I saw a bench beneath a large tree.

‘The princess?’

Victoria was there, sighing deeply like she wanted to drill a hole into the ground.

Even with her head bowed, her distinctive hair color gave her away instantly.

“On vacation, and still at the Academy…?”

I almost said something dumb.

Victoria had recently rebelled against the Emperor. At the Imperial Palace, his influence was absolute. Anyone who dared oppose him couldn’t enter freely. For her, the palace was now little more than a prison.

Seeing her like that, I let out a sigh too. I also bore part of the blame for Victoria being abandoned like a duck stuck in the mud.

I scratched my head hard and approached her.

***

“…Haa.”

A sigh heavy with worry struck her thighs.

‘What am I going to do…?’

A dull ache took hold of her. The cause, of course, was her father. It had been several weeks since he had loudly declared he would seize the throne.

However, in practice, he was all but eliminated from the succession struggle.

‘I have no regrets.’

She couldn’t let herself be manipulated by her father forever. She needed to build her own independence.

Even if she reached the throne through bluster, no subject would follow a monarch without a will of their own.

The Emperor had overwhelming charisma. That’s why countless nobles bowed to him.

‘If Mr. Geom-Ma crushed them all with his sword…’

Her father ruled by holding the nobles’ weaknesses over them through his advantage in information. But those cunning nobles knew one thing—Geom-Ma would never corner them to the point of death. Her father, on the other hand, was the type who could erase someone from history if he chose to.

‘I don’t want to become that.’

But since childhood, she had seen and learned nothing else.

Kang Geom-Ma’s charisma came hand in hand with his overwhelming strength. Even though Victoria belonged to the so-called golden generation, reaching Geom-Ma’s level was impossible.

Then, suddenly—

“What if all your sighing ends up opening a hole in the ground?”

Someone took the seat next to her on the bench. Victoria looked up abruptly, and her heart almost jumped out of her chest.

“M-Mr. Geom-Ma… aah!”

She bit her tongue from nerves. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth.

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I-it’s not that… it’s just that you appeared s-so suddenly…”

“Hold still.”

Geom-Ma gently reached out his hand to Victoria’s temple. He always tried to avoid physical contact with women whenever possible, and especially with a student, even if she was of legal age.

Even so—

[The Blessing of Regeneration manifests.]

[The Blessing of Transfer manifests.]

Just the brush of her hair and the tips of his fingers were enough.

“Huh?”

“You can speak normally now, right?”

“…Yes. Thank you, Mr. Geom-Ma.”

“It’s rare to see you so stiff. You weren’t like this when we first met. I don’t think we need to be so formal.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to be.”

“You don’t need to thank or apologize. My teachers taught me that the relationship between master and disciple isn’t about gains or losses. A teacher’s duty is to give without expecting anything in return.”

“No… thank you.”

Victoria’s clumsy response made Geom-Ma chuckle.

“You learn fast.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“My teachers used to tease me a lot too. So I thought, when I had a student of my own, I’d do it at least once.”

“How cruel…”

Though she muttered under her breath, Victoria kept fidgeting nervously with her fingers.

“I’m not that mature myself. And I’m an adult. So at your age, it’s okay to be immature. You can cling to someone and complain all you want.”

“……”

“If we call it counseling, it sounds too formal.”

Geom-Ma let his gaze wander down the tree-lined avenue.

“Think of this walkway as a bamboo forest and let some of it out, will you?”

Victoria hesitated for a moment but finally nodded shyly. Still, she kept her eyes downcast, unable to raise them.

‘My face is going to explode.’

She felt like steam was coming out of her head.

***

One hour later.

Ryozo, immersed in her work, suddenly stopped her pen. Her internal radar was focused on one person only—Kang Geom-Ma. She could recognize his soft footsteps even from a distance.

‘He’s here.’

She pretended to stay composed, absorbed in documents. She believed that even between spouses, maintaining a bit of distance was good; being a little cold sometimes helped her earn “extra benefits” from Geom-Ma. Like spending even-numbered nights together, for instance.

‘Today I’ve been in a terrible mood.’

All because her older sister had made an outrageous request. This time, it wasn’t asking to take her place as Prime Minister—something that no longer even surprised her—but something far more unacceptable.

‘She wants me to write that man’s elegy.’

After the second Apocalypse, Korea had been the hardest-hit country. Japan and China, which emerged relatively unscathed, had promised full support in exchange for the capital’s relocation.

‘This isn’t just diplomacy.’

It was almost like declaring to the Emperor that they firmly supported Geom-Ma.

For this reason, during the upcoming inaugural ceremony in Go-eun, both countries would send their highest representatives: from Japan, Saki Hina; from China, Mao Lang.

To return the favor, Ryozo had offered to fulfill a personal request for each. That’s when Hina asked her to write the elegy of her late master.

‘I can’t. No, I don’t want to.’

She rejected it immediately, and Hina had stormed out of the office.

Of course, that hadn’t left her at peace either. It felt like chestnuts with thorns were rolling around inside her chest.

‘Geom-Ma, I need you.’

And just then—he arrived.

Her lips trembled nervously.

“Cough, cough.”

As she barely cleared her throat, the door opened. Ryozo kept her eyes on the papers and asked:

“Who is it?”

“…Director…”

Why was the voice female? Had she misheard?

Confused, she looked up at the door.

“Geom-Ma.”

Behind him, a young woman peeked in shyly.

“…And Your Highness.”

Her sky-blue eyes were veiled by a shadow of sorrow.