Chapter 12
‘This is insane!!’
Sing screamed inwardly.
How could she be faster than me? How could she already be in the redesign phase?!
Miyu’s speed was downright abnormal.
Let’s say, just for argument’s sake, that the essence extraction could have been that fast.
Maybe her hands were quicker. Or maybe she got lucky and targeted the right spot, making the essence burst out instantly.
But the second phase—‘analysis’.
The fact that she had already finished this was simply unbelievable.
Essence analysis usually takes at least 30 minutes at minimum, and often several days or even months.
Yet barely 10 minutes had passed since the evaluation began, and she was already redesigning? Even if the low-rank imp's essence structure was relatively simple, that’s impossible.
‘This is a scam! It has to be cheating!’
That’s what Sing wanted to yell, but the thirteen robotic arms hanging from the ceiling on Miyu’s side were moving far too actively.
With movements so dazzling Sing had never seen anything like it before.
‘Is… is something like that even possible?’
Tap. Tap tap.
Sing wasn’t the only one mesmerized by Miyu’s incredible working speed.
At some point, the other sixteen examinees were also staring at her work in a daze.
Tatatat!
Still, Miyu’s pace didn’t slow down in the slightest.
Her intense concentration left the onlookers breathless. It was truly the focus of a madwoman.
Just then, Sing snapped back to his senses.
‘N-Now’s not the time…!’
Panic rushed into Sing’s mind.
He hadn’t even finished the first phase—‘essence extraction’.
If he kept standing around like this, he wouldn’t even complete a module before the test ended.
‘D-Don’t panic. So what if she’s fast? What matters is the quality! Quality!’
If she kept working at that insane speed, she’d eventually make a fatal mistake. He just needed to ignore her and produce something better.
Clap! Clap!
Sing slapped his own cheeks to force himself back into focus. He desperately tried to concentrate only on the heart in front of him. But his touch had long since lost its confidence.
To make matters worse—
“Uwaaah! Stop! Stooop!”
One of his peers suddenly screamed and thrashed about. It seemed he had accidentally been exposed to the demonic material’s poison out of anxiety.
The waiting supervisors quickly subdued him and moved him to the infirmary.
He probably wouldn’t suffer lasting damage to his health, but passing the evaluation would be out of the question.
‘Damn it, that bastard…!’
His fellow examinee had only made things worse during this tense situation. It was driving Sing mad.
Furiously, Sing stabbed the syringe into the heart. His hands trembled with impatience and anger, but he managed to gather enough essence somehow.
[Low-Rank Demon ‘Imp’ Essence]
[Structure Analyzing… 1/100 Percent]
The analyzer started up right away, and the monitor’s percentage began to slowly climb.
At the center of the monitor, a 3D image of the essence and its structural code was visualized.
‘Damn it, hurry up, hurry!’
Sing began to shake his leg from anxiety.
There was nothing a modular could do during the analysis phase. He could only wait until the computer finished its job.
‘That woman already finished so quickly, so why is mine taking forever…? Wait, no—don’t tell me. Could it be…?!’
A hypothesis flashed through his mind.
How did she finish the analysis phase so quickly?
That had been the question—but maybe the question itself was wrong.
‘W-Wait, did she skip the analysis phase?!’
No, it seemed she was running both analysis and redesign simultaneously.
If she continued redesigning based on small bits of structure info being updated in real-time, she didn’t need to wait for full analysis to finish.
‘T-That’s reckless beyond belief…!’
It was beyond reckless.
Redesigning without fully decoding the structure of the essence was like trying to remodel an entire building with just torn-up fragments of a blueprint.
Touch one of the core pillars wrong and the whole building could collapse. Similarly, messing with one core code could cause the entire essence to fall apart.
But contrary to Sing’s fears, Miyu’s movements showed no hesitation.
It was as if she already knew all the ‘answers’, and the essence she worked on remained stable throughout.
Sing could only scream inside.
‘D-Damn it! What kind of monster is she?!’
Even though he had received the imp essence data in advance from Benedict, he couldn’t even dream of doing what she did. Even with more study time, the outcome wouldn’t have changed.
No matter how much he fumed internally, there was nothing Sing could do. He could only clench his fists and wait for his computer to finish analyzing.
‘Shit…!’
Sing cursed inwardly.
Then he noticed the annoying noise had gone quiet.
Turning toward Miyu’s side, she had already finished the essence redesign and was printing it. The 3D printer was processing the imp’s essence into a ‘module’ usable by humans.
‘That speed is just unreal…’
He didn’t even feel like comparing anymore.
She was something entirely different. There was a reason she had her sponsor’s favor.
Talent.
Overwhelming talent that couldn’t even be compared.
No matter how much he worked his whole life, he wouldn’t even come close to that level.
Witnessing that impossible scene right before his eyes, Sing lost all will to fight. Of course, it wasn’t just Sing—the other examinees felt the same.
Someone among the peers began to cry.
But no one could just quit halfway.
The students had to continue the test in utter despair.
[W-We’re doneee…! U-Um, where do I turn this in…? Uh… Hello~?]
Before long, Miyu completed her module and submitted it to the supervisor, visible through the glass.
As expected, just like I’d predicted, she displayed an overwhelming skill gap and finished first.
‘Just as I thought, there’s no need for me to step in.’
This was exactly why I hadn’t tried to expose Benedict’s sabotage.
No matter what he tried, it would be useless against Miyu’s abilities.
Even if he broke the equipment or tampered with the extractor or analyzer, it wouldn’t matter. The world’s top modular wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest by such cheap tricks.
‘This makes it even less likely that Miyu is a Possessed.’
I had been keeping in mind the possibility that Miyu might be deceiving me and acting.
But no matter how much she relied on the body’s memories, there was a limit to how far that could go in producing something as technical as a module.
At this point, I could boldly exclude her from the list of suspects.
Of course, she had already passed the stage of suspicion the moment she saved my life.
As I watched the results with satisfaction, a strange noise came from beside me.
“W-What is this… No, what is that…?”
Turning my head, I saw Benedict mumbling like a broken man, his expression completely vacant.
Benedict was also someone who knew a thing or two about modules.
He must’ve realized just how ridiculous Miyu was from that previous scene.
Looking at his dumbfounded face, I spoke mockingly.
“What’s wrong, Benedict? Did your cybernetic system malfunction or something?”
“Huh? Ah! Ahem, ahem!”
Only then did Benedict snap out of it and cough, trying to hide his expression as if nothing had happened.
“You seem to have brought quite the capable girl, Brother. But speed isn’t everything, is it? At that pace, it wouldn’t be strange to find a few fatal defects in the module…”
“We’ll see.”
That was when it happened.
An email arrived from the supervisor in Room 112A.
It seemed the performance test for the imp module Miyu had created was complete. Since it just needed to be inserted into the tester, it hadn’t taken long.
The contents of the report were as follows:
[Stability: No issues.]
[Compatibility: 93 Percent]
[Substitution Rate: 4 Percent]
[Output Level: Lv.3]
“Gah?!”
Benedict let out another strange sound.
He looked at the report in disbelief and shouted.
“A-A substitution rate of 4 percent, and the output is Lv.3? From a module made using an imp’s heart?!”
Module output is typically rated from Lv.1 to Lv.5.
The level depends on how much energy it contains—in other words, how good its performance is.
Lv.1 is civilian-safe. Most utility modules for convenience or fashion are rated at Lv.1.
Lv.2 modules are often used at construction sites—for tough and demanding labor by civilian standards.
And Lv.3 modules are usually made for soldiers or special police forces. It means they’re usable in combat.
In other words, Miyu had just created a combat-level module suitable for military use.
For reference, none of the imp-heart-based products currently sold by the Stingray Group exceed Lv.2.
Benedict shouted, his hands trembling.
“T-This is fraud! There’s no way this is possible!”
“Quiet. Lower your voice.”
“P-Please be honest! What trick did you use?!”
“What did you just say?”
“…!”
Twitch.
Benedict flinched at my single remark.
But this time, he didn’t back down and continued to protest.
“I-I mean, come on! There’s no way this result would be possible unless you tampered with the test!”
“Fool. This entire exam—from start to finish—was something you prepared. I didn’t even know what today’s test was about. How could I have interfered?”
“T-That’s…”
“And how laughable. Fair and square? Did you really think I wouldn’t know that you pulled some strings yourself?”
“W-What do you mean by that…?”
“If you truly can’t let go of your suspicions, then go ahead and check for yourself. But be prepared to rip apart the electronic brain logs of every student.”
As my words sank in, Benedict’s voice grew quieter.
“T-That would violate the students’ personal rights…”
“Yes, keep making excuses like that. If what you did gets exposed, it won’t just be your neck on the line—it’ll tarnish the reputation of our entire group.”
The only reason I wasn’t digging deeper into this incident was to protect the reputation of our group.
When I let that nuance slip, Benedict’s face turned a little pale.
Not only had he used underhanded methods, but he’d been caught—and then lost anyway.
It was clear that Benedict’s pride had been completely shredded in multiple ways.
“You lost.”
“T-The evaluation isn’t over yet!”
“You know better than anyone. Watching any longer is a waste of time.”
“…”
There was no need to watch further.
It was practically impossible for a second-year student to create a Lv.3-grade module.
Benedict bit his lip in frustration but didn’t argue any further. He, too, understood the reality.
“U-Understood…”
Benedict slowly continued.
“I’ll make preparations so that you can resume your position the day after tomorrow…”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“…Pardon?”
Benedict’s eyes widened.
To him, I calmly said—
“For now, you’ll continue serving as acting headmaster. I won’t interfere with your decisions as long as there are no major issues.”
“W-Why?”
“If you dislike it, I’ll cancel that.”
“No. It’s not that, but…”
Benedict instantly backed down.
He must’ve really not wanted to give up the position. Still, he seemed curious why I suddenly changed my attitude after initiating that bet.
I gave him the line I had prepared.
“My body still isn’t fully recovered. I’ll return eventually, but for now, it makes sense for you to continue handling the work.”
“B-Brother… Does that mean…”
“Figure it out yourself.”
Benedict looked oddly touched by my words. It was a line I threw deliberately to make him misunderstand, but the fact that it worked so well was suspicious in its own right.
‘In truth, it’s to minimize changes to the story.’
In the original, Aaron appears at the Academy roughly half a year later. In other words, until then, Benedict had been serving as the Academy’s sponsor.
So it’d be better for the story flow if Benedict continued the role for a while.
“But there’s a condition.”
“A c-condition?”
“Don’t get nervous.”
This bastard.
Look at him panicking like I might take back what I just gave him.
“I’ll leave most of the authority with you. But in return, prepare to manage the talents I personally select—both inside and outside the Academy—separately from the ones you picked.”
“You’re planning to create a special class…”
“A special class… something like that.”
Originally, that was the protagonist’s role.
In the original story, after entering the Academy, Shade Wells gathers unaffiliated talents like himself who don’t receive corporate sponsorship and opposes the corporate scholars.
Compared to the scholars who have corporations backing them, they suffer from a lack of capital and connections, but the protagonist overcomes these obstacles with talent and wit, growing stronger along the way—that’s the plot of the original.
‘Now that the protagonist is dead, I’ll have to take over that role.’
So, just like in the original, I’ll form a new team, gather the key characters, and nurture them.
But that leads to one problem…
‘…The absence of a villain.’
Aaron Stingray.
Not only in Volume 2 but even after his death, he was a villain with overwhelming influence.
And since the main characters will end up forming ties with the Stingray Group, the crises they’re supposed to face would be skipped.
‘If that happens, their growth will be stunted too.’
The protagonist and the villain.
Handling both roles under just the single mask of ‘Aaron Stingray’ is far too difficult.
So here’s the solution I came up with—
‘I’ll hand over the villain role to Benedict.’
It’s better for the enemy to be clear.
The main characters of the original will grow by confronting ‘Benedict’ and other corporate scholars while being led by me, ‘Aaron,’ in the special class.
Of course, Benedict won’t just sit back and watch.
He’ll pretend to cooperate with me for now, but behind the scenes, he’ll be doing everything he can to crush the special class I created.
Naturally, I won’t stop him.
The more he does, the more organically the crisis scenarios will play out. I’ll just observe quietly and step in to rein him in whenever he crosses the line.
On the other hand, if he’s too sloppy, I’ll manipulate him a little and throw an even bigger crisis at the protagonists.
‘Suffer a bit, Benedict.’
The harder you try to cause chaos—
The more everything will fall perfectly into place for me.
So you understand now, little brother?
From now on, you’re the villain instead of me.