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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Examinee (1)
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"…What do you mean by dying? Are you saying my master will kill me?"
No matter how absurd the situation was or how shocked I felt, she remained as calm as ever.
Her voice, beautiful beyond compare—like jade beads rolling—leaked out once more.
"How could the Heavenly Demon, lord of ten thousand demons and savior of the world, ever harm his disciple?"
There was no emotion in those jade beads, only cold indifference.
"But it is impossible for a disciple chosen by heaven himself to be incompetent. I, who failed to properly support that disciple, will lose my life."
She spoke of her own death with utter detachment.
No, deep within those seemingly emotionless eyes lurked a spark of madness.
"However, even if I die, the sin of having placed an incompetent disciple by your side will not be washed away."
I had forgotten.
Before she was my maidservant, boasting such a beautiful voice and appearance,
"If I am to die anyway, should I not kill Young Master Il-mok and bear the brand of a cult traitor instead, thereby cleansing the Supreme One's fault?"
She was a fanatic, utterly immersed in this cult.
Thanks to her cold, rational tone, my head felt washed clean with cold water.
My flower-filled fantasies of becoming cult leader and sucking honey had cleared, and my mind settled.
"Then we have no time to waste. First, what exam must I pass to enter that Demonic Path Academy?"
In short, I had returned to the status of an examinee.
From high school student to civil service exam prepper—I'd been through it twice already, so this was nothing special.
Well, back then, failure didn't mean getting your head chopped off, but the key point was still passing the exam.
And one of the most important things in exam life was strategy.
Especially with a one-year time limit, I needed the most efficient plan possible.
But her response to my question was utter nonsense.
"You cannot start studying today. The Heavenly Demon has ordered you to rest, and I must obey that command."
Then don't threaten me with dying a year from now. What ridiculous sophistry.
If I were still a civil servant or office drone, I might've dithered and been dragged along by such nonsense.
But things were different now.
It was a one-year deadline, sure, but I was still the disciple of the cult leader this woman revered as a god.
And from the position of the boss, I knew the magic words that could corner a subordinate.
"So, if I rest today and fail that exam, will you take responsibility?"
The ultimate sentence that helped build rigid, responsibility-shirking civil servant society.
—So, if it goes wrong, you'll take the blame?
Who would've thought I'd utter the very line I'd been tormented by endlessly.
She answered my question with her emotionless face.
"Did I not tell you? If you fail, I lose my life."
She was saying she'd take responsibility in her own way, but she was too naive.
"Is this matter solved by just you dying? It's a stain on my great master's achievements—do you really think the life of one mere maidservant can settle that? Is that all my master's reputation is worth to you?"
You think stripping naked will fix it?
Once the attack reached this point, no one could escape the responsibility trap.
And as I expected, her eyes flickered—just for a moment—as if she hadn't anticipated it.
"That is why I said I would bear the brand of traitor and kill you, Young Master."
She started threatening my life again as collateral.
It might have scared me once.
But I'd already died once, and from my perspective—having faced an exam from my far more dangerous master—this was nothing.
"Hmph. If that's how you play it, doesn't that mean my master was foolish to assign a traitor who would kill her disciple as my maidservant?"
"!!!"
Her eyes widened. As if struck by sudden enlightenment.
But only for a moment.
Her face looked broken, torn between prioritizing the Heavenly Demon's order to let me rest or my education.
If I left her like this, she'd fall into the Demonic Deviation all martial artists supposedly suffered.
So I gave her an out.
"I'm not saying we start studying and training today. I just want to know what trials await, plan how to prepare, and that sort of thing. Making plans while sitting leisurely—doesn't that count as rest?"
She pondered briefly, then raised the white flag.
"Young Master is right."
Nodding, she explained the Demonic Path Academy entrance exam.
"The entrance exam has two main stages. One measures your martial arts skill through a spar with an academy instructor. The other assesses your faith through an interview with the instructor."
Hearing it, I couldn't help thinking of the police civil service exam.
'Interview and physical test.'
At least no written exam in the first round—a small mercy.
"Then I just need to prepare for the interview and the spar."
"Yes, Young Master."
"What do they ask in the interview?"
"Mainly doctrines from our Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's scripture, the Heavenly Demon Secret Record, and interpretations thereof. Plus questions on the cult's laws and history."
"So, memorize the scripture, law book, and history book."
When Jin Ha-yeon shook her head at my words, I asked again.
"Then is there more to study besides those three?"
"That's not what I mean. The scripture isn't just for memorizing. You must hold its contents deep in your heart to truly understand the words."
Who else but a fanatic would spout such drivel.
But as the disciple of a cult leader, I couldn't outright deny it. Better to nod along and move on.
"Understood. Anyway, how much is that combined—about five hundred pages?"
She nodded.
My head nodded too.
'The interview won't be hard.'
Five hundred pages in a year. A thousand pages in book terms.
For someone who'd memorized seven subjects for the grade 7 civil service exam, that was nothing.
With the interview covered, I asked about the spar schedule.
"Then how will we plan training for the spar?"
"Primarily, the Heavenly Demon will handle your martial arts instruction. But due to his busy schedule, he'll visit once daily during You Hour (5 PM - 7 PM). Otherwise, I'll teach you external arts or serve as your sparring partner."
After a few more questions, I nodded and gave her an order.
"Very well. Could you fetch some ink and paper?"
Without question, she bowed with her usual stoic face.
Grabbing the ink and paper she brought, I started scribbling.
'Master's training time is fixed. Nothing I can do about that.'
If anything, it was like classes during exam prep days. My master was the cult leader here—his lessons were top-tier lectures from a star instructor.
I had to fit my schedule around his, not skip for mine.
[You Hour (5 PM - 7 PM) ― Martial arts training with Master]
I wrote that in the middle of the white paper, then added above and below.
[Mao Hour (5 AM - 7 AM) ― Wake up and breakfast. Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment]
[Chen Hour, Si Hour (7 AM - 11 AM) ― Review and interview study]
[Wu Hour (11 AM - 1 PM) ― Lunch and Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment]
[Wei Hour (1 PM - 3 PM) ― External arts training]
…
[Xai Hour Half (9 PM - 10 PM) ― Review and bedtime]
What I'd written was a daily schedule.
Civil service or college entrance examinees always heard it:
"Don't waste time organizing desks or making schedules—crack open a book and study."
It held some truth.
For extreme procrastinators who couldn't even start studying, sure.
But not for me.
Not because my willpower was ironclad.
With death looming in a year, who'd call themselves weak-willed?
I made the schedule not to build willpower, but to pursue 'efficiency.'
To survive a year from now, I needed the most efficient routine.
Plus, I had to ingrain habits into my body.
Humans are inherently lazy creatures. If they could do nothing but rest, everyone would.
Except extreme workaholics or exercise addicts.
So while willpower was high—while I remembered my life was at stake—I needed to habituate my body.
Follow a fixed schedule for a month or more, and the body naturally adjusts.
Even as your mind whines, "Ugh, too annoying," or "Wanna rest today," your body wakes and gears up.
But Jin Ha-yeon frowned at my completed schedule.
"Something wrong?"
"Unlike when you asked if I'd take responsibility, you seem awfully relaxed, Young Master."
She pointed to the start and end of the schedule.
"Do you really think you can pass sleeping three and a half hours a day?"
"You're the foolish one. The exam isn't tomorrow—it's in a year. The body recovers with sleep, including the brain. Skipping sleep for a day or two might boost study time, but long-term, studying with proper rest is far more efficient."
Back in the day, examinees had sayings like "four hours sleep passes, five fails" or "three passes, four fails."
Total bullshit.
Unless you were cramming the day before because you hadn't kept up.
If you were on track, don't skimp sleep. You need a fresh brain to solve problems right.
Sure, a tiny few thrive on little sleep.
And those mutants packaged it as "effort through less sleep," spreading the myth that skimping is virtuous.
Exclude those freaks, and brute-forcing less sleep just wrecks body and mind gradually. The body never adapts.
But no need to oversleep either.
Average optimal sleep is six to eight hours, varying by person.
Especially, 10 PM to 2 AM is peak recovery time, and consistency is key—body gets used to bedtime and wake-up, easing deep sleep.
That's the science, so I set bedtime 10 PM to 5 AM sharp.
Yes. Studying is a science.
But a fanatic wouldn't buy such logic.
"That's just an excuse. Trust in the lord of ten thousand demons, focus wholly on the cult's doctrines, and you'll achieve all you desire."
She believed praying to the Heavenly Demon without sleep would pass her by grace.
At her cultish lunacy, my lip twisted up.
"And if I fail anyway, will you take responsibility?"
"..."
"No, per you, if I just ~effort~, master's grace passes me. So failure means 'master's fault.'"
"..."
Stuck again by responsibility talk, she coldly countered.
"Then can you take responsibility if you slack like this and fail, Young Master?"
Bad habits learn fast—she was flipping responsibility on me.
"One life won't cover it, just like your death won't erase the stain on the Heavenly Demon from one Young Master dying."
Her attack nearly drew a laugh. It was laughable.
A novice who just learned responsibility throwing it at a five-year vet like me?
The ultimate counter to responsibility.
"Fine, if you hate my way, drop it. If you disrupt my plan or wake me when I should sleep, I'll quit entirely. We'll both smear master's face and die together."
That was checkmate.