Chapter 10

In the original story, Lee Ha-ru was… what you’d call a “broken genius.”

Most Korean University law school students came from business, social sciences, or humanities. But Ha-ru’s background was completely different.

He graduated early from Hanyang Science High School, finished KEIST’s Computer Science program in just three years—at the top of his class, no less. A pure science-and-engineering elite.

He should have soared to even greater heights, but after a certain personal “failure,” he lost all motivation. As a kind of escape, he applied to law school.

The problem was that his brain was still too good. On the law school entrance exam—more of an aptitude test than a legal knowledge test—he scored among the very top nationwide.

On a whim, he applied to Korean University Law School, was accepted on the first round… and then promptly refused to study any law.

By this point in the timeline, he should have been spending his days as a shut-in, killing time at PC cafés and arcades, his day and night flipped upside down.

“…Arcade, huh.”

Come to think of it, I used to hit the arcades myself back in my previous life. Mostly during my exam prep days—after my little brother collapsed, I didn’t have the time anymore.

When you’re locked in a 5-pyeong (tiny) study room battling yourself day after day, you need some way to blow off steam.

Arcades were perfect: cheap, quick, and fun.

“…Been a while. Maybe I should dust off the old skills?”

Normally, I wouldn’t even consider it. But maybe it was the soju and barbecue I’d had earlier putting me in a reckless mood. It wasn’t like going home would solve my problem anyway.

I wandered around downtown until I spotted one.

“Hah. No way. This place exists here too?”

It was the exact same arcade I used to frequent in Sillim-dong. Same location, same look.

Half nostalgic, half amazed, I headed downstairs—just as I walked in, I heard shouting.

“Wow, you’re trash. Just quit if you’re gonna play that bad.”
“Shut up! One more match! That last one was a cheap shot!”
“You suck, dude.”
“Aaaargh!”

A short girl in a tracksuit hoodie was bickering with a big guy in front of a fighting game cabinet.

Her voice—dry, snarky, dripping with gamer lingo—sounded strangely familiar.

Then she turned, and I saw her face under the hood: pale to the point of sickly, deep dark circles under her eyes.

“…What are you staring at? You sightseeing?”

Yeah. I knew that face.

“…Lee Ha-ru?”

“Gasp. How do you know my name? Are you a stalker?”

It really was her.

I hadn’t expected to run into her like this, but since fate handed me the chance, I had to seize it. Who knew when I’d ever track down this rare Pokémon again?

“I’m not a stalker. I’m your classmate—Korean University Law School. I’m also your groupmate.”

At the words “Korean University Law School,” the big guy she’d been arguing with froze, then quickly bolted out the door. Guess even here, people knew better than to mess with law students.

“Groupmate?”

“Yeah. You keep skipping class, and our group is about to get slaughtered on attendance points. The professors said attendance is graded by group.”

“Ohhh. So that’s the story.”

“So I’m asking you—please. Can you just show up for the rest of the program?”

Ha-ru stood there, thinking. Then she shook her head dramatically.

“Declined!”

“…What?”

“I don’t listen to people weaker than me.”

She jabbed a finger at the arcade cabinet.

“If you want me to listen—you’ll have to beat me first.”

She plunked in a coin. The screen lit up with flashy sound effects, her character loading in with a gleaming high-ranked badge.

“…You want me to settle this in a game?”

“What’s wrong? Afraid, Mr. Bookworm? Figures—you probably never played in your life.”

Heh. If only she knew.

“Don’t get cocky. I used to be ranked ‘Royal Gold,’” I thought.

Out loud, I just said, “Fine. Let’s play.”

“…Huh?”

I slid into the opposite seat and started up.

“If I win, you come to every class until the end of the program. Deal?”

“And if I win?”

“Then I won’t bother you again.”

“…Sounds one-sided… but I’ll win anyway, so whatever.”

Her smug grin made me laugh.

What she didn’t know was that during my exam years, I had been a monster at this very game. Stress relief turned me into something close to pro-level—easily “Royal Gold,” which basically meant I could’ve gone pro if I wanted.

Compared to me, Ha-ru was like a middle school soccer prodigy going up against a national team player.

Fighting games are muscle memory. Even after years away, it all comes flooding back.

There was no way I was losing this.

[Here comes a new challenger!]

The match started.

And moments later…

[K.O.]

Ha-ru’s character lay sprawled on the floor. Mine struck a victory pose.

She just stared, stunned.

“No way…”

“You promised. Starting Monday, you’re coming.”

“B-but… how…”

The thing about Ha-ru: she hated law, but she hated breaking her word even more. If she said it, she kept it.

That was enough for me. Problem solved.

Or so I thought.

“…Wait! How did you do that move just now?”

“…Huh?”

“That combo! Teach me, and I’ll treat you like my eternal master! Please!”

Her eyes sparkled like she’d just found God.

So she really was serious about games, not just using them as an escape.

Which… was a problem. Sure, I could drag her to class, but if she zoned out or bombed every time she had to present, our group would still get wrecked.

But maybe this was an opportunity.

“…You just said you’d do anything, right?”

“Yup!”

“Then study law with us.”

“…What?”

Her brain power was top-tier. In the original story, once she got serious, she caught up frighteningly fast. With her science background, she even dominated intellectual property law competitions later.

If I could nudge her into studying earlier… it’d pay off for all of us.

“…Fine. I’ll do it. Happy?”

“No take-backs.”

“Cross my heart. Really.”

Bingo.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“…You’re only asking now? Park Yoo-seung.”

“Park… okay, Master.”

“…Why’d you even ask, then?”

By the time I left the arcade, it was late at night.

I made her swear again she’d show up, got her number just in case, and went home to review the week’s material. By the time I looked up, it was already way past bedtime.

***
Monday morning.

“Yoo-seung! We’re screwed! I totally forgot—attendance starts counting today!”

“Morning.”

“…Huh?”

“Nice to meet you all.”

“…Ehhhhh?”

There was Lee Ha-ru, standing right there beside me, ready to go.

***
Meanwhile, at Korean University Law School, the weekly faculty meeting was underway.

Professor Jang Yong-hwan trudged into the conference room with a reluctant look.

“Oh, Professor Jang! Early today!” Professor Park Soo-geun waved cheerfully.

“…Another fight with the missus?”

“…How’d you know that?”

“The band-aid on your left hand—looks like a kitchen knife slip. Your tie’s usually perfect, but today it’s crooked—probably tied yourself. And for once, you don’t smell like your wife’s soup. You must’ve cooked your own breakfast.”

Jang sighed. Right on all counts. This wasn’t even the first time either.

“You ex-prosecutors really don’t miss a thing.”

Soo-geun chuckled. Just then, Associate Dean Choi cleared his throat.

“All right, let’s begin.”

They reviewed the third-years’ bar exam results—94% pass rate, one of the best in the country. Talk shifted to alumni donations, then to the new first-years.

“How are the incoming students? Professors Park and Jang, you’ve both had them in class.”

“They’re excellent,” Park said with a grin. “The top student and runner-up could probably pass the bar exam’s civil law section right now. And I’ve got my eye on one more.”

“Funny,” Jang added. “So do I.”

He thought of Yoo-seung.

At first, the boy had looked clueless, quietly listening as others spoke. But the moment the top-ranked student missed a hidden issue, Yoo-seung had jumped in with perfect timing, delivering the exact answer.

He didn’t just study well. He thought like an investigator—questioning the evidence, following the logic. Just like Jang himself had once done as a prosecutor.

“…If he has other ambitions, I won’t interfere. But I’d like to test him further.”

“Go ahead,” the associate dean said.

“Then about the upcoming second exam… would you mind if I changed the format?”

“…What do you mean?”