Chapter 7: The Dreaded Team Project

“So, you’re asking me to accept your apology?”

“That’s right! I was rude yesterday, and I regret it. I apologize.”

“Well… okay.”

Sion shook Geivolg’s outstretched hand.

Geivolg shook Sion’s hand enthusiastically, practically beaming, before casually sitting down beside him.

“By the way, I heard about your contract with a spirit. That’s incredible! Forming a contract right after entering the academy? Sion, you must have a talent for spirit magic.”

“Is that so? Honestly, it was all pretty unexpected. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

“You might think that, but where I’m from in the Rodenburg Kingdom, there’s a saying.”

With a dramatic gesture, Geivolg raised his index finger and put on a serious expression.

“Luck favors the prepared.”

“Oh… uh, wow.”

“Hold your head high, Sion! You’re more than capable!”

“Urk!”

Thump!

Geivolg clapped Sion on the back with enough force to make him wince, then laughed heartily like a machine stuck on repeat.

Patrick, sitting beside Sion, couldn’t help but interject.

“Hey, Geivolg, right? You’re the academy’s second-ranked freshman.”

“You know of me? Yes, I am Geivolg Rodenburg. And you are?”

“Patrick Hanson. A baron’s son. Nice to meet you.”

“Ah, pleasure to meet you!”

Geivolg shook Patrick’s hand as well, not batting an eye at the mention of Patrick’s baron lineage.

Sion observed Geivolg with a nod of approval.

‘He doesn’t seem like a classist.’

Despite being a royal, Geivolg treated both the baron’s son and the commoner Sion with equal warmth and sincerity.

He even bowed in apology to Sion earlier.

‘Maybe I really misunderstood him. If that’s the case…’

Sion recognized Geivolg’s type.

He spoke with stiff, formal language, often mixing in proverbs, and gave off the vibe of a “model citizen.”

Such personalities tended to attract misunderstandings and criticism from others.

In the military or university, Sion had occasionally encountered these kinds of people—rigid and rule-abiding but ultimately well-meaning.

They could be annoying at times, but their integrity made it hard to truly dislike them.

Geivolg Rodenburg fit that mold perfectly.

‘If this were the military, he’d be the strict guy everyone groans about. But as a friend? He’s not bad.’

In fact, someone like Geivolg could even make things more interesting.

“I’m really looking forward to today’s class! The academy’s lectures always manage to ignite a man’s sense of adventure.”

“Right… What class is it again? Something about dungeons?”

“Sion, didn’t you check the schedule? Today’s lecture is about—”

Before Patrick could finish, the classroom door flew open with a loud crash.

“Bwahaha! Good morning, rookies! Welcome to class!”

A short, muscular man strode into the room.

Every inch of him seemed to ripple with muscle. His tight-fitting outfit and short shorts made his physique even more pronounced.

‘…He looks like a statue.’

Despite his imposing musculature, there was an almost artistic quality to his appearance.

It was as if a god of strength, like Hercules, had been reincarnated. His perpetually smiling face made him oddly endearing.

If someone with a normal build wore such attire, it might have been off-putting.

But with his overwhelming presence, he almost didn’t seem human. His absurdly short stature—barely 130 centimeters—added to the surreal image.

It was as if he had transcended the “uncanny valley” to reach the realm of bizarre charm.

As Sion wrestled with his unconventional thoughts, the muscular man picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name neatly on the board.

“My name is Baries! Feel free to call me that. Oh, and by the way, I’m a dwarf!”

The room buzzed with chatter.

The students weren’t murmuring because of his race but because of his reputation.

“Baries…? Is it the Baries I’m thinking of?”

“I’ve read about him in fairy tales! The S-rank adventurer Baries…!”

“I never thought I’d meet him in real life!”

“…But isn’t he way more muscular than I imagined? Did the books downplay that?”

“Shh!”

From the snippets of conversation, Sion pieced together that Baries was a legendary S-rank adventurer and even the subject of children’s stories.

For a commoner to achieve such fame, he must truly be a legend in the adventurer world.

Sion’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

‘So, adventurers do exist here!’

In a world of swords, magic, elves, and social hierarchies, the absence of adventurers would have been disappointing.

And Baries wasn’t just any adventurer—he was a dwarf.

“You all know the name of this class: ‘How to Survive a Dungeon,’” Baries began. “So, rookies, what’s the most important thing for surviving a dungeon? You there, scrawny boy in the front!”

“…Me?”

Unwittingly, Sion raised his hand.

Among the male students in the magic department, Sion was the smallest and least imposing.

Sitting between the burly Patrick and the sturdy Geivolg only made his delicate build stand out more.

“That’s right! I won’t ask twice—answer!”

“Umm… Unpredictable variables?”

“Wrong! You can’t prepare for variables, no matter how hard you try!”

“Oh.”

Sion’s confident answer was promptly shot down, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

Baries’ gaze shifted to the back of the room.

“You, the bold young lady who raised her hand! Let’s hear it.”

“Estroza Farewell. I think—”

“Wrong!”

“…Excuse me?”

Before Estroza could finish her sentence, Baries cut her off decisively.

“Estroza or whatever—dungeons don’t need names like that! Next!”

“Professor, that’s my name—”

“Next! Anyone else?”

Estroza clamped her lips shut.

The professor’s intense demeanor silenced the entire class.

A few students reluctantly gave half-hearted answers, but none satisfied Baries.

Clicking his tongue, he turned back to the board and began writing something.

“Magic department, huh? Full of know-it-alls. Honestly, the scrawny one’s ‘variable’ answer was the closest. Listen up, rookies.”

Tap, tap!

Baries scribbled a single word on the board with practiced ease.

“It’s information.”

Information.

Sion quickly grasped the weight of the word.

‘Information… It must mean knowledge about the dungeon, monsters, and even allies. That’s why my answer about variables was close.’

Dungeons were unpredictable by nature, filled with uncertainty and danger.

After all, weren’t they essentially the lairs of monsters?

Humans wandering through unknown territory must always remain vigilant against sudden ambushes.

That’s why information is crucial.

Knowing what kind of monsters inhabit the dungeon, whether it’s a cave-type or plains-type, and even whether the monsters can fly or not—all of this information can significantly increase the chances of a successful dungeon expedition.

“And so, my mission is to drill practical dungeon knowledge into the heads of indoor-bound know-it-alls like you. The kind of stuff you can’t learn from books! Got it?”

“Yes!”

“Too quiet! Did you all skip breakfast? Louder!”

“Yes, sir!!!”

“Good! Bwahahaha!”

As Baries let out a satisfied laugh, Sion couldn’t help but smile.

Professor Lunia’s class yesterday had left him thoroughly disappointed, but today’s dungeon survival class already seemed far more engaging.

While Sion was eagerly looking forward to what was coming next, Baries suddenly pulled out a wooden barrel from his bag.

The barrel had over 20 wooden sticks sticking out of its holes.

Sion’s face immediately stiffened as he recognized the ominous setup.

‘No… It can’t be…’

“There will be dungeon practicals in this class. Of course, if you go in alone and die, that’s just a waste of a life! So, we’ll be going in groups.”

“…”

“Since it’s orientation week, there won’t be any lectures today. Instead…”

Thud!

Baries slammed the wooden barrel onto the desk.

The grin spreading across his face sent chills down Sion’s spine.

He prayed silently for it to be anything but what he feared.

“We’ll be drawing lots to decide the groups for the team project!”

“…”

“Bwahahaha!”

The students’ enthusiasm instantly deflated.

It was official: team projects, the unavoidable bane of academia, had arrived.

‘Damn it, I let my guard down.’

Sion had been transported to this world while he was a graduate student, not an undergraduate.

In his later years of college, he had mostly withdrawn from campus activities, leading a semi-hermit lifestyle.

As a result, he had almost forgotten the perils of actual university life.

But now, the mention of “team projects” brought back a flood of unpleasant memories.

Like a montage, the faces of past teammates flashed before his eyes:

Minju, who had back-to-back family funerals during project season.

Junhyuk, who boldly declared, “I don’t have time for group work,” to everyone’s faces.

Seungjun, who promised to create the presentation but showed up with a Bono Bono template.

And Dong Phuong Chao, who simply shrugged and said, “Sorry, I no speak Korean good.”

“Hey, Sion, are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine…”

Patrick, sitting next to him, looked genuinely worried.

Meanwhile, the other students had already started lining up to draw sticks from the barrel.

“There are 24 students in the magic department. We’ll form six groups of four. Each stick is marked with a number from 1 to 6. Step up and draw your lots!”

Prompted by Baries, students began rising from their seats.

“Let’s go, Sion. You too, Geivolg.”

“Ha! This is exhilarating!” Geivolg said, his chest puffed with excitement.

“…Sure.”

Reluctantly, Sion stepped forward.

‘Please, just let me have normal teammates.’

His silent prayer wasn’t selfish—he didn’t care if he had to carry the team, as long as there were no runaway freeloaders.

“Bwahaha! Don’t hesitate, scrawny boy—grab one already!”

“Yes, sir!”

Closing his eyes, Sion grabbed a stick at random.

‘Number 4…’

The stick he drew was labeled with the number 4.

Though the number reminded him of the word “death” (死) in his old world, he tried to shake off the ominous thought.

He needed to find the others who had drawn the same number.

As Sion scanned the room, Patrick approached him.

“Hey, what’d you get?”

“Four.”

“Oh, nice! Me too. Looks like we’re on the same team. Let’s do this.”

“Really?”

Sion clenched his fists in triumph.

Patrick was a reliable and level-headed guy. Having him on the team was already a great start.

‘This is off to a good start! Now we just need two more normal people.’

Sion felt optimistic for the first time in ages. He could almost taste the sweet A+ of a perfectly executed team project.

Then Geivolg approached, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ah, this must be Team 4. Delighted to join you, comrades! Bwahahaha!”

“…What?”

“I also drew number 4. It seems fate has brought us together. Let’s do our best as Team 4!”

Geivolg’s cheerful demeanor was in stark contrast to Sion’s now-stiff expression.

‘Geivolg, huh… Well…’

It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the end of the world either.

Having Geivolg on the team felt like holding a ticking time bomb. Yet, it was still a controllable variable—at least for now.

‘It’s fine. It’s still fine. There’s one spot left. As long as the last person is normal…’

Sion held onto a shred of hope.

Then, a clear, melodic voice spoke behind him.

“Excuse me.”

The voice was pure and almost sacred, commanding attention.

When Sion turned around, he saw a girl with radiant white hair that gleamed like snow.

“I’m also part of Team 4. I look forward to working with you.”

Holding the hem of her skirt delicately, Estroza Farewell curtsied gracefully.

In her hand was a stick labeled with the number 4.

For a brief moment, Sion swore the number on her stick shifted into the word “death” (死) before his eyes.