Retire 534

534 (Hunter Academy High School Side Story 1) Graduation Ceremony

Hunter Academy High School.

The day of the first graduation ceremony.

There had been twists and turns, but Hunter Academy High School was, officially, a recognized institution.

Yet if you were to ask whether this place was truly a “school,” you’d get a different answer from everyone you asked. The principal, for one, would roll his eyes and dodge the question, and the other teachers would hardly be any different. Still, from the perspective of someone teaching here, it wasn’t as if they could outright deny that it was a school.

Ji Yu-geon, who could be counted among those teachers, gazed up at the graduation banner hanging from one of the school buildings and evaluated it with a cold objectivity.

“If we can keep this up for another five years, maybe we’ll be able to pass for a real school.”

Considering that he was more of a substitute instructor than a proper teacher—and that, until coming here, he’d never taught anyone at all, having been a Hunter himself—he prided himself on being able to make a more objective assessment than anyone.

Although, as someone who had witnessed the school’s tumultuous founding process up close, he couldn’t claim his personal feelings weren’t involved at all. But still, this was objective enough!

Of course, regardless of what the teachers said, the students had plenty to say.

Yet when it came to the question of whether this was really a school, the students’ answers were inevitably set.

“If this isn’t a school, then what? What’s my diploma, scrap paper?!”

It was easy to imagine students shouting, fists raised.

In fact, it wasn’t even imagination.

“Wow, so they actually hand out diplomas, since it’s a school….”

“Is that really all you expect from your school?”

“You know it too, teacher.”

“As graduates of the world’s only specialized Hunter training institution, I hope you won’t do anything to tarnish the school’s reputation.”

“I still don’t know if this graduation is really recognized…. This isn’t fake, right? I heard you can check your high school diploma on a government website….”

Woo Hee-jae looked at the students with eyes that said he wanted to smack them. But despite that fierce gaze, he reached out and roughly tousled their hair. Watching the kids clutching their diplomas and starting to squawk, Ji Yu-geon finally burst out laughing.

With a face that couldn’t quite suppress his smile, Ji Yu-geon slipped away from the teachers’ gaze and approached the graduates gathered near the greenhouse. Unlike Lee Seung-yeon and Han Eun-young, who were openly airing their grievances about the school to a teacher, the students by the greenhouse had chosen a more cautious approach.

“Don’t fall for that line about how the school is always open to students who want to learn. Got it? Our goal today isn’t this dumb diploma!”

For some reason, Soon Soon-jin wasn’t by Lee Seung-yeon’s side. Normally, the two of them never missed a suspicious gathering like this.

But that didn’t mean there was any shortage of people here willing to agree with Soon Soon-jin. Ji Yu-geon was a little shocked to see Oh Hyun-wook nodding along with a serious face. Usually, Oh Hyun-wook hated getting caught up in Lee Seung-yeon or Soon Soon-jin’s antics.

…Was this really such an important matter?

He couldn’t help but be curious.

He wasn’t officially listed as a teacher, but he took pride in having played a part in making it possible for these kids to introduce themselves as Hunters wherever they went. Especially in their final year, when all the other teachers had been absent, hadn’t he taught every class himself?

They even made him a carnation for Teacher’s Day last year!

And since the standards for awakened students were different, when they caused trouble, it tended to be on a whole other scale. Before the school building got destroyed, some proper adult supervision was needed.

It was absolutely not because he was curious about what they were up to. Ji Yu-geon listened in on the students’ murmured conversation.

“See, why do you think Woo teacher kept dodging the question all this time?”

“He never meant to give it to us in the first place.”

“He just said it to pacify us and then realized he’d messed up.”

“Exactly! We have to get a clear answer today. Otherwise, next time you come to school, he’ll say he’ll give it to you then, and when that time comes, he’ll say he’s not ready and put it off again… That’s how it’ll go!”

Soon Soon-jin, unusually excited, raised his voice. Park Seo-hyun and Choi Jin-woo frowned deeply and nodded.

At first, Ji Yu-geon had been unsure, but soon he caught up with the conversation.

“That damn sticker!”

“Just thinking about how much we suffered because of those stickers….”

“It was supposed to be one prize for every ten, right? I collected five sets. Who had the most? Eun-young?”

“Wasn’t it Eun-young?”

“Yoo Hye-eun, didn’t you collect a lot too? Seriously, who gives out stickers based on mock exam grades?!”

“Should’ve worked harder, then.”

“Damn it!”

“Swear and you lose half a sticker. Hand it over, Oh Hyun-wook.”

“Ah, get lost! I’ve graduated, so that doesn’t count anymore.”

Ji Yu-geon smiled faintly.

It wasn’t anything grand, but the sticker system Woo Hee-jae had started as a joke to motivate the kids had become a fixture at the Academy. Probably because, unlike other high schools, there weren’t many students. In a tiny school where you could count the entire student body on your fingers, even a single sticker could bring joy.

It had become quite competitive, and since the kids worked hard to collect them, the adults had come up with their own standards. Doing well on assignments, performing in practicals, getting different stickers based on mock or college entrance exam grades….

And Woo Hee-jae had promised a prize if they collected enough stickers. Though, for over a year, that prize had existed only in words.

The kids might be distrustful of Woo Hee-jae, but Ji Yu-geon, one of the faculty, knew that Woo Hee-jae had given serious thought to that “prize.”

In fact, Woo Hee-jae had even called in Lee Mi-seon to discuss it. The faculty of Guild Mimi all agreed with Woo Hee-jae’s idea, and Lee Mi-seon, though not thrilled, had nodded along. It was less a discussion than a notification. Perhaps it was to give Lee Mi-seon time to mentally prepare for what might happen because of that “prize.”

Our master probably wished he’d just stop making more work instead of being so considerate… But for the graduates, especially the first cohort who’d started when the school barely deserved the name, it meant an extra safety net, so Lee Mi-seon hadn’t openly objected. In fact, to be honest, she liked it. Woo Hee-jae must have known that. That teacher could be pretty scary.

He’d worried the kids might pull some last stunt before leaving the school, but if this was what they were plotting, there was nothing to worry about. Ji Yu-geon waved his hand broadly and called out to the students.

“Hey, what are you guys doing over here?”

“Oh, ah, nothing! Just talking about the graduation ceremony!!”

Their startled reactions were both funny and endearing.

When he’d first been told to teach kids barely older than his niece or nephew about dungeons, he’d felt overwhelmed. But now, thinking that these kids wouldn’t be at the school anymore, he felt only regret.

Maybe being a teacher actually suited him.

“It’s time for you all to head to the auditorium.”

Ji Yu-geon, lost in a daze, stared into the air before snapping back to himself.

Wouldn’t it be better to just transfer to the Academy full-time, rather than juggle double and triple duties between the Seoul office and the school? Even that American Hunter, whom Hunter Hong had been temporarily looking after, had recently switched over.

No matter how much work there was at the Academy, could it really be worse than the stuff at Daseon and the Association? The master’s glare might sting a bit, but still… wouldn’t it be all right?

“The teachers are waiting, so let’s go.”

The students exchanged glances, then set off for the auditorium with determined faces. Following their spirited steps, Ji Yu-geon, like the students, dreamed sweetly of the future.

---

“So… is there anything else you want to hear? This is your first and last chance. Do you really think you’ll ever get another opportunity to hear the principal’s words of wisdom?”

“Aw, principal, you’re so old-fashioned.”

“Hey now. I could make this speech even longer, you know?”

Hong Seok-young chuckled as he handed each student a bouquet. There wasn’t much to the graduation ceremony, really. Just a banner congratulating the graduates. The banner Han Tae-kyung had jokingly made to celebrate college admissions still hung beside it.

Still, from a parent’s perspective, it must have felt different; Lee Mi-seon, eyes brimming with tears, was busy snapping pictures of the kids. Since outside visitors still weren’t allowed, no other parents were present, but they’d be able to meet after the ceremony.

Maybe it was out of consideration for the kids without guardians. Ji Yu-geon, taking pictures beside Lee Mi-seon, glanced at Hong Seok-young and Woo Hee-jae. As expected, the two of them were enduring the students’ fierce protests.

“So what’s the present, anyway?”

“If you say something like, ‘The passion, excitement, and academic zeal you showed collecting these stickers is your reward!’—!!”

“I like that.”

“Ah, teacher!!”

Ji Yu-geon, missing Woo Hee-jae’s mocking smile, snapped another photo of the protesting students, feeling a pang of sympathy. How would they survive as Hunters, being so naïve?

Shouldn’t they have stayed at school for another year? That idea had actually come up in a meeting.

“Attention.”

Woo Hee-jae clapped lightly, quieting the students.

“This is the reward for all the praise stickers you’ve collected, your graduation present, and to be honest… this applies to the next graduates, Kang Tae-woo and Yoo Ji-eun, as well. But if you neglect your studies, it’s off the table.”

The words were calm and unremarkable, but a strange tension crept in. The students tensed up with it.

“I can’t promise anything for future graduates, so it’s best not to mention this to anyone who isn’t here.”

“…Is this illegal?”

Han Eun-young asked cautiously.

“No. But it depends on what you do with it.”

Woo Hee-jae spoke firmly.

“Whatever you do from now on. Whether you live as Hunters or not, it doesn’t matter.”

Woo Hee-jae deliberately met the eyes of each student. The other teachers did the same. Hong Seok-young, Kim Chae-min, even Han Tae-kyung—who had been sticking out his tongue and teasing his younger sister—wiped the smile from his face and looked at the students.

To impress upon them just how serious the graduation gift was.

“Just once. You may borrow your teachers’ names.”

“……What does that mean?”

“Exactly as it sounds. Whatever it is, no conditions, we’ll help you—just once.”

“……”

A heavy silence fell. None of the students were foolish enough not to understand. Because of what had happened in America over the winter, it had been a hot topic even here. Thanks to the reputations of Hong Seok-young and Kim Chae-min, it might have been overshadowed, but any student who’d attended the Academy knew that Woo Hee-jae was the real decision-maker. Even Han Tae-kyung, who often seemed a bit out of it, was a legendary senior to these kids now.

Woo Hee-jae reminded them that, even as graduates, the school would always be open to them. That they shouldn’t hesitate to ask for help.

But this was different.

The teachers had given them a gift far more frightening than they realized.

Woo Hee-jae started to explain further, then simply shrugged. His intent was immediately clear.

If you didn’t catch the meaning here, that was the end of it.

He was delicate, but just as cold. Still, he must have had faith in them. After all, these were the students raised by Woo Hee-jae and the Hunters of Guild Mimi.

“Well then, graduation…”

“Wait, senior!”

“Ah. Teacher Han, you said you had something to say?”

Woo Hee-jae’s attempt to wrap up the ceremony was interrupted by Han Tae-kyung.

Han Tae-kyung cleared his throat theatrically and stepped forward.

“It’s nothing much….”

“What, we don’t need it.”

“If you listen to your big brother, you’ll get rice cakes in your sleep, Eun-young.”

Han Tae-kyung pretended to shoot his younger sister with finger guns.

“I know you won’t be working outside right away, but just in case, let me say this in advance.”

But there was no trace of playfulness in what followed.

“If you ever get involved with a Hunter from the Middle East, never mention my name. Got it?”