No matter how many times we ran it again, the constitution test result didn’t change.

The blazing character for “two” on the monitor stayed exactly the same, and all the lights for the Five Elements were still shining bright.

“...It really is Level 2, right?”

“How many more times do you need me to run it before you believe it?”

Bokja flopped back into her chair and waved her hands like she’d reached her limit.

At first she’d wondered if the result was wrong and insisted we re-test. But once the same numbers kept coming back, all she could do was shake her head with a tired look.

“Anyway, congrats. Level 2 is what, one in ten thousand? At this point you might as well say you’ve got a flower-strewn road laid out ahead of you.”

“......”

I just stared silently up at the monitor.

In my previous life, I’d never seen anything appear on that screen.

【Constitution incompatible with martial artist classification】

I’d waited outside that exam room, heart pounding, and what I’d been handed was a single sheet of paper with that sentence on it.

Under that, there’d been detailed figures for each category, and when the spell-caster asked if I wanted a retest, I’d bolted out of the hospital.

Because every single number on it was zero.

“Honestly, I’m more gobsmacked about all five elemental affinities lighting up than the grade. You know most people show one, maybe two if they’re lucky, and if someone has three, everyone treats them like a national treasure and fights to recruit them, right? But you? I’ve never even heard of anyone lighting up all five. Ugh, my stomach actually hurts all of a sudden.”

“...That’s nice.”

“That’s niceee? That’s all you’ve got after seeing this insane result?”

“It just... hasn’t really sunk in yet.”

On paper, only a few weeks ago I’d been stamped “constitution-incompatible for martial artist.”

To the current me it was something from a past life, but at the same time it was the inferiority complex of an entire lifetime.

I thought if the result came out good, I’d probably cry or something.

Now that I was seeing it with my own eyes, I just felt weirdly calm.

Level 2. Statistically, a rare constitution that might show up once in ten thousand people.

And the affinity to handle all Five Elements:

〈wood〉, 〈fire〉, 〈earth〉, 〈metal〉, 〈water〉.

With this, I had the conditions to walk into whatever sect I wanted and have them roll out the red carpet.

And yet.

Bokja was still grumbling, clearly unimpressed with my lack of reaction.

“This world is so damn unfair. Just looking at you, your frame and bones are already top-tier, and now your constitution is like this too. That’s basically cheating, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is cheating.”

“...Huh?”

Except this was cheating I’d paid for with my entire pre-regression life.

In my previous life, thanks to the body I’d trained to the limit, I’d been rated top-tier for my physique among my age group, but when the constitution test came back incompatible, I’d had no choice but to give up on my dream.

There’d be people opposite of me too. Those with only one of the two — great physique but poor constitution, or great constitution but weak physique — and plenty whose everything was just... average. Out of all those combinations, the number of people with both a strong frame and strong constitution was tiny.

And even among those naturals, only the ones who work like they’re ready to die make it onto the World Martial Arts Tournament stage.

Right now, I had both top-tier physique and top-tier constitution.

In other words, I was finally standing at a proper starting line.

Now I can really go head-to-head with the martial artists at the very top of the world.

A stupid little grin finally tugged at my lips.

Not because of the result that had just popped up, but because I was now sure I could climb all the way up to that much higher place called the World Martial Arts Tournament.

But to do that, first...

I need to find the inner cultivation method that best matches my constitution and affinities.

A few famous methods popped into my head, but none of them felt like this is the one.

It wasn’t something I had to decide this second, so I planned to dig around carefully and choose with a clear head.

As I pulled my clothes back on, I spoke to Bokja.

“Keep my test result a secret.”

At my request, she scrunched her brows and snorted.

“What, for free? I ran that test how many times for you?”

Her mischievous smile made it obvious she was joking, but I nodded seriously.

“I’ll pay you later.”

“...Wow. You really can’t take a joke, huh?”

“I understood just fine. I’m still going to pay you. I owe you more than a little.”

Today, sure — but in my last life too, more than once.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

Just like in my previous life, Kim Bokja was someone I wanted as a friend in this one too.

Plus, I’ll be coming to her for spell-work whenever I need it.

I got up from the bed.

“I’ll drop by once in a while. If anyone else comes around to mess with you, give me a call.”

“What are you talking about? You really going to start an organization or something?”

“Organization, my ass. At best, like a social crew that meets up to hang out when we’re bored.”

“You mean that ‘Blue Wolves’ you mentioned earlier?”

“Blue... Yeah. Call it whatever you want.”

I’d been about to correct her — not “Blue Wolves,” Blue Wolf Crew — but then I saw the expectant look on her face and stopped.

Blue... youth, and romance. I just mashed together the first dumb syllables that came to mind. If she found out, she’d lose it.

Knowing Kim Bokja’s personality, she’d absolutely throw a fit about how lame the naming was, so I decided youth and romance would stay buried in my heart forever.

And just like that, the martial-arts crew Blue Wolves, which I’d kind of made up by accident, was born.

“Looking forward to working with you, leader.”

Still snickering, Bokja and I swapped contact info and made a group chat — for now, with only two people in it.

“Don’t worry about the secrecy. I’m Red Rabbit. Take away my loyalty and I’m a corpse.”

“Thanks, Bokja.”

“Ugh, I told you not to call me that!”

It had been a productive day.

I’d finally nailed down my constitution in this life, and I’d changed the future of Bokja, who’d been on track to end up in some underworld organization she never even wanted.

My parents are probably getting worried I’m late.

When I checked the time, it was already past 10 p.m. There were quite a few messages from both of them piled up on my phone.

“I should get going.”

“Yeah, cafeteria kid. Make sure you get home before curfew.”

Our little back-and-forth made me chuckle. It finally felt like we were genuinely getting closer.

“Then I’ll see you next ti— Oh! I almost forgot the most important part.”

I let go of the doorknob I’d been about to turn and looked back.

“The spell to fake the constitution test. Can you put it on me now?”

When I’d first made my offer, I’d told Bokja I’d handle her annoying problem in exchange for two things.

One was the constitution test.

The other was a spell to hide my true grade on the official test.

If word gets out that I’m Level 2 with full Five Elements affinity, the whole place will go nuts.

Both of us had been so focused on the test result that we’d completely forgotten.

If I didn’t get the spell done before I went in for a retest at an official hospital, this result would be broadcast to the whole world.

And the fallout from that... I didn’t even want to think about it.

“That part’s not that hard. But you really want to hide it? Most people would be bragging about this all over town.”

“Personal reasons.”

At my short answer, Bokja didn’t pry.

Instead, she put on the goggles I’d worn out and snapped on latex gloves.

“Then strip and lie down again. Let’s get this done so I can finally rest.”

****

After she finished the procedure and Kim Muhyuk left the workshop, Kim Bokja collapsed onto the sofa and sprawled out with her back against it.

“Haah... I’m dead tired.”

Now that the tension of the day had drained away, her whole body felt like lead.

It was one of the most thrilling days of her life — easily in her top five.

“Feels like I got possessed or something...”

She’d played it off in front of Kim Muhyuk like it was nothing, but in truth, she’d only ever heard rumors about The Dark Den — it was her first time actually going inside.

The only reason she’d managed to speak so confidently in front of all those scary-looking black-path enforcers and vagabonds was because Kim Muhyuk had been standing right next to her.

“...Honestly, I was scared shitless.”

Because in that place, he’d been more at ease and natural than anyone else.

But when he casually turned down a scout offer from the famous Blood Tiger Gang with that bored expression, she’d been screaming on the inside even if she didn’t show it.

You lunatic. Do you have any idea what you just did?

What if the Blood Tiger Gang had taken offense at the rejection and picked a fight?

Thankfully, Fifth Tiger backed off gracefully and said they’d talk another time, which gave her the courage to refuse the offer as well.

No matter how good the treatment is... those full-on organizations just feel gross.

[Kimoo: I looked in your fridge earlier and saw nothing but booze.]

[Kimoo: Keep drinking like that and you’re going to burn a hole in your stomach.]

And the man responsible for scaring her half to death multiple times today was now texting her like some middle-aged dad.

[Rabbit: Why do you even care?]

Worried she sounded too cold, she added a glaring rabbit emoji.

“...You’re not going to read that?”

She stared at the group chat for a second, then changed the room name to Martial-Arts Crew Blue Wolves and backed out.

Not an “organization,” but a crew.

A social group built on equal footing, not a hierarchy.

There weren’t really any strings attached, so it wasn’t a bad thing to be a part of — as a little insurance if nothing else.

“...I mean, I can at least make a logo, right?”

Muttering to herself, Kim Bokja grabbed a sheet of paper and started sketching whatever came to mind.

The next day, in the underground shopping arcade below Namdaemun Market...

A large logo of a blue wolf lifting its head stood proudly on the front door of freelance spell-procedure specialist Red Rabbit’s shop.

****

Convincing my parents turned out to be easier than I’d imagined.

“I want to take the constitution test one more time.”

“Muhyuk, you...”

“You can’t let it go, can you?”

If I could’ve, I would’ve gone alone and gotten retested quietly. But minors couldn’t take a constitution test without a legal guardian’s consent.

“Just once. I know the test is expensive... but no matter what the result is this time, I’ll accept it.”

At my calm tone, my parents looked at me with pained expressions, then nodded.

“Okay. Then we’ll have you take it again. Once more won’t kill us.”

“Don’t worry about the money. Mom and Dad can handle that much.”

One constitution test cost over five million won.

So unless you were pretty well-off, nobody ever retested just because they didn’t like their result.

Even though it was a painful amount for our family’s finances, they readily booked another test for their son.

I’ll pay you back a hundredfold, a thousandfold before long.

A few days later.

We got to the hospital and waited a bit, then I was slid into a machine much bigger and more sophisticated than the one in Bokja’s workshop and stayed there for a good while.

It was expensive and took longer, but it had higher accuracy and gave more detailed numbers. Not that any of that mattered to me right now.

So what was a boring waste of time to me was probably agonizingly tense for my parents.

Eventually, the test ended. For some reason it had taken much longer than the first one.

“First of all, I’m very sorry. We spent extra time rechecking and cross-referencing the previous result. We’ve never seen a case like this before...”

The doctor and spell-caster in charge of my test glanced at the results and made a conflicted face.

My parents must’ve read that expression as bad news, because their faces darkened right along with his.

After hesitating for a moment, the doctor finally forced himself to speak.

“...Level 4.”

“...Sorry?”

“...What?”

“Kim Muhyuk’s constitution has been corrected to Level 4.”

The probability of a mistake in a constitution test was known to be less than 0.1%.

That was because they used not only scientific instruments but spell-tech that handled qi.

But it’s not zero. There have been rare cases of wrong results before.

Which meant even in my case, people could chalk it up to a testing error and move on.

“We deeply apologize to you and your son for the distress the incorrect result must have caused...”

“Woooooaaaahhh!”

...That wasn’t me shouting.

My father, who’d been sitting there looking dazed, suddenly shot to his feet and let out a roar.

“My boy! My boy Muhyuk is Level 4! Doctor! Thank you, thank you so much!”

So happy he could barely contain himself, my father grabbed the doctor in a bear hug.

My mother, on the other hand, still looked like she couldn’t believe it.

“I–Is it really true, doctor? That means our Muhyuk can become a martial artist now, right?”

“Of course. Level 4 is an excellent constitution that will let him do well in any field.”

Only after she confirmed it again did tears well up in her eyes.

“Thank you. Really, thank you so much...”

“Not at all. I’m the one who should apologize for not giving you the correct result in the first place. Kim Muhyuk. Congratulations.”

“...Thank you.”

After a long moment of shared joy, thanks, and congratulations, our family took the results and walked out of the hospital in high spirits.

As expected of Kim Bokja. Her technique really is something else.

Level 4.

A constitution that would be rated highly without drawing too much attention.

Until I’m strong enough, it’s better not to stand out more than necessary. And then, one step at a time, according to plan...

But there was one small problem I hadn’t anticipated.

My father elbowed me in the side and lowered his voice.

“Hey, son. When you were getting tested earlier, I noticed something. What’s that tattoo on your stomach?”

“...Oh. That, uh...”

A tattoo is the best way to cover the marks left by spell procedures.

My parents had seen the small tattoo just above my navel and practically jumped out of their skins.

I’d only gotten it to hide the trace of the spell-work...

“You little punk! You’re going to be a martial artist now. You can’t start going crooked on us already!”

“The other night, when you came home late. Was it then?”

“Tell us the truth. I let it slide when I smelled alcohol on you that night, but what were you really doing?”

“...I told you, I was hanging out with a friend.”

“So minors drinking is just... normal now, huh?”

They didn’t give me a second to breathe as they hit me with a continuous combo of parental nagging. I was about to mentally tap out when—

Click, click, click!

Camera flashes started going off non-stop outside the window.

“What the...?”

“Did the reporters find out? No, that doesn’t make any sense...”

I was one of the late-bloom prospects people had high hopes for, but once the reporters heard my first test result had been bad, they’d dropped me from their radar.

There was no way the retest result had gotten out this fast, so whatever was drawing that crowd, it wasn’t me.

Then, from the direction of that barrage of flashes, a tense voice rang out.

“First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who waited for my results! To get right to it, I’ve been rated a very outstanding Level 3 constitution!”

Looking closer, a big kid about my age was standing in front of the press.

And I knew that face very well.

Shin Kangheon?

The guy who would one day become Flameblade Shin Kangheon, Korea’s Greatest Blade — and a Heavenly Demon Cult terrorist.