Chapter 115
The truth is, the concept of a lazy genius doesn’t really exist.
A genius is someone who, when taught one thing, learns ten. They are the kind of person who grasps solutions to problems that others struggle with as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
However, even geniuses are still beings that need to learn. If someone knew things without ever learning, that wouldn’t be a genius—they’d be a reincarnator or someone possessed by a spirit; Geniuses just learn at an astonishingly fast pace.
People often say that geniuses are born that way, that they inherit their talent, and they crush the efforts of others with their innate brilliance. But if you look at the top-tier geniuses in any field, it’s likely that they worked even harder than anyone else. They probably devoted their entire life to unlocking their potential.
And if there’s one defining trait of such geniuses, it would be:
“Tell me. How exactly am I different from the tutorial?”
‘Self-esteem. Self-love. Self-assurance.’
You’d say their self-esteem is off the charts.
With innate talent combined with relentless effort to become the best in their field, it’s no wonder they see themselves as special. After all, they are special.
So, telling someone like her, in a roundabout way, that “You’re not as good as Tutorial Choi Ji-won” naturally provokes a reaction like this.
“I... I’m sorry. I definitely said too much.”
But even though I apologize, I don’t plan on taking back what I said.
Of course, it’s true that I was extremely rude to Choi Ji-won.
The most exhausting type of person in a relationship is someone who sets expectations on their own and gets disappointed on their own. From the perspective of the person on the receiving end, it feels like they’ve done nothing wrong, but the person in question suddenly grows cold.
But in this case, I didn’t set my own expectations. I based my evaluation of her on what I saw and felt in the tutorial. The Choi Ji-won now is definitely different from the Choi Ji-won from the tutorial. In fact, the Choi Ji-won from the past was better.
Of course, saying that out loud might just earn me a slap that could send me back in time again. So I keep my head bowed, muttering another apology.
“Forget about apologies! Just explain yourself. I’m not asking for something impossible, am I?”
But Choi Ji-won isn’t ready to let this go, her eyes burning with intensity as she presses forward. It’s hard to believe that this is the same woman who was writhing in defeat just moments ago.
“Sit down again. I need an answer from you. Actually, it’s late. Let’s just leave. Come to my place.”
Choi Ji-won grabs my wrist tightly and starts pulling me out of the cafe. When we first met, it was around late lunch, but now the sun has already set and the streetlights have flickered on.
“W-whoa...”
Her grip is too strong. To avoid an absurd scenario where I’m sent back in time again, I have no choice but to follow her...
***
Choi Ji-won’s house was surprisingly ordinary, just a typical countryside home. Since her father ran a dojo, I thought there would be one attached to the house, like something out of an anime... But the dojo was actually on the fourth floor of a nearby shopping complex, and the house was separate.
“Drink this.”
She seated me at the dining table and poured a glass of milk. She did the same for herself, then scooped in a spoonful of powder and stirred it vigorously.
“...Do you take protein?”
“Yes.”
After a brief reply, she downed the protein milk in one go. It was unexpected to see someone with such a cold, stoic exterior drinking milk so aggressively, almost like a soldier.
“I didn’t use to drink stuff like this,” she said, wiping the milk from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Anyway, let’s get back to the point. What’s the difference between me now and the Choi Ji-won from the tutorial? What’s so different that you look at me with those eyes?”
“...”
Just like how I had seen something in her gaze, it seemed she had noticed something in mine as well. It must have hurt her pride.
But as I said before, I had no intention of taking back my words.
“Well, if we’re talking basics, the difference is in strength.”
The Choi Ji-won from the tutorial was practically like a god, but the Choi Ji-won standing before me now is just an overwhelmingly strong person. That’s how I see it.
To put it another way, it’s like the difference between an EX-rank hunter and an S-rank hunter. Both are extraordinary, but the former carries an overwhelming presence.
“But that could also be because I’ve grown stronger myself, or maybe because the time we spent was different. That’s not really the important part.”
“—And so have I! The faces of the people who died on the fourth floor are still vivid in my mind. I will never forget this moment. It’s only natural for me to strive so that I never face the same situation again.”
“Okay, but the Choi Ji-won from the tutorial always sought better solutions. For instance... what if I had written a note saying, ‘Don’t go up to the fourth floor!’ and had someone else deliver it to you? Doesn’t that seem possible? If it had been the tutorial’s Choi Ji-won, she would have thought of this.”
“I thought of that too. But I didn’t say it because I judged it wasn’t feasible. Let me explain the circumstances of how I cleared the third floor and entered the fourth. It’s a structure that simply didn’t allow anyone else to intervene.”
“...”
Now, I had to admit it.
The ‘Choi Ji-won from the tutorial’ that I envisioned was a giant I had looked up to at my weakest moment. She was someone who reached out her hand to me in my darkest time, and because of that, her presence in my mind had inflated. I had been overestimating her.
“...The Choi Ji-won from the tutorial spoke to me informally.”
“I can speak informally too if that’s what you want.”
Not wanting to admit this truth, I stubbornly tried to insist, but Choi Ji-won quickly shut me down.
“Kim Jun-ho. Admit it. The only thing the tutorial me has over the current me is that we share memories.”
Thud thud—she slammed her palms onto the table as she spoke. But this time, I had something to say as well.
“...Yeah, you might be right. The Choi Ji-won of now may be a better person than the Choi Ji-won of then. But what about the memories you just mentioned?”
The current Choi Ji-won may have become a better version of herself, but that doesn’t make her more precious.
The Choi Ji-won who comforted me in my hardest moment, who cheered me on, who shares memories with me—her value is incomparable to anything else.
We’ve already moved far beyond the argument of whether ‘past Choi Ji-won was better than the present Choi Ji-won.’ But the reason I was truly sad, at the core, was because the Choi Ji-won who shared those memories with me was gone, wasn’t it?
“This is why I’ve been sad. Forget everything else I said earlier. This is the truth of my feelings.”
“...”
Choi Ji-won, gripping Bung-bung tightly, seems to be mulling over something.
“So, what you’re saying is that you’re sad because you lost a precious friend, right?”
“...Yes.”
“Alright.”
She pulls out her phone from her pocket and naturally opens the calendar app.
“You said you completely cleared the fourth floor, right?”
“...”
“And now you’re torn between saving me and something else, having to choose just one.”
Bzzz.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
I pull it out to check the message—Choi Ji-won has sent me her address.
“Tomorrow—no, next week. Come to my place. You’ve got plenty of time before you regress, right?”
“...Huh?”
“I’m curious too now.”
Her dry, cracked lips curve into a small smile.
“I want to know just what the Choi Ji-won from the tutorial saw in you.”
Curiosity Trait has activated.
– – – End of Chapter – – -
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