Completing Iro’s project was the trial for a team of ten elite researchers. It seemed simple, at least on paper.

“If we fail this, we’re screwed for the year’s evaluation, aren’t we?”

“If you’re gonna jinx us, go talk in front of the mirror. I don’t fail.”

“You never change... Forget it.”

Of course, there was always the possibility that they would end up wasting their time.

“You know how Iro’s research was infamous for being a nightmare, right? From the samples to the algorithms...”

“Relax. It’s already eighty percent done. We just need to tweak a few variables and rerun the simulations.”

“Still... He was a senior researcher and—”

“Senior? Please. The guy got kicked out after screwing up.”

However, Jin—one of the senior researchers at the Future Research Center—was confident, almost arrogantly so. After all, it wasn’t a major government-backed project anymore, just something a guy had been quietly tinkering with before disappearing.

“I heard he got burned by the restructuring Subjects, though.”

“Ha, you actually believe that crap? You think someone like him used the Investigation Bureau’s manager just to deal with some layoffs?”

“Well, I don’t buy it either... But if people are gossiping that much, maybe he wasn’t all that great to begin with.”

Everyone had called Iro a genius, but Jin knew better that the stories were exaggerated. Iro always took all the major projects for himself, which pissed Jin off for years. Finally, Jin was given the chance to complete what Iro could not, and to blaze brighter than any other.

“Anyway, I’m finishing this no matter what. So don’t hold me back.”

“Seriously?”

That was the mindset he started with. However, the moment Jin saw the algorithm Iro had left behind, he realized the truth.

“Wait... Where are the comments?”

The whole idea of continuing someone else’s research had been wrong from the start. Any decent scientist left notes or comments in their code to remember what it all meant later.

However, Iro hadn’t bothered. He didn’t leave a single note of explanation, as if the equations lived entirely in his head. It was the world’s most unkind million lines of code.

[Attempt #1 - Fail]

[Attempt #2 - Fail]

[Attempt #3 - Fail]

...

It said failure after failure, without the faintest idea of why. Jin couldn’t even tell what he didn’t understand anymore. His frustration built like pressure in a sealed tank.

So this is what a genius looks like?

The gap between them was suffocating. Iro’s shadow stood like an impenetrable, unreachable wall. Jin’s mind went white.

“Ugh! This one doesn’t work either. It won’t work!”

[Attempt #194 - Fail]

“Aaaaargh!”

Maybe it was time to give up. Jin had to cut his losses and return to his assigned project before the quarter ended. If he didn’t produce results before evaluation day, that would be the end of him.

Jin’s heart dropped and cold sweat prickled his palms. He hid his trembling hands behind his back as he approached his teammates.

“Let’s just all give up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s request to be reassigned to our old projects. If we all petition together, they’ll have to listen!”

“You’re telling us to get rid of this opportunity?”

“I-I’m telling you this is impossible! We’ll never finish it this year! You know it! We all know it! None of us even understand what this code does!”

“Huh?”

Their replies were ice-cold.

“Sorry, but we’re almost done.”

“W-what? You said a few days ago you had no idea where to start!”

“That was then. Anyway, we’re not filing a petition. Do whatever you want.”

Jin was the only one who had hit a wall.

“So I’m the only one who failed? Just me?”

That was when his hands shook so badly he couldn’t even hold a vial steady.

“Let’s see... How many points do I have remaining?”

From the moment he opened his eyes until he shut them again, his thoughts circled endlessly. It was all about performance scores, deadlines, and points left on the board.

He couldn’t let this happen. If he failed alone, he’d be left behind and discarded without a second glance.

“Then maybe, if everyone fails, then it wouldn’t matter!”

Jin thought that if the whole project collapsed, they would have to cancel it. Even the unflinching centre director, who never blinked at cutting staff, wouldn’t dare lose all his researchers at once.

Click.

Decision made, Jin moved quickly. He sneaked into the lab after hours and stole his colleagues’ experiment reports. Then, he blew up the lab to destroy the evidence.

Boom!

“No one will know. No one will!”

That was what he’d believed, but he had been wrong.

Beeeep—!

[Critical threat has been detected in Future Research Center, Building E.]

[Defense Protocol has been activated.]

A defense protocol in here? In a single research annex?!

Jin froze. He knew he had to shut it down immediately.

If anyone traced the cause of the activation, they’d discover it was all his doing. He’d barely escaped once before, but after weeks of digging through encrypted archives, he had finally found a way to disable it.

“Deactivate protocol! Code number is 9812-ER21QE-4872!”

[Failure!]

[The protocol parameters have changed.]

[The King of the Snowfield is responding to a new intruder.]

“A new intruder?” Jin muttered.

[The Snowfield has been unlocked!]

[A Monster Wave has been initiated.]

“What the hell? A Monster Wave?!” He stared at the glowing message, disbelief twisting his face. When he’d destroyed the lab last time, only a few monsters had spawned, and that was it. “Why is it going this far?! What changed?!”

Who could the intruder possibly be?

Jin sprinted toward the shattered wall and peered through the smoke and frost. Then, he saw a face he knew all too well. “No way... That’s impossible.”

His trembling hands rifled through the stack of reports he’d been clutching, flipping desperately through the pages until he found it.

[Subject: Lee Eun-Ho - Simulation Results]

- Potential: extremely high

- Resonance: extremely high

- Endurance: extremely high

The man whose name and face had appeared in Iro’s final notes.

- Final Result: unfit

- Reason: uncontrollable

Even though the simulations had rated Eun-Ho as a perfect candidate for live testing, Iro had personally stamped him as unfit.

At the time, Jin hadn’t understood why. He wondered what kind of person could possibly be too uncontrollable for the genius Iro himself. However, now, he understood.

Eun-Ho’s voice carried faintly across the blizzard. “The longer this drags on, the worse it gets.”

Worse? Don’t tell me he’s planning to fight?

Fwuuuuush—!

The snow here was no ordinary frost. It was ancient, meaning the ice that had refused to melt for centuries, not even under the fiercest flame.

However, it vanished the instant Eun-Ho’s foot touched it, melting cleanly into the earth. He carved a vivid green path straight through the snowfield, cutting an unbroken line toward the Ice Golem.

“What the hell?! What is that?!” Jin shrieked.

Thud—!

Like a beast unleashed, Eun-Ho swiftly sprinted down his path, ruthless and unstoppable. “Sword Force!”

The beast’s dark-blue fangs sank into the frozen head of the King.

Fwoooosh—!

Flames, deep crimson reminiscent of those from the lowest pits of purgatory, surged around the Golem and engulfed it completely.

Eun-Ho clung to the Golem’s head, unmoving amidst the roaring blaze. No matter how violently the creature struggled, he didn’t fall. The harder the Golem fought, the smaller it became. It melted, collapsed, and dwindled into a dying ember.

Then finally, the King of the Snowfield fell, and a new king stood in his place.

Thoom—!

A figure wreathed in blue swordlight and red flame, standing tall on the pure white snow. The true ruler. Even after defeating a regional monarch, he calmly surveyed his surroundings as if nothing of note had happened.

At that moment, Jin understood. “That’s... Lee Eun-Ho...”

- Final Result: unfit

- Reason: uncontrollable

Hence why the genius Iro had labelled him as unfit. No leash could possibly hold that man.

“No... No, he’s not supposed to exist.”

A wolf could never be tamed into a hunting dog. Jin knew well enough that if he tried to cage a predator like Eun-Ho, he would end up as the prey.

[The Snowfield has been lifted.]

I gotta run.

Jin had to get out before it was too late. That man could split Jin in half just as easily as he’d split the Golem’s skull. The moment Jin turned to flee, a comet of red light streaked through the sky, screaming toward him like a falling star.

[Core retrieval in progress.]

Fwaaaash—!

“Wait! The Golem’s core?! Why the hell is it coming toward me?!”

Whoosh—!

“Huh? Guuk!”

A sharp wind cut across his cheek, and something impossibly fast grazed his ear, sending his neck hairs bristling. Then, the streak of light vanished.

Fwoosh—!

The clouds parted and sunlight returned, so bright it stung his eyes. It sharply flashed off something before him—a blade pressed to his throat.

“Don’t move,” someone said coldly, in a voice that was sharper than steel, and colder than frost.

“W-when did you even get here?!”

The syllables barely left his mouth before the sword’s edge traced his Adam’s apple, drawing a thin line of blood. Every hair on Jin stood on end. He did everything he could not to flinch.

Stay calm.

He reminded himself that a monster’s bite wouldn’t kill him, but panic would. Over and over again, he told himself that no matter how predatory those eyes were, no matter how sharp those fangs looked, Eun-Ho was just a rookie. Regardless of how strong they were, rookies always overestimated themselves.

“Y-you’re the new recruit Lee Eun-Ho, right?” Jin just had to talk his way out of this somehow. “What do you think you’re—”

“Researcher Jin, isn’t it?” Eun-Ho asked coolly.

“Y-you know who I am?!”

“You’ve got an explosive-manufacturing skill,” Eun-Ho said flatly. “Did you use it to blow up this place too?”

The blade didn’t waver. Despite how steady Eun-Ho’s voice was, his presence pressed down like a storm.

“Destruction of government and classified property. Illegal use of explosives. Evidence tampering.” Eun-Ho paused. “You’re under arrest. And this report. Did you steal it? I’ll add theft to the list, then.”

“T-that’s!” Jin’s mind went blank, panic surging through his chest. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

He’s just a damn rookie!

Jin should have shouted, demanded an explanation, and turned the accusation around. However, he froze instead.

Eun-Ho hadn’t raised his voice, nor had he moved. It was those eyes: empty of emotion, yet filled with such weight that Jin’s throat closed up. The pressure was suffocating, invisible blades sinking deeper with every heartbeat.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

Jin fought to breathe, forcing the words out through a dry throat. “I-it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t you?” Eun-Ho asked quietly.

“Y-yeah! I don’t know anything about this!”

Just get out of this alive. I’ll kill him later, quietly and cleanly, before anyone could trace it back.

Thinking that way, Jin reached for the bomb he’d prepped in advance and was about to pull it from his inventory. “... Summon.”

In the next moment, Eun-Ho said, “I should also add obstruction of special-duty enforcement.”

Clink!

A blond man stepped out from behind Eun-Ho, clamping the cold steel of handcuffs around Jin’s wrist. The blond man seemed grim, his icy and unyielding eyes pinning Jin in place akin to walls of iron.

“You can explain the rest at the Audit Bureau,” said Eun-Ho.

Jin’s stomach lurched. “T-the Audit Bureau?”

No way. Eun-Ho is with the Audit Bureau?!

Jin shook all over. If they’d cuffed him under Audit Bureau authority, that meant the case was already airtight. They had enough evidence to bury him. Whatever the charge, they’d make it stick.

“N-no! If I get disciplined now, I’m finished!”

His performance score was already dangling by a thread. He knew a formal disciplinary mark would ruin him. His pay would be docked, and his career dead. Everything he’d built would vanish overnight.

“Please! Please, just give me one more chance! I-I wasn’t thinking straight! I swear it won’t happen again, okay?”

Eun-Ho slowly lowered his sword, saying quietly, “You should’ve thought of that before. Regret’s something you’re supposed to avoid creating.”

The final words landed harder than any blade.

“A pay cut won’t be the end of it,” the blond guy said.

Thud—!

The pale researcher’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, white as snow.

***

It was 5:00 PM, and the storm of the day was finally over. The moment the suspect was caught and cuffed, he’d started frothing at the mouth.

The mentor had handed him over. Backup arrived late but made up for it with their efficient work. Within minutes, the entire research wing was crawling with investigators.

“Haa... Now that I’m finally eating something, I can feel better,” said Eun-Ho.

The Swear-Master mumbled through a mouth full of food, “Shit, wasn’t this supposed to be training? What kind of OJT tries to kill you?”

“... Even in Russia, we don’t train like this.” Dmitri grumbled, nodding in agreement.

They could handle the cold, but not hunger. Their exhaustion made sense because they’d been running nonstop, skipping lunch and fighting for hours.

“But it’s still worth it though, right? We got a ton out of it. And we even got a free ride because of Hyung,” Ji-Woong said, grinning.

He was right. They’d earned plenty for their trouble.

[Monster Wave has been successfully repelled!]

[You have earned 3 Points and 3,000 Welfare Points.]

The trial rewards they shared as a team were already generous. Then there was the loot for Eun-Ho.

[Ice Golem Core]

- A core forged from mountain diamonds wrapped in eternal frost and bound by a blizzard’s sorrow.

- Grants permanent Heat Resistance(Lv. 99) when carried.

- Can be reprocessed into high-purity diamond clusters.

Just holding it was a reward in itself.

[Congratulations!]

[You have defeated a corrupt superior.]

[Resistance stat has been increased by twenty due to exclusive trait Rebel.] 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Eun-Ho had even gained a Resistance stat. Apparently, simply turning the guilty researcher over to the Audit Bureau was enough to count as defeating a corrupt superior.

So even proper disciplinary action counts toward my stats, he thought with satisfaction.

That was good news because if he filed reports exposing corrupt employees, the system itself would reward him for it.

Maybe I should check if there are any more rats to hand over.

Eun-Ho smirked slightly and flipped through the remaining loot. He’d taken two research reports from the arrested researcher.

A Study on Central Nervous System Changes in Subjects Administered Methylphenidate-Class Reagents.

Clinical Significance of Hemoglobinuria in Patients Administered Oral Split-Form Compounds.

He’d brought them along thinking they would be useful, but the dense scientific language was impossible to decipher.

Methyl... Phenidate? Hemoglobin... What?

The words almost seemed like they were written in code, so he stared blankly, feeling like an illiterate staring at a spellbook.

Ding!

[You have received an additional notice!]

[A hidden trial, Implementation of Sustainable Justice, has been activated.]

“Huh?”

[Please check your trial window!]

[Trial: Defeat the Corrupt Superiors]

[Progress: 3/10]

[Time Limit: 30 days]

Sustainable justice?

It probably meant he wasn’t supposed to stop at one or two cases, but to handle corruption consistently. The thirty-day timer made sense too.

[Reward: Upgrade to Goddess’ Scales]

[Failure Consequence: Decrease in Favorability with Nameless Goddess]

A nameless goddess?

This trial had a clear reward and a vague penalty. In other words, it was an easy choice for Eun-Ho.

[Would you like to accept the trial?]

He accepted without hesitation. “Yes.”

The goddess’s affection didn’t matter. The immediate gains did.

It looks like the first three already counted as progress. The real issue is finding the remaining seven...

While Eun-Ho studied the translucent trial screen only he could see, Dmitri suddenly asked, “Pharmaceutical major?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Eun-Ho asked.

Dmitri gestured at the report with his chin.

Wait. This guy... He studied pharmacology, didn’t he?

“Look! Do you think you can understand this?” Eun-Ho asked quickly.

“... I’d have to go through it,” Dmitri said, taking the papers.

“Wait, what’s in there?” Swear-Master asked.

“Do you mind if I look too, Hyung?” Ji-Woong added.

“Go ahead,” Eun-Ho said. “I’ve read it ten times and still don’t get a word.”

The three of them spread the reports open.

A moment later, Eun-Ho asked, watching Dmitri scratch his buzzed head, “So? What does it say?”

However, the one who answered wasn’t Dmitri but Ji-Woong, “This looks strange.”

“What does?”

He pointed at an appendix attached to the end of the document. “Here. The expense report for the experiment. The numbers don’t add up.”

Attachment 19. Expense Summary.

“This part’s basically cost accounting,” Ji-Woong explained. “The experiment used variable costing, purely based on materials and the number of trials. See here? It says they used 10 to 30 grams of this split compound per test.”

“And?” Eun-Ho asked.

“If you total it up, they only used about 500 grams. That’s way too little for the number of experiments they claimed to have run.”

“Does that mean they didn’t actually conduct that many trials?”

“Exactly. Or they falsified the usage amounts.”

Falsifying the base ingredient quantities would invalidate every result that followed. However, even he could tell this report concluded confidently as he read “Experiment had been successfully completed.”

“So it was fabricated?” Eun-Ho asked.

“Definitely,” Ji-Woong said, nodding firmly.

Hmm...

According to the mentor’s earlier report, the arrested researcher’s motive was simple. He’d panicked after his peers succeeded while he alone kept failing.

But if all of their data had been falsified from the start, then the entire thing was a sham.

Basically, Jin had destroyed the lab out of jealousy over fake results. Still, what mattered more now was the fact he discovered nine new targets.

“These names here,” Eun-Ho said, tapping the report. “These are the co-authors, right?”

“Yes. Nine of them in total,” Ji-Woong confirmed.

[Trial: Defeat the Corrupt Superiors]

[Progress: 3/10]

[Time Limit: 30 days]

A slow grin spread across Eun-Ho’s face before he could stop it. “Ji-Woong.”

“Yes, Hyung?”

“Mark every piece of evidence you just mentioned.”

Eun-Ho smiled faintly and said, “Let’s not drag this out.”