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Translator's note: "Where does this unprovoked desire to compete even come from?" — This quote is from Zhongli, Genshin Impact. But I couldn't find the English version of it. This is just my translation. Anyone who finds it can tell me on Discord.
As it turned out, my plans for a quiet afternoon of academic enlightenment were a bit optimistic.
Later that day, during a rare lull in the recruitment chaos, I grabbed a quick bite and swung by the library to pick up some light reading to kill time. I settled on a book titled Structural Analysis of the Spell Book.
Now, the title sounds like a PhD thesis, but it’s actually more of a "Magic for Dummies" type of deal—a popular science read that covers the basics with just enough professional jargon to make me feel smart.
Whether I’d actually understand the technical diagrams... well, that was a problem for future me.
But right now, I was being forced to witness a different kind of "education."
This plaza served as the unofficial hub for club recruitment, making it the primary battleground for rival clubs competing for the same freshmen. And when I say "fighting," I don't mean a heated debate.
A full-blown magical brawl broke out right in front of me, giving the wide-eyed freshmen a front-row seat to the local "customs" of the School of Transcendence.
It was a wake-up call for me, too.I’d spent so much time in the relatively peaceful corners of the academy that I’d almost forgotten this wasn't a normal college.
Of course, I should have remembered the time the Dome literally shattered during a faculty clash, but somehow, seeing students hurl spells at each other over a sign-up sheet felt more personal.
The farce only ended when a squad of seniors in sharp uniforms arrived and "violently persuaded" everyone to settle down.
I asked a nearby senior about them and learned they belonged to the Witch School Disciplinary Unit.
These girls were responsible for handling major rule violations, brawls, and unsanctioned magical duels.
They spent their days patrolling the skies, ready to drop in the second someone stepped out of line.
The barrier to entry was insane; you had to be a near-graduate even to apply. After all, if you’re going to maintain "campus harmony," you need enough firepower to back it up.
Watching their ruthless, lightning-fast efficiency, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Their raw, overwhelming power was intoxicating to watch.
If I had that kind of power... then I...
My train of thought stalled. For a split second, a thousand possibilities flashed through my mind, but none of them felt quite right.
If I became that strong, what would it actually change? The flattery of strangers? The envy of peers? The fear of enemies? The fawning of fake friends?
None of that sounded like something I actually wanted.
A sudden commotion nearby snapped me out of my daydream. I scolded myself for getting ahead of my skis—I’m just a freshman. Why was I spiraling into these delusions of grandeur?
I turned toward the source of the noise. A crowd had gathered, and as I adjusted my focus, a familiar figure came into view.
Tan Han.
“Well... well...” I clicked my tongue instinctively. Of all the people to run into, it had to be her.
What was she doing here? Then I saw the Manager walking beside her, and the pieces clicked into place.
Tan Han was a local celebrity. Even a shut-in like me had heard the rumors about her "perfect" potential. If the Manager paraded her around the recruitment booths, people would flock to the Bakery Club just to be in her orbit.
The Manager had been desperate for new blood, and she’d clearly brought out the big guns.
The plan worked. The second people recognized her, the atmosphere shifted. I caught snippets of hushed whispers as students pointed her out.
On a whim, I flicked on my Psi-vision to take a look at her.
I nearly choked.
The sheer number of Mana Cores swirling inside her was staggering. It had to be in the triple digits.
Most of the seniors I’d met barely hit that mark after years of training, and yet here was Tan Han, a day-one freshman, already sitting on a level of power that took others a lifetime to achieve.Was this the gap between a genius and a regular person? No, this was a goddamn canyon.
Maybe my gaze was too intense. Even while navigating a sea of fawning seniors, Tan Han managed to pick me out of the crowd. She offered me a natural, effortless smile. I, on the other hand, couldn't even look her in the eye. I had promised Bai Yu that I’d cut ties with her—a one-sided ghosting, basically.
If anyone asked me now if I regretted that promise, I’d say no. A promise to Bai Yu was sacred to me.
Even with her nowhere in sight, I wasn't about to break my word.
I was already mentally rehearsing how to reject any attempt she might make to talk to me. It felt cold—heartless, even—but an apology was all I could offer her in my head.
Of course, I might have been overestimating my own importance. Tan Han didn’t come over to chat. She was just playing her role as the Manager’s "Golden Billboard," using her celebrity status to lure in unsuspecting freshmen.
I stood up, ready to make a break for it.
I tucked my book away—no need to give Tan Han another chance to call my reading material "pop-science trash."
I’d already put in a full morning with Ying Shiqian; leaving now felt justified.
Besides, with the Manager and Tan Han there, the booth didn't need me. I was even willing to forfeit the "half-bonus" Ying Shiqian had promised.
I’ll just shoot her a quick text, I thought.
Behind me, the Manager, Xia Li, was already riding the wave of hype Tan Han had generated.
Other clubs watched with pure envy. Who could blame them? Lucking into a recruit like Tan Han was like winning the lottery.
For freshmen, she was an idol. If the top student of the year joined the Bakery Club, it must have some hidden prestige, right?
At the very least, it was a chance to rub shoulders with greatness.
“Hey, Ying Shiqian,” Xia Li said, stepping over to the booth after her grand speech. “I thought you said Yuehan was here. Where’d she go?”
“Huh? I don’t know,” Ying Shiqian said, blinking as she handed out another cookie. “She was literally just here.”
“Whatever. Just get the registration forms ready. Let’s see how many of these kids actually stick around once the novelty wears off.”
“Oh, wait... Yuehan just texted. She said she has something urgent to take care of.”
“Fine, let her handle her business. We’ve got our hands full anyway.”
I was already long gone, missing the conversation entirely. I just wanted to get away, though I had no idea where I was going.
I wasn't sure what I was running from. Was it my promise to Bai Yu? Or was it the crushing sense of inferiority that hit me when I looked at Tan Han?
Earlier, Ying Shiqian asked if I felt the pressure of having a "Prodigy" in my year. I’d said no.
Now? The pressure was suffocating.
It wasn't just the hundred-plus Mana Cores. It was the spells. Inside Tan Han, I could see complex structures—miniature Spell Books—interwoven with her mana, glowing in perfect harmony. I didn't know what those spells were, but the sheer quantity and sophistication were terrifying.
Was this the gap?
If I had that kind of power... what would I do?
My first instinct was to compare myself to her. To prove I wasn't inferior. Every thought, every internal struggle I’d had today revolved around that singular, desperate need for validation.
But the moment I realized that, I felt pathetic.
Since when did power become a tool for petty comparison? There’s a famous quote that fits this perfectly: "Where does this unprovoked desire to compete even come from?"
Exactly. Where did it come from?
I stopped in my tracks and looked back. I had walked a long way.
Had I really wandered this far just because of a ridiculous, wounded ego? I looked up and saw a cafe on the corner. It felt like a poetic finish line—the place where I finally woke up and acknowledged my own shortcomings.
I should probably go in and reset. Clear my head.
And no, it was definitely not because this place happened to be a Maid Cafe.