Monday came with a vengeance. After a week of missing classes, Suho felt like he was getting hit by a truck of make-up assignments and lectures. And once classes were over, it was time to report for duty at the magic department.

Kitae had given him the rundown on the basics of magic, and the kind of things the magic department handled. Since National also had a university section, many of the magic department faculty were actually more linked to that than to the high schoolers. Professor Hwan was one of those people. He’d normally have an undergrad assistant doing the work for him, but…

Lucian had made it abundantly clear yesterday why he lacked one. Even for a magic researcher, he was temperamental and prickly. He was also unawakened, so there was no halo of power to outshine and override his social deficiencies. When undergrads applied to be assistants, they requested certain professors or classes to work on. Never him.

Suho arrived late. Instead of being at his office, Professor Hwan as at the laboratory he was using on the third floor. He hadn't communicated anything, so Suho had had to look for him on his own.

“You're late,” he said, fully knowing already why.

He knew it was petty for an adult to be dealing with a high schooler like this. But the tangled knot in his mood was not going to be undone anytime soon.

“I’m sorry.” Suho bowed deeply. “Are you going to be here every day?”

“It’ll depend on what needs to be done.”

“Ah, yes.”

He had no choice but to accept it.

“I got started without you.”

Set into the walls were small glass tanks. The ones on the top half each housed a family of mice—a mother and its fresh pink children—while the ones on the bottom only had a single seedling set inside. Suho didn't know what to make of it, and that was obvious to Hwan. He scoffed at the confused expression he had.

“I’m testing the effects of magic power exposure on growth,” he explained.

The plants and mice would help represent two very different kinds of organisms. In truth, this was a preliminary test to see if a full experiment, which required a real research team, would be worth it. But if he didn't do this, he could never move forward with his work.

“How long will it take the mice to grow?” Suho asked.

“About a month,” he replied. “There are extra tests to run even after they become adults, so don't think you’ll be free by then.”

“Okay.”

Hwan headed to the computer where the data would be collected. He pulled up the plan for the tanks and sent it to Suho’s watch. The notification popped up instantly.

“Follow that,” he said. “The magic power devices still need to be added. They're in the box over there.”

He nodded to a cardboard box on the floor. It was already open, but the individual devices inside weren't.

“Understood,” Suho answered.

He checked the plan he’d received. It was fairly simple—each tank needed to have 1 device. The devices needed to be calibrated to a certain level of magic power that it would emit. Then Professor Hwan would collect the growth data over time. The problem was that Suho had no idea how to operate these.

He opened one and took it out of its casing. It was only the size of a cookie and about as thick—a puck of metal that had complex circuits and a small fan in the center. He opened the instruction manual and carefully read it over—too slow for Hwan’s tastes, apparently.

“Just go to the tank and put it on,” he said, finally running out of patience.

“Where?”

“Right there.”

He pointed. In the front of each tank was a circular plug the same size as the devices. Suho moved over to the closest one—

“No, don't start there. Start where the plan told you to start.”

He froze, then reached for the tank in the bottom left corner instead. It contained a seedling in a pot. Suho removed the plug and started to screw the device in its place.

“No, you have to calibrate it first! And set it to the right power setting. You—”

Hwan let out an exasperated sigh. These things seemed like a given to him, but Suho didn't understand it at all. Or rather, he hadn't had time to think about it while being ordered around.

“Just do what I sent you, okay?” he said. “It’s not hard.”

“…Okay.”

Suho hadn’t felt clueless like this in a long time. He put the plug back in and went to the instruction manual. Calibration… he turned the device on and hit the button for it. According to the page, it would set the device’s “standard” reading to the level of magic power that was naturally in the air. The tiny screen on the side of it buffered for a second, and then beeped. Complete.

He flipped to the page for adjusting power settings. The puck was so small that there were only a couple buttons. He needed to operate them in the right order. Suho toggled them to change the level of magic power it would emit based on the file Hwan had sent him.

Beep. The magic power output level was set.

He finally returned to the bottom left tank. Professor Hwan was pretending to work on something at his computer, but Suho could feel his eyes on him. He nervously took the plug out again and screwed the device in.

“Tighten it all the way down,” Hwan commanded.

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“It’s all the way in,” Suho replied, twisting it a little more just to show him.

“What’s the output level?”

“Zero.”

Hwan didn't want to admit that he’d done it right this time, but as data started flowing into his charts, it certainly had been calibrated correctly.

“Okay, now do the rest.”

He decided to drop the strictness, at least for a second. As much as he was in a shitty mood, it was better to have an assistant that was actually doing things right than to have one he needed to complain about. There were at least thirty tanks left to deal with. Suho went back to the box of devices and fetched the next one. He got better at it as he worked, since it was the same process over and over again. But as he moved onto the next column of tanks…

Hwan watched him carefully. These ones were no longer going to be set to power level zero.

Suho calibrated the device in his hands. And then he toggled the buttons to set the power level to one. Unlike the ones before, that would be used as control experiments with no magic power to influence their growth, these would actually emit some.

Beep. It was set to power level one. Suho didn't feel any difference. He screwed it onto the tank as usual and moved onto the next one.

Behind his back, Professor Hwan scowled. Suho’s lack of a reaction sank his already poor mood. The magic power-emitting devices could be tricky for an unawakened person to handle. Magic power was a fairly new substance to Earth, after all. It was like being allergic to something you’ve never touched or breathed before. For some, it was no big deal. For some, it could be really bad.

Professor Hwan’s “allergies” were on the slightly more severe side. Even just a moderate amount, and he’d be red-faced and covered in hives. Too much, and it’d be hard to see and breathe because the swelling would be so bad. This was the reason he’d needed an assistant for this project. He wasn't exposing the experimental subjects to massive amounts of magic power, but he’d be around them all the time. And handling the devices by hand would take all day if he tried it alone.

Although he'd always known he’d need help, it didn't make him feel particularly good seeing Suho handle the active magic devices like they were nothing. He probably wasn't even feeling them turn on. Meanwhile, he was sitting on the far side of the room, hiding behind his computer, and he was already feeling his eyes start to water.

“Hurry up!” he said. “Don't let those run out in the open. Screw them on immediately.”

Suho sped up and tried. But he could only go so fast. As he reached the final column of cages, which would be on the highest magic power setting, he moved too suddenly and dropped one.

“Hey! Either turn that off or get it in already.”

Hwan’s eyes went from watering to stinging. He already had the lab’s ventilation on maximum, but it was still reaching him.

Suho screwed it in and moved onto the next one. He could see Hwan’s discomfort rising and tried to get everything finished as fast as possible, but his hands were starting to betray him. The final tank was the one on the top right of the grid. As he reached up to put the device into its slot—

Something stung on his arm, likely one of the wounds from the salamanders that was still healing. He flinched and dropped it. From that height, it hit the floor and cracked.

“Replace it with a new one!” Hwan ordered. He had already put a surgical mask over his nose and mouth and lab goggles over his eyes, though his face was still turning red. “We can't use a device with a bad seal. Now!”

“Yes, sir!”

Suho picked it up. The device was still running. He clicked the off switch.

Vrrr.

It didn't stop. It continued pumping magic power out on the highest setting. He tried hitting the button again, to no avail.

“Hey, turn that off! It’s getting everywhere!”

Hwan squeezed his eyes and fanned his face, trying to lessen the irritation it was causing. It was getting hard to see through the tears that were welling up in his eyes. The way his nose was running wasn't helping either.

“It won't turn off,” Suho replied. “I think it’s broken.”

“There should be a reset button somewhere.”

Suho inspected it. There was one, but it was set deep into the interface. He’d need something sharp to click it.

“Do you have a needle? Or a pin?” he asked.

He took a step closer, only to be met with fierce resistance.

“Don't come over here!”

Hwan searched his desk through his blurry vision. He found a pushpin among his office supplies and grabbed it. He was so hasty that it pricked him in the finger.

“Fuck—here.”

He threw it at Suho, who deftly caught it. He pressed it into the reset switch and waited.

Nothing. It looked like the device was broken for good.

“The reset isn't working.”

“Well disable it somehow! Don’t just let it run.”

It would take way too much time to wait for it to run out of juice on its own. Suho looked down at it and decided to just do the most drastic thing.

He crushed it in his hand. Even if it wasn't already coming apart, it wouldn't have stood a chance. He was left with a palm full of broken plastic, electrical boards, and wiring, but it finally turned off.

“Ah, fuck.”

Hwan coughed and left his desk, no longer able to stand it.

“Finish installing the last one and clean up.”

He left the lab entirely, seeking shelter in the hallway. Suho slid the pieces of the device he was holding into the garbage can and opened a new one. It was easier to install without the need to rush it anymore. A few bits of the previous one that had fallen onto the floor, so he swept them up with his hands and threw them away too.

He winced as one of the wounds on his arm shifted again. They were healing well, but they were still definitely around. He rolled up his sleeve to check. The bandages were gone, replaced by huge scabs now. One had torn a bit on the edge from moving around so much—exactly where the pain had been coming from.

“Are you done?” Hwan called from the other side of the door.

“Yes,” Suho answered.

The professor came in. He was shaking his hand, a drop of blood smeared across his fingertip where he’d poked it with the pushpin. It stung like a paper cut—persistent and annoying. But then he looked up and saw Suho’s arms.

Long scratches had been traced down them from where the salamander had bitten him and shook. He rolled down his sleeve, but not quickly enough. Hwan was taken aback by the wounds. He had seen Suho with bandages on his hands when they'd first met, but he’d assumed it had been just minor scrapes or blisters from the midterm exam. Where on Earth could a student get hurt that badly?

The administration had managed to keep the appearance of the frog monster under wraps. Especially for a professor like Hwan, who didn't socialize much with the other faculty members, he had no clue what had gone on and couldn't imagine it either. Is that just what happened in the hunter department classes? Suho certainly didn't seem all that bothered.

He cursed inwardly. So that must've been why he had been dropping things. Hwan was angry at himself for not noticing. Of all people, he had to be the one who knew what was going on at all times.

“What should I do next?” Suho asked, oblivious to what he was thinking.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them. And then Hwan pushed the door open.

“Prop this open and let the air out,” he said. “I’m going back to my office. You stay here and make sure the devices are running.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to go, then hesitated. Suho kept an eye on him, nervous that he’d request more. Hwan looked back over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow, meet me here.”

“Yes—”

He left before Suho could finish his sentence.

“…Sir.”

Suho stared at the empty doorway for a moment as the installed devices whirred in the backdrop. He sighed and stuffed a wedge under the door to keep it open. He wasn't all the way out of the woods yet, but he could pretty firmly conclude what he felt.

First official day on the job:

Disaster.