I Became a Genius Swordsman in the Pretty Girl Game

The next day.

Shin Se-hee came to me with a determined expression.

“Jin Yuha, I want to try commanding in real combat.”

“Huh? Real combat? All of a sudden?”

“Yes, you said I would be in charge of commanding at the next Demon Realm Gate.”

“That’s right.”

I nodded.

This time, I asked Lina to add a voice transmission function to the Gate-exclusive camera. Starting from the next Demon Realm Gate, Shin Se-hee would take on the role of commander for our party.

‘Hmm, but does she even need practice for that? Especially since it’s Shin Se-hee?’

Before even entering the academy, she had experience commanding a unit from the Shin family. Even now, she manages the Shin family’s Royal guard as if they were extensions of herself. Sometimes, when the party members want a sparring partner but no one is available, Shin Se-hee steps in. At those times, the Shin family’s personal guard moves as a perfectly synchronized unit.

It’s no wonder Kang Do-hee once praised her, saying, “She fights so viciously.”

‘That just shows how well she understands our party members.’

Knowing her personality, she’s probably already memorized even the subconscious habits I have. It’s precisely because she knows the party members so intimately that I entrusted her with commanding.

“Jumping straight into commanding at the next Demon Realm Gate is too much for me. I… I’m not a genius like you, Jin Yuha.”

I tilted my head, not understanding Shin Se-hee’s words.

What? Not a genius? Who? You, Shin Se-hee? Compared to me, a genius?

I couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. How many question marks could fit into one sentence? What kind of image does she even have of me in her mind?

If I had to name the party member who has most amazed and impressed me during my time with the Utopia party, it would undoubtedly be Shin Se-hee.

Of course, I’ve been impressed by the growth of the other party members too. For instance, Kang Puppy’s “Avatar of Fire” or Soup’s “Shield of Conviction.”

But since I had already seen their peak abilities through the Velvets game and had either directly or indirectly experienced their special skills, my amazement was more like, “Wow! They’ve grown this much in a world without gacha pulls!”

‘But Shin Se-hee was different.’

In the game, Shin Se-hee was a combatant with low potential. Unless it was a special situation like clearing a “mob wave” or exploiting a “fire attribute weakness,” she wasn’t particularly welcomed. Even so, she had enough charm as a character to be one of the more popular ones, despite her distinct weaknesses.

‘But now that the game has turned into reality, where retries are impossible, performance naturally becomes a priority.’

When I first formed the party, I hesitated to include Shin Se-hee, partly because of this.

That’s why I created a role for her that didn’t exist in the game: “Operator,” to handle the game’s interface and management systems on behalf of the party.

And the results were astonishing.

Even just listing her current responsibilities is overwhelming:

‘Managing party assets, scheduling and checking members’ conditions, monitoring growth progress and development, overseeing operations, negotiating externally for Utopia, handling media and public opinion, and even image-making.’

If Shin Se-hee were to collapse from overwork, there’d be more than a few cracks in the system. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if all of Utopia came to a grinding halt, like a citywide blackout.

Utopia’s rapid growth over the past year was, of course, thanks to the remarkable efforts of the combatants. But it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that 80% of the credit belonged to Shin Se-hee.

‘What do you mean you’re not a genius? You’re practically transcending reality with just your brain.’

And yet, here was Shin Se-hee, claiming she wasn’t a genius.

‘…Between Shin Se-hee and my master, isn’t this deception going too far?’

Why are there so many people around me pretending to be ordinary?

With this kind of environment, how am I, Jin Yuha, who isn’t even remotely near “ordinary,” supposed to survive?

Big business deceivers will ruin small businesses at this rate. For real.

Jin Yuha, holding in thoughts like, “It’s all your fault!” managed not to voice such frustrations.

‘Things always get weird whenever I bring this up.’

Instead, I nodded.

“Well, sure. There’s no harm in preparing beforehand. Alright, I’ll gather everyone.”

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.

.

For the first time in a long while, we headed out to a regular Gate.

The Gate we were targeting this time was:

“The Cave of the Raging Howler.”

It’s actually quite popular among other hunters. It drops decent-grade mana stones and, if cleared carefully and safely, yields a nice supplementary income.

But once you venture deeper into the dungeon’s unknown territory, the story changes.

‘There’s no better place to assess a commander’s skills than the unknown territory of this Gate.’

Still, at our current level, this is a bit of an over-spec. If we’re not careful, we might accidentally clear the Gate entirely and ruin everything.

If we were to do that, the hunters who depend on this place for their livelihood would lose their jobs overnight.

So, we decided to set some restrictions. First, we all wore mana-limiting artifacts custom-modified by Lina.

“Lee Yoo-ri, you’re limited to three taunts. Kang Do-hee, no Avatar of Fire. Ichika, no Shadow copy. Sophia, focus only on healing and no attacks. Alice, no breakthroughs. Hmm… Senior Ga-eul, let’s keep it as is for you.”

“Junior! Why me?!”

“…Then how about banning acceleration?”

“Then I’ll only have slow-motion left!”

“Exactly.”

“…Fine. I’ll do both.”

Senior Ga-eul puffed out her cheeks and mumbled in a sulky voice. I chuckled and said:

“I’m kidding, Senior. Instead, let’s limit you to using just ten regular mana stones instead of white mana stones.”

“…Then I won’t be able to use many skills.”

“That’s because you’re the most overpowered one.”

“…Me? Overpowered?”

“Yes, your skills boost the attack and evasion of all party members. If you go all out, it’s game over.”

“Heh! So it’s because I’m awesome, right?!”

Senior Ga-eul soon seemed to cheer up, puffing up with pride and lifting her chin high. She was simple-minded enough to be amusing to tease.

I turned my head toward Shin Se-hee.

“Shin Se-hee. Have you checked all the changes?”

“Yes, I’ve confirmed everything.”

Shin Se-hee nodded slightly, looking a bit tense.

“Alright. Then let’s go.”

With that, we entered the teleportation device.

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.

.

“Ladies, take a lower-grade health potion before heading in!”

“Velvet Hunter Academy Class 14 graduate, melee damage dealer for hire!”

“Broken equipment repair services! I’ll get your gear shining! Payment accepted in mana stones!”

“A tank as dependable as bone broth! Joining parties now! As reliable as a 0.1 gopchang soup! Verified quality!”

The Gyeongju City’s Gate entrance, the staging area for the “Rage Howler’s Cave”, was bustling with hunters, blacksmiths, and merchants selling artifacts and convenience items.

And then, suddenly.

Step. Step. Step.

The noisy hubbub instantly fell silent.

“Wha… why did it go quiet all of a sudden? Looking for a party! 0— Eek?! U-U-U-UTOPIA!?”

Yes, it was exactly that.

Without any prior announcement, Utopia had appeared.

Even the soldiers guarding the dungeon’s entrance stiffened in place at the sight.

“U-Utopia—! S-Salute!”

The female soldiers at the gate snapped to attention. Shin Se-hee responded with a gentle smile.

“Oh, pardon us. We were wondering if it’s okay for us to take on this dungeon?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! Th-There’s no issue, but… uh, is there some sort of problem with the dungeon?”

“L-Lieutenant! Shouldn’t we immediately send a runner to recall the hunters inside? They need to evacuate—!”

Their reaction wasn’t unreasonable.

After all, what kind of party was Utopia?

The elite team that hunted demons threatening humanity.

Heroes among heroes, revered by all hunters.

If such a team suddenly announced their intention to raid a standard dungeon, it would naturally make people suspect something serious had happened.

“Oh, no need for that,” Shin Se-hee cut in, smiling softly.

“We’re just here for a bit of live training.”

“…Live training?”

“Yes.”

“Utopia?”

“Yes.”

“Here…?”

“Yes.”

“Why… uh!”

A soldier, repeatedly questioning with a dumbfounded expression, had their mouth abruptly covered by their superior.

“Permission to enter granted! How much time will you require?”

“Hmm, we estimate two days, but let’s allocate three just to be safe.”

“Understood! Wishing you a successful raid!”

The soldier saluted Shin Se-hee with fervor, but…

“Take care.”

“Alright, see you later.”

Shin Se-hee stayed behind.

Naturally, she was to remain outside to oversee and coordinate.

“Hmm, so if I use this like this…?”

Hunters around glanced warily at her. Shin Se-hee retrieved a small box from her spatial tattoo, pressing a button.

Clunk—clunk—clunk.

In an instant, the box expanded into a compact room.

Equipped with state-of-the-art devices and holographic screens, it was a portable command center designed solely for her.

Shin Se-hee looked around the interior with a slightly curious expression.

“Huh, President Lina even added voice-recording functions and gifted this… Dis something happened between her and Jin Yuha during that unofficial meeting that I’m not aware of?”

Well, she could figure that out later.

For now, there was something else to focus on.

As she imbued mana into the broadcasting device, a live feed from inside the dungeon appeared.

“Testing, can you hear me?”

-Yep, loud and clear.

Jin Yuha’s voice came through crisply.

Good. The voice transmission feature was functioning well.

Now all that was left was for her to perform her part.

Hoo…

Exhaling a deep breath, Shin Se-hee opened her crimson eyes.

Alright, then.

“First, let’s start by assessing the formation.”