Chapter 26

“No,” she answered with a heavy sigh. “The skill I cast—〈Diagnosis〉—identifies illnesses, physical trauma, status debuffs, and abnormal biological effects. It doesn’t invade the mind or probe psychological states, so it never trips mental barriers.”

“Then why…?”

“It means you either outrank me in authority, just like Seo Hae-gun does, or whatever is locked inside you is simply that dangerous.”

The explanation stunned Eui-rim for a completely different reason. Both Hae-gun and Woo-joo were S-ranks, so what hierarchy could possibly exist between them?

Reading his confusion, Woo-joo curled her lips into an enigmatic smile. “For the record, under normal circumstances, not even S-ranks can completely obscure their status from my eyes.”

“Did your eyes bleed back then as well?” Eui-rim asked.

“Yes. But nowhere near this much. Just a drop or two.”

Swallowing a quiet sigh, Eui-rim rubbed his temples. Since restorative skills failed to affect his body, he had hoped to at least receive an accurate clinical assessment. If even that was impossible, he had no idea how he was supposed to manage.

As expected, dungeon raids are out of the question. With a body that rejects healing, avoiding high-risk environments is the only sensible choice.

“Will potions work?” Eui-rim asked aloud.

Hae-gun, who had been lost in thought, looked up. “Potions?”

“If skills don’t take, we should test every available alternative,” Eui-rim said.

“Ah, fair point. Give me a second.” Woo-joo stood up and headed toward the kitchen pantry. The walk-in pantry was more spacious than most dressing rooms, stocked with high-grade supplies that would impress any awakened specialist. “Hunter Kang Eui-rim, would you like to try this?” she asked, returning with a glass ampoule roughly the size of her pinky finger.

How much does an ampoule like that even cost? Staring at the rich, blood-red liquid inside, Eui-rim waved his hands in apprehension. “I’m fine. I don’t have any serious injuries.”

“You still have bruises, don’t you?” Woo-joo asked.

“I do, but…”

It’s far too precious to waste on simple bruising. A potion of that grade easily starts at two million won a vial. Was it really acceptable to consume something that valuable so casually?

“It’s fine. We have plenty,” Hae-gun interjected.

Completely indifferent to his ordinary citizen frugality, both S-ranks were unyielding. If he refused any further, they looked ready to pry his jaw open and pour it down his throat themselves.

Suppressing his reluctance, Eui-rim accepted the glass vial Woo-joo offered.

Right. What say does a D-rank have? If they tell me to drink, I drink.

The potion tasted surprisingly pleasant. Thick and sweet like pediatric syrup, it slipped down his throat without any medicinal bitterness.

“How is it? Any reaction?” Woo-joo asked, leaning forward eagerly.

He felt both of their intense stares boring straight into his chest.

It hasn’t even been thirty seconds since I swallowed it, yet they’re already expecting miracles. No matter how concentrated a potion is, it’s still medicine; how could it work instantly?

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

Without warning, the hem of his shirt was yanked upward. Frantically batting the hands away and scrambling backward against the sofa cushions, Eui-rim found Seo Hae-gun staring down at his own empty palm with a mild scowl.

“I’m checking if the medicine is working,” Hae-gun said plainly.

“Did you really need to strip my clothes off for that?!” Eui-rim sputtered, clutching his hem protectively.

“I have to see it to know. If I press around blindly with my fingers, what if I just leave more bruises?”

Absurd as the logic was, it wasn’t entirely wrong. With Hae-gun’s monstrous physical strength, even a casual probe could leave fresh marks across Eui-rim’s ribs.

Still… does the Cheongho Guild Master really need to inspect my stomach in person?

“I’ll check it myself,” Eui-rim declared before anyone could argue.

Hurriedly ducking behind the back of the sofa, simply escaping their piercing gazes allowed him to breathe again. His nape was cold with sweat from the sudden fright. Drawing a steadying breath, he lifted the hem of his shirt to inspect his solar plexus.

“Huh…?”

“What is it?” Woo-joo called out.

“The… the bruise is gone.”

Even as he answered, Eui-rim stared at his pale skin in utter disbelief.

It took effect this fast? On a body that completely rejected S-rank healing skills? What on earth is happening to me?

When absurdity reached its peak, only a hollow laugh remained. Pressing a hand against his throbbing forehead, Eui-rim swallowed a groan.

How could I ever afford this? There’s no way in hell I can sustain this habit.

High-grade restorative potions were items even veteran raid leaders hesitated to purchase. There was a well-known industry adage that hiring a dedicated support healer for a month was cheaper than buying a single crate of emergency potions. Outside of life-or-death crises, almost no hunter carried them on routine raids.

And yet my body can only be healed by potions? Could my circumstances get any more ridiculous?

At this rate, two dungeon runs would obliterate his life savings. No matter how generous Cheongho Guild’s compensation was, financial ruin seemed inevitable.

“Looks like we’ll need to make extensive preparations,” Hae-gun noted quietly.

“I’ll leave the logistics in your hands,” Woo-joo replied.

While Eui-rim stood brooding over his vanished bruise, the two S-ranks exchanged quiet words behind him.

Wondering what they were arranging on his behalf, Eui-rim peered back around the sofa. Meeting his gaze, Hae-gun offered a relaxed smile and waved his hand, looking thoroughly relieved, as though a heavy weight had finally lifted from his shoulders.

By the time they stepped out of Shim Woo-joo’s residence, a light drizzle was falling. The sky had been overcast all morning, and the gray clouds had finally broken.

“Things took much longer than expected,” Eui-rim murmured, watching the rain bead along the awning.

Navigating smoothly through the quiet residential streets, the sedan came to a halt near an intersection. Hae-gun furrowed his brow, glancing at the dashboard clock before muttering, “This wasn’t how I planned the afternoon.”

“Did you have another appointment?” Eui-rim asked.

“Not an appointment. I just intended to get a quick diagnosis and take you out for lunch.”

Only then did Eui-rim realize they had visited Woo-joo having skipped lunch entirely. No wonder his stomach felt so hollow.

“I was also planning to go over your contract while we ate,” Hae-gun added.

“Are we signing a guild contract in a restaurant?”

“Hm? No, just discussing terms today. Seonha mentioned you didn’t have any particular demands, so I wanted to see what you actually wanted.”

“The signing bonus you offered was already more than generous,” Eui-rim said.

Frankly, when Eui-rim first reviewed the draft contract via email, he had assumed Lee Seonha had added an extra zero by mistake. Not only was the signing bonus an astronomical figure unlike anything he had ever seen, but the equipment and consumable budget had no upper cap, meaning any item he requested could be expensed directly to Cheongho.

“Still, try to squeeze something out of us,” Hae-gun said with a faint grin. “The guild kids keep whining that they’re anxious. They swear I must have swindled an innocent kid into signing.”

Just how little filter do his subordinates have that they say things like that straight to his face? Contrary to his fearsome public image, was he perhaps far less intimidating to his inner circle than everyone assumed?

“I’ll… think about it for now,” Eui-rim said cautiously.

“Sure. Take your time. Is there anything specific you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll follow the Guild Master’s decision,” Eui-rim answered automatically.

At those words, the car, which had just begun to roll forward, came to an abrupt halt. Wondering what was wrong, Eui-rim turned toward the driver’s seat to find Hae-gun scowling deeply, as though he had just heard an offensive curse.

“…What’s wrong?”

“The title.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to use the proper title.”

Blinking in flustered surprise at the rebuke, Eui-rim watched as Hae-gun tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his lips curving into a sly smirk. “We agreed on my name, didn’t we?”

…Ah. That’s right. In the rush of the afternoon, he had completely forgotten.

“I apologize. I’m not used to it yet…”

“Say it right now.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. You have to practice it for it to stick.”

Can’t he just let it slide? He is tenaciously stubborn about the most bizarre things.

Having been backed into a corner, Eui-rim parted his lips, but uttering the man’s name proved harder than anticipated. In his previous life, Seo Hae-gun had been an untouchable figure among the clouds, and even now, the weight of that name felt immense.

Right. I can’t keep acting this timid forever. As Hae-gun had pointed out, closing the distance was the only way to establish mutual trust. His original purpose in approaching Hae-gun was to secure countermeasures against the coming apocalypse, not to stay perpetually on guard.

Drawing a deep breath, Eui-rim steeled himself and spoke the name aloud.

“…Seo Hae-gun-ssi.”

“You’re more decisive than I expected,” Hae-gun noted.

A flicker of mild disappointment crossed Hae-gun’s eyes even as his brow rose in apparent surprise.

What is with him? Was he genuinely hoping to tease me further?

“It was just a matter of enduring a brief moment of embarrassment,” Eui-rim replied, looking away.

“Embarrassed? Saying my name?”

At Hae-gun’s teasing retort, the corner of Eui-rim’s mouth twitched. Seeing that Hae-gun had abandoned all pretense of seriousness, the amusement on his face was unmistakable.

Glaring at him from the corner of his eye, Eui-rim countered, “Rather than embarrassed… it’s just awkward. Even Vice Guild Master Lee calls you Guild Master, Seo Hae-gun-ssi. It feels strange being the only person addressing you like this.”