* * *
“I will assess your close combat skills in tomorrow’s training.”
“Alright. Since I brought it up first, I should at least show you something….”
Seohwa curled up against the corner of the wall.
He was exhausted.
His stamina was already lacking, and he had lost too much blood.
He wanted to lie down, but doing so would make him look too defenseless.
It would be like saying, ‘I’m completely vulnerable right now. You could kill me without any trouble.’
And the last thing he wanted was to tempt a man who already wanted him dead.
Determined not to appear too weak, Seohwa straightened his hunched body.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
“No way. I’m staying perfectly upright. I am not vulnerable. I am very… vigilantly safe….”
Seohwa lifted his head.
For a moment, he thought he heard someone chuckle.
But Kang Yigeon was simply staring at him with cold eyes, his expression as sharp as a predator assessing its prey.
Seohwa decided he must have been hallucinating from the pain.
“Hey, Kang Yigeon. Are you starving me so I’ll be easier to take down later?”
“I have never starved you.”
“Every time I go to the cafeteria, they tell me they’re out of ingredients and send me away.”
“Hunter Seohwa, people despise you. You should take care of your own meals.”
Kang Yigeon paused briefly before continuing.
“If anyone offers to cook for you, you should refuse. They might have poisoned it.”
“I know. I’ve had that experience a few times already in previous timelines. The people offering food are always the most dangerous ones….”
Seohwa struggled to keep his eyes open.
“I’ll stick to pre-packaged goods. Just bring me things with a long shelf life.”
“You have the ability to itemize objects. Use it. Food won’t spoil inside your inventory, making it the ideal place for storage.”
Even through his fatigue, Seohwa thought Kang Yigeon was oddly considerate.
Setting aside the cold eyes and sharp words, his advice was actually quite practical and thorough.
“By the way, in the previous timelines, did people always try to kill you? I thought the hatred was strongest in this one.”
“It wasn’t about the rejection of a timeline… Terrorist groups that wanted the world to be destroyed made relentless efforts to kill the only savior who knew the future. And even those who didn’t intend to kill me still found plenty of ways to make my life miserable. Good thing I’m S-rank. If I were A-rank, I’d have died multiple times by now. It’s seriously exhausting.”
“It’s exhausting for us, too.”
The deep-seated hatred in Kang Yigeon’s voice was unmistakable.
His violet eyes burned with black fire.
“Every time I see you, I have to suppress the rage boiling inside me. I want to burn you alive, and I hate myself for even thinking that. My mind tells me I should trust you, but my soul screams at me not to. Even now, I have to fight the urge to rip off your left arm and shove it down your throat. The struggle is mutual.”
Seohwa lowered his gaze, staring at the edge of the blanket draped over his shoulders.
The loose threads fluttered in the air.
He spoke quietly.
“…I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice….”
There was no response.
As the silence stretched on, Seohwa glanced at Kang Yigeon.
His arms were no longer crossed, and the veins on his hands were bulging.
Seohwa tensed.
He might attack at any moment.
“Well, if my left arm is off-limits, I’m open to having something else shoved in….”
Instead of taking him up on the offer, Kang Yigeon asked,
“Do you resent me for saying these things?”
“Why would I resent you?”
“Even if it’s just a skill backlash, you’re the one suffering the most.”
“That’s not true. Hatred itself is painful. We’re all victims here.”
“Do you regret it?”
“What?”
“Coming back to the past.”
Do I regret returning to the past?
Seohwa had asked himself that question countless times.
“It’s not regret, but… I do want to go back. To where my comrades are.”
“……”
“But the choice has already been made….”
A faint smile played on Seohwa’s lips, though his eyes remained dull.
His long eyelashes cast shadows over his pale face.
“I saw the world end.”
“……”
“Compared to that, being hated is a small price to pay.”
No matter how many times he asked himself, the answer was always the same.
Even though this fifth regression had landed him in a world filled with overwhelming hatred, it didn’t change anything.
If sacrificing himself meant saving the world, he would make the same choice over and over again.
Kang Yigeon’s expression was strangely blank.
For once, he seemed unable to compose himself, looking utterly lost.
For a fleeting moment, Seohwa considered poking him just to see how he’d react.
But in the end, he chose to stay quiet and let the moment pass.
The next morning, before sunrise, the healer arrived.
By then, Seohwa and Kang Yigeon were already awake, preparing for their first training session.
Sensing someone approaching the living room—an area no one dared to enter—they both turned toward the entrance at the same time.
“Vice Guild Master! I’m here!”
A boy in his mid-teens cheerfully greeted them as he stepped inside, only to freeze when he saw Seohwa.
This was the first time meeting Cho Wookwon in this timeline.
Since the boy had always been attached to him, Seohwa felt a surge of fondness.
But at the same time, memories of Wookwon’s deaths in the past five regressions came flooding back, making his chest ache.
Seohwa had always included Wookwon and Anis in his expedition team, and he planned to do so again this time.
He always felt guilty toward them.
Wookwon, however, looked at him as if he were some grotesque monster.
“So this is it. Damn… that’s creepy as hell.”
“Hunter Cho Wookwon, keep your distance. Get used to it first before approaching.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wookwon opened and closed the door repeatedly, fidgeting as he tried to acclimate to the sight of Seohwa.
Seohwa waited, both excited and anxious.
After a few deep breaths, Wookwon finally stepped forward.
“You got stabbed, right? Where?”
“My left side. Seohwa, take off your—”
Before Kang Yigeon could even finish his sentence, Seohwa had already stripped off his shirt.
His lean, well-toned body was exposed, devoid of any unnecessary fat.
The hastily bandaged wound on his left side was already seeping blood again.
Kang Yigeon strode forward and tossed Seohwa’s discarded shirt back at him.
“There’s no need to take it all off.”
“It’s more convenient this way.”
“Just expose the wound. Put it back on.”
Seohwa blinked but complied.
Come to think of it, bare skin might provoke aggression.
With his shirt back on, Seohwa lifted the left side to reveal his wound and began unwrapping the bandages.
Wookwon knelt beside him and activated his skill.
[Angel’s Eye]
Seohwa felt the skill scanning his entire body.
Unlike the soothing warmth he had felt countless times in the first timeline, this time, it felt like sharp needles pricking his skin.
After completing the diagnosis, Wookwon spoke.
“Damn, your body’s a wreck. You look like you could pass out any second. The stab wound is bad, but your left arm is even worse.”
“Do not heal the left arm.”
Seohwa’s jaw dropped at the firm command.
“You’re checking close combat today!”
“I know you’re right-handed.”
“I hold my sword with my left hand!”
At that moment, Kang Yigeon’s deep violet eyes gleamed sharply.
“That’s a lie.”
“You’re even using a skill—how unfair….”
Seohwa let out a sigh, gripping his top.
“Fine. Do whatever you want….”
He should have protested more, but he lacked the energy to resist.
Not that it would have made a difference anyway.
More than anything, he was unexpectedly hurt by it.
He really wouldn’t even heal his arm….
Pouting in frustration, Seohwa stuck out his lips.
But in truth, Kang Yigeon didn’t even need to say not to heal Seohwa’s left arm.
[ Veil of the Sky ]
A thin, sky-blue veil descended over Seohwa’s side.
“…Huh? Why isn’t it working?”
Normally, the sky-blue light would restore his wounds, but nothing happened.
The healing skill had failed.
“What the hell? What’s going on? This is ridiculous.”
Cho Wookwon, flustered, activated the skill multiple times.
But Seohwa’s wounds remained.
Kang Yigeon, lost in thought, made a small cut on his own hand.
Cho Wookwon’s sky-blue veil enveloped Kang Yigeon’s hand, and his skin regenerated flawlessly.
Kang Yigeon came to a conclusion.
“Healing skills don’t work on him.”
Seohwa felt uneasy. Even he hadn’t anticipated this.
‘I was stupid. I should have expected this.’
Skills depended on the user’s will.
No matter how much a healer rationalized that they must heal someone, if deep down they felt, ‘I don’t want to save this cursed being’, the healing skill would fail.
* * *
