Chapter 44

Eui-rim let out an undignified squawk and flailed his hands, but Hae-gun, still working the towel over his head, spoke in a stern tone.

“Stay still,” Hae-gun ordered mildly. “Water’s going to splash everywhere.”

“No, wait, I’ll do it myself,” Eui-rim protested, batting at his hands. “Give it here.”

“Forget it,” Hae-gun countered. “Looks like you couldn’t even dry it properly because it hurts.”

“Pardon?” Eui-rim asked, blinking.

The moment Eui-rim managed to seize Hae-gun’s forearms and yank the towel down, a stern face emerged through the gap. Hae-gun deliberately let the damp cloth drop to the floor and pointed at Eui-rim’s right arm.

“Your wrist,” Hae-gun said bluntly.

“…Ah,” Eui-rim breathed, freezing.

Damn. How did he know?

He had assumed Hae-gun wouldn’t notice beneath long sleeves. Evidently, he had underestimated an S-rank hunter’s keen perception.

Just as Eui-rim tried to step back with an awkward laugh, a firm hand caught his arm and pushed up the sleeve. Eui-rim clicked his tongue inwardly, glancing sideways at the bruise—so dark it looked almost black. Anyone seeing it would think he had skipped protective gear entirely and taken a beating with an iron club.

“It’s worse than when I caught sight of it earlier,” Hae-gun said, his brow furrowing.

Glaring at the dark bruise on Eui-rim’s wrist, Hae-gun spoke, his voice as rigid as his expression. “The potion I gave you yesterday—don’t tell me you didn’t drink it?”

Eui-rim had no excuse, not even if he had ten mouths. In truth, the potion Seo Hae-gun had pressed into his hand remained untouched inside his bag. He had skipped it to avoid potion overuse, but the bruise had darkened far worse than expected, putting him in an awkward spot.

Twisting his wrist slightly, Eui-rim felt Hae-gun’s fingers loosen. Lightly rotating his stinging wrist, Eui-rim guided the Guild Master toward the living room. Whether they talked or finished drying his hair, he wanted to move away from the entryway first.

Following without a word of complaint, Hae-gun sat on the sofa and gestured toward the opposite cushion. His demeanor was so natural that anyone watching would have assumed he owned the place.

Taking the offered seat, Eui-rim ran a hand through his hair. Hae-gun had toweled it off so vigorously that it was already dry enough to skip the hair dryer entirely.

“Well, thank you for drying it, but… if I may defend myself, it wasn’t that I neglected it,” Eui-rim said. “You simply arrived before I had the chance.”

“Then why didn’t you drink the potion?” Hae-gun asked.

“Because the bruise didn’t look severe yesterday,” Eui-rim replied. “And I was reluctant to waste it on something minor.”

“Reluctant?” Hae-gun repeated.

His tone sounded sullen, as if he couldn’t comprehend the reasoning. Did he feel his goodwill had been rejected? The furrow between his brows deepened.

Looking at him like this, he really does have a cold edge. I didn’t notice when he was smiling playfully, but his features are remarkably sharp.

Eui-rim took a moment to choose his words, aiming for a calm, coherent explanation. “Have you ever taken a potion for therapeutic recovery?”

“I have,” Hae-gun said.

“Even then, it was probably once or twice a year at most, wasn’t it?” Eui-rim asked. “The other guild members are likely the same.”

Hae-gun gave a quiet nod. As his sullen edge began to soften with curiosity, Eui-rim allowed a faint smile to touch his lips.

Cheongho Guild was renowned for hiring mid-rank or higher healers as freelance contractors rather than retaining exclusive staff. Their treatment of healers was widely considered the best in the world, earning them unwavering praise among support-type awakeners.

Although the strike team had relied strictly on potions and protective gear during the raid on the Tower of Time, that was solely because Hae-gun refused to let a healer accompany them—not because they couldn’t recruit one.

In any case, their potion consumption prior to the Tower of Time had been minimal. Above all, because the strike team was composed entirely of high-rank hunters, a few standard draughts would never trigger lingering toxicity.

Of course, disregarding the risks of potion overuse was a luxury few hunters enjoyed. High-grade healing potions were so exorbitant that alchemists could name their price. Most hunters either relied on public health healers or compromised by raiding lower-tier dungeons.

Yet not everyone acted with common sense. Once or twice a year, reckless fools inevitably emerged, challenging dungeons far beyond their rank without bringing a healer. Such people never stopped at a single mistake—they would squander their entire fortunes stockpiling potions, then march into gates alone or in tiny groups.

And those reckless ventures almost always met the same end: being carried out on stretchers by rescue teams, crippled by potion toxicity or acute systemic shock.

“So you didn’t take it because you were afraid of side effects?” Hae-gun tilted his head, having listened quietly to the explanation. Though he did not say it aloud, his expression plainly read: You were worried about something so trivial? He muttered with faint irritation, “No one ever told me anything like that.”

Even without asking, Eui-rim knew whom he meant: Shim Woo-joo, his potion provider. Choosing his words with polite care, Eui-rim spoke again.

“Healer Shim Woo-joo is an S-rank awakener whose clientele consists almost entirely of high-rank hunters, so she likely never had reason to consider it,” Eui-rim explained. “Toxicity usually occurs in hunters ranked C and below—like me. It develops even more readily in New Humanity who lack innate self-healing.”

Having to emphasize his own frailty as a D-rank hunter left a bitter taste on his tongue. Back during his civil service days at the clinic, he had never harbored grievances over his low rank. But now that he was an active field hunter, each passing day drove home just how fragile that standing truly was.

Hae-gun seemed to recall Eui-rim’s rank belatedly, letting out a quiet sigh. From the tight furrow between the Guild Master’s brows, Eui-rim could see he finally grasped the gravity of the issue.

“Besides, it hasn’t been long since I last drank a potion,” Eui-rim added. “With no telling what lies ahead, I didn’t want to waste it just to clear a bruise that will fade on its own.”

With the Scales tilted, even the future knowledge Eui-rim possessed was no longer guaranteed. Not only the Tower of Time, but every upcoming event could shift unpredictably, making it imperative to eliminate every unnecessary risk.

Hae-gun chewed his lower lip out of habit, then exhaled softly. “I understand. I didn’t think that far ahead. I’m sorry.”

“Not at all. Truthfully, it’s something A-ranks and above never need to consider,” Eui-rim said. “If anything, it was my fault for not mentioning it sooner.”

Who could have imagined a day would come when protective gear itself caused severe bruising? Even Chief Hong, who had sold the equipment, could hardly have anticipated such an outcome.

Still, solid health and resilience against minor ailments had always been his pride. Feeling reduced to an invalid overnight was far from pleasant. Wasn’t this exactly what it felt like—a crow-tit straining to match the stride of a stork until its legs tore apart? While the artifact had certainly shielded him from mortal injury, the resulting recoil left him distinctly uneasy.

“There’s no helping it, then,” Hae-gun decided. “In that case, we’ll start with physical conditioning before we enter the Tower of Time.”

“Pardon?” Eui-rim asked, blinking in surprise.

What on earth is he talking about now? Did I mishear him?

“Other attributes are dictated by innate awakening, but stamina and strength can be raised through effort,” Hae-gun said. “We should build them up as much as possible before we head in.”

Listening to him, Eui-rim stiffened, his expression going completely flat. Perhaps because of the sheer shock of the proposal, even his bruised wrist seemed to throb with a dull ache.

He curled his fingers into a fist to steady his reeling senses. Physical training, of all things.

Sure. Conditioning was fine and well, but…

“Didn’t you mention we would be running other dungeons to build skill proficiency?” Eui-rim countered. “I don’t believe we’ll have time to spare for physical regimens.”

“Because of the anomaly, our raid finished far ahead of schedule,” Hae-gun countered smoothly. “We have plenty of time on our hands.”

“Ah…” Eui-rim trailed off.

“Besides, we have to prepare for the possibility of another glitch occurring,” Hae-gun added. “I intend to operate with far more breathing room.”

Damn it. Not a single loophole.

Knowing firsthand the sheer agony required to raise physical attributes, Eui-rim let out a heavy sigh before he could check himself. In his previous life, it had taken months of desperately running from shadows just to nudge a single stat point upward. The thought of being forced through that hell again made his vision swim.

“Do you hate the idea that much?” Hae-gun asked.

Wearing a genuinely amused expression for the first time all day, his tone softened with quiet humor.

Eui-rim swallowed down his inward groans and replied evenly, “I understand that it’s necessary. It’s just that the prospect feels utterly daunting.”

“Don’t worry. I once managed to drag someone even frailer than you all the way to a six in stamina,” Hae-gun assured him.

Just hearing that breaks me out in a cold sweat. Someone even frailer than him meant a base stamina of two or three. Dragging someone like that up to a six—the sheer thought made his blood run cold.

“Well, we can pick this conversation back up once we return to the mainland,” Hae-gun concluded.

As Eui-rim sat frozen in speechless dread, Hae-gun wrapped up the exchange with a bright, refreshing smile. Having cleared the preamble, he seemed ready to turn to his true purpose.

“I’d like to continue the conversation we couldn’t finish yesterday,” Hae-gun said. “If that’s all right with you?”

I knew it.