episode_0003

3

Even in this so-called “New Era,” where Transcendents have begun appearing sporadically, their numbers remain drastically low compared to ordinary people.

According to statistics released by the government, the ratio was something like 1:10.

And even that figure is based on children around ten years old—the older the age group, the lower the proportion of Transcendents.

However.

No matter how rare they were, it was impossible for the remaining nine out of ten people to live the same lives as before.

…Well, there were still some who lived almost the same.

Take, for example, doctors who dedicated their youth entirely to medicine and earned their medical licenses.

Of course, their lives had become slightly unfair too.

Because no matter how different their “price” might be, there were now healing-type Transcendents who could mend wounds in an instant.

Fortunately, healing-type Transcendents were extremely rare, so most of them were busy making a living in places like private clinics, medical school professorships, or military hospitals—places where a Transcendent’s touch was still hard to come by, just like before.

Their salaries hadn’t changed much either.

The same went for cashiers at supermarkets. They lived the same lives as before.

The same for schoolteachers. They lived the same lives as before.

But here’s the thing.

What would happen to professions that could be completely overtaken by heroes, unlike doctors?

Professions where physical ability alone determined the cutoff line—what would become of them when heroes could effortlessly surpass the average human’s physical limits, wield all sorts of strange magic, and even inherit animal traits to fully “transcend” humanity?

One such profession that perfectly illustrated this was—

The police.

The police had been reduced to something even lower than a downgraded version of heroes, treated like glorified CCTV operators relying on pre-existing infrastructure.

All that remained were personnel for trivial tasks like patrols, interrogations, and handling civil complaints.

A pitiful reality.

Of course,

For present-day me, it was an incredibly fortunate turn of events.

“Haa….”

On the road, now a mess of rainwater and debris.

After prying open the car door to check on the dump truck driver trapped in the airbag, she let out a light, dry heave before sighing as she surveyed the paralyzed street.

One minute for the CCTV to relay the incident to citizens.

One more minute to contact the nearest available hero.

If the hero happened to be free, they’d arrive within three minutes.

And just like that, the situation would be resolved.

For a 20-year-old hero-in-training, that was all she could do.

Anything beyond that was the domain of real adults—not just grown-ups in body alone.

And.

About a minute had already passed.

“…….”

Would it be okay to talk to her?

Would I come off as suspicious?

If I missed this chance, would I ever get another one like it?

Come to think of it, when was the last time my face had any value in this era?

Before I could look like a complete lunatic, I quickly pulled out my phone and Googled “Seo Woo-jin” under my umbrella.

It had been about ten years since my last interview, I think.

Surprisingly, the most recent news was from a year ago.

Some outlet had dug up my student-era photo (probably stolen from somewhere) and plastered it all over, hyping me up as “Korea’s third healing-type Transcendent” with all sorts of exaggerated praise.

A year ago would’ve made me 19.

Back then, I was just sitting blankly in school, seriously pondering, “How can I take down a hero with my own power…?”

The rest of the news was from seven years ago, nine years ago, ten years ago.

Most of it clustered around when I was about ten.

In the meantime, another healing-type Transcendent had appeared, along with all sorts of other bizarre individuals, so my name had been buried under theirs.

I liked that.

Even if they didn’t recognize my face, the proof that “this is the kind of person I am” remained intact.

Turning off my phone screen, I cautiously approached the girl, who was trying to shield herself from the rain with her uniform.

My rain-soaked coat felt unnecessarily heavy.

“Um, thank you. For saving me.”

“Huh? Oh, no need for thanks. I was just doing it for Academy points.”

I had tried to ease her guard slowly, but her response was unexpectedly blunt.

Maybe she was embarrassed about receiving gratitude from a civilian.

Hard to tell for sure, but given how stiff her expression was, she didn’t seem like the type who liked strangers.

With this kind of reaction, she definitely wasn’t the type to wag her tail excitedly and follow me just because I offered her candy.

Hmm.

For a second, I thought she might be a wild girl because of the ear piercing.

But it seemed like it was just fashion after all.

I liked that.

Her value had just gone up.

“Actually, I think I heard you say your ankle hurts earlier.”

“…So?”

Her voice was sharp.

Probably annoyed that I’d overheard her muttering and approached her because of it.

Noted.

“Well, the thing is, I’m actually this kind of person.”

“……?”

It was obvious that saying “Seo Woo-jin” wouldn’t mean anything to her.

What I needed here was easy-to-digest visual proof.

Pulling up the year-old news article on my phone, I brushed aside my rain-drenched bangs (which were starting to sting my eyes) to show my face.

Since my school had strict hair regulations back then, the photo in the news showed me with much shorter hair than I had now, after growing it out post-graduation.

…Looking at it now, I think I looked better back then.

Maybe I should cut it short again.

“Seo Woo-jin. Healing-type Transcendent…”

“Yeah.”

Only then did her expression soften slightly.

She must’ve thought I was just some creep trying to strike up a conversation after being saved.

For someone so guarded, her emotions were way too easy to read.

“Um, but… uh…”

But strangely, the wariness that had just faded began creeping back onto her face.

…No, wait. Not wariness. Something else.

How should I describe it?

Eyes tinged with a deep emerald hue, lost in thought.

Lips fidgeting hesitantly.

Her right leg testing the ground lightly, as if gauging how much it hurt.

It was like invisible puppy ears had popped up on her head, then folded down dejectedly.

What the hell…?

“I, uh… don’t have any money…”

“…….”

Ah.

“I’m really grateful, but I’m still a student, so I don’t have anything to give you…”

Only then did a few of her earlier remarks come back to me.

Something about a weekend part-time job, right?

When I glanced down slightly, the mint-green T-shirt clinging to her rain-soaked body filled my vision again.

…Weird patterns, some nonsensical word printed huge across the chest.

A brand I’d never seen before.

Probably some cheap import.

The star-shaped ear piercing didn’t look expensive either…

I could roughly piece together her circumstances.

“I’m not expecting payment. How could I, after you just saved my life…?”

“Really? For free…?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“But I heard even the tiniest treatment from a healing-type costs, like, at least 5 million won…”

“If you keep this up, I’m leaving.”

“Ah, no! I’ll stop! I’ll be quiet!”

Feeling an inexplicable urge to tease her, I took slight control of the conversation, and she immediately clamped both hands over her mouth before cutely sticking out her rain-soaked right leg.

Complete with a weird “Hyoot!” sound effect.

Somehow, the mere offer of free treatment had made her warm up to me at lightning speed.

…No, wait. Given how stiff she was when I first spoke to her, it’s too early to let my guard down.

She probably just loosened up a bit because of the playful back-and-forth.

Ignoring the barrage of camera shutters behind me, I held out my umbrella.

“Could you hold this for me?”

“Sure!”

“And you don’t need to keep using formal speech with me. I’m 20.”

“Huh? Then I’m your noona, right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m your noona. By a year.”

Maybe it was because, up until about 30 minutes ago, I’d been 30.

Even though I’d told her not to bother with formalities, being called “noona” over a one-year age gap was a little irritating.

“Should I call you noona, then?”

“…Ah, no. You’re the one healing me, so oppa it is. Yeah.”

“I’ll kneel down, so you don’t need to stick your leg out like that. Noona.”

“Okaaay…”

…Whatever. It’s not like honorifics carry that much weight anyway.

“Thank goooodness… I was worried I’d have to shell out another 50,000 won at the hospital.”

“Only 50,000 won?”

She nodded vigorously, holding the large black umbrella and grinning like an idiot.

Never mind the fact that she looked like a country puppy happily munching on sweet potatoes.

I was starting to get it now.

That smile? Pure “I just saved money” energy.

“Guess you wouldn’t know since you’re a healing-type, but 50,000 won is a lot! You don’t go to the hospital much, do you?”

“Hmm.”

“Plus, I’d need a cast. Then I’d miss classes and club activities…”

There was always that type among evolution-type Transcendents.

The ones who were already strong but not fully matured—if they lost focus even slightly, they’d push past their limits and hurt themselves.

This girl was probably one of them.

“…Ah. Before we start.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll need to touch you. Is that okay?”

“It’s just my ankle, right? That’s what the news said.”

“Yeah. Just your ankle.”

“Then it’s fine. It’s not like you’re touching anywhere weird.”

“Then…”

“…Um, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“If I say the way you’re touching me feels pervy halfway through, you’ll just leave, right?”

“…?”

“…Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

Had she already decided we were close? Throwing around jokes I didn’t get.

Were her standards for friendship just that low?

Stranger → Best friends forever.

Just like that.

‘She hasn’t even told me her name yet…’

Given the lack of animal ears or tails, she was definitely an evolution-type Transcendent, but—

Why did every little thing about her behavior and thought process remind me of an overly friendly neighborhood mutt?

…Whatever. Headache.

With her permission secured, I knelt on one knee in front of her and gently began tracing her exposed ankle.

Now that I looked, she was wearing cheap flip-flops instead of sandals in this rain.

Not that it mattered.

What came next was the important part.

“This much is fine, right? Just placing my fingers here.”

“I-It was a joke! It doesn’t feel weird at all!”

“Then we’re good.”

Healing-type Transcendents.

In my case, the “price” was temporary fatigue.

The activation condition? Placing at least five fingers near the injured area.

Most people only knew this much and nothing beyond.

Because healing-types would never reveal the “truth,” and ordinary people never imagined there was more to healing than what they saw.

Isn’t it the same with paintings?

People assume what’s in front of them is the whole picture. Very few ever wonder what lies beyond the frame, or try to dig into the empty space around it.

Summoning-types summon spirits, golems, giant autonomous mechas, etc.

Magic-types use magic.

Evolution-types are called superhumans.

Mutation-types blend animal traits into their human bodies.

Healing-types are no different.

Healing-types can heal the injured.

And so.

No one knows they can do “other things” too.

…Well, maybe it’s because they were labeled “healing-types” from the start.

“Huu….”

Was this her first time being healed like this?

A faint sigh drifted down from above, as if she was nervous.

Ignoring it, I carefully channeled magic power into her ankle.

Ah, “magic power” is just a term I made up.

Whenever I used my ability, something like a hot energy flowed from my heart, down my arms, through my fingertips, and into the other person’s body. I didn’t have a better word for it.

So when explaining to others, I always likened it to video games and called it “magic power.”

Easy understanding was all that mattered.

“…….”

Slowly.

Slowly.

After filling her slender, pale ankle with magic power, I carefully began unraveling its insides.

How should I put it? Like poking and breaking through blocked pathways where the energy couldn’t flow smoothly.

I didn’t know the mechanics. It just worked this way.

Just like how I couldn’t explain how I moved my arms, this “magic power” was the same.

And then.

Around the time I had shattered all the damaged parts in her ankle—

“…Wow. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“…….”

“Ah, I’ll be quiet…”

I moved the magic power a little higher.

Past her knee.

Her toned thighs, built from exercise, were no different.

Then, around her pelvis, it branched into two.

Then three, four, multiple paths, scattering further—

To meticulously comb through every part of her body.

“…….”

Where were the parts most “easily broken” in her?

Where had she “broken herself” the most?

And so, where did she mistakenly think her erogenous zones were?

Where were the real ones?

All of it.

Just like I had done with the women I’d used for practice—

I thoroughly mapped it out.

“…Hey, isn’t it done already?”

The deepest places no ordinary man would ever reach in bed.

The middle sections that would be rubbed raw, over and over, by thrusts.

The entrance just right for fingers to slip in.

The areas around the entrance that could be enjoyed without penetration.

Beyond that—her throat, armpits, thighs, backside, chest, feet, and so on.

After checking every spot,

…Gulp.

I swallowed hard.

And slowly.

Withdrew my magic power from her body.

“Done. Noona.”

“Thank y—Hhk?! My leg cramped…!”

You still don’t know, do you?

That there are far more sensitive spots on you than the ones you touch when you pleasure yourself.

“You go to Miren Academy, right?”

“Yeah, second ye—W-Wait, hold me up for a sec—Eek…!”

“Hmm…”

“…Ah, are you my junior…?”

“Dunno.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t submit my application.”

“What? But it’s already February…?”

…I wonder.

What kind of face will you make when I force you to find out?

How will you look up at me then?