episode_0023

23

“For now, it’s fine if you keep doing what you’ve been doing—just lazing around.”

“Yes.”

“Once the semester starts, you’ll be swamped anyway. I plan to push the students a little harder this time.”

“Ah, I see.”

They say people get more talkative as they age.

Walking down the hallway with the principal, I crumpled the empty paper cup in my hand and nodded.

Damn it. I shouldn’t have mentioned that I was looking for a new place to him.

I should’ve just settled for a decent studio. Why did I have to open my mouth about saving money and end up stuck here for hours?

…Does this guy have nothing better to do?

“By the way, do many students visit the infirmary?”

“…Well, there’s at least one. If you count the kid who just dropped by out of curiosity, then two.”

“One, huh… That must be Lee Hayoon. Probably.”

“Yes. That’s right. You know her?”

“Of course I do. I’m the principal.”

“…….”

Since when do principals memorize every student?

At least in the elementary, middle, and high schools I attended, that wasn’t the case.

Then again, I hardly ever ran into the principal back then.

“That student still struggles with her ability, so she hasn’t been able to participate in field training. Her potential, versatility—she’s like a raw gemstone, but polishing her into something brilliant is proving… difficult.”

“…….”

As I zoned out for a moment, the principal’s voice droned on again.

This is maddening.

To exaggerate a little, I could practically feel exhaustion seeping out of my ears.

Humoring an old man’s rambling was tiring enough, but I wish he’d just let me go already.

How much longer was he going to keep yammering about the academy, the students, his glory days, and his life goals?

It felt like someone had stirred up a beehive in my head.

“Still, in terms of sheer effort, Lee Hayoon’s determination doesn’t fall short compared to the current student council president. Baek Seoyeon was a bottom-tier student when she first enrolled too, but through hard work, she eventually…”

“Hah…”

Well, whatever.

At least I learned one thing.

Principal Seok Jaehwa was as serious about running the academy as his rock-solid appearance suggested.

From the smallest details, like the students’ meals, to the bigger picture—knowing exactly what the students interning at hero agencies were up to.

In a good light, you could call him meticulous, hands-on with every process. Or maybe just overly invested in trivial matters?

In a bad light, he seemed like a stubborn control freak who couldn’t rest unless everything was under his thumb.

But since he’d been nothing but generous to me, I decided to shelve the negative impressions for now.

“Do you need any more supplies? I’m a little worried since the infirmary was set up in a hurry.”

“Not really, no.”

“What about snacks or something? If you want a coffee machine, I can give you the one from my office. I can’t stand the taste of it anyway.”

“It’s fine. I’m good as is.”

I need a smoke.

I quit without hesitation when I came back to the past, but dealing with this chatty old man made my fingers twitch.

Still, I’d already humored him for this long. Just a little more, and I’d be free.

Respect your elders. Respect your elders.

Swallowing a sigh, I pushed open the infirmary door with the principal.

“Ah, how’s the chair? They said it was a high-end brand.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not well-versed in that stuff.”

“Me neither. I just approved the budget. What about the bed? Have you tried lying on it?”

“…Not really.”

As I lowered the heater temperature I’d set earlier, Principal Seok Jaehwa—still in his muscular, well-tailored suit—lightly reclined on the bed.

Looking at him like this, the bed seemed ridiculously small.

Though it was a standard size, perfectly fine for a student to lie on.

“Seems a bit cramped. Should I replace it with one a size… no, two sizes bigger?”

“…….”

Of course you’d think that.

I swallowed the words stuck in my throat and nodded a couple of times.

A bigger bed wouldn’t hurt.

“I see you have a laptop, so electricity shouldn’t be an issue.”

“…….”

“Ventilation… Oh, you have a diffuser. Still, try opening the window for about 10 minutes a day. Even if it’s cold.”

“Yes…”

“Lighting’s fine. Heater works well…”

Was he finally leaving?

Principal Seok Jaehwa got up and spun around the infirmary, inspecting every corner.

Running a hand through his wild, salt-and-pepper slicked-back hair,

stroking his sharply trimmed beard,

spinning around.

“Hmm. If anything’s inconvenient, don’t hesitate to text me, Woojin. Ah, I mean, Teacher Seo Woojin.”

“…Yes…”

“This academy is the only one in the country with a healing-type Transcendent. We should treat you well.”

With that, the principal grinned, proudly flashing his teeth.

I’d thought he was just passionate when we first met, but to keep talking this much without getting tired…

It’s almost terrifying now.

“Anyway, I’ve said what I wanted to say. It’s almost lunch—how about some jajangmyeon…?”

“…….”

I’m screwed.

Just as that thought filled my head,

a crude default ringtone blared from the principal’s pocket.

He raised a hand in apology, checked the caller ID, and stepped out of the infirmary to take the call.

From his awkward smile, it seemed urgent—and our lunch plans were canceled.

…Thank god.

“Haa…”

From now on, I’ll avoid the principal’s attention unless absolutely necessary.

Having learned my lesson, I moved to close the door properly.

Grabbing the handle, I pushed it firmly forward.

“…?”

But the door didn’t budge.

Was something stuck in the frame?

I glanced down, but all I saw was the ordinary infirmary floor.

No voices from the call meant the principal wasn’t pulling some childish prank.

After a brief pause, I tried yanking the door open instead.

And as a result—

“Eeup—!”

“……?”

A girl standing right outside the door tumbled straight into my arms.

With a familiar ponytail.

Deep into my chest.

“…What are you doing, noona?”

“…….”

No answer came.

Instead, Lee Hayoon, regaining her balance, carefully put some distance between us.

Glancing around furtively, she suddenly stretched her leg out and firmly kicked the infirmary door shut.

I don’t get why she couldn’t just use her hands…

…Ah.

“Did you hurt your arm this time?”

“…….”

“Since you walked here, your lower body must be fine. Must be your arm or hand.”

“…M-my finger.”

“Ah. Your finger.”

After her short reply, Hayoon hesitantly extended her right hand toward me.

Pale, delicate—perfectly Hayoon-like.

“Which finger did you hurt? Your index?”

“…Pinky.”

If I treat this quickly, I can still grab lunch afterward.

Having roughly planned my schedule, I carefully took Hayoon’s finger.

At a glance, there was no visible injury.

No broken bones, dried blood, swelling, or even minor scratches.

Just a pretty finger.

A finger so pretty it was hard to believe it was hurt.

“Your pinky, right? Right-hand pinky?”

“…….”

When I asked again, Hayoon’s bangs fluttered slightly.

No matter how I looked, it didn’t seem injured.

Still, I carefully channeled mana into it.

“……?”

But the result was exactly as I expected.

Far from being injured, it was perfectly fine.

If there was any damage, the mana would’ve hit a block and stopped, but no matter how much I probed, there was no resistance.

In other words,

Hayoon wasn’t hurt.

And yet,

Hayoon had come to the infirmary wanting to be treated.

Hayoon,

without a single injury,

had come to me wanting to be treated.

A moment later,

still holding her finger, I slowly traced my fingertips up along her skin.

The base of her finger—

or what could be called the webbing.

I pressed my thumb there, massaging her pinky as I moved down to the tip.

Now that I looked, her nails were quite short.

Neatly trimmed, with only petite, cherry-blossom-like nails at the tips.

Unlike Yozora’s nails—which I’d seen yesterday when I carried her home—grown long enough to scratch someone.

After that brief observation, I lightly squeezed Hayoon’s finger again.

…Even then,

Hayoon, who’d claimed to be hurt, stayed completely silent.

Even as I manhandled the finger she’d offered for treatment, she didn’t make a single sound.

Just acting unaffected,

one hand stuffed in the pocket of her white fleece jacket over her uniform,

standing there quietly.

Did she not even plan to pretend to be a patient?

Or was she too nervous to act?

Either way,

still gripping Hayoon’s finger,

“…….”

“…….”

I interlaced our pinkies like kids making a promise,

and without a word,

led her to the pristine white infirmary bed.

…The moment Hayoon hesitantly sat down, her cheeks flushed faintly.

Having figured out her plan, I watched her reddening face and asked, feigning innocence:

“…Does it still hurt?”

“When’s your next class?”

“…A-An hour later…”

After tossing her a few light questions, I stepped past her toward the infirmary door.

…The door.

I should probably lock it.

Just for an hour.