The Tone-Deaf Healer Kills with a Song

As if sensing I had finished speaking, he carefully continued what he had been trying to say.

“There’s an ongoing issue with my body. However, I can’t discuss what it is right now because there are too many listeners.”

“Listeners?”

Even if I were to search this place thoroughly, I couldn’t sense any presence.

I reflexively looked around, but he shook his head, indicating this was beyond my ability to detect.

If there were spies who could infiltrate such a carefully hidden guild building, it made sense that I wouldn’t stand a chance at finding them.

“Yes, and I’ve been living with this condition my entire life. Ms. Ye-ah is the one who’s been helping to manage it.”

“Am I really being helpful?”

“Yes, definitely. Since this is an invisible problem, I couldn’t seek help from anywhere else.”

That couldn’t be all. I could roughly read between the lines about what the issue might be.

The world of rankers appears excessively glamorous on the surface. Some truly live their lives to the fullest, enjoying it thoroughly. But beneath that surface, there are clearly darker matters.

Power struggles where people try to kill each other, international conflicts between nations, all intricately intertwined.

Some kill to reclaim their ranker positions, while others die trying. This was especially true the higher up you went.

“Um, why do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust you. If I did, I would have told you everything about my problem.”

“…”

Isn’t this usually when things should flow naturally? Like saying something about feeling an unbreakable connection with me. I wasn’t even hoping for that much.

Just something like saying my abilities were valuable, or that I seemed trustworthy – wasn’t this the moment for such sweet exchanges to build trust?

But no such luck.

Reality really is unforgiving.

“Right now, Yeom Ye-ah-shi isn’t a significant threat to me. Even if you were to learn about my problem, I could handle the situation before you could relay it to others.”

“If I may be so bold, you mean you’d spare my life?”

“I haven’t done anything yet. And I don’t plan to.”

“Just saying it could happen,” he said matter-of-factly as he turned his gaze away.

Outside the window stretched a view only visible from tall buildings.

Yet I felt that Jung Hwan-jae’s gaze was looking beyond that. A sense that his eyes weren’t focusing on anything at all.

That sight seemed so unexpectedly lonely, inappropriate for the situation, that I was momentarily at a loss for words. Though the thought that followed was rather shameless.

‘Then couldn’t this be the moment where he says something like “You’re the only one who can understand my pain,” and we develop some tender feelings?’

I must have read too many novels. The problem was how quickly my thoughts could wander off track.

When I shifted my posture, as if breaking free from my private thoughts, he let out a short “Ah” followed by an “I’m sorry.” I reflexively avoided his gaze.

“Still, your expression doesn’t look as frightened as I expected.”

“Really? Should it be?”

“No, but when I say things like this, everyone usually shows at least a little panic or fear.”

His voice was so calm that what I had heard earlier might have been a threat.

Along with saying that I was weaker than anyone else and posed no threat to him now, it was a declaration that he wouldn’t stand idle if I exposed his matter to others.

But I had a vague feeling that he wouldn’t really do such things. I’m not sure where this confidence and conviction came from.

I could feel it when I looked into his eyes.

“Well, if I just quietly keep my promise, there’s no chance of anything happening to me, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And when I become strong enough, you’ll tell me what the problem is?”

“If you’re still my healer by then.”

Unlike before, this time his words sounded more like a request, asking me to remain as his personal healer until then.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking because I wanted to renew our contract.

When I nodded in agreement, his lips quirked slightly. An expression that might or might not have been a smile.

“Please let me know if you still like me by then. I’d like to work here as long as possible.”

“Yes, don’t worry. In return, I hope you become much stronger, Ms. Ye-ah. Strong enough that I can no longer underestimate you.”

This person’s way of speaking is peculiar. It’s as if he’s trying to make himself out to be the villain to awaken something in me.

He casually says things that only people who consider themselves dangerous would say.

“What will you do when I become strong enough to be a threat? Will you dispose of me to maintain secrecy?”

I clearly meant it as a joke, but his eyes widened slightly.

I shouldn’t joke with this person.

“Then after becoming that strong, will you leave me?”

“What?”

“Even if you become strong enough to be a threat, I’d have no reason to attack you as long as you don’t reveal the secret. So it sounds like you’re saying you want to leave me now.”

His tone seemed almost wounded.

It felt like a child saying ‘Won’t you play with me? I’ll do better.’ Though the conversation was quite dark for such a comparison.

Earlier he firmly said no, but now he’s asking if I’m going to leave him. People’s hearts truly are unpredictable.

Was he saying I wasn’t satisfactory as a friend but useful as a healer when considering other factors? I just smiled ambiguously.

I’d said I wanted to stay here as long as possible, but who knows? Maybe some overseas guild would offer better conditions.

Perhaps interpreting my non-response, Jung Hwan-jae rolled his eyes and spoke quietly, almost muttering.

“Don’t abandon me.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t leave me even after you become strong enough to be a threat. I’ll tell you everything you want to know by then.”

“…Yes!”

“You may go now.”

* * *

Yeom Ye-ah left. Though her face still showed traces of ‘What is he talking about?’, Jung Hwan-jae ignored it.

Then silence fell. It would have been natural since Jung Hwan-jae was supposedly alone in that place.

No.

It would have been natural if Jung Hwan-jae had truly been alone. If a noisy chat window hadn’t appeared before his eyes.

[Lucy: That wasn’t a very good line. Pretty old-fashioned.]

“…”

[Lucy: Though to the other person, you might have sounded like a man in love at first sight.]

Jung Hwan-jae averted his gaze, as if he didn’t want to engage in conversation in this situation. The seemingly smirking chat window soon blurred with static.

Instead, a shadow perched on his desk. A perfect shadow where not even eyes, nose, or mouth could be distinguished. It maliciously looked Jung Hwan-jae up and down.

However, the subject of this gaze seemed used to it and didn’t even look. It was obvious that their relationship wasn’t particularly warm.

“I’ve manifested myself directly, yet you’re being so cold? After we’ve been traveling together through the subspace I open for you.”

“I’m grateful for that.”

“Then you should be more affectionate with me. Is it because you don’t like this form? It’s the best for moving around inconspicuously.”

‘It’ stood up from its place and walked around Jung Hwan-jae’s desk for a while before naturally melting into his shadow.

From the outside, it looked like a perfectly natural shadow with nothing unusual about it.

However, when Jung Hwan-jae showed no reaction at all, the shadow soon jumped into the air with a long sigh.

“Lucy.”

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing you.”

Lucy gradually reduced its size and transformed into a small grim reaper doll, landing softly on Jung Hwan-jae’s hand. The deep male voice quickly changed to that of a boy.

Sitting on his hand and lightly swinging its legs, Lucy observed Jung Hwan-jae’s mood. His dedicated staff member, now turned into a hunter’s faithful summon.