Chapter 7

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Translator: MJK

Chapter: 7

Chapter Title: Surviving as an F-Class Healer (7)

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He averted his gaze from Jin Hari's bright white smile with some effort.

"...But if she doesn't give up even after a year passes."

At that point, he might just help boost her survival rate a little.

Yoo Han-seong twisted up one corner of his mouth and spoke inwardly to Jin Hari.

'I'll help you up to C-rank so you can keep breathing after graduation.'

He had no idea how long her enthusiasm would last.

'Miracles are granted only as a single drop to those who strive desperately until death.'

People with gentle dispositions usually lacked grit. If Jin Hari fell into that category, it was actually a relief. Keeping her alive would be that much easier.

That line of thinking shattered just a week later.

Unaware that the protagonist had started paying attention to me after my clueless bold claim, I steadily welcomed the next day.

Today's business was in the staff room.

To get permission to use the personal manufacturing room.

Of course, there was an even more important goal here, but that wasn't something I needed the teacher's approval for.

"Teacher!"

"What is it."

The homeroom teacher, who had looked at Jin Hari with displeasure from day one, replied reluctantly.

"I have a favor to ask."

"A favor?"

His intent—You're asking me for something, you?—was plain as day.

I put on my most apologetic, downcast expression and gazed at him before speaking cautiously.

"Could I borrow the manufacturing room during times when no one's using it? I don't have a personal manufacturing room or equipment. Oh! I'll provide my own materials."

"Haa."

He let out a deep, weary sigh, as if life itself was a burden.

All for my benefit.

I kept my mouth shut and watched him carefully. He drummed his fingers on the desk, dragging out the time before answering.

"Why do you need the manufacturing room?"

I answered without rushing.

"It's the only thing I know how to do: potion making."

"So you do know that much. Then you must also know Narin Academy's manufacturing rooms are too good to waste just making low-grade potions."

The homeroom teacher fired off a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blunt strike with a impassive face.

"Personal rooms are only permitted starting from second year."

"That's..."

I hadn't known. But second year was too late.

'Events start happening nonstop from first year.'

Practical training began today, in fact.

I hadn't begged any S-rank from another class to take me along, so naturally I'd be left out, but the others were different.

'I remember there were no casualties this month, at least.'

It was the period when ominous signs kept popping up, leading to the first encounter event between the protagonist and the key characters.

I needed to boost my abilities as much as possible over this month.

The academy-provided potions were limited in quantity, so anything extra had to be bought—and mid-grade ones onward cost amounts students couldn't easily afford.

It was a system that didn't pose a problem under normal circumstances.

Situations requiring mid-grade potions or higher rarely arose in the first year anyway.

'Or it turns into a situation where mid-grade potions are pointless, and you die.'

But after this month, Class 8 would suffer through all sorts of irregular dungeons for the entire first year...

I glanced at my skill window.

The window I'd seen right after possessing this body was unchanged.

Interpreting that useless A-rank passive in the current context meant my potion-making success rate was even lower than a typical F-rank healer's.

And sure enough.

Just look at that skill window, loaded with ominous warnings.

Having decided to improve my skills in a way that would help the others as much as possible, I had only one thing to do.

I had to hustle.

To the point of dropping dead.

"That's...? What about it?"

I swallowed hard and spoke to the homeroom teacher, who was waiting for my excuse.

"...Lowest-grade potions are still potions, right?"

"They're barely effective on E- or D-ranks, negligible on C-ranks and above. No point drinking them past that."

"Exactly."

My head had throbbed squeezing out a convincing excuse.

"A third of our class is E-rank, and the rest are still D-rank."

C-ranks and above were just one or two.

"...True enough."

Had the homeroom teacher just hesitated? Or was it my imagination?

I tilted my head but pressed on regardless.

"And even looking at all first-years, there aren't that many C-ranks or higher."

Our class just had more E-ranks; the others weren't much different.

'There's only one S-rank in first year, and he's a trap character anyway.'

At least in first year, most would be middling.

'After that, ranks diverge based on growth rates.'

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

So, there were plenty of kids who needed even lowest-grade potions.

Seeming to catch my drift, the homeroom teacher grimaced oddly.

But his silence—instead of immediately shutting down my nonsense—was promising.

A moment later, he adjusted his rimless glasses with a tap.

"...Go on."

"If I make a bunch, my success rate will go up. Even one or two successes are better than nothing."

"For the manufacturing room? With one or two?"

"I hardly ever go into dungeons anyway. I'm the only one with free time, so it feels wasteful not to use it. I'll prepare the materials myself and practice, so it's a gain for the school... or not...!"

"Hm. A gain for the school."

The homeroom teacher swiveled his chair to face me.

His icy gaze scrutinized me, as if checking for lies.

"You won't be able to keep supplying materials long-term, so it hardly counts as a gain. Considering an F-rank's success rate, it's far more likely the equipment just wears out for nothing."

Oddly, the disdain in the homeroom teacher's voice had faded.

'Ah, does he see some value in it now?'

Only then did I recall this B-rank(?) planter got serious about work.

'And one more thing. He's a cheapskate.'

I worked my lips and ventured carefully.

"Then I'll sell them cheap."

"Planning to do open business on campus?"

It wasn't forbidden.

"F-rank ones for 1 Dun, E-rank for 3 Dun."

"..."

The minimum unit of dungeon currency, 'Dun'.

Equivalent to 100 won or 300 won—the homeroom teacher clamped his mouth shut.

"That should cover material costs."

For reference, lowest-grade F-rank potions went for 1 silver (10,000 won), low-grade E- and D-rank for about 100 silver (1 million won), mid-grade C- and B-rank for 500 silver (5 million won).

High-grade A-rank and top-grade ones above that often went for whatever the seller demanded.

"...Even accounting for being student-made, that's ridiculously cheap."

I thought I'd hooked a customer thrilled at cheap, good potions.

But the nuance felt like he wanted me to charge more, which was odd. Still, I didn't drop my guard.

This grade (sometimes gold) supremacist wouldn't give me advice that benefited me.

'This is him testing the waters. Waiting for me to push harder!'

In the suddenly quiet staff room, I waved my hands rapidly.

"Not at all. I, I've never really practiced... I think it's a fair price for beginner-made potions."

Healers normally had dedicated teachers to teach them the ropes, but I didn't.

Coincidentally, no healers had entered first year, so I'd been naturally neglected.