Chapter 142
Chapter 142
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 142
Chapter Title: Chapter 26: Resentment, and Yet More Resentment (5)
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‘Intermediate Potion.’
A recovery elixir that cost a whopping 1,500 mana— a hundred times more than a low-grade one.
It was also the item that convinced me Yoon Ji-hye had no intention of killing Lee Jun-mo.
‘If she wanted him dead, why leave this lying around?’
Did she think killing him would be too easy?
‘Or maybe she planned to keep him alive and exact revenge over his entire lifetime.’
I hadn’t heard her inner thoughts directly, so I couldn’t know the exact reason.
But at the very least, I could guess her primary goal for today, right here.
I fiddled with the potion bottle for a while before turning on my heel.
Then I stopped beside Lee Jun-mo.
The bastard was barely clinging to life, having failed to die.
Yoon Ji-hye had severed all his fingers and gouged out one of his eyes.
On top of that, the aftermath of the flame magic had melted over half the skin on his body.
“Ugh… p-please… sp-spare…”
Even so, the moment he spotted me, he broke into pathetic sobs and begged.
Spare him. He wanted to live.
Hearing that made bile rise in my gut, fury boiling over.
‘Director Yang Jo-cheol isn’t the type to lie about something like this.’
There was no reason for him to fabricate it in the first place.
Given Yoon Ji-hye’s obsessive cruelty toward Lee Jun-mo, the grudge between them was almost certainly real.
Knowing that set my insides churning.
I was human, after all—impossible to completely shut out my emotions.
To see the man who trampled and killed someone’s family now pleading for his own life.
A nauseating mix of contempt and rage swelled within me by the second, but I couldn’t let personal feelings sway me.
With cold eyes fixed on Lee Jun-mo, I uncapped the potion.
“P-please… spare…”
“Fine.”
Even trash like you has to live.
I upended the bottle, pouring its contents over him in a gush.
The instant the potion touched him, his wounds began healing in real time.
Not true regeneration of the damaged tissue—just superficial closing of the injuries.
Exactly as Yoon Ji-hye would have wanted.
‘The potion’s effect is limited to recovery.’
It didn’t include detoxification or actual regeneration.
I could tell just from my own skin, which had been buried under debris and scorched—it hadn’t fully healed.
Some fresh flesh had grown back, but pitted scars remained in spots.
No player would be unaware of these potions’ limitations.
That’s how I’d immediately grasped Yoon Ji-hye’s wish.
She probably wanted Lee Jun-mo to live on in this wretched state forever.
I had no intention of condemning her desire as cruel.
‘I don’t have the right to, anyway.’
I could see the answer in the question I’d once posed to myself amid another’s tragedy.
If Yeon-woo had suffered something like that, I would have…
‘I wouldn’t have stayed quiet.’
I might have gotten revenge even more brutally than Yoon Ji-hye.
Maybe that’s why it left such a bad taste.
It would’ve been easier if she’d been some irredeemable villain I couldn’t comprehend.
I gritted my teeth against the frustration.
I tried to suppress my emotions as much as possible, but the resentment kept surging.
Watching Lee Jun-mo’s breathing steady as his urgent wounds healed only fueled my anger further.
In the end, unable to fully detach, I raised my foot.
Crunch—!
I stomped between his legs, and something shattered with a sickening crack.
Lee Jun-mo didn’t even scream—he just rolled his eyes back and passed out.
‘Fitting humiliation for a man.’
My gut still simmered.
But after that petty bit of venting, I could at least rein in my feelings somewhat.
A relief, since no amount of emotion would change my conclusion here.
Having barely gathered myself, I pulled a padded jacket from my inventory and slipped it on.
Then I hoisted Lee Jun-mo and Yoon Ji-hye over my shoulders and exited the barrier.
The first things I saw were three unfamiliar players.
“Hmm… Feels like we came for nothing?”
“Looks that way.”
My fellow guildmates, who’d arrived right behind me, stood protectively over the man sprawled on the ground.
“Director Yang, the situation here seems resolved… Yes, yes, K-nim… No, K-ssi. Ah, the high-grade one can restrain mana too. Yes, yes, got it.”
As one of them reported via radio to Director Yang Jo-cheol, my eyes met those of the man sitting on the ground.
He flinched, shoulders trembling, but didn’t avert his gaze.
Instead of looking away, I stared him down.
His severed hand was reattached, meaning the players had at least used an intermediate potion on him.
Had they helped after hearing what he said about players?
-You demon bastard!
That furious voice I’d heard as he rushed over—it was definitely his.
Replaying those curse-laden words over and over, my lips curled into a smirk.
Strangely, as my mouth twisted upward, the man’s head drooped lower.
How long did we maintain that tense standoff?
“K.”
Director Yang Jo-cheol arrived, panting heavily.
I handed over the two I’d carried out of the barrier.
“Ah….”
His expression cracked at the sight of Lee Jun-mo’s state.
“I figured he’d die if left alone, so I at least tried to keep him alive.”
It was my way of drawing a line: no nitpicking about this incident.
I’d saved him from the brink of death—be satisfied with that.
Understanding, Director Yang said nothing more.
The player who’d been on the radio then pulled out a magic stone.
He crushed it, and blue chains as thick as my forearm erupted upward.
They coiled tightly around Yoon Ji-hye and then vanished smoothly.
‘High-grade restraint magic.’
Unlike mid- or low-grade stones that only limited physical movement, this one bound mana too.
A one-time use with a timer, of course.
“It’ll hold until Team Leader Yang Hye-won gets here.”
The player who’d used the restraint stone declared the situation under control.
But I still had unfinished business.
“A serious piece of advice.”
“Yes?”
Director Yang reacted instantly as I spoke, as if he’d been on high alert.
No need to beat around the bush—I nodded toward the man slumped on the ground.
“People like that will cause problems if left unchecked.”
His malice toward players was blatant.
What if someone like him, with his high chaos value, crossed paths with a player and repeated those exact words from earlier?
‘More would try to kill him than hold back.’
Once he died, everyone would pin the blame on players.
Even though he’d provoked a bystander first.
Director Yang couldn’t possibly be blind to something so obvious.
So why had this guy been dragged into a player-related incident and brought to the scene?
Team Leader Han Seok-jun, arriving with Director Yang, provided the answer.
His explanation, delivered in a tone implying extenuating circumstances, was predictable enough.
The longer Han Seok-jun spoke, the more my smirk sharpened.
“So, basically, today’s incident was unexpected… We had no plans to deploy him to the scene…”
Facing my thickening sneer head-on, Team Leader Han Seok-jun trailed off.
“Unbelievable nonsense. Is that woman Han Chang-sik?”
I gestured toward the unconscious, limp Yoon Ji-hye, but no one answered.
“If she wants revenge, she’d be better off digging up Han Chang-sik’s corpse and hacking it to pieces.”
I wasn’t defending Yoon Ji-hye’s vengeance.
But at least she hadn’t confused her target.
Lee Jun-mo’s family had likely aided in covering up his crimes.
‘They weren’t entirely innocent.’
Accomplices, through and through.
But that man was different from Yoon Ji-hye.
He’d lashed out at the innocent to vent his rage.
Yoon Ji-hye might not be a saint, but she was clearly unconnected to his wife’s death.
“I’ve never once begged to be forced into this insane game.”
Most players had just flailed desperately to survive after it crashed into their lives.
So why should we bear the resentment of some stranger we’d never even seen?
‘I’m not doing this for special treatment.’
Still, I’d been running around with the goal of protecting Earth.
Most players were destroying Messeros to close holes, weren’t they?
They got hurt, screamed, risked death in the process.
‘Some actually died for it.’
To have all that hardship repaid with demon labels from some newborn stranger?
I shot the man a piercing glare laced with contempt, rage—somewhere in between.
Throughout it all, he never once looked my way.
For now, that would suffice.
In the quiet space, I cracked my neck side to side and continued.
“I’m saying this hoping it doesn’t blow up into a bigger issue, so please take it seriously.”
“…We’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thank you. Looks like we’re done here—how do we head back?”
“…I’ll arrange a flight right away.”
Meaning it wasn’t ready yet.
‘Fair enough.’
Things had wrapped up faster than expected; they couldn’t have foreseen this at departure.
Pre-booking flights for an unpredictable timeline would’ve been odd.
“I’ll wait.”
I agreed readily and turned back.
The barrier hadn’t been lifted yet, so the scorched forest wasn’t visible.
But recalling what had happened there still left my chest tight and stuffy.
The choice I’d made at the end weighed heavily too.
‘But no matter how many times I think it over, it was right.’
Even understanding Yoon Ji-hye’s revenge, it was still someone else’s tragedy.
Not mine, so I could stay objective at the crucial moment.
‘This incident is enough to classify players as threats.’
By now, most world leaders probably knew about the game.
In that context, any event heightening wariness toward players was bad.
‘Players fighting each other? No issue.’
People don’t fear for their lives watching lions clash.
They’re excluded from the fight.
But lions devouring humans?
‘That paints a far more visceral terror.’
So civilians dying to players was the worst outcome.
Yoon Ji-hye had already killed several.
I couldn’t let Lee Jun-mo become another.
Especially considering the future I’d glimpsed with Mephorosea’s authority.
‘If they actually break through from Bihar…’
Players needed a solid foothold on Earth.
‘That way, we minimize initial chaos and shift to wartime footing.’
Thus, Lee Jun-mo couldn’t die here.
My conclusion had been clear even before encountering Yoon Ji-hye.
That’s why I’d filled the barrier with flames on purpose.
Couldn’t kill him, so I gave him burns instead.
A selfish act of atonement for blocking her to protect my own interests.
I couldn’t hide the bitter sneer.
Just then, as breathing felt a bit labored, Director Yang spoke up.
“K, let’s move to the vehicle first. Field teams are mobilizing, so better clear the area.”
“…Yes, understood.”
“I’ll guide you.”
Leaving site cleanup to Team Leader Han Seok-jun, Director Yang turned ahead.
After exactly four steps following him, the message window at the bottom of my vision updated.
「Trait Capitalism activates.」
「System switches to support mode. Support target: Player Kang Hyun-woo.」
My steps halted involuntarily, eyebrows shooting skyward.
“K?”
Director Yang glanced back at my sudden stop.
But I had no attention to spare him.
The system, silent since the servers connected, had stirred.
All my focus locked onto the message window.
‘Why now?’
I glared at it, brimming with suspicion and wariness.
As if in response, a new message appeared seconds later.
「Commencing scan.」
「Progress: 0.01%」
Damn system