Crisis (2)

Despite the notice the head mod had posted, the Gallery ran on a set of unwritten rules.

No matter how desperate someone's situation was, never offer help carelessly.

Even if there was an injured person, never rush to their aid.

The reason such rules existed was painfully simple.

There had been countless cases like the one above. Anyone could enjoy the Gallery as long as they met certain conditions.

But that anyone was exactly the problem. People of unknown identity could use it freely.

From the highest of the high all the way down to criminals buried in the deepest depths of the sea.

Because of that, criminals were made to wear mana-suppression bracelets to keep them off the Gallery entirely.

And those guilty of even graver felonies faced a far harsher punishment: the surgical removal of both eyes.

And so the Gallery's users had banded together. The consensus: ignore anyone demanding money, as a rule.

It wasn't just money, either. Even medicine and cures were only handed out after rounds upon rounds of deliberation.

After all, a healing potion resold on the market was pure profit for whoever got it.

You could call it cold and cutthroat, but the malice that had accumulated over the years had shaped it that way.

Of course, it all came down to personal choice. Nobody encouraged it, but nobody stopped it either.

It wasn't their problem anyway. Handle your own business — that was the prevailing sentiment.

"Goddammit."

He understood the reasoning, but the rules were still complete bullshit. Jonghyuk spat out a curse.

You could call it carelessness. He'd been so exhausted that he'd closed his eyes for a moment, and now look at the mess he was in.

The small mercy was that the Mad Dog hadn't gone for his throat — only his arm. He'd seized that opening to cut the beast's neck with his sword.

'Maybe I should just cut it off after all?'

He stared down at his ruined right arm. It wasn't just riddled with holes like a wind-battered shutter; it had been viciously torn open besides.

That was what happened when the bastard had clamped its jaws around his arm and thrashed him around like a rag doll. He'd barely managed to keep it from being ripped clean off.

'I have to stop the bleeding first...'

He surveyed the cave's interior. It was a den the wild dogs had been using, so there was precious little lying around.

Just a scatter of gnawed bones, presumably left by some other beast. Seeing them now, he should have guessed what lived here.

'Desperate times... should I just sell my sword?'

He felt truly sorry toward the Heavenly Demon, but he was in no position to be sentimental. He'd have to sell the blade and buy medicine.

His life was on the line right now. And the Gallery clearly had no intention of helping him.

Identity verification? Who on this forum would believe a claim about coming from another world? They'd write him off as a lunatic.

Trade was the best option available. Suppressing the burning agony in his arm, he scrolled through the comments.

'Find a fixed nick first. Who should I ask...'

He was still sweating buckets, weighing his options, when the trade request came flying in out of nowhere.

The fixed nick who doled out every bizarre piece of advice under the sun — a sincere madman.

For a split second he thought, why this person? — then the pain surged up his right arm again and he accepted in a panic.

An angel without wings, right here among us! Moved as he was, Jonghyuk accepted the trade on the spot.

When the transaction completed, he looked down at the ground. Normally, the traded item would materialize at his feet.

'...What is this?'

He blinked. Inside a small, cylindrical glass vial swirled a liquid that gleamed a radiant gold.

One thing was certain: it was absolutely nothing strange. At the very least, it didn't sparkle like starlight.

Before he could even wonder what on earth it might be, his hand had already picked up the vial.

With one arm wrecked, even twisting off the cap was a struggle.

Gluuuug—

"Gkkhaaaah...!"

He took a deep breath and poured it over the wound — swollen as it was, it burned like hellfire. His eyes watered instantly.

People might ask if a grown man really needed to scream over that much, but fuck, it hurt like dying.

Roughly five times more painful than dabbing antiseptic on a canker sore. And the affected area was far bigger, too.

"Gkuuuh... Oh. Oh?!"

But the effect was on par with that antiseptic — or better.

Which meant the recovery was fast. The flesh that had been perforated with hole after hole closed over in the blink of an eye.

He hadn't managed to wash all the blood off, but that could wait. He'd rinse it later.

"Whoa..."

He flexed his restored right arm this way and that. The arm was completely healed.

Not only healed — it felt hardened, somehow denser than before. There was no word for it but miracle.

Sure of his gratitude, he logged straight into the Gallery.

Good question. He was curious about that himself.

Jonghyuk eyed the golden liquid, about a third of it remaining. He'd saved some just in case.

Following SwordTasteMaster's advice, he drank down every last drop.

It fizzed on his tongue like sparkling soda — an oddly strange yet familiar taste.

Like that orange-flavored medicine your parents made you swallow every time you got sick as a kid. That was the closest comparison.

The Gallery's reaction was strange. Everyone was losing their minds.

Jonghyuk furrowed his brow and left a question of his own.

He got the gist, at least: expensive. Though apparently not every elixir was astronomically priced — it depended on the ingredients.

The better the ingredients, the richer the golden hue, they said. He couldn't really tell.

But one thing was crystal clear: he now owed SwordTasteMaster his life.

And he wanted, somehow, to repay it.

'Repay it? I'm the one who keeps taking...'

For now, he'd at least extend the courtesy of asking. It was the thought that counted.

Ah. Right.

This person wasn't exactly sane either. A wave of hollow resignation washed over him.

"Is it really that good?"

He still didn't understand how this world worked, so it didn't quite land.

Still, he owed the man a debt, and a debtor ought to honor the creditor's wishes. Skipping that would be plain rude.

Besides, a sword was the only weapon he currently owned. Reading up would serve him well if he wanted to put it to proper use.

Once things had more or less settled, the head mod made an appearance — and the teasing about them being a pushover began in earnest.

Jonghyuk tilted his head, wondering why they'd earned that label, until another user clued him in ahead of time.

"An actual pushover, huh."

Truly, hopelessly kind-hearted. Jonghyuk finally understood the situation.

That said, he had no intention of exploiting the head mod himself.

And if he ever did ask for something, it would be a legitimate trade. He had a conscience too.

'Later, if I find herbs or anything, I should send some to SwordTasteMaster.'

For now, it was time to clean up. He hauled away the dog carcass, which was still oozing warm blood.

The smell of blood might draw other beasts, so he needed to seal the entrance as well.

'I have to stay here until the Heavenly Demon sends the rest, after all.'

He carried the corpse a good distance away, then gathered nearby stones to plug the cave mouth.

Cleanup finished, he unwrapped his food bundle. The ration he'd eaten one of before sleeping.

'No matter how I look at it, this is shaped like a rice ball.'

The size said it all — it was a rice ball, plain and simple. The taste, however, was another matter entirely.

He popped the child-fist-sized rice ball into his mouth, scrunched up his face, and forced himself to chew.

Had the Heavenly Demon actually eaten this stuff and called it food? A sharp, medicinal herb stung stabbed at his nose.

And the flavor. Disgustingly bland, disgustingly bitter. Not a hint of sweetness anywhere.

'Well, it's better than nothing.'

I'll have to ask the Heavenly Demon later. What on earth was this made of, that it could taste this bad?

Strangely enough, it went down without choking him at all. It was just hideously unpleasant, nothing more.

He polished off the last ball and leaned back against the wall. Far too much had happened in a single day.

'At least it settles the question of whether this is a dream.'

What sin had I committed, to wake up in this place? And what the hell was this Gallery, anyway?

The sudden existential vertigo made him want to cry, but he held it in. First things first — he needed to figure out what kind of world this was.

And for that, he'd have to log into the Gallery. Right now, it was the only thing he could trust.

"......"

The very first thing at the top of the board. Jonghyuk flinched ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard at the sight of it.

Then, by pure reflex, he glanced warily around his surroundings — despite knowing full well there was no one there.

'Hmm. Well, it IS at the very top of the feed...'

Deploying his finest self-rationalization, he tapped the post.

"GYAAAAAAAH!!!"

He suffered severe internal injuries.

Sure enough — the Gallery was, without question, an asylum for lunatics.

"Thank goodness, he seems to be perfectly fine."

Ash smiled as she watched Grylls — currently mid-meltdown over his eye-searing trauma (allegedly).

The elixir she'd given him was one of the many gifts bestowed upon her by the Emperor. A gift, frankly, that she couldn't even remember receiving.

Besides, she had elixirs coming out of her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ears. If she ever truly ran short, she could simply ask the Emperor for more.

'I wonder how the Heavenly Demon will react?'

More than anything else, the Heavenly Demon's response was what she was most curious about.

The injury photos Grylls had posted had already been deleted by the head mod. For the Heavenly Demon, this had to be an utterly baffling situation.

What on earth happened, that Grylls is suddenly singing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my praises? — she'd surely be thinking something like that.

'Also, an "ordinary civilian"? Hilarious.'

Ash snorted. Grylls was far too adept at fighting to pass for any ordinary person.

A genuinely average man would have died then and there, unable to offer even token resistance to the Mad Dog.

But Grylls had sacrificed an arm to land a counterattack. A boy with promise written all over him.

'And he's oddly entertaining, too.'

Every odd bit of support she threw his way, Grylls seemed to grow a little more. And he wasn't simply taking, either — he visibly strained to give something back.

Endearing, you might call it. Wearing her trademark bright grin, Ash turned her attention back to the Gallery.

Just in case Grylls needed anything, or had another question. It was a novel flavor of entertainment.

"There it is!"

What question would it be this time? Ash clicked on the post immediately.

She had no idea what sort of crisis it was, but checking came first.

"......"

This one's just as much of a lunatic as the rest of them. Ash burst out laughing.

"Wipe with your pants? Well, it's not like anyone's watching. Oh, God, please."

But for Grylls, dropped buck-naked into the wilderness, this was a matter of existential gravity.

He couldn't exactly handle it inside the cave, and even if he did, the cleanup would be a logistical nightmare.

Right now, his only hope was the collective intelligence of the internet. The matter was so urgent his brain wasn't even working properly.

Grylls found himself facing a crisis of an entirely different kind. He was just resigning himself to sacrificing his trousers when—

Thus the saga drew to a close with tissue delivery from PassingDwarf.

It had been a senseless uproar out of nowhere — but watching the raw urgency of Grylls's plight, the Gallery's users arrived at a single realization.

At the very least — he was no scammer.