A Moment of Healing
The healing session began with a simple question.
“Hey. Feeling any fear yet?”
“....”
“Raven, I think the subject has already passed out.”
“Hmm. This should be enough.”
The clinical trial for the fear vaccine concluded with rather favorable results. Thanks to an excellent test subject—or rather, a voluntary participant—we were able to gather quite a bit of useful data.
For the subject who had survived two long hours without dying and followed instructions well, we provided the recovery of lost memories as compensation. After fainting around fifteen times and waking up, the subject became completely lucid, as if the memory loss had never happened. It was a moment that reaffirmed the effectiveness of shock therapy for both broken machines and amnesia. Whether human or machine, it seemed a good beating was the universal cure.
“Two hundred thousand… No, if you just spare my life, I’ll give you everything I have!”
“Thank you…!”
The test subject, moved to tears by the restoration of their memories, readily offered a hefty donation of four hundred thousand dallants. When we politely declined, insisting that neither the contractor nor I could accept such a large sum, the subject broke down in tears and snot, desperately begging us to take it. In the end, I could only offer a wry smile and reluctantly extend an empty hand.
Thanks to that, both my heart and my wallet felt remarkably full. This was what people meant by Chuseok and Lunar New Year rolled into one.
The plump man kept asking me about twenty times, with an anxious expression, whether he could leave now. Only after the contractor and I nodded around thirty times did he finally stagger away on trembling legs that shook like aspen leaves, disappearing into the pouring rain.
It was already late at night, so I offered to escort him, but he stubbornly refused, leaving me no choice but to let him go alone. There was nothing more dangerous than the streets of a medieval fantasy world at night. I worried what might happen if he ran into Sion’s friends on the way home.
Whoosh—
As time passed, the rain grew even heavier. At this rate, I should have made an umbrella and given it to him.
“Hmm. With weather like this, traveling by air would be impossible. It looks like we’ll have to postpone joining up with Sion until tomorrow.”
“...That’s actually better.”
“Hm? Did you say something?”
“No.”
“How boring.”
Originally, the plan had been to finish our business in the slums early, fly over to the commercial district, and spend the night at the inn where Sion was staying. But with rain pouring down as if the sky itself had a hole in it, we had no choice but to spend the night here.
Just like the first day we arrived in Bastion.
The room was narrow and desolate, with faded yellow wallpaper and cobwebs clinging to every corner of the ceiling. The only piece of furniture was a single damp rocking chair placed in the center. Five cheap candles arranged in a pentagram dripped wax as they flickered precariously, illuminating not a beautiful landscape but the cold, inorganic red walls. Raindrops hammered violently against what had long since lost any claim to being a proper window—nothing more than an unlucky pane of glass trapped between walls.
In this cramped space filled with the charmingly suffocating scent of mold, the only sounds were the rain and the occasional breath. On the day we first met, the silence had been unbearably awkward. Neither of us could bring ourselves to speak first, and only a painfully comical quiet had lingered between us.
But now, the silence was of a different kind. It felt like the comfortable quiet shared between close friends or family members simply doing their own things side by side. I never imagined I would be able to feel this kind of warmth again. Ever since meeting him—or her—in the Dungeon City, every day had been full of surprises.
Is this… what healing feels like?
Doing nothing. Worrying about nothing. Simply spending time with someone precious. It was a luxurious happiness I could never have imagined back in the hellish world of Terraforming. I savored it fully, enjoying the quiet, peaceful silence.
Tap. Tap.
I stood in front of the old wooden door that looked like it would crumble with a single hit, just as I always did. Beside me, my precious contractor and disciple, Yuri, was leaning against me in a way she never had before, staring blankly at the rain relentlessly battering the window.
“....”
“....”
The physical distance between the two contractors was roughly the span of a hand. The psychological distance was still unknown, but one thing was certain—it had clearly shrunk compared to when we first met. Even just watching the contractor doze off while absently fiddling with my forearm made that obvious.
“Up we go.”
Apparently one arm wasn’t enough, because the contractor now used my body as a cushion and leaned fully against me. Our physical distance was now zero. As if searching for the perfect spot, she rubbed the back of her head against me. The gentle sensation reminded me of a stray cat that had finally stopped running and was now pressing its head against my leg. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through my chest.
“Contractor. That tickles.”
In truth, I felt almost nothing, but since I was the kind of broken human who couldn’t say he was happy even when he was, an insincere remark slipped out.
“....”
The moment the words left my mouth, the black crown of her head—which had been moving busily like a hamster gnawing on sunflower seeds—froze. The contractor stared quietly up at the ceiling for a moment as if deep in thought, then pulled the hood of her robe over her head and rested it on my thigh. Thanks to the hood, I could just make out a rather satisfied expression in the shadow.
“Uncomfortable.”
Feeling a sudden mischievous impulse at the sight, I grabbed the hem of her robe with one hand and yanked it down.
“Eep!”
“Oops.”
An immediate, sharp retribution followed. Like a dog biting a tug toy, Yuri—no, the contractor—bit down on my hand and glared at me with her red-black eyes. Her gaze was lowered, perhaps from exhaustion, making it impossible to tell what she was thinking. It didn’t seem like she was biting with full strength, but I could still feel considerable pressure on my palm. If I had been an ordinary human instead of a plague doctor cosplaying demon, it would have definitely left marks.
So this is what it felt like.
Having experienced firsthand what my past self had often done to her as a joke, the sensation felt strangely fresh. For the record, back then I hadn’t been gently nibbled like this—I had been genuinely bitten by the contractor. That was how much of a lunatic I had been to drive such a good kid to that point.
The contractor, who had been chewing on my hand, released it when I gently pulled away. She licked her lips and offered her assessment.
“Tsk. The current Raven-nim has no flavor at all. The texture is a bit like chewing on cold, hardened pork rind. Not that I’ve ever actually chewed cold pork rind, of course.”
“Thanks for sharing information I never wanted to know.”
“You’re welcome.”
The contractor flashed a grin that curled the corners of her mouth in a way so irritating and infuriating it reminded me of senior Croma Ira for a brief moment. Our eyes met.
“....”
“....”
A brief silence.
“I can’t let this slide.”
“Hm?”
And so the second round began. Taking advantage of the contractor’s momentary lapse in guard, I swiftly reached out and thoroughly messed up her hair. Kkachi, just wait a little longer. I’m building a nest for you right now.
‘Kkyu?’
“Ah! Master—no, Raven-nim! Please stop touching my hair!”
“Since the contractor has claimed one of my legs, don’t I have the right to claim the contractor’s head in return?”
The contractor used to enjoy having her head stroked, but ever since my past self had done it constantly without regard for time or place, she now threw a fit like a rebellious middle schooler rejecting a parent’s touch whenever I reached for her head. She shook her head like a slippery loach to avoid my hand, but apparently deciding this would go nowhere, she remained lying down, thrust a hand into the air with dignity, and declared in a solemn voice:
“This is an order…! Remove your hand from my head and cease at once, familiar!”
But the effect was minimal. In fact, I’d say it only made things worse.
“So now I’m just a crow summon, huh? I truly cannot forgive this. Tremble in fear, human.”
“...!”
I decided to teach a proper lesson to the human who dared provoke a demon without knowing her place.
“Ahahaha! It tickles! Hey! Stop it!”
“...‘Hey’ is casual speech.”
To think a demon from the Eastern Land of Courtesy would be spoken to so rudely… It was clear that etiquette education was urgently needed. My hands moved even more persistently and quickly, causing the contractor to scream.
“Aaaack! Kkachi-nim! Save me!”
“Kkyu!!!”
The contractor twisted her body, gritting her teeth to endure the tickling, while Kkachi—unable to recognize its own master—frantically pecked at my mask. Amid the chaotic mess of laughter and screams, we were once again grateful that we could face each other without a single worry or care and simply smile.
After the commotion died down.
“Haaam.”
“Sleepy?”
“Yeees….”
The contractor, drenched in sweat and limp like freshly harvested seaweed, kept yawning nonstop. It was late, and with the tension from Terraforming finally released, a languid exhaustion had probably spread through her entire body.
“Kkachi-nim.”
“Kkyu?”
At the contractor’s call, Kkachi, who had been perched on my head, hopped over and landed on hers. The contractor naturally scooped Kkachi up and placed it on her stomach.
“....”
Then she stared at Kkachi quietly, as if wanting something. Understanding the look, Kkachi nodded once and then puffed up its body like a balloon.
“Kkyuuuuu!”
In an instant, Kkachi swelled from the size of a palm to that of a watermelon. The contractor smiled with childlike innocence and hugged the creature tightly, as if it were a beloved stuffed doll.
“Kkyuk!”
Kkachi let out a sound like air escaping and deflated into a body pillow. Apparently not uncomfortable at all, it purred like a cat with a soft kkyururuk and quietly closed its eyes.
For a while, the contractor hugged Kkachi tightly, rubbing her cheek against it. Then, at some point, she rolled over to face me and began dozing off. Her red-black eyes slowly disappeared behind her eyelids, losing their light.
Drip… drip…
The gentle sound of rain and the candles that had melted and extinguished themselves. In the quiet room now wrapped in darkness, I gazed at her eyes that still caught the faint light seeping through the window and sparkled like rubies. Finally, I spoke the words I had been forced to put off for so long.
“Good night, contractor.”
In response, she let out a soft laugh.
“You too, Raven-nim.”
“Yeah.”
I gently patted her back and slowly closed my eyes beneath the stuffy mask. I prayed earnestly that tomorrow, I would be able to fall asleep in the same kind of small, ordinary happiness as today.