Chapter 35: 23:59:45 (1)
Chapter 35: 23:59:45 (1)
The pointless meeting finally ended, and I headed toward the Management Bureau’s lodging to meet my disciples.
Perhaps because they were my students, the two of them had been assigned private rooms despite only responding to a Mobilization Order. Considering other Heroes were likely eating rations seasoned with stone dust in front of the barriers currently under construction, this was treatment on a completely different level.
Thump. Thump.
“Why won't this go in?”
That’s because this is an escalator, not a flight of stairs. Well, if I leave her be, she’ll find a way to shove it in and move anyway, so I’ll just let it go.
It’s not like I’m the one paying if the escalator or the wheelchair breaks.
From the disciples' perspective, being assigned private rooms wasn't a bad thing. Someone had to use the empty rooms, and it was better if people I knew were staying comfortably.
However, if the Otherworld Invasion intensified, they would be rolling around on the battlefield soon enough. I worried that getting used to a nice bed now might make the eventual gap in reality even harder to bear.
Crunch.
My train of thought was cut short by the sound of metal snapping.
“I’m fairly certain the wheelchair wheel just got ripped off. What did you do?”
“It’s just a wheelchair; I can just carry you. Don’t worry about it.”
A medic who carries the patient instead of pushing the wheelchair, huh?
“Why don't you just undo the restraints?”
Grey belts were tied tightly around my limbs, and syringes were stuck all over my body. Even now, some unknown drug was flowing into me from those needles.
Breaking free wouldn't be that difficult if I put some strength into it, but if I did, that mad healer would probably chase me down with a saw.
“If I let you go, you’ll just wander around again under the pretext of 'exercising.'”
“Even I wouldn't wander around with my left hand shattered and my right eye socket empty. I just want to walk on my own two feet.”
It’s not like I’m planning to grab my hammer and charge out right this second.
“Just rest quietly like this. I’ll have you all fixed up by the day of the battle.”
I didn't doubt her healing abilities. It was just that these excessive restraints were suffocating.
“Fine, I’ll leave it to you.”
I didn't expect that stubborn woman to listen to me anyway. But I figured I’d at least say it. Well…
Slam!
I’m pretty sure a door and a wheel just went flying.
“Ah, I’ll just carry you and run.”
Crash! Boom!
Tossing the now-Scrap Metal wheelchair against The Wall of the Bureau corridor, she hoisted me up. Thanks to that, someone’s room was just invaded by a flying wheelchair, but the Management Bureau would handle the compensation.
“Heave-ho.”
Cradling me with her left arm, she naturally manipulated a syringe with her right. A needle pricked my right shoulder, and an unknown green liquid began to flow in.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Why did she even bring the wheelchair in the first place? Did she just want to set the hospital mood? Then again, that’s just how she is, so there’s no point in arguing.
I looked into her face, which was hidden behind a Gas Mask. It was a useless mask with the filters removed and the visor cracked.
Through it, I could see the face of our medic—a woman simpler than anyone else, yet one who had saved countless Heroes with that very simplicity.
“Oxymoron. Are you interested in taking my kids as disciples?”
“Why the sudden talk of disciples?”
“Not official ones, just temporary. One of my disciples has healing abilities, but the effects are… underwhelming. I thought you might know something.”
Even if her constitution made it difficult to discharge mana, the fact that her own recovery was slow suggested a problem.
Though Oxymoron’s personality and treatment methods were questionable, no Hero was more exceptional when it came to the simple act of keeping someone alive. She was the perfect teacher for my disciples.
“I’ve taken a few disciples before at the Bureau’s request, but they all ran away.”
Well, if you’re tearing apart Mutant corpses saying, ‘This part is the weak point,’ of course they’d run. Even if that’s a Hero’s skill, most people’s sanity wouldn't hold up watching a combat style that leaves one even more blood-soaked than I do.
“Not the combat side, just the healing. If you mess with their combat training and it clashes with what I’ve taught them, I won't stand for it.”
“Hmm… Well, I’ll give it a try. The more skilled medics we have, the more Heroes will make it back alive.”
True. Even if limbs are blown off and faces are melted, as long as they can be kept alive and evacuated to the rear, there’s a chance. Didn't I return alive in this state, after all?
“So, where are the disciples?”
“…I thought you knew.”
Then where the hell were you going?
Where are we?
As expected, I shouldn't trust this woman with anything other than medical techniques.
* * *
“So, she’s going to teach you two some know-how regarding healing.”
The woman waved her hand while I was propped up against The Wall, still tightly bound. Since teaching healing techniques didn't require a massive training hall, the disciples gathered in my quarters.
“Her name is Oxymoron. She’s a healing-type Esper. She isn't very well-known due to certain circumstances, but I can personally vouch for her skill.”
Her skill, at least.
“I’m Oxymoron. Nice to meet you, girls.”
Even though a senior far above them in experience bowed her head, my two disciples just stared at me blankly.
“I. Told. You. To. Release. Your. Limiter.”
“I released it and came back alive, didn't I?”
Un-ho was perched on my head, pecking at me, but that probably wasn't why they were staring.
“Senior, may I ask one question…?”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you get hurt that badly?”
Of course. That would be their main question. Not just a minor injury, but a critical, near-death state.
“You’ve probably heard, but it’s a Public Enemy Designation. My enemy appeared.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
I intentionally avoided answering The Core of the question and redirected the conversation. I was a bit worried about Baek Si-hyun silently watching me, but she was likely deep in thought as well.
“Master. May I ask something?”
Baek Si-hyun, looking more serious than usual, raised her hand and spoke.
“Go ahead.”
“The fact that you were injured this badly… does it mean the enemies invading now are that strong?”
“But the broadcasts said we’d be able to block them easily…”
Han A-bin spoke with a startled expression, but it seemed they both already suspected the truth.
“Han A-bin. Forget the regular mobilizations. With that mindset, you’ll be the next corpse rolling on the ground.”
“…!”
This wasn't a quarantine operation where an entry unit goes beyond the barrier while the rest fire long-range attacks from the top. This was a hell where soldiers and Heroes would be ground down like consumables to maintain the front line.
“Are you two just old enough to remember? Think back to your childhood. What kind of faces did your parents make when the sirens wailed?”
“That’s…”
The dark times before the Management Bureau was established, when all of humanity was in a state of war. A time when a single siren meant the loss of human lives.
Those times had returned.
“Forget all the propaganda battles you see on TV. The Enemy is coming for our throats, and if we are breached, the civilians will be slaughtered. That is the kind of war this is.”
Tearing through the belts restraining my body, I lifted the bandages covering my head with my right hand.
A hollow, empty right eye socket.
Baek Si-hyun’s face turned pale with shock, and Han A-bin’s face went white as a sheet.
“So, get your heads on straight and listen to—”
Wham!
The pain of a fist slamming into my head. The familiar sensation of being bound by belts once again.
Was it because I ignored Oxymoron’s warning and tore the belts? Even my remaining legs were now strapped down.
“I told you, absolute rest! You’ll get an infection! How many times do I have to tell you?!”
Ah, right. This woman was right next to me.
“Do you think I’m some greenhorn who’d catch an infection? Bacteria would run away if they saw me.”
“When it comes to patients, I am the law!”
Oxymoron’s personality flipped in an instant. A crazy medic who beats her patients. She’s usually quiet, but the moment someone questions her medical authority, she turns into this.
Perhaps that chaotic scene broke the tension. A grotesque smile appeared on the face of my pale disciple.
“So there are people even you are weak against, Senior.”
Even if you have power, A-bin, you shouldn't just swing it around recklessly. You have to know how to maintain relationships.
“Anyway, take this chance to learn some healing from her. On the battlefield, whether or not you have a medic makes all the difference. Not just for you, but for the people around you.”
“Yes!”
The two disciples' voices overlapped. I’d never seen Baek Si-hyun use recovery magic properly, but it couldn't be worse than Han A-bin’s.
“Can I teach them however I want?”
“I don't know the first thing about healing, so do as you please.”
“Alright.”
I was tossed onto the bed, bundled up like a cocoon, while the two disciples sat in chairs. As their attention focused on Oxymoron, her lecture began.
“The healing class isn't directly related to combat power, but in the long run, it plays a vital role. As a battle drags on, there is a massive difference in the number of soldiers preserved.”
She’s probably quoting that from a book rather than her own thoughts.
“Of course, if you can heal yourself, your sustainability in combat changes drastically. Look at Lee Ha-ram over there. If he had healing abilities, he could have fought much longer.”
Why do you keep bringing me into this?
“That’s why in the old days, every platoon or squad had a Hero specialized in healing. But nowadays, it’s rare to see Heroes forming groups. So, you will have to heal those around you. In an emergency, a small bit of healing can decide life or death.”
The disciples nodded, seemingly moved by her words.
“Good. Then let’s move straight to practical application.”
No sooner had she finished speaking than a saw appeared in mid-air. Oxymoron grabbed it with her right hand and swung.
Slice. Spurt.
The sound of Oxymoron’s left hand hitting the floor. The sound of blood spraying.
With the obstructing pressure gone, the artery gushed blood violently, spraying the red liquid across the disciples' faces.
“Eh…?”
“Try using your magic.”
Now I see why her disciples ran away. Who could stomach this? Even the old-era Awakened would have bolted.
“Uh… yes.”
However, my disciples were no pushovers. Despite the gruesome sight, Han A-bin steadied herself and began firing pink mana at Oxymoron’s severed left hand.
Two, three minutes passed. The blood gushing from Oxymoron’s arm didn't stop, and the healing showed no signs of progress.
“Stop.”
“Yes…”
Perhaps because the futility of her healing magic had been proven right before her eyes, Han A-bin’s expression darkened.
“I think I see what the problem is.”
As Han A-bin stepped back, Oxymoron picked up her own left hand and began the reattachment surgery.
A needle and thread moved rapidly over the hand, which looked like it had been haphazardly shoved back into place. After wrapping it with a belt, she jammed a syringe into the wrist.
The whole process took twenty seconds.
Oxymoron flexed her fingers, showing Han A-bin that her left hand was restored.
“Um. So… what was your name?”
“It’s Han A-bin.”
“Miss Han A-bin. Were you a doctor or a nurse? Or did you study medicine?”
“Yes. I studied nursing for a bit…”
Oxymoron’s eyes narrowed. I couldn't see her mouth because of the mask, but she was likely smiling.
“Then forget everything. Whether it’s magic, superpowers, or martial arts—all healing techniques are powers that transcend logic.”
“Pardon?”
When Oxymoron tore off the belt on her left hand, her hand was already seamlessly reattached, the flesh having grown back together. There were still sutures at the junction, but other than that, her hand was fully recovered.
“Tell me as a former nurse. How was that reattachment surgery?”
“That… well…”
“I won't get angry.”
“…It was a mess. You didn't consider nerves or blood vessels at all. In fact, there were more things to criticize than not.”
Despite hearing that, Oxymoron nodded, expressing joy.
“Exactly. But that is a Hero’s healing. Erase complex things like blood vessels, nerves, and rejection reactions from your mind.”
The voice of the top-tier medic, Oxymoron, began to heat up with passion.
“The only thing you imagine is the image of the person in their whole, perfect state. Everything else is meaningless. If you use your healing while imagining that, you will see results.”
“But, Teacher Oxymoron, you also use sutures and drugs…”
Desperate not to lose the knowledge she had built up, Han A-bin tried to argue. Oxymoron’s words were a denial of modern medicine built over thousands of years.
“The sutures are made from my own power, so I don't know if they’re the same as actual sutures. And the drugs? They’re just plain water.”
“Wait a minute. You’ve been injecting us with plain water this whole time?”
A shocking truth that made even me bolt upright.
“I told you, absolute rest.”
With a flick of Oxymoron’s hand, a syringe filled with purple liquid thudded into my forehead.
You said it was plain water. Why is it purple?
“The reason I inject plain water is because I believe it’s necessary to treat a person. It doesn't matter what the effects are or what the side effects might be. Because as a result, the patient is healed.”
“It’s a simple suggestion, you see.”
That was the last thing I heard.