Bound and Exposed: The Healer's Self-Doubt
Hanbyeol was grinning brightly, having figured out the gimmick by touching and releasing something. But I wasn't purely happy about it. Of course, I was relieved that she hadn't died and we wouldn't have to go through this again, and it was undoubtedly a good thing that we'd laid the foundation for a safe return. Still, was this jealousy? Inferiority? I felt even uglier for not being able to rejoice sincerely.
I didn't even aspire to be the protagonist. But watching her risk danger to seize victory while I stayed safely behind, I couldn't help thinking my spot didn't really need me there. Memories of the time I'd spent since falling into this world only fueled my self-loathing even more. While even the younger Hanbyeol was out there doing something to get us home, what had I been doing? Just rolling around in bed, panting after pleasure under the excuse of being confined. Not a single productive thing.
"Hanbyeol, you okay?"
In the end, all I could do was approach and ask about her well-being. I knew my mindset was pathetic, but that only made me scramble to find something—anything—I could do. Some might call it a slave mentality, but I was the type who feared losing my sense of worth.
Whatever Hanbyeol had touched must've disarmed the magic trap. Even as I passed the spot where our two outfits lay like a starting line for the trap, no attack came my way. Relieved I didn't have to hurt, I hurried to her side. She was beaming back at me.
Party members dying left and right, and here I was fretting only about my own pain. I pushed down the resurfacing guilt and checked her over first.
"Anywhere hurt?"
"Just a few scrapes, but sis's heal fixed that right up—no wounds left. Probably 'cause my level's high; the damage was low. Weird that my original self fell for such a weak trap. Come to think of it, same for you, sis. We're both max level. No reason we'd fall for a low-tier trap like this."
"Yeah...?"
I inspected her robe and saw bloodstains. It didn't have magic resistance, apparently—torn to shreds. But the stains looked like splatters from the front, not soaking from inside. Her back was pretty torn up too, yet spotless. Must've been blood from the people ahead, spotting only her front. I cast Purify, and her bloodied state cleaned up nicely. The ragged robe didn't mend, but she went from refugee chic to cleanly pretty—almost fashionable, thanks to her cute face. Hanbyeol really nailed her customization.
Just seeing her smile settled my turbulent heart, purifying it. No wonder they say a pretty face is a weapon.
Then she wobbled dramatically and pretended to collapse, burying her face in my chest.
"Ah, think I lost some blood. Sis, I'm dizzy."
"R-Really? I'll support you. Oh, but my arms are tied..."
I knew it was blatant babying, but I didn't want to push her away. It wouldn't wear me out, and we were both girls anyway. A little coddling was fine. No—even without that, as a freeloader on this bus, I had to cater to the driver's whims to ease my conscience.
"If you untied this, I could hold you up..."
"Nuh-uh, then you'd hurt yourself again, sis."
"I won't."
"Do thieves ever say they're stealing? Who told you to hurt yourself?"
"But that was to save you..."
She pulled back briefly, met my eyes, then hugged me tight again.
"I want you to value yourself more, sis. I don't know the reason, but I'm glad you saved me without a thought for yourself. Still, I wish you hadn't gotten hurt. I'd love to lock you up and pad the whole room soft so you can't get injured."
"That sounds kinda scary."
I'd joked sometimes about wanting a rich beauty to keep me as a pet, but hearing it for real—even as a joke—was creepy.
"So be careful with your body, sis. Your gear's already crap. I know it's hypocritical and selfish saying this while you're tied up, but..."
"Nah, it's fine. My fault anyway. Fighting's beyond me—I just gotta do what I can. Heal at least, so I don't feel ashamed around everyone else."
And the selfish one's me. While they became the protagonists, I'd hung back, scared of pain and hating the backlash, just healing. In games, it was role division, but really, I'd just grown weak. Maybe I'd rationalized it that way. Back then, I'd played flashy, control-heavy DPS to be the star. But by this game, I was older, reflexes slowing. Freshman year, I didn't get "hand cramps," but now tough controls made keys miss.
So I leveraged experience into a less physical job: priest. Still greedy for contribution, I picked healer. Otherwise, I'd have gone lifestyle class—farming, gathering, mining. Pure greed outpacing skill, hating hate, craving validation—that made me heal. Step back, read the field, judge fast even if hands were slow. Avoid risk, reap rewards. Selfish, right? What else?
Couldn't confess that to Hanbyeol, so I rubbed my cheek against her head resting on my chest, stroking with my face instead of hands. She giggled at the silliness.
"Okay, sis has stuff she wants to do. But no dangerous stuff, promise?"
"Yeah. I'm too scared for that anyway."
Good compromise. She told me to stay safe, so I seized it. Like she read my mind. My tail thwacked my butt, but I barely hid the pain and smiled at her.
"Let's regroup and push on. Everyone's outside."
"Ah, sis, I'll get it."
I squatted, awkwardly trying to pick up the dead party's dropped gear with hands tied behind. Hanbyeol stopped me.
"That'll be heavy."
I'd meant to let her move it, but not burden her with all. Iris's spear, Jonathan's shield and one-hand sword, Jimmy's daggers and pouch—over 100kg combined. But she snapped her fingers, levitating it all.
"It's fine! Magic."
"Uh..."
Now I felt awkward. "Hanbyeol, feels bad making you carry alone..."
"But you're tied, can't carry anything. I'll take it."
I'd planned to use her a bit, split the load, head to entrance. Now guilt hit; I eyed her warily. No strain showed, but still sorry.
"Hanbyeol, at least let me take the clothes. I'm sorry."
"Not heavy at all. Here, take this."
She handed me Iris's red priestess robe and spear from the float. Spear was heavy—I wobbled—but tail took it. Worried it'd yank my panties, but the holy relic ignored physics; no weight on my butt. Just the robe in my power. Fabric and ornaments added pull on the ropes, pressing chest and shoulders.
"Nngh."
The familiar sensation drew a soft moan. Body already stirring, heart raced. So sensitive—even tiny stimuli stoked desire, urging me on. Bad timing. Hanbyeol struggling, and horny sis beside? Worst.
"Sis, too heavy? I'll take the spear."
"N-No, it's fine."
She'd caught my moan, worried. I shook my head, smiled hastily. Can't be lewd near this pure girl. To cultivate pious priestess mind, I shoved aside dark thoughts—past and recent.
What gimmicks ahead? Clear closes dungeon? Or boss for rewards? No slimes or goblins—puzzle type, but probably boss at end. Dungeon designer maybe.
"Nngh, sis. Ropes pinching?"
"Hm? Not painful."
"Really? Hold on."
She glanced, slyly cupped my chest. Scream? I flinched, froze. She kneaded freely. No bra, just thin priestess cloth between her delicate fingers and my perky breasts. Not anime-flat or hyper-crushed—my moderate size yielded nicely to her touch.
"C-cup, huh. Guys go huge, over D. Surprising."
"Uh, y-yeah. Too big's weird."
Feeling good, not hurt—then she pulled away, nodded. Regret tinged; I turned. She eyed me accusingly.
"Sis, no bra?"
"Nah, never got any. Just this one outfit."
"Shoulda said. Well, bra's uncomfortable, sure. But C's big-ish. Running outside? Boobs bouncing?"
"Y-Yeah?"
"Hurt or not?"
"Pr-Probably?"
Self-loathing at sex ed age, but Hanbyeol's the senior woman—listen up. Docile answers excited her; she lectured bra pros/cons, then underwear shopping post-return. She'd pick well.
"Anyway, ropes cinching cloth act like bra now. Not uncomfortable? Tell me. No circulation's bad."
"Got it."
"If you were used to this, I'd think you were a girl pretending guy. Acts so girly."
"No, I'm a guy."
"Sure, sure."
Chatting, we reached dungeon entrance quick. Sun set; Iris, Jimmy, Jonathan lay at camp—still out. Naked, of course.
"Cold. Blankets at least."
"Gave priestess enough. Covering guy trash with mine? Pass."
Guildies balked, Hamill silent. Hanbyeol tossed rough clothes on naked men. Leather armor thumped bellies; they gasped awake.
Male bits so exposed—no shame? Not my scene either; turned away, sat by Iris, dropped robe clumsily. Rustle woke her; eyes fluttered.
"Ivy...?"
"Ah, you're up? Feeling okay?"
Tears welled in her dazed eyes; she breathed deep, calm.
"My apologies, Saintess. Quite fine for death experienced. Results?"
"Hanbyeol disarmed it."
"Good. Next phase... late, so tomorrow."
All-nighter? Focus drops, fatigue hits. I glanced at fainted ones, nodded. They wouldn't stir soon. Home-rolling delayed, but safety first.