Discharge, Management, and the Styx of the Blue Snowfield (1)
Lee Jun had spent yet another full day flat on his back in the hospital room after regaining consciousness, and finally, morning came.
“Discharge might still be a little premature….”
“Oh, come on, I'm fine. Look at me. Perfectly healthy.”
“Even so, we should run a few more detailed tests….”
“Honestly, why are you making such a fuss? I'm telling you I'm fine now.”
From first thing in the morning, Lee Jun had been locked in a tug-of-war with the doctor trying to keep him admitted. He had his consciousness back, and there were no lingering aftereffects anywhere else—except for one small matter: his hand wasn't reattaching.
But Lee Jun had a rough idea why, and he also knew that no test was going to reveal the reason. Dragging things out any further here would be a waste of time. And naturally enough, Lee Jun absolutely despised wasting time.
“Whew… then I'll process the discharge paperwork. Nurse Kim, pull up the patient's admission records, organize the relevant details, and send them over to the insurance review team.”
“Oh, I don't have insurance. I'll just pay out of pocket and walk out—done.”
“I'm sorry, what?”
“I don't have any family to leave money to anyway, and all this paperwork just eats up time. I have plenty of money. I can cover the hospital bill, no problem.”
At that, the doctor gave him a look of pure bewilderment. In all his years working at a hospital, he'd probably never met a patient like this. Hunter-related insurance payouts were substantial enough that almost nobody skipped out on a policy. In fact, South Korea's hunter insurance enrollment rate sat at around 99.8 percent. Of the remaining 0.2 percent—excluding Lee Jun—the rest either had fully equipped private treatment facilities, could only be managed at specific institutions, or avoided hospitals altogether for security reasons.
Which meant Lee Jun was the only ordinary person out there with no insurance whatsoever.
“Even so, wouldn't insurance be wise?”
“……?”
A familiar voice drifted in from the doorway. And in walked—white hair and red eyes. The Guildmaster of Seolwon, Yoon Seol herself.
“…And to what do I owe the pleasure this time?”
“You looked in serious condition last I saw. I came because I was worried.”
“Anything else?”
“A little of this, a little of that.”
At her words, the doctor and nurses tactfully excused themselves. Was social awareness simply a baseline feature of anyone at the top of their field?
Click.
The door to the private room closed, and only two people remained in the space—Lee Jun and Yoon Seol.
“How is your condition?”
“This is my condition.”
Rather than a long-winded answer, Lee Jun simply held out his wrist. The amputation site, still unhealed even after three days. The implication was clear enough: something was definitely wrong.
“…Is there a reason for that?”
“It's private, so no comment.”
“Mm. Understood.”
Yoon Seol nodded—a promise not to pry any further. Then, as if the pleasantries were out of the way, she moved straight to business.
“This bet of ours. How do you think it turned out?”
“You're asking me?”
“Yes.”
“…….”
This bet. Well, naturally….
“I believe our side won.”
“Do you now?”
“Of course. Otherwise the math wouldn't work out. Look at this.”
Whoosh, whoosh—
Lee Jun waved his empty right hand for her. Getting this injured obviously meant he'd gotten something of equal value in return—gates almost always paid out rewards honestly in proportion to their difficulty.
Yoon Seol's eyes followed the swaying wrist. Left. Right. Left. Right again.
“Mm.”
Then she pulled something out of her pocket.
“Here you are.”
“…What is this?”
“A Shard of Styx.”
“I'm sorry, what?”
What she handed over was a jewel. A jewel glowing blue. The crystal was only about two finger-joints wide, but the power sealed within it was beyond imagination. Just in case, Lee Jun clutched the crystal tight in his fist and squeezed.
Vrrrrmmm—
A fine, trembling vibration, as if the thing were shouting for itself: I am a batshit incredible artifact.
“…What is this? What's the catch?”
Lee Jun loosened his grip and asked her outright. What kind of game was this? She was a former vice-chairman's peer and currently his opponent in a bet, yet here she was as Guildmaster without a single attendant in tow. Guild-wide, she'd never come alone—especially since Lee Hyeon-ah would sooner die than let her guildmaster travel unescorted—so she'd clearly snuck out without telling anyone where she was going. And she'd just stuffed a legendary-grade artifact carelessly into her pocket? One hundred percent smuggled out in secret.
“A catch, you say?”
“I mean, why are you just handing it over?”
“I never said I was giving it to you. I'm simply showing it to you.”
“…….”
And then she added, with a perfectly straight face:
“Mm. Just kidding.”
Some joke. It didn't sound like one at all.
“Which part of that is the joke, exactly?”
“The showing-it-to-you part.”
“That's the same as saying you're giving it to me. You understand what that means right now, don't you?”
“Of course. It means I'm acknowledging my defeat in our bet.”
“But why on earth—”
Granted, it was good news for Lee Jun. Good news didn't even cover it—this was a meteor strike direct from Mars. There was no reason to suspect it, no reason to refuse, no reason to think at all; the obvious play was to just take it.
And yet… how could a person not be suspicious in a situation like this? It made no sense. What was wrong with her?
“…There is absolutely no way I can accept this. Even if Lee Hyeon-ah storms in here throwing a fit later, I am never, ever giving it back. Understood?”
“Of course. In return, just answer one question for me.”
Yoon Seol's face, as she said it, looked oddly grave. Honestly, her expression hadn't changed from the usual deadpan. But there's such a thing as atmosphere, and something about it was subtly different. Radiating that solemn air, she asked:
“That hand. They can't reattach it?”
“…You ask that gravely, and that's all you wanted to know?”
“'All'?”
Yoon Seol tilted her head. A strange chill seemed to radiate from the gesture.
“…They can't. Not yet, anyway.”
“The fact that you say 'yet' suggests you know of a way?”
“More or less. Nothing certain, of course… but I have a hunch.”
“That's a relief.”
“……?”
Something had been off for a while now. Was Yoon Seol always like this? She was a bit more… um, you know… weird. No wait, was she still weird? Weird if you thought so, not if you didn't… honestly, hell if I know.
“Haa… what is even happening….”
“Do you dislike it? Do you not need it?”
“No. Not at all.”
Right. He'd just enjoy the ride. He didn't understand the situation, but a Shard of Styx had ended up in his hands either way. Handing this over meant declaring defeat in the bet. Which meant the threat of Seolwon absorbing his agency had vanished clean away.
Lee Jun gently turned the shard over in his palm. He couldn't tell at a glance whether it was genuine or a fake, but that was a question for an appraisal later. What mattered for now… was that Seolwon had formally declared its defeat. It might be Yoon Seol acting entirely on her own, but that was none of Lee Jun's business. Within a guild, the guildmaster was the highest authority, after all. When that authority recognized the result, what was anyone going to do about it?
So Lee Jun moved quickly to close out the topic—trying to tie it off before anything else could be said. As a way of concluding things, he offered Yoon Seol a handshake.
“Well then, it was a good contest. My thanks for faithfully honoring the terms of our bet.”
As he spoke, Lee Jun found himself extending his right hand. Oh, right.
“My apologies.”
And switched to his left. This was going to keep tripping him up until the hand grew back.
“…Pfft.”
“……?”
What. Did she just… laugh? That Yoon Seol?
“Uh….”
“Mm, I also thought it was a good contest. Brilliant strategy, and quite resourceful under pressure.”
“Overwhelming force tends to trample all that, though.”
“But you succeeded in the end, didn't you? I thought it was impressive. And entertaining, too.”
She took Lee Jun's outstretched hand. He'd expected an ice-cold grip, but her hand was surprisingly warm.
While Lee Jun was mulling over that little surprise, Yoon Seol added mischievously:
“I thought you were only good at boss-stealing, but you're quite good at throwing aggro too.”
“…….”
There was a barb buried in that remark somewhere. And though Yoon Seol couldn't have known it—Lee Jun actually did have a history of pulling aggro on Taesan. Maybe that was why, for some reason, he felt a twinge of guilt.
When he failed to come up with a reply, she added:
“Just kidding.”
Haha. She certainly does love her jokes.
And so Lee Jun was finally discharged and returned home. No wait—was “finally” even the right word? Counting the entire gate clearing, he'd been away from the house for less than four days. Tacking a word like that onto it felt like massive overkill.
Still.
Seeing Seo Yoon's reaction made even that seem like nothing.
“Boss!”
Before Lee Jun could even open the front gate, Seo Yoon came running out. Had she been waiting this whole time? He'd sent her home first to rest; if he'd known it would be like this, he should have brought her along.
“It's been a while, Seo Yoon.”
“Mm… already discharged, I see. I'm relieved you seem so much better.”
“I am.”
It was probably better not to mention that he'd strong-armed his way out of the hospital against medical advice.
“Now, let's head inside.”
“Yes. Mind your step, and come this way, please.”
“…I'm not that badly off. Everything else works fine.”
“Still, we can't be too careful. You were badly hurt.”
She guided Lee Jun along with extraordinary caution—far more than the situation demanded. Watching her like this, it was clear the incident had shaken her quite badly. Fair enough, he supposed. Watching the man you called “Boss” get sliced open and skewered right in front of you would startle anyone. He'd have been rattled too.
That aside, it seemed Seo Yoon had handled the aftermath admirably in the middle of all that. The doctor had said the first aid applied before his admission had been excellent. From what he'd heard, she'd done everything herself—from moving him to staunching the bleeding and the rest of the emergency treatment. All while keeping the Seolwon people from laying a finger on him. With the bet on the line she hadn't trusted them, and apparently his last words before collapsing had something to do with it too.
“Come to think of it, I passed out right there on the spot. What happened after that?”
“After… that, you say?”
“Yes. Like, how you got me moved, that sort of thing.”
“…….”
“……?”
No answer. What now?
Don't tell him she'd dragged him along the ground.
“Seo Yoon?”
“…I'll go make some coffee first. You need to rest, and I've been pestering you far too much.”
“No, you weren't bothering me—”
“Rest well.”
With that, she pressed Lee Jun firmly into the sofa and headed for the kitchen. Honestly, what on earth….
“Did she seriously drag me?”
Not that it mattered—Seo Yoon would have been running on empty herself, and in the end she'd gotten him somewhere safe, which was all that counted. They weren't the type to hold grudges over something like that. He just hoped he hadn't been hauled off in some undignified sprawl, was all.
Plop— plop—
From the kitchen came the sound of sugar cubes dropping into the coffee. Or rather—should that be coffee getting dropped onto the sugar? And today, for some reason, it sounded like rather a lot of sugar was going in.
“Well, whatever.”
That signature sugar-bomb coffee was in the works either way, and the sound of it gave him a strange sense of calm. The thought that he'd gotten past the biggest crisis since his regression set his mind at ease. Of course, more trouble was already lining up on the horizon… but for this moment at least, he wanted to savor the peace.
Plop— plop— plop— plop— plop—
“Uh….”
…Yeah, he wasn't going to get to savor that.