Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: 3. One-Room Apartment
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The infirmary was quieter than expected early in the morning.
The reason was simple.
No students had shown up even as lunch approached.
"Hmm."
Are there really no injured students?
Or has the school not informed them yet?
Various thoughts crossed my mind, but nothing definitive.
For now, the principal had mentioned gathering all the students for an explanation.
Come to think of it, school starts soon anyway. Might as well handle it all at once instead of twice.
I'd told Lee Ha-yoon I'd see her before the other students.
But now, there was no need.
Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at the clock. Still only 9 a.m.
Nothing to do. Dressed in this crisp white coat, I was basically unemployed.
Having lots of free time before school starts was a clear perk, but...
Wasting it like this felt like a shame. Wonder if there's anything to do instead.
Stretching as ideas bubbled up—
—knock knock.
A welcome sound. I called toward the door right away.
"Come in."
Just like the voices I'd heard passing the infirmary in middle or high school.
I'm technically a Health Committee Member, no different from a student, but it still felt weird.
By actual age, I'm more like a teacher.
Rubbing my stiff shoulders from sitting too long, I watched the infirmary door swing open.
The person entering was...
"Nice to meet you. Woo-jin, right?"
A man.
A man who felt off-putting from the first greeting, acting all chummy.
My budding interest vanished instantly.
"That's me. What can I do for you?"
"The principal was bragging about you. Said a Healing-type Transcendent joined us."
"Ah."
But he looked a bit old for a student. Mid-thirties, maybe.
Yet he hadn't switched to casual speech, so politeness must be ingrained.
Plus, his well-defined neck muscles, subtly youthful fashion, and mentioning the principal...
"You're a teacher, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Combat instructor."
"'Yeah'? So you used to be a Hero?"
"Spot on. Been on hiatus about half a year now."
"Hmm."
"Weird, though. Most people recognize my face. A-rank Hero Bulldog..."
"Sorry. I'm bad with faces."
"Haha. Without my ability active, I just look kinda nice."
I didn't care to know, and it wasn't useful info.
An A-rank meant just below the numbered elites. That was my whole take.
I'd rather see famous female Heroes from before my regression.
As I picked words to shoo him away—
"Ow..."
"......"
By the time I noticed, he'd plopped onto a bed casually.
...Right. He came as a patient.
No choice. I stood and walked over.
Work is work.
"Doesn't look like it, but you're hurt?"
"What, you think I'd visit just to chat with a student?"
"Where? Not visible to the naked eye."
"Here... Hoo..."
He steadied his breath and rolled up his shirtsleeve over a thick forearm. Then I saw the wound.
A deep bruise. Dark red and throbbing badly.
I spread my hand to gauge it—bigger than my full palm.
Serious enough to suspect permanent bone damage.
And he looked fine despite it.
"Might hurt a bit when my fingers touch."
"Psh. A Hero can handle that."
Did a dump truck hit him?
Or tumble down a three-story staircase and snap his arm?
I placed my hand on the musclebound, creepy arm and got to work quickly.
Depending on the wound, three minutes was plenty for this.
"......"
"......"
The problem was those three minutes.
He was a guy, and I kept it strictly professional to avoid him dropping by casually later.
But silent treatment made every second awkward.
A guy gripping another guy's muscled arm, standing still. Weird picture, right?
"...Ahem."
...Never thought like this during my Villain days.
No helping it. I tried some small talk.
"What happened? Looks worse than tumbling down stairs."
"Ah, sparring with a student."
"Sparring?"
"Yeah. Depending on abilities, but combat-specialized ones get training sessions."
His explanation narrowed it down.
Hero-aspiring Transcendents output way more power than average.
Take fire magic-types: one might barely spark a will-o'-the-wisp from their hand, but a Miren Academy entrant could engulf a whole building in flames.
Same for Summoners creating odd creatures, Evolution-types boosting raw strength, or Mutation-types reshaping bodies at will.
"......"
Looks like one ridiculously strong student clocked him.
"You lost, huh."
I softened it, of course.
"Nah, I didn't. I'm the teacher. I go easy based on their level."
"So the student..."
He looked a tad sulky, pride bruised maybe.
Doesn't that mean the student got wrecked?
I swallowed the follow-up as he continued.
"She knocked herself out."
"Pardon?"
"One of the few called in during break. Good potential, but her body's frail—struggles with control."
"......"
"Usually manages fine, but today she was spacing out, making mistakes."
"......"
"Think she broke her ankle..."
"I already asked her. Told her to come with me. But she stubbornly insisted on regular treatment..."
"Then I'll ask as the Health Committee Member, not a teacher. What nonsense is this? It's not like drugs."
Sweaty guy, is he?
Following the profuse-sweating teacher, cold sweat beading on his brow as he explained.
Leaving the main building past the gym, a massive, simple cube-shaped structure appeared.
Apparently the Training Center.
Inside: a vast indoor space with a soaring ceiling.
And utterly empty.
Irrelevant to me now. I headed down the nearby hall, scanning for the infirmary.
Glancing around, I quickly spotted the green cross.
Principal said he'd keep some infirmaries open for when I'm busy treating.
Shoving that future aside, I entered.
"...Ack......"
"......"
And there sat Lee Ha-yoon on a bed, fiddling with crutches.
So innocently cheerful.
Made me... want to tease her.
Nodding curtly at the teacher's awkward greeting, I approached her slowly, step by step.
"What're you doing?"
"Huh, wh-what? Me?"
"You're hurt."
"Umm......"
She quietly set the crutches aside without a sound, but couldn't hide the splint and bandage-wrapped foot.
Even crawling onto the bed late and yanking the blanket up didn't help.
I grabbed the blanket at her foot, pulled it back—the foot peeked out again.
She yelped softly, folding her leg, but the swollen ankle made it pointless.
Like a bunny scrambling from a hunter.
"I'm not charging you or anything. Why pull this here?"
"...Well.... Um...."
I knew why.
Embarrassed from last night.
But,
I just wanted to tease.
"This'll heal you right up? Sis?"
"Hey, don't poke...! What if the anesthesia wears off..."
She clumsily covered her ankle with both hands as I tapped the hard cast.
Sighing down at her.
"Stay still. I'll treat you."
"......"
Lee Ha-yoon, peeking black hair from under the blanket, nodded faintly.
Like this morning when I left hangover meds.
Being alone with me embarrassed her, but she didn't mind treatment.
Needs more attention than she seems.
"Come to me next time, got it."
"......"
"Unless it's urgent, you first."
That way, locked door, weird stuff inside—no one knows.
Swallowing that, I sat beside her, hip to bed.
The creak made her flinch, drawing her legs in.
I caught her retreating ankle gently.
"Hurts to touch?"
"...N-no. Anesthesia's holding..."
"Then stick it out like last time. Straight."
Hand on the wrapped bandage, I ordered. Hesitantly, her pale leg rose onto me.
Toned from workouts—nice, fleshy legs.
If this were my infirmary, I'd stroke slowly, watch reactions.
But two pairs of eyes here. No dice.
Next chance, though. She seems accident-prone.
Adjusting, I playfully flicked her calf, grinning as I fixed her ankle.
Luckily, not badly sprained—the wound was shallow.
Makes sense for a half-cast.
Not much effort, yet done in under a minute.
Like healing her street injury before.
If any other patient, we'd part happily.
But she tripped fleeing me. Treating kindly and sending off felt off.
...Hang on.
After last night, maybe she touched herself alone.
"......"
Done treating, she waited primly, blanket to her forehead.
Gazing a moment, I extended mana, flowing it through her body.
Spots she touched masturbating often.
Her most sensitive unknown area.
All...
......
......?
"...Um, hey."
"Yes."
"When's it done...?"
"Almost."
"Th-then why keep touching my ankle...?"
"Almost, I said. Finishing up."
"Ugh..."
"Hold on."
Muttering softly, I checked the oddity more.
Nothing much changed elsewhere.
Undiscovered erogenous zones clean; self-developed spots slightly more so than last time.
But one thing.
Her thigh, briefly groped while tongues mingled last night,
Far more sensitive than before.
So,
Funny—she probably rubbed her thighs masturbating right after I left.
"...Ow.... Ah, ngh..."
"All done, sis."
"Got it.... Hey...! Stop hitting...!"
I flicked her exposed white calf a few more times.
Lightly. Leaving my marks.
Smack, smack.