Lee Hayun Wants Big Sis Treatment (2)
"Right now, you can just keep goofing off like you have been. No problem."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, once the semester starts, you'll be run ragged with no time to breathe. Gonna work the students a little harder."
"Ah."
They say you get chattier as you age. Walking the hallway with the principal, I crumpled the empty paper cup in my hand and nodded along.
Damn it. Big mistake bringing up my plan to find a new place with him. Should've just grabbed some random one-room on my own instead of trying to save a buck and getting stuck chatting for hours.
...Does this guy have nothing better to do?
"By the way, you getting any students in the infirmary?"
"...One so far. Two if you count the kid who just popped in out of curiosity."
"One, huh... Probably Lee Hayun, right?"
"Yes. Spot on. You knew."
"Of course I did. I'm the principal."
"......"
Do principals usually memorize every student's name? Not at any of my old schools, from elementary to high. Hell, you barely ever even ran into the principal.
"That girl's still too green with her powers to go out on internships. She's got amazing potential and versatility—like a raw gemstone—but polishing it properly is tricky..."
"......"
Lost in thought for a second, and the principal's voice droned on. Driving me nuts. If I exaggerated, my ears were starting to ache from the fatigue.
I was getting tired of flattering the old man's ego, but if he'd just let me go already...
How long was he gonna ramble about the academy, the students, his glory days, life goals? Felt like I'd stirred up a hornet's nest.
"Still, Lee Hayun's work ethic holds up even against the current student council president. Baek Seoyeonn was bottom-tier when she first enrolled, but through sheer effort, she eventually..."
"Phew..."
Whatever. At least I learned one thing: Seok Jaehwa was as dedicated to running the academy as his burly build suggested. From students' meal plans to tracking every trainee out on hero office internships—he knew it all.
Put nicely, he was thorough, overseeing every detail personally. Or harshly, a control freak who couldn't relax unless everything was under his thumb. But... he'd hooked me up with plenty, so I shelved the bad vibes for now.
"Need any more supplies? I'm worried since we rushed the infirmary setup."
"Not really yet."
"Snacks or something...? I could snag the coffee machine from my office. Never liked the taste anyway."
"I'm good. This is plenty."
I could go for a smoke. I'd quit cold turkey since regressing, but dealing with this chatty elder wearing me down had my fingers twitching.
Still, I'd endured long enough—hang in there a bit more and I'd be free. Respect your elders. Respect your elders.
I swallowed a sigh and flung open the infirmary door with the principal.
"Ah. How's the chair? Supposed to be top-quality."
"No clue. Not my expertise."
"Me neither. I just footed the bill. The bed? Tried lying down?"
"...Eh."
Turning down the heater I'd cranked earlier from the rising heat, I watched Seok Jaehwa flop onto the bed in his bulging muscle suit—making it look tiny.
It was a standard size, fine for one student, but on him...
"Kinda small. Want me to swap 'em all for one... no, two sizes up?"
"......"
That's 'cause it's you. I bit back the words circling my throat and nodded a couple times. Bigger bed was always better.
"Laptop's fine electrically."
"......"
"Ventilation... Oh, diffuser's there. Still, crack a window ten minutes a day. Even if it's cold."
"Yes..."
"Lights are good. Heater works great..."
Was he finally wrapping up? Seok Jaehwa stood, circling the room, stroking his salt-and-pepper slicked-back hair and wild-trimmed beard.
"Hm. Text me anytime if something's off, Woojin—no, Teacher Seo Woojin. No need to hold back."
"...Yes......"
"Only academy in the country with a healing-type transcendent. Gotta treat you right."
Grinning wide to flash his gums, the principal beamed. I'd pegged him as passionate from our first meeting, but this stamina... terrifying.
"Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Lunchtime—wanna grab some jjajangmyeon?"
"......"
We're screwed.
That thought flooded my head just as a basic ringtone blared from his pocket.
He raised a hand apologetically, checked the screen, answered, and slipped out—giving an awkward smile like our lunch was off.
...Thank god.
"Haa..."
Lesson learned: avoid the principal unless absolutely necessary. I moved to shut the door properly.
Grabbed the handle. Pushed.
"...?"
Door didn't budge, rooted in place. Something jammed? Glanced down—nothing but clean infirmary floor. No call sounds, so not the principal pranking like some kid.
Puzzled, gripping the knob, I yanked it wide open instead.
That revealed...
"Nghmp...!"
"......?"
A girl tumbling straight into my arms. Familiar ponytail. Deep embrace.
"...What're you doing, sis."
"......"
No answer. Instead, Lee Hayun steadied herself, pulling back carefully. Glancing around furtively, she kicked the door shut behind her.
Could've just closed it normally, but whatever...
...Ah.
"Arm hurt this time?"
"......"
"Walked in fine, so lower body's good. Arm or hand, probably."
"...F-finger."
"Ah. Finger."
Short reply done, Lee Hayun hesitantly offered her right hand—pale, dainty, totally her.
"Which finger? Index?"
"...Pinky."
Treat this, then lunch. Rough schedule set, I gently gripped her finger. Visually? Perfect. No breaks, dried blood, swelling, or scratches. Just a pretty finger. Too pretty to spot any injury.
"Right hand pinky, right?"
"......"
Double-check, and her bangs fluttered. Doesn't look hurt, but... infused mana carefully.
"......?"
Result? Same as expected. Not hurt—healthy as hell. Mana should've stalled at damage, but rifling through her pinky found zero blocks.
Meaning Lee Hayun wasn't injured.
Yet she wanted treatment from me.
Perfectly fine, she came to the infirmary wanting healing.
Moment later, still holding her finger, I trailed my fingertips slowly up her skin. To the base—call it the crotch?—thumbed in, massaged the pinky, slid back to the tip.
Nails were short. Habitually clipped, cherry-blossom-like stubs on every fingertip.
Yojora's, from carrying her home yesterday? Grown long for scratching.
Brief musing, stroked a nail, then lightly gripped the finger again.
...All while.
She, insisting it hurt, stayed dead quiet. Me manhandling the finger she'd offered for treatment—no whimpers even.
Just hands jammed in her white fleece pockets over uniform and hoodie, playing innocent. No patient act planned? Or too nervous?
Quick guess over. Gripping tight,
"......"
"......"
I hooked her pinky like kids pinky-swearing, led her wordlessly to the pristine white infirmary bed.
...She sat hesitantly, cheeks flushing pink right away.
Spotting her game, I eyed those rosy cheeks coolly.
"...Still hurt?"
"Next class when?"
"......O-one hour..."
A few light questions, then past her to the door.
...Lock it for an hour. Just one.