It's Kind of a Long Story

"Why are you two holding hands?"

A chill shot down my spine the instant I heard those words. I didn't even need to watch the sword bobbing lazily at her side to know how quickly things could go wrong...

I belatedly tried ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to let go of her hand. But before my fingers could even uncurl, Hunter Han Doa tightened her hold instead—lacing her fingers firmly through mine, no less.

"We really shouldn't let go just yet, S-Rank Hunter Baek Seorin?"

"...And why's that?"

"Because I'm treating him right now. Here."

Han Doa pointed beneath my protective vest.

"The wound along his side has split open quite badly. If I don't keep treating it like this, there's a risk it tears back open."

"Pretty sure you don't actually need to hold hands for that?"

"Even so... grabbing somewhere else would feel a bit improper, wouldn't it? We're not even the same sex."

"Oh ho. Is that so?"

Baek Seorin snatched up my other wrist.

"Then I suppose there's no harm in me doing this either?"

"And why are you holding him, S-Rank Hunter Baek Seorin? You're not even a healing-class hunter."

"Well, the boy's hurt badly enough to need treatment. So I'm simply going to keep him safe by holding his hand."

"Uh..."

And what about my opinion, exactly?

Han Doa on one side. Baek Seorin on the other.

Standing pinned between them with both arms captured while murderous pressure rolled off the two of them in waves, I felt less like a man returning from a successful rescue and more like a criminal being arrested at the scene.

"Long time no see, squirt. You've got some color back in your face."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Really? I was worried about that. What a relief. More than anything, though, it's a true pleasure to see you again."

"Is it? You don't look all that thrilled to me."

"Ah, well. As you know, I've only just come out, so I'm probably just tired. I really ought to watch my expression better in front of my elders..."

Baek Seorin's eyebrow rose, ever so slightly.

"Your elders?"

"Yes. You're far senior to me, and older besides. S-Rank Hunter Baek Seorin."

"...You've been saying 'S-Rank Hunter' this and 'S-Rank Hunter' that for a while now. Don't tell me this is still about that thing from before?"

"Oh, perish the thought. How could I ever, to a grand senior such as S-Rank Hunter Baek Seorin? It's pure, simple respect."

"Heh heh heh..."

They were both smiling, all right.

So why was there one more sword floating around than there had been a moment ago?

I was just trying to quietly slip an arm free when an association staffer who had appeared out of nowhere seized his radio.

"Hunter Baek Seorin's return confirmed!"

Right behind him, medics and association personnel came pouring out.

There were more of them than I'd expected. From what I understood, they were supposed to be waiting outside the Gate.

Are they giving Hunter Baek Seorin special treatment?

Well, she had only just come back, and the news was still making a racket over her. It seemed plausible enough.

"Additional person confirmed beyond the registered party! One female!"

"Hold on—that face..."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The voice of the staffer checking the missing-persons roster on his tablet cracked clean in two.

"H-Hunter Han Doa! It's Hunter Han Doa!"

"What?"

"Presumed to be Hunter Han Doa, who went missing at this site five years ago!"

Everything went silent for a heartbeat at the staffer's words—then flipped upside down all at once.

"Missing person's return confirmed!"

"Get the identity verification equipment over here!"

"Medics on her first! Emergency report to headquarters!"

"Widen the perimeter! Block every camera outside the line!"

Shouts and pounding footsteps erupted from every direction at once.

Apparently even those two felt it would be poor form to keep up their standoff amid all that, because at last they let go of me.

Haa... I thought I was going to die.

Both of them had gripped with monstrous strength. Whenever one side pulled, the other hauled right back, and caught in the middle, I had been stretched—quite literally—in two directions at once.

...If I hadn't awakened, wouldn't I have genuinely been torn in two?

To nearly kill an innocent man over a petty power struggle. A shiver ran through me, and not without reason.

"Hunter Han Doa, can you hear me?"

"Yes, clearly."

"Any dizziness? Any shortness of breath?"

"Nothing beyond being a bit tired. But look at him first, please. He's lost quite a lot of blood."

Surrounded by medics firing questions at her, Han Doa pointed at me.

"I'm really quite fine."

"You said that earlier too, you know."

"And I am fine, because you treated me earlier."

"Tsk. That's not for the patient to decide."

The medics' gazes slid naturally down to my protective vest. One look at the blood dried stiff into the fabric, and a nurse was already calling over another bed.

"We have one more injured person here!"

And so Han Doa and I were carted off side by side into a makeshift medical area. On one side of the curtain they took her blood pressure and temperature; on the other, they cut my vest open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and examined the wound beneath.

"The wound's already closed, though?"

"I treated it. He'll have lost a fair amount of blood, so start him on a drip first."

At one word from Han Doa, a needle was promptly jabbed into my arm as well. Naturally, without asking me so much as a single question.

...Haa.

Where was the mercy in this world for a powerless awakened hunter? Ever since yesterday, I'd felt like nothing more than luggage being hauled from one place to the next.

"Hunter Han Doa. We'll need to compare your mana waveform to verify your identity."

"I just place my hand here, right?"

By then an association staffer had come in carrying a portable mana scanner and a set of aged records. Han Doa nodded and laid her hand on the device. Her energy began to ripple around her, and the graph on the screen started to climb. The waveform appeared in exactly the same position as the record from five years ago—it meant her unique signature matched.

Only, the height was different.

The line, tracing faithfully up along the old values, touched the very edge of the screen and began to flash red.

"Waveform match. Identity confirmed."

The staffer swallowed dryly.

"However, the output exceeds the portable scanner's measurement range. A precision rank assessment will be required. And she is, in all likelihood..."

"I understand all of it. So let's keep things quiet for now. That's agreeable, yes?"

"Y-yes, ma'am! Understood!"

The staffer nodded at ramrod-straight attention.

"Identity verification of Hunter Han Doa complete!"

"Register her as an official returnee!"

And with that, the formal return procedure was wrapped up. Just as it had with Baek Seorin yesterday, blue letters floated up before my eyes.

...So it's self-recovery.

Set against how Han Doa had wiped my wound away without a trace earlier, it was pathetically humble. Still, I supposed it beat having nothing at all.

I tried using it on my side on the spot, as a test—and instead, up popped:

Ah...

Remote Traction and Emergency Self-Recovery. I could hold on to both, but apparently I was allowed to use only one of them at a time.

That's a bit of a shame, honestly.

Not that a man who'd been unawakened until yesterday had much standing to complain—but a shame was still a shame.

Well, regardless. First order of business: try out the new ability.

I switched my Ability Fragment over to Emergency Self-Recovery.

The instant the blue letters vanished, I focused my awareness on my side.

The sensation of using the ability was simpler than I'd expected. Nobody had ever taught me how it was done, yet the power flowed out on its own, as though my body had known all along. Before long, a gentle warmth began to spread somewhere deep inside my side.

Oh.

The stabbing, throbbing pain began to ebb, little by little. It wasn't as if the wound were actually healing—a deep breath still ached with a dull weight, and moving remained just as uncomfortable as before. But the pain that had been scraping at my nerves before had definitely dulled.

Not bad, for F-Rank?

I hadn't expected much of it, but it looked like more than enough for gritting my teeth through an emergency—

"Agh—?!"

A splitting pain surged up at my temple, a beat too late. Remote Traction or Emergency Self-Recovery, it seemed every ability ended the same way: with my skull feeling one size too small.

So self-recovery doesn't work on headaches, huh?

Made sense, probably—the headache itself was the penalty for using an awakened ability.

"Jaemin? Are you all right?"

"Ah, that's—"

"See? I told you he wasn't fine. Honestly... Can we get him to a hospital right now?"

"Once the basic workup is finished—"

"I asked whether we can go to the hospital. Right. Now."

"Ah—y-yes, at once! We'll arrange for the tests to continue at the hospital!"

"There we go. Let's hurry along, Jaemin."

Han Doa held out her hand with a bright, radiant smile. And for some reason, looking at it, cold sweat slid down my spine entirely of its own accord.

The emergency center entrance was even more of a madhouse than when we'd left it. Baek Seorin's brother was still in surgery, and with the wounded being belatedly ferried in from the Foundation, police and association staff had backed up all the way into the inner reaches of the ER.

We slipped in through an underground passage to dodge the press. The moment we reached the floor with the operating rooms, a doctor with his surgical cap pulled off in one hand came running from the far end of the corridor.

A familiar face. The doctor who'd been holding the penlight at this hospital earlier. Or, to be precise, the man whose penlight I had quietly spirited away.

...Ah.

My conscience pricked me a beat too late, but Dr. Han Dojin's gaze never lingered on me. The instant he spotted Han Doa standing beside me, his eyes wavered, ever so slightly. The flusterment on his face was so plain that playing dumb would have been difficult even if I'd wanted to.

"Doa?"

The penlight in Han Doa's hand trembled, thin as a thread.

"Dad."

Han Dojin walked over slowly and cupped his daughter's face in both hands.

"Is it really you?"

"Mm. It's me, Dad."

"You're really my Doa?"

"I'm telling you, I am..."

Han Doa bit down on her lip a few times, as if fighting back tears. Then, at last, she buried her face against her father's chest.

"I'm home."

No coherent words followed after that. Han Dojin stroked his daughter's back over and over, while Han Doa looked ready to pour out every tear she'd held in for five years. The medical staff along the corridor turned their faces away without a word.

I made to step aside and give them the moment, but Baek Seorin caught my arm first and drew me back.

"Leave the family to it."

"Yes."

Baek Seorin didn't spare the father and daughter a single glance. Her face was the very picture of composure as she stared at the wall across the corridor, but there was real strength in the hand gripping my arm.

...It's not about to rip my clothes, is it?

I did my best to move exactly as her hand steered me. I was just approaching my mental limit when voices rose again from across the way.

"You kept this the whole time, Dad?"

"Y-yes. But then how did this..."

"Jaemin over there gave it to me... It wasn't from you?"

"No? How would I ever have given this to someone else?"

In that instant, the sounds around me receded to a strange distance, as though a thin membrane had dropped between me and the world. It felt like that same indescribable jolt I'd had in the car earlier.

Dr. Han Dojin gave no sign of feeling anything. He simply looked at me, without reaction. At first his face showed no recognition at all—but as his eyes went back and forth between the penlight and me, it stiffened in a peculiar way.

"Aren't you the patient who was in the treatment room earlier?"

"Ah. Yes."

"Then how exactly did you come to be holding that penlight?"

"Well, um. That's... kind of a long story..."

How on earth was I supposed to explain this one?

A thin line of cold sweat slid down.