The Bitterness of Good Medicine

The entire nation of South Korea erupted into a festival of wild celebration.

Was this how the public would have felt during the 2002 World Cup if the national team had not stopped at the semi-finals, but gone on to seize the championship trophy itself? No, the impact was perhaps even greater than that. For the first time since the dawn of the Ruin System, an Ancient-grade ruin had been successfully conquered.

Domestic politicians across both ruling and opposition parties rushed to shower the public with messages of gratitude and congratulation. Major conglomerates launched sweeping promotional campaigns and commemorative events, while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠top-tier vocalists and pop idols took to official stages to deliver celebratory performances.

If only South Korea could have enjoyed such joyous tidings undisturbed.

An urgent report struck the Hunter Administration while it was still swept up in sheer euphoria.

"Commissioner! We have a crisis on our hands!"

The Chief of Staff's voice sounded more desperate than ever before. Commissioner Yoo Jeongtae felt his heart drop into his stomach, tension stiffening his entire posture.

"What is it? Has something happened to Hunter Jeon Jaewoo?"

"No, sir, not to him."

Relief washed over Yoo Jeongtae first. From the Hunter Administration's perspective, the absolute worst nightmare was any threat to Hunter Jeon Jaewoo's well-being.

"Then what in the world happened?"

"China has just unilaterally evicted all South Korean hunters from the Legendary-grade ruin we jointly held."

"..."

Well. While it certainly wasn't the absolute worst-case scenario, it was still a catastrophic blow.

Faced with the shocking news, the South Korean government immediately scrambled to assess the situation.

As previously established, ruins could be conquered through joint raids. In fact, joint subjugation was the fundamental design of ruins; they were never intended to be tackled alone. Jeon Jaewoo, who could conquer even an Ancient-grade ruin single-handedly, was merely an absurd exception to the rule.

How, then, were the shares of rewards distributed in a joint raid?

Ownership of a ruin functioned very much like corporate equity in a capitalist society. If a coalition of hunters banded together to claim over fifty percent of the total contribution, they could assert rightful ownership over the site. Once they held that majority, those hunters could forcibly evict everyone else and govern the ruin entirely according to their whims.

Because contribution was calculated objectively by the Ruin System itself, there was never any room for internal dispute over the numbers. However, whenever nations or mega-corporations joined forces to conquer a ruin, they typically drew up advance treaties agreeing to split the resulting revenue based on pre-established quotas.

After all, before the dust settled, no one could predict with absolute certainty which side would end up with the lion's share of contribution. Even if one faction fielded superior firepower, the other might somehow scrape together a higher percentage once the raid finished, resulting in a sudden loss of ownership. Establishing joint-profit treaties beforehand was standard risk management.

Yet China was an undisputed hunter superpower. In the Legendary-grade ruin jointly subjugated with South Korea, the contribution ratio of Chinese hunters had inevitably skewed higher. And now, China had brazenly breached their bilateral agreement, relying on the Ruin System's absolute authority to kick every last South Korean hunter out into the cold.

Reeling from the bolt from the blue, the South Korean government immediately summoned the Chinese ambassador. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs lodged a diplomatic protest of unprecedented severity. Yet no matter how fiercely Seoul pounded on the door, Beijing remained entirely unmoved.

Sitting across from Yoo Jeongtae to discuss the crisis, the Minister of Disaster Administration let out a weary sigh.

"It appears the President of China is profoundly incensed."

"Why in heaven's name would he be angry with us? It isn't as though we had any direct diplomatic grievance."

"Hunter Jeon Jaewoo cleared an Ancient-grade ruin, didn't he? China made no secret of its frantic efforts to clear this month's Ancient-grade ruin themselves. The President likely feels we snatched it right out of their grasp."

Yoo Jeongtae was left speechless by the absurdity.

"We never made any promise to refrain from conquering Ancient-grade ruins. To pull an underhanded stunt like this over that..."

"What can we do? When those with overwhelming might choose to act shamelessly, the weak have little recourse."

The South Korean government was backed into an agonizing corner. Because China was a dominant superpower in the hunter world, Seoul could do nothing beyond superficial diplomatic protests against such thuggish behavior.

The most pressing crisis was the high-purity magic crystals that had been harvested from that Legendary-grade ruin. South Korea desperately needed those exact crystals across multiple vital sectors. Without the supply sourced from Legendary ruins, core national infrastructure projects and cutting-edge industrial developments spearheaded by major conglomerates would grind to a dead halt. Trying to purchase them on the open foreign market would incur extortionate premiums, costing the state an astronomical fortune.

Yoo Jeongtae exhaled a heavy breath, murmuring quietly, "...Our national strategic stockpile of magic crystals is practically barren. What should we do?"

"As a stopgap measure, could we temporarily substitute them with magic crystals harvested from Rare or Standard-grade ruins?"

Yoo Jeongtae shook his head firmly.

"Whatever else might be compromised, the materials required for our current key industrial initiatives must be magic crystals exclusively from Legendary-grade ruins. Crystals from Rare-grade ruins suffer from severe purity deficits. They simply won't function."

"*Haaah*..."

Confronted with a complete dead end, both the minister and Commissioner Yoo sighed in unison.

Things having reached this point, there was only one path forward. They had to conquer one of the newly appeared Legendary-grade ruins this month—specifically, one that yielded magic crystals.

And to achieve that, there was one indispensable individual.

"What is Hunter Jeon Jaewoo currently up to?"

"We haven't contacted him since he sold us the elixirs from the Ancient-grade ruin the other day."

"Reach out to him at once and request his cooperation. Come what may, we must secure this upcoming Legendary-grade ruin."

"Understood."

Both the commissioner and the minister were in total alignment: they had to enlist Jeon Jaewoo's overwhelming strength by any means necessary.

Meanwhile, Jeon Jaewoo was currently secluded within the Ancient-grade ruin that now belonged entirely to him.

Why remain inside a ruin whose exploration was already complete? Because he was about to personally consume the various mystical elixirs produced within its domain.

Even after selling several precious remedies to the Hunter Administration, a bountiful harvest remained. According to the Elder Lich, the fruits of the World Tree would regrow after being harvested, though it would take a considerable amount of time for a new batch to mature.

Regardless, what Jaewoo had sold to the authorities were primarily elixirs meant for comprehensive physical healing or vastly expanding mana reserves. Those capable of reversing biological age had been carefully withheld. Moreover, the fruits hanging from the World Tree offered a far broader variety of miraculous effects.

After examining the fruits from branch to branch, the Elder Lich picked several and carried them over with a clatter of bones.

"It would serve the Maker well to partake in an elixir of this caliber."

"Hmm. Should I really?"

"Without question. Rather than relying solely upon our power, elevating the Maker's innate capacity is of paramount importance."

Jaewoo himself held immense curiosity toward the elixirs. These were legendary treasures that ordinary hunters could scarcely hope to glimpse, let alone taste, in their entire lifetimes. Any awakened hunter would naturally fantasize about ingesting a divine panacea to attain monumental strength.

"Alright. Which one should I start with?"

The Elder Lich promptly thrust forward one of the specimens he had brought.

"For the Maker's current state, this fellow here is most suitable."

Yet the moment Jaewoo inspected the elixir's properties, his pupils trembled violently.

"...Do I really have to start with this specific one?"

The Elder Lich tilted his skull quizzically.

"Is there some manner of problem?"

"Well, eating that sounds like it's going to hurt like hell."

The effect was practically identical to the marrow cleansing often depicted in martial arts novels. And naturally, the side effect matched it beat for beat: unspeakable agony. Jaewoo recalled the protagonists of those stories whenever they underwent such a physical transcendence. Almost every single one of them writhed on the floor, shrieking in bone-shattering torment.

The Elder Lich nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Indeed. It shall undoubtedly prove immensely painful. Likely the greatest agony the Maker has experienced in his entire mortal life."

"Excuse me?"

"Yet good medicine is bitter to the mouth, so you must not refuse it."

With those words, the skeleton stepped forward, holding the fruit aloft.

"Wait, hold on a second—"

Jaewoo scrambled backward to put some distance between them, but it was futile. Before he realized it, Myeolgeop had materialized silently behind him, locking him in an ironclad bear hug that pinned his limbs completely. When it came to their master's fundamental well-being, the golem never hesitated to curtail his freedom of movement.

"Wait—seriously, just a minute! Myeolge—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the Elder Lich shoved the fruit deep into his master's mouth. The moment the pulp slid down his throat, Jaewoo's body violently revolted.

Holy shit...

Soon, the sound of human bones grinding and splintering mingled with a bloodcurdling scream that tore through the expanse of the ancient ruins.

The harrowing cycle of torture persisted for five agonizing hours. It brought pain comparable to late-stage terminal cancer, followed by brief lulls of stability, only to plunge back into madness-inducing agony. Jaewoo nearly blacked out multiple times, but losing consciousness in such a state was perilous.

Truthfully, with both Myeolgeop and the Elder Lich administering vigilant care at his side, Jaewoo's life was never in mortal danger. The only problem was that the torment felt severe enough to kill him ten times over.

Damn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it all, this hurts way too much!

At several points, the thought crossed his mind that dying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the spot might be preferable to enduring another second. Yet the stubborn conviction that he had worked so hard to awaken and amass a fortune—and that he damn well needed to spend every cent before he died—kept his sanity anchored by a thread.

After thrashing in agony until his shattered bones finally fused back together into perfection—

"*Wheeeew...*"

Jaewoo's marrow cleansing finally reached its conclusion.

Ugh. My jaw aches.

He had clenched his teeth so violently while enduring the spasms that his entire lower face throbbed. Despite bearing such astronomical pain, his total mana reserves hadn't drastically spiked, nor had any flashy new traits materialized in his status window. Even so, Jaewoo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could distinctly feel an undeniable shift within his flesh.

It was as though someone steeped in years of toxic alcohol and nicotine abuse had suddenly been remade into the healthiest, purest human specimen on Earth.

Wait, why is my body so clean, though?

Usually, undergoing marrow cleansing meant expelling heaps of foul-smelling black sludge and impurities from every pore, leaving the person coated in filth.

"Ah. This one used Sorcery to banish the bodily impurities the instant they emerged."

Now that was a remarkably convenient hex.

"Anyway... I'm glad it ended safely. Good work, both of you."

At that, the Elder Lich picked up yet another fruit, his jaw clicking pleasantly.

"Shall we proceed directly to the next elixir?"

Jaewoo flinched in raw horror and desperately waved his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on! It's already late today, so let's call it and rest. We can pick this back up tomorrow. It has to be exhausting for you to maintain that level of support magic non-stop, right, Lich?"

"Nay, it is no burden whatsoever for this one—"

This time, Myeolgeop stepped in, aligning with Jaewoo's stance.

"Tsk. Very well, if you insist."

Jaewoo finally managed to escape the ruins, dragging along the visibly disappointed Elder Lich. But the moment he stepped into the outside world and checked his smartphone, he found dozens of missed calls waiting for him.

The desperate caller who had dialed dozens of times was, predictably, none other than Commissioner Yoo Jeongtae.

What's going on now? I haven't even caused any trouble this time.