In a corner of the inn operated by the Adventurer Guild itself, the atmosphere hummed with the low clatter of tankards and the occasional burst of laughter from travelers chasing down a quick meal. Ahin sat there with the solemn intensity of someone about to storm a battlefield, fork already buried in his steak, every muscle locked in fierce concentration as he devoured the plate before him. His golden eyes narrowed, dark blonde hair falling messily across his forehead, the weight of the world—or at least this particular dinner—pressing down on his shoulders.
Er, seated across from him, watched with a mix of amusement and concern. She had just finished explaining the basics of her shield work when she leaned forward, voice soft but probing. “So, Ahin… what exactly is that skill of yours?”
He paused mid-bite, fork hovering. “…Skill?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
The words landed like a well-placed counter. Ahin lowered the fork, setting it aside as if the plate itself might bite him. To his left, a precarious tower of empty dishes leaned like a Jenga disaster waiting to happen; Er shot him a worried glance. “You’ve shown it to me already, so the ‘I don’t know’ act isn’t going to fly.”
“I’m not going around telling everyone about it,” he muttered, voice low and defensive.
“Please, just this once?”
Ahin took a huge bite of meat, jaw working as he spoke around it. “Alright. Hypothetically—if there were people with similar abilities, the price of potions would still be insane, right?”
Er’s lips twitched into a hidden smile. “Exactly. If there were, the prices wouldn’t be what they are.”
He chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not much to it, really. Just healing wounds and boosting strength or mana. Simple.”
She blinked. “That doesn’t sound simple. Magic that does that doesn’t exist. Even if we stretch the definition, raw body enhancement might be possible, but mana itself? That’s—”
“Not magic,” he cut in.
“Not magic?” Er echoed, tilting her head.
In the corner of his vision, a small window flickered into existence—clean, glowing, impossible to ignore.
⚔ STATUS ⚔
⚡ Strength:14
💨 Agility:9
🔥 Intelligence:18
📈 Luck:7
[Skill List]
Ahin tapped the air beside the window with his fork. “Philanthropist. And this one.” Another flicker.
You possess a gentle heart! You couldn’t bear to pass by those in pain, so you suffered for them.
A miracle suited to you has been prepared!
- Wound healing and fatigue recovery.
- Boosts overall stats and slightly increases luck.
“…Heal?” Er repeated, voice carefully neutral. “What kind of name is that?”
He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Just call it what it is. I heal. I buff.”
“You never said the name before.”
“Back off! Who the hell announces their own skill name in this world?!”
Er’s eyebrows shot up. “Isn’t that the rule? You shout the name when using it so people know it’s magic?”
“Shut up!”
He gripped his head, turning away, and Er watched him with the same bewildered expression she’d worn when they first met. “You’re weird…”
“You’re weirder!”
“Yeah, yeah. Weird people never realize they’re weird.”
“Ah, I’m going insane.”
Er ignored the dramatic head-grab and kept going. “No restrictions on use? You can heal anyone?”
“As long as my stamina holds out… but self-heal doesn’t work.”
“Self-heal?”
Ahin’s eyes darkened. “I can’t heal myself. That’s my biggest flaw.”
“Even self-heal would be enough for some kind of pervert heal fetish—”
“Pervert?!”
“I wasn’t talking about that. I’ve said everything important already. Why are you asking?”
Er’s expression stayed perfectly calm. “It’s basic party-leader duty. Know everyone’s abilities.”
“Party members?”
“Exactly. We’ll be using each other. A lot.”
He tilted his head, confused. Er’s smile turned sly. “I’m not dumb enough to let talent like yours slip through my fingers. Your healing plus my sword work? Silver, gold… maybe even Platinum. I can carry us both.”
“Carry?”
“Up the ranks. To Silver, Gold, Platinum.”
The ranks every adventurer knew by heart. Silver and above received special guild treatment. Platinum was the stuff of legends—potential to climb higher than most nobility ever dreamed.
“I have to go higher,” Er said quietly, eyes fierce. “No matter what. That’s the only way.”
Ahin studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “Fair enough. We don’t need to dig into each other’s pasts. Just useful partners… that’s enough.”
He finished the last of his meat, wiped his hands, and extended his own. “Tank. I heal. We break the party when we have to.”
Er took his hand. Her grip was steady. “Deal. Until the party wipes.”
They shook on it.
Er’s mind, however, kept drifting back to the single question she hadn’t voiced aloud. Why was a man with that kind of power still wandering the Adventurer Guild as a bottom-rung adventurer? A priest could sit on temple thrones. A noble could buy influence. If money drove him, why suffer? If power repulsed him, why not open his own clinic?
The questions coiled in her stomach like bad stew. She pushed them down.
The single conversation they still had to finish was the one hanging over the table right now.
“So, what’s the quest exactly?”
“I checked it earlier.”
“Must’ve been distracted by something else.”
“Money?”
Er’s sharp tone left him speechless. He shut his mouth. Er smiled faintly and slid a rolled parchment across the table. “Look for yourself.”
Ahin unrolled it, eyes scanning the crisp lines. The silence stretched until Er had finished her second mug of beer.
“Ahin, did you know?”
“Know what?”
He set the paper down, face set in stone. “This is an undead dungeon exploration quest?”
“Yes. I saw it first.”
“Seriously?”
Er waited. Ahin’s fingers tightened on the edge of the table. “Why are you only telling me now?”
“W-well… sorry…”
“If I’d known it was undead, I’d have been gone already! Not drinking beer!”
Ahin shot to his feet, ready to bolt. Er caught his sleeve. “Ahin! What’s gotten into you?!”
“Undead!”
“So?”
“Heal doesn’t work on undead! It’s literally the rule!”
Ahin tried to wrench free. Er held on, voice rising. “Then sit down! We’re not going anywhere at this hour!”
He glared at her, then dropped back into his chair with a dramatic sigh.
Er watched him with open suspicion. “Undead quests are usually unpopular. They don’t die easy, they stink… and they’re a nightmare to kill.”
Undead were the living dead—corpses yanked back from oblivion for no reason anyone could explain. Cut their heads off, stab their hearts; most still moved. Equipment rotted first. They became monsters everyone avoided.
Yet here was Ahin, practically salivating at the mention.
“Ah, yeah. They’re tough, they smell awful… and there’s nothing left to kill when you’re done.”
“Have you ever fought one?”
“A few times.”
“Not many?”
Er’s own experience was laughably small—maybe three or four beginner zombies back when she was Bronze. Even that had left her shield dented and her pride scraped raw.
“High pay is the only reason anyone takes them,” she said. “Or maybe no one else wants them.”
Ahin’s grin widened. “You’re not surprised?”
Er’s expression stayed neutral. “I can read between the lines.”
He laughed softly. “There’s a better way, then?”
“Obviously.” Ahin leaned forward, thumb jabbing his own chest. “Trust me. I’ll carry.”
“Carry?”
“Trust me. I’ll heal everything.”
“…Whatever. Let’s just pay the bill.”
“Ah, wait! One more bowl of meat—”
“Talking about undead while stuffing your face? Your stomach has serious issues.”
“Ahahaha… that’s just how survivors adapt.”
Ahin stared off into the distance again, then flagged down a waitress for seconds. While recounting the story of the undead he had somehow survived, he still managed to devour an entire extra plate with relish.
Er watched the scene—twin dishes in both hands, charging like a bull at the table—face twisted in pure disgust. She set her own cutlery down and simply observed as the little Bronze-Iron duo finished their meal in the flickering light of the inn, the weight of the night still hanging over them.
