I wake up in a hospital room, my body aching like I’ve been crushed under a mountain. The moment I see them—Sorey, Bunchy, and especially Josh—my blood boils. My hands clench into fists before I even think about it.
“I’m gonna kick your ass so hard, Josh, you won’t sit straight until my next paycheck!” My voice is hoarse, my throat burning, but I don’t care. Rage fuels me more than any sense of self-preservation.
“Chill, Slimmy,” Bunchy says, stepping between us, his hands up in a placating gesture. “I know you’re stressed, but let’s not—”
“Sorey, you tell him,” Bunchy mutters, looking away. “I can’t defend you this time.”
Sorey grins nervously. “Sup, Slimmy.”
His casual tone only makes me angrier. “Explain. Now.”
“Well,” Sorey begins, scratching the back of his neck, “this was... kinda my idea. Josh didn’t plan this. I told him to help me out.”
My jaw tightens. “What. The. Hell.”
Sorey raises his hands in mock surrender. “Look, you’re too good at your job, you know? It wasn’t fun. So I thought we’d spice things up. And, uh... Josh was getting tired of my jokes, so I figured I’d let him in on it. A little bonding, you know?”
Josh shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t look up.
“So you’re telling me you nearly kill me because Josh is sick of your shit?” I growl. “How is that my fault?”
Sorey looks away, his usual confidence shaken. “The cave’s not that dangerous, Slimmy. It’s only a forty-meter passage. We didn’t think you’d actually... get lost.”
Josh finally speaks, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry, Daryn. I didn’t think it’d go this far. Honest.”
But I look at Bunchy. “And you knew?”
He winces, his usual cheery demeanor faltering. “I did, but... I didn’t exactly participate.” He hesitates before adding, “I told them it was stupid, Slimmy. But, you know... Sorey’s Sorey.”
I want to scream, to fight, to get even, but my body betrays me. My strength is gone, and all I can do is glare at the three of them.
“I trusted you,” I say through gritted teeth. “All of you. And this is how you treat me?”
Bunchy looks at the floor. Sorey sighs, his bravado deflated. Josh, to his credit, doesn’t look away this time.
“Get out,” I say, my voice low and cold. “All of you.”
“Slimmy—” Bunchy starts, but I cut him off.
“Out!”
“Fine, we’re leaving. We’ll excuse you with the boss, don’t worry.”
They leave without another word, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing. I should’ve died down there. And for what? A stupid prank?
----------------------------------------
Tenque comes to visit. It’s not like I want him to come—it’s far from my best idea—but here he is, and there’s no turning back. Let’s see what he has to say.
“Hello, boss,”
“I heard from those two, making excuses for you. I had to come check for myself.”
“Oh, so now you believe it?”
“No,” he says, smirking in a way that makes my stomach twist. “But I want you back at work tomorrow, good as new. Unless, of course, you’re looking to get fired.” He winks, then lets out a laugh as he heads for the door. The laugh might sound playful, but his eyes stay cold and serious.
“Slimmy, Slimmy,” he calls over his shoulder, pausing just before leaving. “Bet you’re expecting your paycheck, huh?”
“Right…” I reply cautiously, already preparing for the next blow.
“Haha! About that—we use your paycheck to take care of you.”
“You kidding,” I snap, my tone sharp.
“Who do you think is paying for your wounds? Bunchy? Sorey? The company? No, Slimmy, you did this to yourself.”
“The bright side?” he continues, his voice oozing condescension. “Now you’ve learned not to be naive.”
I glare at him, clenching my jaw tight. “Is that why you came here? To tell me all this?”
“Bosses aren’t friends, Slimmy,” and leaves while laughing.
I stay where I am, rooted to the spot, the silence of the room pressing down on me. His words hang in the air, sharp and stinging, refusing to let me be.
----------------------------------------
Tsukihana:
As the door creaks open, my breath hitches. A young nurse steps into the room, her presence both captivating and unsettling. Her dark blue hair falls softly against her neck, framing a shy expression that only adds to her charm. Those blue eyes flicker nervously, as if she's unsure whether to meet my gaze or look away.
Her pink uniform clings to her figure in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination. The mini-skirt flutters slightly as she moves, revealing a glance of her bare legs. A golden bracelet jingles softly on her wrist, adding a delicate contrast to the boldness of her appearance.
Her hesitance only fuels the growing tension in the room. My thoughts race, a chaotic mix of admiration and guilt. Her uniform, while professional, feels more like a test of my restraint. The way it hugs her curves, the subtle sway of her hips as she approaches—it’s almost as if she knows the effect she has on me.
I bet the hospital is aware, good luck me, that really set me off my steam from before
But while I look more, there's something about her that immediately tells me she's not entirely at ease in this setting.
"Good afternoon, Daryn. I am your doctor, Toroshiro. This is our new intern Tsukihana, she will be in charge of your care. Anything you need, just ask her." The doctor’s voice is calm, but it’s the way Tsukihana avoids my eyes that catches my attention. She’s red, cheeks flushed like she’s embarrassed or anxious—maybe both.
He hands me a small remote with a button. "This is for emergencies. Just press it, and she’ll come running."
I glance at Tsukihana, and she offers a small bow, looking even more awkward. I can’t help but wonder why someone like her would choose a job like this. She seems to shrink under the doctor’s instructions, and I can see the hesitation in her eyes as she tries to hold herself together.
The doctor leaves us, and the room feels much quieter, the air thick with unspoken tension. I stare at Tsukihana, and she stares back, fidgeting with the corner of her clipboard. I clear my throat, trying to break the silence.
"Hello?" I ask, my voice not as sharp as I intended. It comes out almost like an invitation, but she seems startled anyway.
She yelps, which immediately makes me smirk. I wasn’t expecting her to make such a cute sound, and despite myself, it pulls a chuckle from me.
"Do you know when I can leave?" I ask, my voice a bit more serious now. I have a bad feeling about being cooped up in this bed for too long. My body’s battered, but my mind needs to be free.
"Tomorrow," she answers quickly, though she looks almost apologetic.
I blink, disbelief written on my face. "Tomorrow? Are you sure? I’m still in pretty rough shape. I could crack any second."
She nods, but her eyes flicker with uncertainty. "Yes, I’ll give you therapy every two hours. By tomorrow, you should be fine."
I furrow my brow. Therapy? I don't even know what kind of therapy she’s talking about, but it doesn’t sound like anything I’m familiar with.
"What do you mean by therapy?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral, though a pang of confusion rises in my chest.
"Yosh!" She yelps again, this time visibly flustered. Her hand comes up to her face like she's trying to hide behind it. I roll my eyes. If she wasn’t so shy, I’d be tempted to flirt with her. But honestly, her constant yelping and nervousness are starting to get a bit irritating. If she weren’t so cute, I might have gotten frustrated by now.
"I mean, I have healing skills," she finally says, and it catches my attention. Healing skills? I should have known. It’s a hospital, after all, so having healers on staff makes sense.
I glance at her again, an idea forming in my head. I activate my Eye of Curiosity skill, hoping to get a better sense of who she is. Her class should give me a bit more context.
The result appears in front of me like a silent whisper:
Tsukihana
Category: Healer
Description: Unknown.
B86, W60, H90.
Unknown? Does she have some kind of passive ability that hides her information from skills like mine? That's odd.
"So, you're a Healer, huh?" I ask, leaning back against the pillows, trying to keep the conversation going. If I’m stuck in here for the rest of the day, at least I might learn something interesting.
She freezes for a moment, looking genuinely surprised by my question. "Y-Yes..." she replies quietly, her eyes wide.
"That's pretty impressive," I say, trying to sound casual, though my curiosity is piqued. "But, um, why not become an adventurer? I mean, with a power like that, you could be out there saving the world instead of... healing patients."
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"I... I don't really want that kind of life," she says softly, almost as if she’s speaking to herself. "Helping people here, in the hospital, is enough for me."
"Fair enough," I say with a shrug. "I guess not everyone wants to be a hero."
She leaves the room to do her nurse stuff.
image [https://i.imgur.com/1MibWW3.jpeg]
Every two hours, without fail, I press that little call button, for the therapy. She really takes her job seriously, when I press the button she comes running, like if I'm having an emergency.
I’ve been secretly hoping she’d trip, that fate would deliver the ultimate spectacle. And of course, the gods answer my unspoken prayer. The moment she steps into the room, her foot catches on something, and she stumbles forward. Time slows as her short pink skirt flutters up, giving me an unhindered view of pure, white cotton panties stretched perfectly over her round shaped cheeks. My breath catches.
She scrambles to her feet, her face redder than her uniform buttons, while I do my best to keep my expression neutral. Inside, though? I’m practically doing a victory lap.
I lean back in my bed with a grin I can’t quite hide. “Best. Hospital. Ever.”
She collocates her hand in front of my affected areas and execute her enchantment ritual in the areas, such as arms, chest and legs and I feel the pain subsiding and I start feeling better.
----------------------------------------
By the next day, in the morning, I feel okay—or at least better than before. I stretch, shaking off the lingering soreness from my body.
“Well, it’s time for me to go,”
She only nods in response, her eyes fixed on the floor. The same shy, distant figure I’ve come to know during my brief stay. Even now, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
As I step out of the room, faint noises from the hallway catch my attention—raised voices, hurried footsteps, and the telltale shuffle of chaos brewing where there shouldn’t be. A hospital is supposed to be a place of quiet recovery, not this.
Curious, I edge closer to the door and peek outside.
Three figures barge through the corridor, shoving doctors aside. The tension in the air thickens as their presence disturbs the usual calm.
“Where is her?” one of them demands, his voice sharp with desperation and anger.
I narrow my eyes and activate my Eye of Curiosity skill to assess them. As expected, they aren’t ordinary civilians.
Two Rogues flank the leader, a man radiating aggression with every step. His category reads as Boxer.
Seriously? A Boxer? Pachesko really has a weird type of humor.
“We want the High Priestess. Nothing else. If you bring her to me, nobody gets hurt,” the Boxer growls, scanning the room with predatory intent.
Instinctively, I close the door quietly behind me and turn the lock. The last thing I need is for these adventurers to find Tsukihana—or me, for that matter.
“They’re after a High Priestess,” I mutter, sarcasm dripping in my voice to mask my unease. “Could be anyone, really.”
A soft, almost inaudible whisper catches my attention.
“I am the only High Priestess in this building,” Tsukihana confesses, her cheeks tinged with shame as she avoids my gaze.
Before I can process her words, a loud bang reverberates through the door. The wood splinters as the Boxer drives his fist through it, his face appearing in the jagged hole.
“You’re here, High Priestess,” he snarls, eyes glowing with an unnerving intensity.
Tsukihana flinches behind me, trembling. I glance at her, momentarily torn between frustration and pity. But there’s no time for hesitation.
“Ey, you guys sure she’s the one?” I say, stepping forward to block their view. “Look at her. She’s so shaky—can she really be a High Priestess?”
The Boxer glares, his temper flaring. “Get out of my sight!”
Not yet. I press on, my voice dripping with false curiosity. “And what’s so special about a High Priest anyway?”
The Rogues chuckle under their breath, but the Boxer isn’t amused. His eyes narrow as he spits out his answer.
“The class of a High Priest is rare. We heard about what she did for Zak—he was on death’s door, his arm nearly torn off in a raid. She healed him like it was nothing. Do you think any ordinary healer could do that?”
The revelation hits me like a blow. A High Priestess isn’t just rare; they’re invaluable. But why do they want specifically her so badly?
I glance at Tsukihana, who shrinks further into herself, her trembling form almost disappearing into the shadows.
I sigh, forcing myself to stay calm. “You can’t force someone to do what you want,” I whisper, leaning closer to her. “Go while you can. I’ll stop them.”
But before she can move, the Boxer pulls out a phone. He speaks briefly into it, his expression darkening as he ends the call. His next words send a chill down my spine.
“I see. You’re a player.”
What? Another player?
My mind reels. There are others like me in this world—adventurers transported from another realm. Could that explain their fixation on Tsukihana?
“You want that damn priest all to yourself,” the Boxer growls, his tone dripping with accusation.
The two Rogues seize me by the arms, their grips like iron. My attempt to resist is futile; they’re far stronger than I anticipated.
“I have a pathetic category,” the Boxer sneers. “Boxer. Useless. I can only fight with my hands—no feet, no weapons, just fists. A joke, really.” His frustration is evident as he clenches his fists.
“But with a healer like her?” One of the Rogues grins, his voice tinged with madness. “We could take on high-level dungeons, bleed all we want, and she’d just patch us up. Level up faster than anyone else.”
The truth is clear now. Their rage isn’t about Tsukihana herself—it’s about their own inadequacies, their desperation to rise above their limitations.
Adrenaline floods my veins. My body moves before my mind can catch up.
I won’t let them take her.
I see the boxer, his stance shifting as he prepares to throw a devastating blow. With quick thinking, I use my legs for leverage, pushing off the two rogues. Their grip falters as I kick the boxer with my feet. His momentum works against him, and I manage to create just enough distance between us, throwing the rogues off balance in the process.
For a moment, I’m free—but they surround me again, faster than I expect. The boxer, however, has a different goal. He’s already eyeing Tsukihana, not concerned about me anymore. The rogues, agile and precise, still have me trapped. I grit my teeth, looking for any weakness in their movements. These guys are quick, but they lack the raw strength of the boxer. I can match their speed if I find an opening.
“You’re good, but not good enough,” one rogue sneers, shifting to my side.
Before I can react, one of them tosses a smoke bomb at my feet, blinding me in seconds. I barely have time to register their footsteps before one rogue’s punch lands square on my face. The other hits me in the gut. The force knocks me back, but I quickly steady myself.
I fight the dizziness, remembering what I have to do. They’re overconfident, thinking they have me on the ropes. But my father’s cruelty taught me to endure worse. I let out a muffled cry, half-real, half-fake. The rogues hesitate, thinking they’ve broken me.
“Such a wuss,” one mutters. “Let’s finish him.”
I can’t afford to let them think that. They come at me again, but I react just in time, dodging the back sweep of one rogue and grabbing him by the collar. I hurl him through the door into the hallway, buying myself precious seconds as I stumble away from the gas.
One rogue, stunned. The next one runs straight at me—a bad move. I catch him off-guard with a light punch to the jaw, knocking him up.
I waste no time. I have to find Tsukihana. The sound of footsteps echoes from below, the air thick with tension. The doctor’s words ring in my ears—the authorities are coming. But I don’t have time to wait for them. I need to stop these men before they do something even worse.
The faint sounds of laughter come from a room ahead. I speed down the hallway, heart pounding. There he is—the boxer, grinning like a maniac, holding Tsukihana by her shirt. His laughter echoes through the room.
“You’re mine, priestess,” he growls. His grip tightens on her, a disgusting leer spreading across his face as he licks her cheek. “Delicious. Just like we’ve been told.”
I can’t stomach the sight. My voice drips with disgust as I step forward. “You’re making me seem like I’m an angel.”
His hand slides lower down her body, and my rage boils over.
“Stop now, before I make you regret it.”
He grins, unfazed. “What if I don’t?” He throws her to the floor.
“You also want her, come on, this is your chance. Take advantage of her.”
“No, not that way.”
I lunge at him, but he’s faster than I expect, ducking under my attack and landing a clean punch to my face. Pain explodes across my skull, my vision swimming, but I don’t have time to care. I shake it off, trying to focus through the pain.
I can barely keep up with his movements—he’s good, and his punches are sharp, precise.
“This is one of my skills, be ready noob.”
The Dempsey Roll. I’ve seen it in movies, but I never thought I’d face it in real life. His head bobs and weaves, his body moving in perfect rhythm as he strikes with relentless power. One hit. Two hits. My defense is barely holding up. My arms are shaking, but I refuse to drop.
With a grunt, I manage to land a kick to his side, but he counters with a brutal hit to my gut. My knees buckle for a moment, but I quickly regain my footing.
His smirk widens. “Not bad. It's hard to believe you are level one.”
“How do you know I’m level one?”
“I’m level three now. I can tell you’re struggling. It’s obvious you’re still weaker than me.”
He comes at me with the intensity of a charging bull. I try to weave, but I’m in his domain now—there’s no room to dodge. I can feel the pressure mounting. His fists are a blur, and no matter how much I try to avoid it, I know he’ll find an opening.
“Doing boxing against me? You’re such a fool,” he taunts, his voice full of smug confidence.
Before I can react, he finds my blind spot. A brutal counter shot lands directly on my face, and the impact sends me crashing to the floor. The world spins for a moment, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth.
He’s right. I can’t out-box him. I have no expertise in this style, but that doesn’t mean I have no options. Our physical feats are similar, but I have to find a different way to fight him. I can’t win by following the same pattern.
I take a breath, my body screaming in protest. He comes at me again, but this time I’m not going to play his game.
He rushes forward, thinking he has me. But I’m not where he expects. I dash to the side, quickly shifting my stance—a move I’ve practiced a hundred times in the past. It’s not boxing—more like a mix of street fighting and taekwondo combat.
He growls, his eyes narrowing as he notices the opening I’ve left. “Umm, you’re leaving your stomach wide open. Don’t underestimate me!”
I can’t afford to underestimate him, but I’m not backing down either. He dives into the Dempsey Roll again, his punches coming fast and furious. But this isn’t a boxing ring, and there are no rules. As his punch comes at me, I drop to the floor, executing a move I’ve learned to use in tight spots—low and fast.
His fist passes over me in a blur. He doesn’t expect my sudden shift. I kick out, a powerful strike from the ground up, connecting directly with his chin. He stumbles, momentarily disoriented.
Before he can recover, I don’t give him a chance. I unleash a rapid sequence of kicks—one to his leg, one to his arm, and a final one to his head. My strikes hit like a whirlwind, forcing him back.
But he’s not out yet. The Dempsey Roll comes again, his footwork flawless, his speed relentless. I try to keep him at bay with my own kicks, but he dodges with ease, his movements quick and practiced. He ducks low, weaving under my attack, then launches another punch straight for my face.
This time, I do something unexpected. Instead of trying to avoid it, I use my own weight against him, falling backward, throwing off my balance intentionally. The boxer’s punch misses, but I can feel the chaos of my movements catching him off guard. He hesitates for a split second, trying to figure out what I’m doing.
I don’t give him time to react. As I hit the ground, I plant my hands, flipping myself back onto my feet.
“How can you do that? Are you some kind of superhuman?” he spits, eyes wide with disbelief.
“No,” I grunt, standing firm. “It’s just a lot of work... in the arms and legs.”
He punches again with his other hand, and I can feel the power behind it. Our distance is too close, his punches landing with devastating force. But I notice something—he’s getting tired. His stamina is less than mine.
“What’s wrong? No more Dempsey Roll?” I taunt, smirking.
“I can’t use it more than three times. My mana ran out,” he snarls.
“I see. Then I guess you’re just a dog of one trick.” My smirk widens as I prepare my stance again.
I can see the fury on his face as he charges at me. Then, just as his next blow comes, I spot an opening. I step inside his reach, closing the distance, and drive my elbow up into his face with everything I have left. The force of the blow hits him squarely on the jaw, and his body goes slack. He crumples to the ground, unconscious.
The fight is over.
“Thanks, Mortaz…” I mutter as I collapse to the floor, exhausted.
“Hey… why the long face…”
“Why did you do this for me? You didn’t have to go so far.” She hides her face in embarrassment.
“I think it was the normal thing to do,”
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“No problem,” I respond, my voice barely audible.
The day passes quickly. The police don’t interview me, assuming I’m just a patient. The story everyone agrees on is that a security guard defeated the attackers—mostly because they don’t want to complicate the situation further.