“An S-rank can’t even protect a few kids properly and ends up like that?”
It was clearly a provocative remark, delivered with a biting edge that cut through the mundane hospital air.
Ban Eun-hyeol, his face a mask of disdain, looked down at Yeon Ha-yeon with cold, sunken eyes, his gaze sweeping from Yeon Hyeong-gwang, still covered in the grotesque blue blood of spiders, to Dana, whose leg throbbed with a fresh, angry wound.
He was probably referring to their less-than-pristine state, a silent accusation hanging in the sterile environment.
Ban Eun-hyeol didn’t have a single close friend here, no one to soften his acerbic tone or deflect his criticisms, leaving his words to land with unadulterated impact.
“Oh, so you’re capable of clearing a dungeon while protecting all three civilians? Impressive.”
Yeon Ha-yeon clapped her hands, a slow, deliberate gesture that, for a moment, made it seem as if she were genuinely admiring him.
But her voice was devoid of any soul, flat and empty, a stark contrast to the saccharine sweetness of her gesture.
Thanks to that, a prominent vein popped on Ban Eun-hyeol’s forehead, a tell-tale sign of his barely suppressed fury.
His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly.
“Of course I can.”
His words were clipped, precise, each syllable laden with frigid conviction.
A palpable chill passed between them, a silent declaration of war.
The look in their eyes sparked as if they were about to combust, two opposing forces locked in a tense standoff.
If the original story had properly started, Dana mused with an inward sigh, there should’ve been romantic tension between these two by now, a burgeoning connection hinted at by their fiery exchanges.
Instead, their deadly glares, radiating pure animosity, made the entire situation absurd, a farcical deviation from the expected narrative.
The air crackled with their unspoken challenge, leaving everyone else in the vicinity feeling like they were caught in a sudden, inexplicable cold front.
‘Why are they fighting over this…?’
Dana thought, a tired resignation settling over her.
The absurdity of the scene was almost too much to bear.
While the two main characters were growling at each other, their intense rivalry a dramatic spectacle, Eunhasu and his girlfriend were completely engrossed in their own world, busy filming what could only be described as the most dramatic reunion scene ever.
Their voices, filled with exaggerated emotion, carried across the waiting area, drawing curious glances.
“Ahrin… I thought you were going to die…”
Eunhasu whimpered, his face streaked with manufactured tears, clutching his girlfriend, Ahrin, in a theatrical embrace.
“Why would I die, you idiot.”
Ahrin, ever the practical one, managed to sound annoyed even as she leaned into his hug, a slight smile playing on her lips.
“You know that without Sagong Ahrin, there’s no Eunhasu, right…?”
Eunhasu continued his plaintive monologue, completely unconcerned with their surroundings.
“What are you talking about? You have to survive!”
Ahrin gently pushed him away, her voice firmer.
“Dumbass, how am I supposed to live without a heart?” he countered, gazing at her with wide, mournful eyes.
The scene was unbearable to watch, an overly dramatic display of manufactured angst that grated on Dana’s nerves.
She turned her head away in an effort to escape the saccharine spectacle—just in time for Han Ji-bin to come running, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by a flurry of genuine concern, and grab her hand.
“Dan-ah, Dan-ah, are you okay? Your leg is totally wrecked. Poor Focus is gonna be so upset~” he chirped, his voice a strange mix of sympathy and playful teasing.
Why does that sound a little off…?
Dana thought, a flicker of confusion crossing her face at the oddly phrased comment.
What did her leg have to do with Focus being upset?
She was too tired to parse the nuances.
“Haha, it’s not completely wrecked or anything…” she managed, trying to downplay her injury, even as a fresh throb reminded her of the spider’s bite.
“Who said they were upset?!”
Ban Eun-hyeol, cutting her off with a sharp, unexpected shout, stomped over, his cold gaze fixed on her wounded leg.
His sudden intervention surprised everyone, silencing the overly dramatic couple and even momentarily distracting Yeon Ha-yeon from her silent standoff.
“That’s barely a scratch.”
His voice was dismissive, almost contemptuous, a stark contrast to his earlier outburst.
Just a moment ago, he was yelling at her for not being able to protect anyone properly, implying her injuries were a testament to her weakness, and now, only minutes later, it was like he’d completely forgotten he said it.
The blatant hypocrisy was almost comical, if Dana weren’t so exhausted.
He then gave an annoyed glance at Eunhasu, who was still hugging his crying girlfriend, though his tears had magically dried up, and walked off with the Four Heavenly Kings trailing behind him like loyal shadows.
He muttered, “So damn noisy,” as he left, the words barely audible but dripping with irritation.
His exit left a vacuum in the tense atmosphere, a lingering sense of his displeasure.
The Dungeon Management Bureau arrived to clean up the situation, their efficient, no-nonsense approach a welcome change after the emotional theatrics.
They immediately took Dana and Eunhasu’s girlfriend to the hospital.
Ironically, out of the three of them, the one who was in the best shape—Eunhasu’s girlfriend, whose only “injury” seemed to be emotional distress from witnessing the battle—left the ER with barely any treatment, skipping out with a cheerful wave and a promise of a future fan club.
Dana, meanwhile, stayed behind to get her leg and some assorted bruises treated, the minor wounds proving more substantial than Ahrin’s theatrics.
“You guys, I’m really fine now. You can go.”
Dana gave the Yeon siblings an awkward smile as they insisted on staying with her, their faces still etched with an almost painful degree of concern.
It was her not-so-subtle way of saying, “Thanks for the concern, but please leave.”
She really didn’t want every eye in the emergency room fixated on her, drawing more attention than necessary to her already complicated situation.
The whispers and glances from the other patients and staff were starting to make her feel like a specimen under a microscope.
But neither of them seemed ready to leave.
They even said, with a strange mix of guilt and earnestness, that she got hurt because they failed to take down the monster fast enough, blaming themselves for her minor injuries.
Their sincere remorse was endearing, but also made Dana feel even more uncomfortable, as if she were somehow manipulating them.
What saved her from their intense gaze and guilt-ridden pronouncements was a familiar popup: the chat window, shimmering into existence before her eyes.
▶ CuteYomi (Lv.9): I was so frazzled I forgot to say hi! CoolHandsomeGuy, nice to meet you! ><
∑(Corp) Utteum (Lv.8): What the—you’re ranked higher than me? Who are you. —
Blood (Lv.3): Pleased to meet you.
∑(Corp) Utteum (Lv.8): Guild Master Black, you’ve been saying the same thing since this chat was introduced. Say something else, please!
Lumos..★ (Lv.10): Wow, I’m glad we’re tied at 6th place. I almost got kicked from the chat ᅲᅲ
Yeon Ha-yeon frowned at the floating chat screen blocking her view and was about to say something, a question or perhaps an admonition about the strange visual anomaly, when a nurse approached to treat Dana, syringe in hand.
Her gaze naturally shifted back to Dana, her concern for her friend overriding her curiosity.
Yeon Hyeong-kwang also seemed utterly disinterested in greeting the chat, his attention solely focused on Dana’s well-being, and ignored it, his gaze fixed on her leg.
The chaotic, asynchronous world of the chat went on, unnoticed by the two most important people to Dana at that moment.
Contrary to her wishes, the Yeon siblings’ guilt and concern continued at school, a persistent, hovering presence.
Even though Dana wore her gym pants to hide the injury, hoping to blend in, they didn’t stop casting worried glances at her, their eyes darting to her leg whenever they thought she wasn’t looking.
Their vigilance was touching, but also incredibly inconvenient for her secret identity.
Normally, Dana would’ve found that kind of attention incredibly suffocating, a claustrophobic encroachment on her personal space.
But not anymore.
Things had changed.
The constant threat of exposure, the weight of her secret, had altered her perception of minor annoyances.
This was a manageable distraction compared to the larger stakes.
“D-Dan-ah… a third-year senior wants to see you outside.”
During break, Nabi, who had just come back from the bathroom, spoke in a trembling voice, her eyes wide with apprehension, and pointed toward the classroom door.
This was already the fifth time that day.
People Dana didn’t even know kept calling her out like this, a steady stream of curious, often hostile, faces.
Her newfound notoriety was proving to be a headache.
With a sigh, Dana stood up, the chair scraping harshly against the floor, a sound that drew the attention of the entire classroom.
Yeon Ha-yeon, who had been diligently studying, her head bent over her textbook, immediately got up and came over to Dana’s seat, her movements swift and protective.
That too, for the fifth time.
What was going to happen next was obvious.
That third-year, who never expected Yeon Ha-yeon to come out clinging to Dana, her arm linked securely through Dana’s, would probably send Dana back in without even properly explaining why she called her out.
It was a predictable cycle, one that Dana was growing weary of.
“You’re that girl who shamelessly flirts with the Four Heavenly Kings… Who the hell are you?!”
The third-year, a tall girl with a haughty expression, launched into her accusation as soon as Dana stepped into the hallway, her voice sharp with indignation.
She clearly hadn’t noticed Yeon Ha-yeon emerging right behind Dana.
“Me? I’m Yeon Ha-yeon.”
Yeon Ha-yeon’s voice was calm, almost bored, a stark contrast to the third-year’s bluster.
Her grip on Dana’s arm tightened imperceptibly, a silent statement of possession.
“Yeon Ha-yeon? The Blood Fragrance Guild Master…?”
The third-year’s voice, initially confident, faltered dramatically as recognition dawned on her face.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, then quickly narrowed in a mixture of fear and reluctant respect.
When Yeon Ha-yeon nodded, a subtle tilt of her head that exuded an almost regal authority, the third-year, who had been mouthing words, her initial bravado completely deflated, lowered her gaze, unable to meet Ha-yeon’s steady stare.
Seeing Dana and Yeon Ha-yeon with their arms linked, a casual display of intimacy that belied their formidable reputations, must’ve scared her pale—it felt like déjà vu.
It was amazing how everyone reacted in exactly the same way, the same stunned realization, the same swift retreat.
Even though a second-year had spoken informally to her, a blatant breach of school hierarchy, the third-year didn’t even think to correct it.
She simply turned around and quickly walked away from them, her steps quickening to a hurried retreat.
“You—you! I’ll see you next time!” she managed to shout over her shoulder, a not-so-threatening comment that sounded more like a desperate squeak than a warning.
She then ran up the stairs and disappeared, a pathetic, fleeing figure.
It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but things were already like this. Just thinking about how the rest of the day would go made Dana feel sick.
The constant vigilance, the endless stream of confrontations, was exhausting.
Yeon Ha-yeon and Yeon Hyeong-gwang weren’t the only ones following Dana around at school, albeit in a less direct manner.
Whispers followed her, glances lingered, and the unspoken tension from another powerful presence was almost palpable.
“Isn’t Eun-hyeol’s stare especially intense today?” she overheard one classmate whisper to another.
“He’s looking at Dan-ah, right?” another responded, her voice hushed.
“Dan-ah, did you do something to upset Eun-hyeol…?”
A girl from her own class, bolder than the rest, approached Dana, her voice filled with apprehension.
I didn’t!
Dana screams internally, a wave of exasperation washing over her.
I really didn’t!
I have no idea why he keeps glaring at me like that.
Ever since we got caught up in that dungeon incident in front of the arcade, he’s been looking at me like that, his dark eyes like twin magnets of disapproval.
And when I’m with Yeon Ha-yeon, his gaze feels even sharper, more accusatory, as if her proximity to the Blood Fragrance Guild Master intensified his displeasure.
[BboᄃH Pretty Boy(6): Boss! I’ll head up next break! Dan-ah noona’s okay, right?]
The evening after his awakening, Yeon Hyeong-gwang, clearly emboldened by his new status, boldly announced in the group chat that he was the younger brother of the Blood Fragrance Guild Master.
Since then, he’d started using the group chat like his personal messenger, a constant stream of updates and playful banter.
[Focus(1): Can’t you two just message each other privately? This is annoying.]
Ban Eun-hyeol, who had been staring coldly into the air like an icy wind was blowing in his face, his usual stoic demeanor amplified by a clear undercurrent of irritation, sent that message.
The sharp, terse words were a direct challenge to Hyeong-gwang’s casual chatter.
Yeon Hyeong-gwang quickly replied, utterly unconcerned by the obvious hostility.
[BboᄃH Pretty Boy(6): Ah, sorry~^x^]
“Oops.”
Dana muttered, a flicker of amusement despite her own discomfort.
She bet Ban Eun-hyeol was seriously pissed.
Sure enough, his eyebrow twitched, clearly annoyed, a small but significant tell of his simmering anger.
Clatter, slam—
Ban Eun-hyeol stood up with enough force to break his chair, the loud noise echoing through the suddenly silent classroom.
He stormed out of the classroom, his movements abrupt and forceful, the embodiment of barely contained fury.
The two others—except Han Ji-bin, who had gone off to hang out in another class—followed after him, a silent, disciplined entourage.
“What’s got him all twisted up this time?”
Eun Ba-da asked, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and exasperation, as she followed her friend up to the rooftop, a familiar escape for Ban Eun-hyeol’s moods.
Ban Eun-hyeol had been acting strange more often lately, his temper shorter, his expressions darker.
Even though nothing in particular had happened today, the intense pressure he exuded made it obvious something was going on that she didn’t know about.
“That brat.”
Ban Eun-hyeol’s voice was a low growl, laced with a profound irritation.
“Brat?”
Eun Ba-da echoed, confused.
“I mean Lee Dan-ah.”
His words were venomous, the name a curse.
“Ahh, did something happen between you two?”
Eun Ba-da’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
She was sure he said he didn’t like Dan-ah anymore, that his fascination with her had waned.
But ever since then, that girl from Gonju High—the one they called the princess, Shin Sena—had been showing up constantly, looking for either Ban Eun-hyeol or Dan-ah, adding another layer of confusion to the already convoluted situation.
As far as she knew, there hadn’t been any direct contact between Ban Eun-hyeol and Dan-ah since then—aside from the relay mission on Sports Day, a brief, unavoidable interaction.
Eun Ba-da couldn’t figure out what was going on, and just then, Ji Kang-han, who had been spacing out with fish eyes, his usual detached expression, suddenly clapped his hands as if he remembered something, a sudden spark of insight.
“Oh! Maybe it’s because of the King-Wang-Jjang Gate.”
“King-Wang-Jjang… you mean that sudden gate incident?”
Eun Ba-da’s eyes widened in recognition. Come to think of it, Ban Eun-hyeol’s expression had looked especially bad that time, a grimace of pure frustration.
She remembered his frown deepening when he saw Galaxy River screaming in front of the gate that had vanished without a trace, a scene that had clearly irked him.
“That kid keeps getting caught up in gates right in front of me,” Ban Eun-hyeol grumbled, his voice laced with a deep-seated annoyance, as if Dana’s presence near dangerous portals was a personal affront.
“Just when I thought she’d stop following me around, she’s acting even more annoying than before.”
“Ah, well. Maybe Dana’s just really unlucky,” Eun Ba-da offered, trying to be conciliatory, though even she knew it sounded like a flimsy excuse.
“She probably wouldn’t do it on purpose,” Ji Kang-han added, his voice soft, a rare defense of Dana.
Ban Eun-hyeol, feeling frustrated by their casual dismissal of his profound irritation, ran his hands through his hair, a gesture of pure exasperation, while watching Eun Ba-da and Ji Kang-han talk casually like it was no big deal.
To them, it was a minor inconvenience; to him, it was a persistent, infuriating problem.
Squeak—
At that moment, the rooftop door opened, breaking the tense silence, and a slender leg cautiously stepped over the ledge onto the rooftop.
Ban Eun-hyeol, not paying attention to who it was at first, his mind still seething with his annoyance, turned his head when he heard a voice soon after.
“Eunhyeol, hey, this is for you.”
It was Shin Sena, who had been quietly attending school lately, her usual aggressive demeanor replaced by a more subdued, almost demure attitude.
Thanks to her family’s influence, she avoided a forced transfer and hadn’t shown up in front of the Four Heavenly Kings nor bullied anyone for a while.
It seemed her parents, eager to maintain their reputation, told her to behave if she wanted to keep going to school.
Shin Sena approached Ban Eun-hyeol for the first time in a while, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, holding out both hands, trembling slightly.
In her trembling hands was a pale pink envelope, its delicate color a stark contrast to the grim rooftop atmosphere.
“What is it? Go away.”
Ban Eun-hyeol’s voice was as cold as ever, a direct dismissal that would have sent most people fleeing.
Before Dana started following him around, Shin Sena was the one who annoyed Ban Eun-hyeol the most, her persistent advances a constant source of irritation.
Despite his cold voice, she didn’t seem to mind and pushed the envelope forward more, a desperate hope shining in her eyes.
“I’m having a birthday party this week. This is the invitation—I really hope you come!” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you even know what I hate the most?”
Ban Eun-hyeol’s gaze was withering, his tone laced with a biting sarcasm.
He didn’t need to elaborate; his disdain for social gatherings, especially those involving him as the center of attention, was well-known.
Knowing the answer, a wave of mortification washing over her, Shin Sena quickly fled out the rooftop door before making Ban Eun-hyeol truly angry, her earlier courage vanishing instantly.
One of her friends, who had been carrying a large sheet of paper with birthday wishes and was about to ask Ban Eun-hyeol to write a post-it, also hurriedly ran away, her eyes wide with fear.
The large sheet in her hand shook pitifully, scattering the loosely stuck post-its like fallen leaves.
Eun Ba-da, who had accidentally taken the envelope, held it out to Ban Eun-hyeol, a question in her eyes.
“You’re not going, right?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” he scoffed, not even bothering to glance at the offending envelope.
The envelope containing a love letter and the invitation written in colorful pens by Shin Sena was abandoned in a puddle on one side of the rooftop, its delicate pink now stained and warped by the dirty water.
Next to it, the heart-shaped post-its from students who were almost forced to write birthday wishes lay soaked and soggy, their earnest sentiments reduced to pulpy mush.
Shin Sena, upset from the harsh words she received from Ban Eun-hyeol, walked down the hallway, fighting back tears, her shoulders slumped in defeat. In her view appeared Dana, laughing and chatting happily with Yeon Hyeong-gwang, their conversation animated and lighthearted.
The stark contrast between her own misery and Dana’s seemingly carefree existence was a bitter pill to swallow.
She said she didn’t like Ban Eun-hyeol anymore after following him around obsessively, but now not only is she cozying up to the Four Heavenly Kings, those untouchable idols, she’s even flirting with the handsome first-year, Yeon Hyeong-gwang, completely unashamed.
No wonder Ban Eun-hyeol saw Dana, who could easily get involved with kids she couldn’t connect with despite trying so hard, as so irritating.
Shin Sena’s eyes, which had tears welling up moments ago, were now completely dry, replaced by a cold, calculating glint of resentment.