The Villainous Director Is Raising a Child!

Kuguguguung—!

Outside, in the middle of desperately holding the line, Seo Jihyeok felt the ground shudder in an odd way.

"Huh?"

The twins, whose hands he was holding, went wide-eyed.

An unbelievable scene unfolded.

The thousands of monsters that a moment ago had been charging in bristling with killing intent were, all at once, dropping — pik — like marionettes with their strings cut.

Kudang-tang! Teolseok.

Winged beasts stopped mid-flight and fell out of the sky, and wolves, unable to shake the momentum of their charge, tumbled across the ground.

"They must have killed the boss monster."

Kim Sunja lowered her cane and made the announcement, matter-of-fact.

The dust clouds that had filled the battlefield settled, and the red-rippling mouth of the Gate gradually began to stabilize into blue.

Wuung—.

And through that shimmering curtain of light, the figures of A-team who had gone inside began to reveal themselves, one by one.

Kang San and Cha Yul, drenched in blood; Sihyeok, staggering. Following behind them, Han Jewoon.

"Guild Master! Thank god you're all right—!"

Seo Jihyeok was already running when his footsteps froze on the spot.

Not because of Han Jewoon's blood-soaked state.

Because in his arms was someone who absolutely should not have been there.

"Dir... Director?"

The brilliant blond hair was matted dark with blood and dust, and the face — every drop of color drained out of it — was pale as a corpse.

"Director!!!"

Suho and the kids ran to them, screaming.

"Cheon Sarang!!!"

At Han Jewoon's shout, Cheon Sarang startled hard and came staggering over like a sleepwalker.

"This is..."

"Fix him! Now!"

Han Jewoon laid Chae Junhyeok down on the ground with care.

Then he pulled something out from inside his coat and set it down neatly beside the severed shoulder.

Wrapped in bloody cloth, a horrifically torn-off right arm.

"Ugh...!"

"Bleeeeh!"

Witnessing that terrible sight, Hayun and Hajun retched and threw up on the ground.

Suho backed away, shaking like a leaf.

"Dir... Director... Director..."

The boy shook his head hard, in denial.

"That can't be... um... the Director was... he was right over there..."

At Suho's words, Han Jewoon glanced over at the back of the helicopter, far off.

Standing there was a figure identical to Chae Junhyeok, waving toward the kids.

Han Jewoon caught on at once.

That was the item that, at a recent auction, had gone for an astronomical sum the instant bidding opened, and then vanished from the market.

"Ha! So he brought the artifact along too. He came in fully intending to fool us."

He clicked his tongue in disbelief.

"How much money does this insane bastard have rotting in the bank? Fooled us clean."

He looked down at Chae Junhyeok, lying on the ground, with bitter eyes.

Weak as water, that man.

To reassure the kids, he'd sunk that kind of money into a fake and set it out on display — and then crawled straight into the killing ground himself.

"Bleeeeh...!"

Hayun and Hajun hunched over the ground and vomited again.

The arm, torn off.

The face, drained of blood, still as death.

It was a reality too terrible for five-year-olds to bear.

But the kids didn't even wipe their mouths — they crawled, crying, and clung to Chae Junhyeok's legs.

"Director... waaah! Don't die!"

"Nnh... please... please..."

Suho, sobbing openly, stretched a shaking hand toward Chae Junhyeok's shoulder.

He wanted, somehow, to heal him with his own ability — but from those trembling fingertips, nothing came.

"Why... why isn't it working... please..."

The shadow at Sihyeok's feet was thrashing and rippling wildly, mirroring the panic in its owner, and even the always-cool Sea-ah, face gone pale, was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

And Cha Yul.

Fist clenched hard enough to shatter it, he was glaring at the fallen Director, eyes full of rage and grief tangled together.

Chaos.

Han Jewoon couldn't afford another second.

"Cheon Sarang. You can do this, right?"

"Ahh... his arm came off... such a pretty arm..."

"Reattach it. Without a scar."

"Mm..."

Cheon Sarang lowered herself, slow, and knelt.

She stretched both hands out, and a blindingly holy white light poured forth and enveloped Chae Junhyeok's horrific wound.

The cross-section of the severed arm and the shoulder gradually locked back together, inside the light.

"Hmm...?"

Right as the healing was progressing smoothly, Cheon Sarang tilted her head.

At that faint reaction, the kids' hearts dropped.

"Why... what is it?!"

Suho asked, panicked.

"By any chance... did a monster bite him?"

"Yeah. The boss monster bit him."

Han Jewoon, arms folded, face hard, looked down at the bloody Chae Junhyeok and added.

"A monster that was practically S-rank. This isn't just an ordinary wound."

"I see... that makes sense... There's something... on the wound."

"What?"

"Mm... traces of the monster's mana..."

Cheon Sarang, looking troubled, tapped Chae Junhyeok's shoulder with a finger.

"To put it simply, it's like a kind of poison... but I can't detox it. This mana is unique to that monster, so there's no antidote that would wash it out."

She stroked Chae Junhyeok's pale cheek, voice languid.

"The arm will attach. It'll look completely fine on the outside. But..."

Her fingers trailed down his neck and moved, slow, along the seam of the reattachment.

"When it rains, or when he's not feeling well... pain might come and go without warning."

She whispered it as if she were reading a sad storybook aloud.

"A kind of... 'phantom pain,' if you will."

"Wh — what do you mean...!"

At the horrific verdict — that he'd have to live with pain for the rest of his life — the kids' faces went gray.

"But I'll do my best..."

"Fine. Just heal him with as few side effects as possible."

Han Jewoon pulled his eyes off Cheon Sarang and turned to find Seo Jihyeok.

"Seo Jihyeok. Choi Juran? How did it go on your end?"

But it wasn't Seo Jihyeok who answered.

"The core is restored. Perfectly."

"Old lady...? How did you get here..."

But Kim Sunja's eyes were fixed on the core inside the sleeping Choi Juran.

The severed mana circuits had reconnected, and the core — once smashed to pieces — was pulsing again, glowing sharper and clearer than before.

"...Damned if I know how it was done... but it's remarkable. He actually pulled it off."

At the announcement, Kang San, who'd been stamping his feet impatiently beside her, choked up and lunged forward.

"Noona!!! Waaah! Noona!"

Tears already coming, Kang San was just about to throw himself at the unconscious Choi Juran, when—

"Halt."

Tak.

Kim Sunja's cane came down solid across Kang San's chest.

"That's a shattered vessel we've fused back together, forced. It hasn't even set yet — you go messing with it now, it'll crumble right back apart."

At the razor-edged bark, Kang San clamped his mouth shut and stepped back.

At that, Seo Jihyeok — who'd been watching from behind — pushed his glasses up and pulled a small metal case from inside his coat.

"Teacher's right."

Wiing—.

He opened the case, and a soft blue light spilled out, lifting Choi Juran's body into the air and carefully cradling it.

Special transport equipment that perfectly cut off any external shock.

"We'll move her in this state."

Meanwhile, off to one side, Chae Junhyeok's surgery was wrapping up.

Suuk...

The holy healing light faded out.

"......"

The right shoulder that only moments ago had been horrifically severed, gushing blood, was reattached — as if the whole thing had been a lie.

But even with the external wound gone, that didn't mean the pain was gone too.

The unconscious Chae Junhyeok, as if still trapped in a painful nightmare, had his brow drawn tight and was moaning, low.

"Like I said... there's nothing to be done about the residual poison. Every now and then... it'll hurt."

Beside her, Cha Yul choked up and shouted.

"You're supposed to be S-rank! Can't you make it so it doesn't hurt at all?!"

"Mm... I'm sorry, but there's no healer in this world better than me... so if I can't do it, no one can."

Cheon Sarang delivered the cruel fact with utter serenity.

"Still... if he goes into a healing tank when it hurts... it should help reduce the pain."

At Cheon Sarang's prescription, the kids couldn't say anything back — they just bit down on their lips.

"And..."

Cheon Sarang's eyes went to Cha Yul, standing next to her.

"You look pretty rough yourself?"

She grabbed Cha Yul's left hand, glassy-eyed.

Fingers coated in blood. Vivid teeth marks driven deep enough to expose the bone.

Cheon Sarang blew a soft "hooo—" onto Cha Yul's hand, the way you would to soothe a child.

Holy light seeped in, and the crushed bone and torn flesh mended in an instant.

"There, all done. Next patient~ over here, please."

Cheon Sarang beckoned, flitting a hand, but no one moved.

The kids stood like statues, not budging from the Director's side.

Suho held the Director's cold hand tight in both of his, sniffling; the twins had collapsed at the Director's legs.

Sihyeok kept his head bowed like a condemned man, watching only the Director's face; even Sea-ah and Cha Yul, faces heavy with grief, couldn't tear themselves away.

Kim Sunja, who'd watched the whole disaster in silence, came over.

"Tch, tch... Was fully planning to whack this idiot across the back of the skull with my cane the moment he came out alive..."

Her eyes settled on the swollen, red-rimmed eyes of the kids gathered around Chae Junhyeok.

She sighed and rapped the ground once with her cane.

"Wake up already. You dumb little punk."

That was the moment.

Dudududuk—!

From the far side of the sky, the transport helicopter Seo Jihyeok had called in came whipping through, kicking up rough wind.

Rescue, and going home.

The sun that had dyed the Honam Plain red was crossing, all the way, past the horizon.

That long, long day was drawing, slowly, to its close.

Where... am I?

Hazy sight sharpened, gradually.

A landscape both familiar and unfamiliar.

The scent of white chrysanthemums stung the nose.

A funeral hall.

"Waaah! Teacher...!"

"Teacher, wake up...!"

Below my portrait — the one where I was smiling bright — children were wailing.

Among them were kids just crying because their friends were crying, and others staring, blank, at my photo.

Don't cry... kids, don't cry...

I wanted to soothe them, but my hand only passed through empty air.

Just then, the voices of my fellow teachers reached me.

"Director... shouldn't we get in touch with his family? Some relatives at least..."

"Shh. Keep your voice down."

The head of the center glanced around, uneasy, and whispered.

"Mr. Kim... doesn't have family."

"What?"

"He grew up in an orphanage from a young age. There's no one at all."

She looked at the memorial portrait with a pained expression and went on.

"I tried everywhere to at least give him a proper funeral, tried to find any relative... but honestly, not one distant blood tie. So in the end... we're holding it as an unclaimed funeral. No chief mourner, nothing..."

At that, the other teachers clapped hands over their mouths, shocked.

"Oh my god... he was always so bright, no chip on his shoulder at all... I just assumed he'd grown up loved..."

"Right? He was so warm with the kids too... and he himself grew up that alone. That's... just heartbreaking, isn't it."

Their pitying gazes fixed on my memorial portrait.

I smiled, bitter.

Right, that's how it was. I really had been on my own, completely.

But I turned my head and looked at the children sobbing openly.

Even so... it's okay.

Because there were kids who cried for me like that. My ending hadn't been quite as lonely as it could have been.

I was just consoling myself with that, when—

Wuuung—.

The scene of the funeral hall smeared like wet paint and, in an instant, flipped into another space.

"......?"

A cold, bleak white room.

I knew this place.

The place I'd first met Cha Yul. The institute's Central Laboratory.

But what I was seeing now was subtly different from what I knew.

Instead of terminals, stacks of paper piled up; older-model monitors...

A slightly earlier version of it, maybe...?

And in the middle of that laboratory, a strange boy was bound to a chair.

About Cha Yul's age, maybe?

A boy who looked about ten, with brilliant blond hair.

"Aaaagh!!! It hurts!!! It hurts!!!"

The boy screamed.

"I was wrong... I was wrong!!! Mommy!!! Daddy!!! Help me!!! Aagh!!!"

Head bowed, the child was crying out desperately for parents who wouldn't come.

As if I were possessed, I stepped toward him.

One step, two.

The closer I got, the stranger the pounding in my chest.

Instinct was screaming, warning me.

Don't look at that child. Don't confirm who he is, don't see his face.

But it had nothing to do with what I wanted.

As if I were being pulled by an invisible thread, forced along, my body kept moving toward the child on its own.

Who are you...?

He should have been a stranger, but he wasn't.

An eerie sense of déjà vu — like meeting a fragment of a memory I'd lost.

I slowly reached out a shaking hand.

The instant my fingertip was about to touch the boy's damp hair.

[Little one, it's not time for you to see this yet.]

A woman's voice, low and gentle, came from somewhere.

Pat—.

Before I could resist the sudden dark that fell across my sight, I sank into the pitch-black abyss of unconsciousness.

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