Sihyeon, who had entered Team B’s training room with Shin Yijae, rubbed his noticeably fuller stomach. At this rate, if he kept eating like this, he might end up rolling around someday. Still, he felt relieved that today, thanks to Shin Yijae, he’d been able to use an excuse to slip away. As he was thinking that, Yijae said he’d go get his weapon and stepped out. Only then did Sihyeon grow curious about what kind of weapon he used.
The weapons used by first-years were provided by the Association, randomly distributed as long as they matched the student’s class. Because of that, some got lucky and received good weapons, while others ended up with poor-performing ones. Representative examples were Sihyeon’s pink staff and Hamin’s transforming shield. Thinking about the stark difference in both design and performance between those weapons, Sihyeon frowned. Something he had already resigned himself to suddenly started to feel unfair again.
At least change the design. So it wouldn’t look like some toy staff bought from a cheap store.
As he silently made that modest wish, Shin Yijae soon returned—carrying a greatsword as big as his own body. Sihyeon’s mouth fell open without him realizing it.
“…That’s your weapon?”
“Yes!”
“You use that?”
“Yes!”
“…Can you even lift it?”
The greatsword looked about the same size as Yijae himself. Suddenly, Sihyeon recalled what Kang Sihyeon had once said while explaining the Copy class. Even if you copied the skill of someone who used a greatsword, it would be useless if you couldn’t actually wield one. Sihyeon looked at Shin Yijae, whose build wasn’t much different from his own.
At Sihyeon’s doubtful gaze, Shin Yijae grinned confidently and nodded vigorously.
“I’m stronger than I look!”
Coming from that cute face, it wasn’t very convincing. Just as Sihyeon was about to say that out loud, Yijae suddenly lifted the greatsword.
Sihyeon quickly shut his mouth—no, tried to, but ended up opening it again in shock.
“I can lift this much easily!”
…Easily.
His shock only deepened. Thinking it was a good thing he hadn’t said anything, Sihyeon stared as the boy hugged the greatsword and looked at him with sparkling eyes. He didn’t even seem to care that the blade was digging into his body and drawing blood.
Somehow… this one doesn’t seem normal either.
It felt like the crazy-person detector he’d developed after transmigrating was going off.
“Then… should we try syncing?”
“Is it okay without an opponent?”
“Yes, yes! I just want to try using my skills. I’m curious what it feels like to receive continuous healing….”
“What was it like when you tried with Hajin?”
“Hmm… how should I put it? It felt like I became a monster.”
“Hm?”
At the unexpected answer, Sihyeon tilted his head. Scratching his cheek, Shin Yijae explained that getting hit by potion bottles didn’t feel very pleasant. Sihyeon gave a brief nod of agreement and stood up from the bench.
“I didn’t bring my staff, so I’ll just cast it by hand.”
“Yes!”
He answered energetically. Watching his polite and eager attitude, Sihyeon thought he’d probably get praised a lot by seniors if he ever went to the military. As Sihyeon extended his hand, a bright light flickered before energy wrapped around Yijae. Smiling brightly, Shin Yijae told him to step back and swung his greatsword.
Apparently, his claim about being strong wasn’t exaggerated—his movements were smooth and effortless, like flowing water.
Whoosh—! Wind swept through, and a deep crack formed in the training room floor.
Boom! Boom!
Several loud crashes filled the room afterward.
Shin Yijae practically flew around, wrapped in a red glow. Watching blankly, Sihyeon took a step back when he saw Yijae grinning like he wasn’t even tired. The greatsword moved in his hands as lightly as paper.
Sihyeon decided then and there—he would never worry about Shin Yijae again.
“…About 3% per minute? Around that much, I think. Since it lasts about 15 minutes, that’s 45% total!”
After rampaging around for 20 minutes, Shin Yijae cheerfully analyzed the healing Sihyeon had cast on him. Usually, a single application of continuous healing restored at least 80% of someone’s health—but for Shin Yijae, it didn’t even reach half. So Berserkers really did have more health than others. Seeing it firsthand, Sihyeon let out a short groan.
And that was only when he was attacking without taking damage.
What was the point of recovering 3% per minute when using skills drained more than 5% per minute? And if he took hits on top of that…?
“…Doesn’t Hajin complain?”
Feeling a pang of sympathy, Sihyeon worried about Hajin, who had been responsible for healing Shin Yijae all this time. The innocent boy stroked his chin once and looked upward.
“Now that you mention it… he did say his wrists hurt from making potions.”
“Good thing you’re not my partner.”
“Huh?”
At Sihyeon’s blunt honesty, Shin Yijae’s eyes widened. When he asked why, Sihyeon looked at him with an incredulous expression.
He understood that the Berserker class was strong.
But its efficiency relative to its health pool was terrible. Without a Healer, it was a class that could never sustain long battles. Now he understood why someone this skilled was still in Class B.
This messes up the plan.
Running a hand through his hair, Sihyeon muttered while looking at Shin Yijae. Originally, he had planned to keep continuous healing on Yijae and support the others as needed—but now, it seemed like he’d have to do the opposite.
“How much health do you have left right now?”
“Hmm… about 40%?”
“Then wait a moment.”
After saying that briefly, Sihyeon used a small amount of mana to cast a basic heal. A soft light flickered and disappeared. Regardless of differences in total health, it usually restored about 20%.
“How much do you feel recovered?”
“Uh… about 10%?”
“…I see.”
Swallowing his complicated feelings, Sihyeon looked down at his hand and clenched his fist, recalling a past resolve.
I need to raise my healing proficiency.
Recently, he had been so focused on practicing Copy and the newly engraved water-element skill that he hadn’t paid much attention to healing, so his proficiency hadn’t improved much. He had heard that overseas, there were Healers who could restore 100% of an A-rank Berserker’s health using only 10% of their mana. Compared to that, he was severely lacking. If he had used a full restoration heal just now instead of a basic one, it felt like it would’ve consumed at least 50% of his mana.
Sihyeon frowned as he recalled healing Seowoo, who had been drenched in blood during the first Monthly Evaluation. His Copy proficiency had improved noticeably, but his healing hadn’t progressed much.
“For now, I’ve got a rough idea of what to do, so let’s stop here with me. Try syncing with the others. They should be here soon.”
“Yes!”
“Oh, and find your next partner on your own.”
“Huh?”
Shin Yijae blinked in confusion. His expression clearly said he didn’t understand—then belated realization hit him, and he asked if Sihyeon disliked him. More than dislike, it was just troublesome, so Sihyeon shrugged.
“There’s already a waiting list.”
“A waiting list?”
“Yeah. If we go by order, you’d probably be around fifth. Maybe by third year, you might get a chance to partner with me….”
Though he couldn’t be sure.
Yoo Seowoo was aiming to be his next partner, and Hamin likely was too. Kang Haeun had also once suggested they partner up for support synergy, and Baek Geonwoo had mentioned wanting to try it at least once. So while he called it “fifth,” there was also the possibility of partnering with Dawoon or Jihye. Honestly, people he’d known longer would take priority over Shin Yijae.
“…Third year.”
At those words, Shin Yijae visibly deflated, fiddling with the hilt of his greatsword. By third year, students would start operating under Mir Military, spending less time at school. If they ended up in different guilds, they’d barely be called partners except during Monthly Evaluations—and even those could sometimes be replaced with guild activity reports. It wasn’t hard to understand his disappointment.
If I were a Berserker, I’d be disappointed too if I lost a Healer.
As Sihyeon gave his shoulder a couple of light pats—
Bang!
The training room door burst open loudly. Instinctively turning toward it, he saw Haru, breathing heavily as if he had run all the way there.
“Haru hyung?”
Did you run here?
Wondering what could be so urgent, Sihyeon asked. Haru’s red eyes shifted, glancing between Sihyeon and Shin Yijae.
“Ah….”
“…?”
A sound somewhere between an exclamation and a sigh escaped him.
Then, slowly, Haru collapsed to the floor, burying his head into his knees. Thinking something might be wrong, Sihyeon tilted his head and approached him.
“What’s wrong?”
No answer came. He had already been worried since Haru was later than usual, and now seeing him like this made it worse. Did something happen? By the time the thought crossed his mind, he was already standing right in front of him.
“What about the other two?”
“…Seowoo said he’d come after talking.”
“And they just sent you ahead alone?”
Are they bullying him or something?
The thought suddenly seemed plausible. Lee Hamin had disliked Haru since the entrance ceremony, and Yoo Seowoo wasn’t much different. You could tell just from how he still referred to Haru as your partner. Frowning, Sihyeon crouched down to meet Haru at eye level.
“Are they bothering you?”
“Huh? Ah, no.”
“Then why did they send you ahead and stay back talking?”
“I….”
“You…?”
Hesitating, Haru’s lips parted slightly. He glanced at Shin Yijae, then looked back at Sihyeon. His red eyes slowly sank.
“If you’re just going to lose him anyway, you should give him to me.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to go? You’re his partner.”
“Guess you don’t mind losing him.”
“Hyung?”
Lost in recalling those words, Haru snapped back at the clear voice calling him. Meeting Sihyeon’s clean, bright eyes, he swallowed. Long eyelashes. Softly moving lips. The way he crouched there, tilting his head—it was strangely…
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“…No.”
Haru shook his head.
“I was just… talking to Seowoo, and he told me to go ahead….”
“So they did send you off alone.”
“It’s not like that….”
I just…
He trailed off, staring at Sihyeon with unfocused eyes before burying his face into his arm. Tilting his head, Sihyeon blinked at him. Then he heard Haru mumble something, words too slurred to make out.
“What did you say?”
Leaning in slightly, Sihyeon asked. Haru slowly lifted his head.
“…Partner.”
“Huh?”
“…Are you going to partner with him?”
His voice was much quieter now. Only then did Sihyeon realize what Haru meant, letting out a short sound.
So that’s why he ran over—he thought I was going to partner with someone else.
It seemed Yoo Seowoo had known that and deliberately teased Haru.
And yet he ran all the way here, so hard he was out of breath.
Letting out a small laugh at how innocent he was, Sihyeon glanced back briefly before speaking in a low voice.
“Hmm, I’ll say this quietly since Yijae might hear….”
At the soft, almost story-like tone, Haru lifted his head a bit more. Before, only his eyes had been visible—now his full face was revealed.
“I’m not going to.”
Sihyeon whispered, meeting his gaze. Haru’s eyes widened, then he quickly turned his head away, avoiding eye contact. The tips of his ears were faintly red, as if he were embarrassed. Seeing that, Sihyeon chuckled softly and stood up.
“Want to practice together for the first time in a while?”
At the quiet question, Haru’s eyes widened before he hesitated, then took Sihyeon’s hand. As he nodded, Sihyeon’s lips curved upward.
At least taking care of him felt rewarding.
