The Tone-Deaf Healer Kills with a Song - Chapter 91

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Tone-Deaf Healer Kills with Song – Episode 091
Being a good senior, a good leader, and a good mentor are not necessarily the same thing. Jung Hwan-jae had shown me that firsthand.
Kim Hwa-hyun was less of a mentor and more like a player researching the optimal way to develop my character in this game.
After all, she’d said it herself: “Since I’ve never tried being a healer, I’ll prioritize teaching you about singing first.”
There were dozens of reasons why Hwa-jon’s existence had become precious to me, but this was one of them.
“I’m not sure if I should be cutting in line like this.”
“It’s not cutting in line—it’s a workshop slot that Hanttae has. Apparently, guilds and workshops can establish contracts in advance.”
I hadn’t expected Hanttae to treat Hwa-jon with such generosity.
We were now standing in front of the Yamyeong Workshop.
Sung Ji-wook, clearly placed here by Jung Hwan-jae, sat reading a book with an expression that screamed he had no idea why he was here.
Standing quietly between them, I felt like a well had been dug out due to the height difference.
I wondered what Sung Ji-wook was reading.
〈Even If You’re Abandoned by an S-Rank, You’ll Survive If You Keep Your Wits About You〉
…It looked like some sort of mysterious fantasy novel. Or maybe romance?
He wore such a serious expression, as if he were absorbed in a self-help book. It must have been an important scene.
Meanwhile, Jung Hwan-jae had departed with Dante to handle an S-Rank Dungeon that had suddenly appeared in Japan.
‘I was hoping to leisurely enjoy Korea, so why do I have to suddenly go to another country right after arriving?’
Dante, who had been lamenting this, threw himself into the summoning circle positioned right in front of the Gate.
Normally, hunters had to carry passports and fly by plane, but when emergency dispatch requests came in like this, they could travel using summoning circles prepared by that country.
It was a rational procedure: save people first, then deal with the aftermath.
‘Bring back Tokyo Banana when you return.’
‘I want chocolate.’
‘I’m not going through duty-free.’
‘Ugh, this is the worst.’
‘This is the worst.’
Even though S-Rank Dungeons didn’t appear every day and this was quite a serious situation, the atmosphere at Hanttae as they saw them off was relaxed.
In any case, the person who would contribute the most and come out on top would definitely be Jung Hwan.
We just had to sit here and wait for good news.
I casually asked Jung Hwan-jae as he approached the summoning circle.
‘Won’t you need me?’
‘No matter how S-Rank it is, Japan will send their elite, and if all three of us move, it will be difficult to respond if something happens outside during the clear.’
The reasoning made sense, but the reality that I’d have to be the first to rush out if any problem occurred anywhere in the world, including Korea, suddenly felt terrifying.
Is being ranked first always this heavy on the shoulders?
I suppose it must be.
[Liri: Before I even became a hunter, whenever I heard about a Gate suddenly opening, I’d think, “Hanttae or the Rank 1 will handle it,” right?]
‘You remembered….’
Yeah, what can I do. We’re the country that holds Rank 1.
How many people were living through their days peacefully, with the same mindset I used to have?
All I could do was hope that nothing major happened while they were away.
In reality, the Rank 1 who hadn’t entered the Dungeon was waiting for a consultation at the Yamyeong Workshop.
“But what about Hwa-jon, the Hunter?”
“You can just call me Hwa-jon and speak informally. I’m a bit older, after all.”
“Oh… then, Hwa-jon oppa?”
“Would it be alright if I did the same?”
“Yes, or rather, yeah!”
Hwa-jon seemed satisfied with that and turned his gaze forward once more, but Sung Ji-wook, standing beside me, looked back at me with a bewildered expression.
I’d thought he was younger than me—did he want to be called oppa?
As I stared at him with a puzzled look, Sung Ji-wook lowered his head toward me.
“Is the Guild Master perhaps too old to be called oppa?”
“What?”
What kind of nonsense was this?
As I regarded him with confusion, Sung Ji-wook let out a sigh and shook his head.
He muttered that it wasn’t about age but atmosphere, and hadn’t he told me to fix that already, before burying himself back in his book.
It was unclear whether he was talking about the book, Jung Hwan-jae, or me.
“Still, the equipment from the Ya Myung-joo Workshop feels like too much for me.”
“They say a master doesn’t choose their tools, but wouldn’t a master perform even better with good equipment?”
The saying that a master doesn’t choose their tools was something like being able to produce sound from a roughly carved bamboo flute.
But if a master used good equipment, wouldn’t they be able to produce even better sound?
“Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard what kind of weapon Hwa-jon uses. Do you prefer fighting bare-handed?”
Sung Ji-wook, who had been staring at the same page without turning it as if lost in thought, closed his book and slowly turned his head toward Hwa-jon.
In the martial world, there was something called the “pressure point strike technique.”
Much like how herbalists press our bodies to feel the pulse, it was a method of attacking by striking the vital points of the body, or so I’d heard.
It sounded similar to what Hwa-jon had done to me during the ranking tournament, and I wondered if he fought bare-handed, but he shook his head.
His gaze turned toward Sung Ji-wook, whose eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“The primary weapon I use in combat is something called the Black Dagger Sword Technique, which my handler employs. I merely imitate it.”
“Just hearing the name is terrifying…”
“Roughly, it’s like this.”
He stepped lightly through his footwork while moving his body fluidly as if wielding a blade.
His feet traced circles as they glided through the air like walking on emptiness, and the form resembled a waning moon.
White light bloomed profusely between darkness and wind.
A powerful wind swept around him—different from the gentle vital energy that usually lingered nearby.
His fingertips moved swiftly through the sharp wind like embedding daggers, and the phantom blade circled smoothly before bending like a crescent moon.
From his sharp fingertips, the phantom blade shot toward me with the ferocity of a dagger being launched.
And when I opened my eyes, Hwa-jon’s index finger was already precariously close to my forehead.
He gently arranged my bangs and straightened his clothes.
Sung Ji-wook, who had witnessed the entire display beside me, wore an expression of shock. Mine probably mirrored his.
“I really am just imitating, and my training has been neglected, so I’m quite poor at it. I only learned the pressure point strike technique because of that—I’m clumsy at using a blade to harm anyone, monsters included.”
“For someone clumsy, you did remarkably well.”
“Agreed.”
Hwa-jon laughed, dismissing it as excessive praise.
No, I’m telling you, you did really well…
“I think my eye for people has gotten worse lately.”
“That’s not true, Ji-wook. I didn’t know either.”
“You don’t need to be so formal with me.”
“Don’t be discouraged. I didn’t know either.”
Sung Ji-wook exhaled a long sigh. He tucked the book into his inventory and fixed his gaze intently on Hwa-jon.
Three healers with completely different styles had gathered in one place.
To be honest, only a guild the size of Hanttae could afford to have three healers; anywhere else would need one healer to do the work of a hundred.
Just as my affection for my guild swelled anew, the Workshop door burst open.
“Hanttae! Come in!”
It was Kim Myung-joo’s voice—one I hadn’t heard in a while.
I stepped into the Workshop, exchanged brief greetings, and explained the situation.
How Hwa-jon had joined Hanttae, that I wanted to prepare suitable equipment for him, and what his circumstances were.
“So you need to use swordsmanship, but you don’t want to hurt anyone—monsters included? Yet your talent is extraordinary?”
“As for talent…”
“Yes, it’s extraordinary.”
“It truly is.”
When Sung Ji-wook and I spoke in unison, Hwa-jon laughed awkwardly again.
A gentle breeze—now just a modest effect—rustled softly through the air.
Kim Myung-joo hummed briefly, then straightened her posture. After scanning Hwa-jon from head to toe, she snapped her fingers decisively.
“Then what about crafting?”
“Crafting?”
All three of us wore puzzled expressions at the unexpected suggestion.
“In martial arts, there are things called spirit pills. If you’re not keen on combat and came as a healer, that’s an option too.”
Hwa-jon, who had been blinking, murmured as if entranced.
“The Jade Restoration Pill…”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————