Was Happy Being a Despised F-Rank Healer, You Know? - Chapter 138

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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16. Strange Omens (15)

“Princess. The stars are murmuring.”
The Shadow Figure, once the second boss of the Baridegi Dungeon, opened his mouth for the first time in ages.
The Shadow Figure had appeared before Baridegi, the third boss and once his source, and had begun laying out his usual tedious observations.
“At last. Finally.”
“I believe I said I don’t trust such nonsense about celestial omens.”
“It seems our wayward youngest is doing quite well.”
The wayward youngest.
There was likely only this exasperating creature before her who could refer to King Yama in such a way.
Looking at what each of them symbolized, the Shadow Figure was the most frightening of the three.
The world’s resentments, the suffering of the abandoned, betrayal.
All manner of negative sorrow — accumulated and crystallized into that shadow boss.
One might call it fortunate.
The Shadow Figure had been born from Baridegi’s shadow after the Baridegi Dungeon itself came into being.
And so despite possessing power that rivaled divinity, he chose to remain bound within this dungeon.
It wasn’t loyalty to Baridegi, though there was affection there.
What he served were those who shattered what was fixed.
Because the Shadow Figure was an accumulation of sorrow from those who could not do so themselves.
In other words, by modern terms, he was addicted to catharsis.
And so among the three bosses, he alone longed most for a contract with Hali.
‘His yielding was unexpected.’
No matter how much King Yama had thrown a tantrum, had the Shadow Figure opposed, it would have been he who ultimately received her.
But the Shadow Figure had chosen instead to bind himself to her at the very last.
It seemed he believed that the act of contracting itself might place a grave burden upon her soul and body.
On that point, there was agreement.
She was grateful that he had judged it so of his own accord. Still, that didn’t mean she had to sit and listen to his drivel like this.
“I imagine Hali must be managing King Yama quite well, then.”
“That observation is quite sound.”
The yellow-chick-colored face, drowning in longing, broke into a bashful smile.
The color combination ought to have looked eerie or ridiculous, yet this creature, when beheld directly, only appeared beautiful — beautiful enough to draw tears, then sorrowful enough to draw them again.
“How I wish to see her.”
Such a being was Hali, who inspired such aching longing in this silent one.
From the very day she first entered this dungeon and received the Nameless Vessel, this wordless creature had periodically created such moments for herself, eyes shining like a child’s.
According to his divinations, Hali herself was the “Sharp Stone” destined to shatter fate on the grandest scale of all.
Eighty percent of his celestial readings proved false, but of the remainder, ten percent revealed fates that must occur without fail, and ten percent divined possibilities that could be changed — considering such skill, perhaps these moments were not unwelcome.
‘And if thus Annihilation could be prevented.’
Baridegi asked only that the deaths of those she once guarded not be defiled.
Annihilation would desecrate even the dead’s rest.
“In truth, eighty percent of the rumors the stars spread are merely their pranks. Yet the remaining twenty percent proves reliable.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed, which is why it is reliable.”
“And by what measure?”
Don’t just dismiss eighty percent as if it were nothing!
Baridegi shook her head and heaved a deep sigh.
Still, there was one thing gained today, for which she could be grateful.
As they parted, just before the Shadow Figure departed to his own domain, he spoke to Baridegi who had come to see him off.
“I have forgotten one thing.”
His tone carried a note of hesitation.
“Strangely, I have discerned that death clings to our lord’s future in layers upon layers.”
“Layers?”
“It is not the same as repeating a single death many times. Rather… it might be interpreted as saying that death’s dangers descend upon her constantly and without warning. Truly, is this not a peculiar fate? What path does our lord intend to walk?”
He also mentioned that the colors of those deaths were all so vivid that he had been greatly startled.
“I even attempted to change them directly to white, but… it could not be done.”
……
Having left this cryptic remark — whether jest or sincerity unclear — the Shadow Figure plunged Baridegi into silence, then vanished without sound.
To his own domain.
***
The Student Council members lay strewn across the room, then rose like the undead the moment morning sunlight touched them, shuffling about with glazed eyes.
The first-year section seemed nearly finished now, giving them some breathing room, but the second and third-year officers seemed destined to spend the entire festival season in this zombie state.
At least after distributing the maps, teachers would help a little, so somehow they’d manage to wrap things up…….
After washing up, her mind cleared.
The moment Student Council President Park Yeon-hu’s clarity sharpened, she yanked open the bathroom door and shouted at the officers.
“What was in the resubmission?”
All she remembered was checking frantically and stamping it through, having concluded only that it was “acceptable.”
The secretary summoned the exact document containing that information out of the pile with a sweep of her hand and hurled it at the president.
She dodged the blade-sharp edge with practiced ease, peeled it from where it had embedded in the wall, and unfolded it.
“Hm? Hm. ……Huh? ……What?”
At the escalating levels of surprise, even the zombies lifted their heads slightly to look over.
“What’s wrong.”
Vice President On Nan-a asked in a tone laden with pressure.
Park Yeon-hu perched on a low shelf and read the contents aloud.
“Class 8, first year: a play, one-day part-time shop work.”
That part hadn’t changed.
What had changed was the casting.
“Shimchung — Isang Hee.”
“Huh?”
“Dragon King — Yuhan Seong.”
“Mm.”
“King — Jin Hali.”
“……What?”
“Shimbongsae — Yu Hee.”
“……Huh?”
The Student Council officers, all displaying exactly the same reaction, shuffled over and snatched the document from Park Yeon-hu.
Then they scanned through the remaining roles.
The narrator would be split between two students, alternating morning and afternoon, with the remaining student handling guidance when not narrating.
Narration and guidance: Baek Ha-yeon, Kim Myeong-hyeon.
Boatmen 1, 2, 3: Goi-deun, Hyun I-seo, Gong Seo-yun.
Dragon Palace gatekeepers 1, 2: Seo Jeong-u, Lee Hae-sol.
Royal Palace court lady 1: Tak Jeong-eun.
Lotus-carrying worker 1: Lee Si-hyeon.
“The rest seems fine.”
“Yu Hee as Shimbongsae? What? That should be Shimchung. They have no sense.”
“Wasn’t Jin Hali an option?”
“Jin Hali fits the image, but her skills aren’t strong enough for a lead role.”
“……Can’t they fix that with a potion?”
“Why are you taking this seriously? It’s already decided. Anyway, I was curious about that class. Look at this, right?”
The Student Council officers were better than most at reading situations.
Moreover, they had a tendency not to be swayed by rumors, each having their own hopes for what they wanted to see.
“Looking at their skills, it makes no sense. What I can’t figure out most is Jin Hali. Why is Jin Hali the king?”
“Right? If she’s the king, wouldn’t she marry Shimchung? Not the Dragon King — the King. Jin Hali and Isang Hee? Isang Hee?”
Isang Hee had spread rumors so malicious, and there were quite a few people swayed by them, so they’d been annoyed by it anyway.
Light-attribute individuals generally tended to have good public images. Whether that was due to people’s prejudices or whether they actually tended to have better character was unclear.
But looking at Isang Hee, it only felt foolish to connect attribute and personality.
If there was one light in this grim student council life, it was watching the antics of the first-years — not as rivals, but as entertainment.
And the class she’d most anticipated had submitted such a strange proposal.
The Student Council officers stood in gloomy silence for a moment, then scattered again.
That was that — now was the time for work.
Park Yeon-hu read the report that a handful of troublemakers from third-year Class 2 had blocked the entrance to second-year Class 1’s booth with a pile of rocks, and just laughed with a “ha-ha-ha, there they go again.”
Then she stamped their disciplinary notice with a bang.

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