Was Happy Being a Despised F-Rank Healer, You Know? - Chapter 171

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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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18. Who Has Opened Their Eyes (10)

The audience seating was completely full.
This was the first time slot, attended only by reporters and Academy staff, and it was a First-year class performance—it was rare for the seats to fill up like this.
But none of the audience members found it strange.
“Wasn’t Class 8 First-year doing the Shimcheong Play?”
Since the students were busy with their classes, the audience consisted mostly of a small handful of students and teachers and staff members who weren’t participating in other events.
“Doesn’t seem like they’ve done any special adaptation.”
Someone who often chatted with Isang Hee murmured.
“Who knows. But the title does seem a bit different, doesn’t it?”
“Right?”
Who Has Opened Their Eyes.
Could it possibly be that Shim Bong-sa had become the protagonist?
Light conversation drifted back and forth through the audience, and finally the moment arrived.
The murmur from the seats cut off sharply the instant the curtain rose, as though someone had flipped a switch.
‘Hm?’
‘Ah, ah—wait, the sound.’
More precisely, Kim Myeong-hyeon’s skill activated at the same moment the audience fell silent.
Choi Ji-hyeong let out a quiet laugh.
The stage given to Class 8 was no different from the stages given to other classes, but the audience seating area was considerably spacious.
Including the temporary structure connected to the stage, it was quite a substantial plot of land.
And across that entire expanse, sound simply vanished all at once.
‘So Kim Myeong-hyeon is B-rank.’
Sound wave skill is one where both offense and defense are possible if you want to use it, but you need solid fundamentals to apply it effectively across diverse situations.
That’s why diligence was absolutely crucial, and Kim Myeong-hyeon was a diligent student.
Having lived a wandering life, he carried a past where careless habits would have been unsurprising, yet after entering the Academy he had become, partly by necessity, a conscientious student—prompted by his involvement with Hali.
Choi Ji-hyeong paused for a moment, mentally running through the biographical details of his own students, then found himself slipping into an uncharacteristic reverie.
It was touching, really.
The thought itself, and that pure impulse to observe what they needed and help fill those gaps.
It didn’t suit him at all, but he found himself experiencing such sentiments about his students quite often.
So in truth, the situation was somewhat complicated.
Because Isang Hee was one of those students.
‘I knew there was a problem.’
But he hadn’t imagined it would extend to plotting murder and kidnapping.
‘There’s no excuse for this.’
It was negligent management.
His responsibility was undeniable.
Yet regardless of where the blame lay, he found himself hoping that Isang Hee would cancel what she had planned during the festival.
For her own sake.
Pulling her out now and disciplining her openly was risky; it had already been confirmed that she had brought in people from outside.
At this point, the matter had slipped beyond his control.
So for now, all he could do was hope that Isang Hee would come to her senses.
Weighed down by a complex mixture of affection for the other students who had survived ruin and concern for Isang Hee, he watched the stage lights rise.
‘So white.’
When first-years typically performed plays, they tended to decorate the stage somewhat elaborately and ornately.
Probably because first-years had one additional festival opportunity compared to second- and third-years, they placed somewhat more weight on enjoying the festival themselves rather than on appealing to the outside world.
Considering all that, the stage quality was remarkably high.
What spread across the stage was winter.
A quiet village from ancient Korea, preserved in historical record.
On the left side of the stage stood a single rundown thatched house, with icicles hanging from its eaves and snow piled softly in the front courtyard.
The snow wasn’t real snow—it was created with mana.
The texture was such that if you actually stepped on it, it would make that characteristic crunching sound.
A snow squall swirled.
Usually in performances of the Shimcheong Play, the opening season isn’t winter, so the audience found themselves drawn in by the unexpected seasonal mood.
Those who had been detecting and marveling at the sound wave skill soon became entranced by the quiet, desolate winter landscape empty of human presence.
The snow squall circled once through the audience seating, then began to blow only across the stage.
The lifelike movement drew another round of gasps.
‘Lee Si-hyeon and Tak Jung-eun.’
Lee Si-hyeon poured mana into the air, and Lee Si-hyeon, who possessed the telekinesis skill, shaped that mana-infused air into wind.
And Tak Jung-eun, positioned on high and taking in the entire scene below at a glance, adjusted the wind’s flow so it moved only through the gaps in the audience seating.
Beside the thatched house stood a well with a bucket hanging from its rope, and though there was no wind, the rope swayed ever so slightly.
‘Using air as the medium—they’ve grown.’
Choi Ji-hyeong found himself seized by satisfaction again, his mouth quirking into an odd smile.
The right side of the stage was empty—a wide space in contrast to the thatched house on the left, where characters would soon begin to emerge.
The lighting concentrated a bright, vivid glow on the thatched house, leaving the rest in shadow.
This made it impossible to tell whether it was early morning or late evening.
The moment the snow began to gleam faintly.
A light came on inside the thatched house.
As if someone inside had awakened.
And at that very moment.
-Once upon a time, in a certain village.
The voice of Kim Myeong-hyeon, who was narrating, flowed out.
***
The door of the thatched house creaked open.
What appeared first was the tip of a walking stick.
The cane jutted out and felt its way across the threshold, then Lee Si-hyeon—who had conjured the snow squall—followed it outside.
“Ah. Is she controlling the wind while blindfolded?”
“Look there. She seems to be cooperating with that girl. Come to think of it, I was under the impression Class 8 had no wind-attribute users, so I’m surprised I can feel mana at all.”
“I was wondering the same thing. But the control of this skill is quite refined?”
The voices of two upper-year teachers in nearby seats, speaking quietly to each other.
“Plus, using a telekinesis user like this—it’s definitely not a force that only works on solids, but the concept is quite unique.”
Choi Ji-hyeong couldn’t contain himself and his mouth twisted upward.
In any case, Lee Si-hyeon emerged into the courtyard with her eyes closed, dressed in shabby clothes befitting Shim Bong-sa.
And around him, objects began to lift into the air one by one.
A rice bowl, a water bottle, a scroll. The fact that the icicles hanging from the eaves weren’t affected at all suggested just how meticulous and assured the control was.
Those who recognized it, and those who had only come to watch the play without grasping what they were seeing, all gasped in wonder.
“Mmgh… the weather is so harsh… where has Shimcheong gone?”
Four plates hovered in neat formation above his head as he spoke his lines, trailing him.
Searching through the corners of the house, Lee Si-hyeon’s Shim Bong-sa furrowed his brow and muttered.
“Did she go to the outhouse?”
Small laughter rippled from the audience.
That was when.
“Father! Why have you come outside?”
Isang Hee strode in from the right side of the stage, calling out.
Her appearance was suited to a virtuous, gentle character, and her plain clothing made her look even more fresh and pure, drawing expectant murmurs from the audience.
The moment Isang Hee took the stage, she deployed a skill as well—a subtle manipulation of light that created a soft luminescence across her skin. It made her stand out all the more.
Moreover, that was a thin barrier adjusted to cling snugly to her body, making it no different from wearing armor. The audience didn’t know it yet, but this would be gradually revealed through the script.
In any case, the light barrier effect, where it met the stage lighting, made Shimcheong appear to possess an inherent sacred radiance.
“I was wondering why the protagonist wasn’t Hali, but she definitely seems right for the role.”
“Really? Either way, it looks like she’s using a skill—I’m curious what it is.”
“Me too.”
As the audience filled with anticipation and admiration for the protagonist, onstage Shimcheong and Shim Bong-sa were in conversation.
“Father! Good heavens, you shouldn’t be out like this. Were you trying to get to the outhouse?”
“…You really are my daughter. The way your mind jumps straight to the outhouse.”
…The detail about Shimcheong and her father having active digestive systems drew knowing laughter from several audience members.
Lee Si-hyeon’s Shim Bong-sa fretted over Shimcheong’s constipation, while Isang Hee’s Shimcheong fussed over her father’s general welfare and scolded him.
As such a scene played out briefly, laughter that the audience could no longer contain burst forth.
“Father and daughter putting on quite a show first thing in the morning! Tsk, tsk—with a child who’s the only one they have, all he does is shirk, so how is there not a single penny in this wretched household?”
In the original tale, Bbaengdeok-eomeom—Shim Bong-sa’s second wife who, after Shimcheong falls into the Ingang River, appears in the latter half to seduce and swindle him of his wealth.
Her early entrance.

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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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