A Terminal Healer Needs an Obsessive Maniac-Chapter 137
On the hill, covered with a thin layer of ash, Choi Kang-Hoo stood with his broad back turned, gazing at the blood-red horizon. Ryu Seo-Ha involuntarily shivered, his long eyelashes trembling slightly. A strange sense of unease washed over him.
'He's already gained control over this dream...'
Originally, Choi Kang-Hoo was supposed to meet him while hiding among the black rocks at the base of the hill, asleep, just like his real-world self. That was how the dream was initially set.
But without any adjustments to the settings, things had changed. Choi Kang-Hoo had somehow gained the ability to manipulate his location and the background of the dream to his will. His awareness of lucid dreaming was astonishingly fast—an impressive feat the more Ryu Seo-Ha learned about him.
Shaking off the inexplicable chill, Ryu Seo-Ha quietly approached, and Choi Kang-Hoo, who had been staring at the horizon with an unreadable expression, slowly turned his head to meet his gaze. It was only then that Ryu Seo-Ha noticed the small creature in his hand.
A Distorted Snail.
It was the first living being Choi Kang-Hoo had ever tamed, after using the [Devouring] trait to absorb the boss monster of its cluster and acquiring a taming skill. The monster, which had always produced two mana stones for every one it consumed for its master, had lived a short life and had perished just yesterday, in the current timeline.
“...”
Holding the dead snail in one hand, Choi Kang-Hoo looked at Ryu Seo-Ha without showing any visible emotion—no sadness or regret. His expression was so calm it almost seemed cold, devoid of any hint of grief or disturbance.
That made it even more painful to witness. The snail had been the first creature Choi Kang-Hoo had shared his life and feelings with after falling into the Abyss. Losing such a companion so suddenly was bound to leave a hollow sense of loss.
Briefly glancing at the remaining lifespan, Ryu Seo-Ha hesitated, but ultimately couldn’t ignore the pained expression of his younger-looking lover. He decided to spend a little more time comforting him, opting for silent gestures over words. He gently held Choi Kang-Hoo’s hand.
“…Are you comforting me right now?”
The icy expression on Choi Kang-Hoo’s face faltered. His voice, though low, carried a slight tremor as he spoke. Instead of writing out a response, Ryu Seo-Ha tightened his grip on the hand he held.
The roughness of his calloused palm pricked at Ryu Seo-Ha’s heart. He wanted to cry, knowing how much hardship this man had endured after losing everything in a single moment. Choi Kang-Hoo’s lonely, painful journey was something Ryu Seo-Ha understood all too well.
“It’s strangely warm.”
Staring blankly at the smaller hand that held his tightly, Choi Kang-Hoo let out a small chuckle and muttered to himself.
“Do you know?”
Suddenly, he tugged on Ryu Seo-Ha’s hand, pulling him into his arms, pressing his nose into the nape of his neck. The slow, deep inhalation wasn’t unfamiliar to Ryu Seo-Ha.
“You always smell like golden sunlight.”
Choi Kang-Hoo continued to stroke the vague outline of Ryu Seo-Ha’s ghost-like face, his hands moving with a sense of intimacy as he used an odd metaphor.
“And when you seem sad, there’s a hint of blue dawn in the air.”
Hearing his soft-spoken words, Ryu Seo-Ha realized they weren’t said carelessly. Perhaps Choi Kang-Hoo’s heightened senses, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions he’d encountered upon entering the higher dimension, had given him this synesthetic perception.
“This smell... somehow it makes me feel calm.”
Maybe it was because they were in a dream, but Choi Kang-Hoo’s feelings might have shaped this space, reflecting his desire for peace and a figure who could soothe his overwhelming sadness.
“And the warmth from your hands feels the same.”
Smiling softly, Choi Kang-Hoo lifted their clasped hands slightly, as though showing off the connection, and Ryu Seo-Ha, feeling an automatic urge, reached out with his other hand to gently caress the back of his lover’s hand.
“Will you keep holding my hand like this every time you visit my dreams?”
Choi Kang-Hoo’s tone was languid as he gazed at Ryu Seo-Ha, his voice carrying the gentleness of someone comforting a frightened child.
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“I’d prefer it if you came every night.”
Hearing his plea, Ryu Seo-Ha froze. He felt as if the same request he had once made was now being returned to him.
In his heart, he longed to be there for Choi Kang-Hoo every night, to comfort him in his loneliness. But his dwindling lifespan wouldn’t allow it. He had promised to be by his side for a lifetime, yet now, it seemed impossible to fulfill that vow.
“Did I make things awkward by asking?”
Choi Kang-Hoo, sensing Ryu Seo-Ha’s silence, took a step back, his expression unreadable due to the blurred features of the dream. Even though he didn’t show it, Ryu Seo-Ha could sense the subtle disappointment.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Ryu Seo-Ha made up his mind. He decided to spend a little more of his remaining lifespan to comfort his lover in his youthful form, just for a while longer. After all, his lifespan was already insufficient to handle everything he needed to do.
‘If I have to take risks, indulging in this moment is worth it.’
Ryu Seo-Ha rationalized his decision, preparing to pay the cost with his lifespan to conjure a dream setting that hadn’t been pre-set. With a quick shift, the surroundings transformed into a lush jungle as his vision flipped.
“…Where is this?”
Instead of responding by writing in the dirt, Ryu Seo-Ha gently pulled Choi Kang-Hoo by the hand and started walking. Choi Kang-Hoo didn’t ask where they were headed; he simply followed.
As the landscape became more familiar, they passed through thick vegetation, and a particularly large tree came into view, catching their attention. Small, round fruits hung between its leaves, producing a jingling sound, like tiny bells.
Ryu Seo-Ha stood on his tiptoes to pluck a handful of the ripened red fruit, holding it up in front of Choi Kang-Hoo’s eyes as if to show him. The fruit, no bigger than a cherry tomato, made a unique sound, resembling coffee beans in shape.
Once Choi Kang-Hoo had familiarized himself with the appearance of the fruit, Ryu Seo-Ha used broad leaves to fashion a makeshift bowl and began grinding the fruit with a small rock until it turned into a fine powder.
“…You want me to taste it?”
Without saying a word, Ryu Seo-Ha dabbed a finger into the powder and held it out to Choi Kang-Hoo, much like someone asking for a taste test. At his puzzled expression, Ryu Seo-Ha quickly licked his own finger and shivered at the taste.
Even though he couldn’t see Ryu Seo-Ha’s face clearly, Choi Kang-Hoo let out a soft laugh at his obvious reaction. It was as if he was mocking the absurdity of eating something strange and shivering from the experience. It was amusing and ridiculous at the same time.
<Sour Taste>
But when Choi Kang-Hoo saw the words scrawled on the ground, his expression changed immediately. Without hesitation, he dipped his finger into the powder and tasted it. His brow furrowed at the tangy, sharp flavor.
However, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. After all, in the Abyss, he had only ever consumed raw meat and plants, with nothing but the taste of blood and rot. The sharp sourness was likely a welcome change.
Ryu Seo-Ha began teaching Choi Kang-Hoo how to use the fruit, based on knowledge from the original story’s epilogue. The powder could be mixed with water to produce sweetness, combined with clean earth for bitterness, and dried in the wind for at least half a day to create saltiness. This information, which would later be sold for 10 billion dollars, was being offered freely to him now.
<Jungle Terrain, Rare Fruit>
Originally, Ryu Seo-Ha had planned to present something like spicy kimchi stew, but he changed his mind. The time Choi Kang-Hoo would return to civilization was still 300 years away.
Dreams that contained unattainable desires would only intensify the sense of loss upon waking. At least here, he wanted to offer something that could give hope—the idea that, one day, he could obtain it if he worked toward it.
“A jungle. It’s in the jungle terrain.”
As Ryu Seo-Ha had hoped, Choi Kang-Hoo’s eyes gleamed with a sharp focus, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. Seeing the joy in his eyes made Ryu Seo-Ha feel certain that he had made the right decision by introducing him to this discovery.
Though his lifespan had decreased considerably, it felt worthwhile seeing Choi Kang-Hoo’s mood improve. Stress and depression really were best dealt with by offering new experiences and flavors, it seemed.
As he smiled at the thought, Ryu Seo-Ha’s blurred form suddenly wavered, and he coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.
