Seo Ha-Rin lowered her gaze to the young girl’s face, recalling the chart she had reviewed just moments ago.

Nine years old, right?

She already considered that to be quite young, but the patient before her appeared even younger than their age would suggest.

Phew. That is a relief.

Thankful that the child’s health was improving, the corners of Seo Ha-Rin’s lips lifted by the slightest margin. The child lay there, breathing evenly with a peaceful expression. Seo Ha-Rin felt the same quiet calm settle within her.

This marked the twelfth patient she had treated today, but she didn’t feel fatigued. It wasn’t because she believed she had done something particularly virtuous, though.

Compared to what we endured in the tower, this can hardly be called difficult.

On the whole, priests who had reached the ninetieth floor were in better physical condition than warriors who had failed earlier on.

Anyway, there was no doubt that the child’s illness had been completely cured. An official diagnosis would require additional tests, but until now, she hadn’t failed to fully heal a single patient. By tomorrow morning, the child would be discharged in perfectly normal condition.

The guardian, who had apparently regained their senses, approached Seo Ha-Rin, clasped their hands together, and bowed repeatedly. “Oooh, Saintess... truly, truly, thank you so much.”

Seo Ha-Rin waved both hands awkwardly. “Ah, no, really. It’s nothing.”

No matter how many times she heard it, the title never quite felt natural. From what she had gathered, the other priests felt the same. Although she had become their representative due to her popularity, wherever the priests went, they were addressed as saints or holy figures. Some enjoyed it, but most were clearly embarrassed by such excessive praise.

“I didn’t really do much. Please, lift your head.”

Despite Seo Ha-Rin’s attempts to stop her, the girl’s mother continued bowing.

“How could you say that? To Hyun-Ji, and to us, this is a miracle. It’s all thanks to you, Saintess. Even now, it doesn’t feel real...”

From the moment they met, Seo Ha-Rin had asked her to speak more casually. Still, perhaps because of the Saintess’s reputation and standing, the woman remained deeply deferential. Sighing inwardly, Seo Ha-Rin turned her attention back to the child. The warmth in the girl’s small hand was steady and reassuring. After checking the child’s health for a moment, she looked back at the mother. She seemed to have calmed down, at least a little.

“Don’t thank me. It’s all because of Su-Hyeok oppa.”

Seo Ha-Rin made sure to state this every time, and not simply because of the agreement. She had proposed the concept in the first place, so her deflection was simply a reflection of her sincere conviction.

The other priests felt the same.

As soon as the holy spells had begun to stem from Kwon Su-Hyeok’s divinity, their attitude toward their power had grown noticeably more reverent. It wasn’t something Kwon Su-Hyeok had intended for—it had simply happened naturally.

“Still, you treated Hyun-Ji directly, Saintess.”

Seo Ha-Rin shook her head, more firmly than usual. “This power comes entirely from Su-Hyeok oppa. All the priests believe this, not just me.”

“I know that, I really do, but still, you came here...” the mother trailed off, then nodded decisively. “Then I’ll hold gratitude for both of you!”

Seo Ha-Rin smiled faintly as memories of the tower surfaced in her mind. In many of the other worlds the climbers had traveled to, recipients of holy spells usually directed their gratitude toward the caster’s god. Given the cultural differences, however, it was unavoidable. Change would take time. Still, her and the other priests’ goodwill was clearly and steadily shortening that distance.

Without speaking further, Seo Ha-Rin gently clasped the mother’s hands.

I have gotten a little more used to this, though.

In the beginning, the guardians’ overwhelming gratitude had often left her flustered or embarrassed. Some had even knelt on the floor, crying as they bowed. Compared to that, this was relatively restrained.

Just then, Seo Ha-Rin’s eyes drifted to the television behind the guardian. The television was muted, but it displayed a familiar face on the left half of the screen.

[Climber: Bell Port]

They weren’t close, but Seo Ha-Rin recognized her. On the other side of the split screen, a bird’s-eye view of a floor from the Tower of Ordeal was visible. In the clips, Bell Port was in danger, then Kwon Su-Hyeok appeared amid a flash of lightning. Judging by her agitated expression and the speed of her moving lips, Seo Ha-Rin could guess what she was saying.

“I really thought I was going to die. However, the moment I squeezed my eyes shut, a blue light seeped through my eyelids. That’s when I realized that it was Light Su-Hyeok. I was saved.”

When the subtitles appeared moments later, they aligned closely with her expectations.

Which floor was that again?

As Seo Ha-Rin pondered, the mother followed her gaze to the television.

After hesitating briefly, she carefully asked, “Umm, that Light Su-Hyeok, I mean... Lord Su-Hyeok—”

“Su-Hyeok oppa?”

“Ah, yes.” The mother nodded. “What is it like, really, to meet him in person?”

Seo Ha-Rin often heard that question while treating patients. Immediately after appearing at Gwanghwamun in dramatic fashion, he had disappeared together with Ha Hee-Jeong, only increasing his mystique. Seo Ha-Rin was still in contact with them, but every time she heard that question, she found herself pausing.

How shall I describe him?

They had first met on the sixth floor. Unlike the composed Ha Hee-Jeong, he had seemed oddly tense, even a little awkward. Despite that, the moment combat had begun, his vibe had shifted completely. He had never hesitated and had always taken the front line.

From the early days when everything was still chaotic, through the middle floors where they had grown more accustomed to each other, and into the later stages with the truly difficult trials, he always carved a path for the climbers. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

When Seo Ha-Rin reminisced on those moments, they passed through her mind like a slow panorama—his back as he advanced through the horde of corrupted Seraphim, as he shielded his party from the surging enemies, and as he pushed on alone despite the collapsing floor, crushing the enemy and claiming victory. No matter how clearly those scenes were recorded and broadcast on Earth, it didn’t feel the same. They hadn’t been there.

Therefore, this question always required careful thought, but her answer never changed. “Objectively speaking, he’s a great man. He’s my, and everyone’s, savior.”

The woman hesitated for a moment before asking, “Pardon?”

“It may sound like a lot, but Su-Hyeok oppa truly became Earth’s god.” Seo Ha-Rin observed the guardian’s reaction with quiet attentiveness.

People didn’t always react favorably to her response. After all, Earth already had its own religions. While some people reacted with passionate agreement, others would be visibly confused, and many did little to hide their discomfort. Of course, some religious individuals responded positively as well.

This time, the guardian merely nodded, her expression settling into thoughtful contemplation. Typically, situations like this were followed by a brief stretch of silence. After that, Seo Ha-Rin would offer a polite farewell and step outside.

“Sumen,” someone prayed quietly from behind her.

Although they had been working together for several days, this caught Seo Ha-Rin completely off guard. She turned around in quiet surprise. The middle-aged doctor stood with his eyes closed, solemn and reverent. The nurses beside him had also shut their eyes, mirroring the same composed stillness.

“Sumen.”

Seo Ha-Rin felt a brief moment of flustered hesitation. Yet for them, such a response was only natural. They had borne witness to one miracle after another, and the accumulation of those moments had clearly left an impression on their hearts.

A soft, restrained smile slowly formed on Seo Ha-Rin’s lips.

***

“Kyaaah—!”

Screams rang out from every direction, echoing through the open air as if the space itself were reverberating.

Ha Hee-Jeong met Kwon Su-Hyeok’s eyes. “Was it fun?”

“Mmm, not really. It was less impressive than I expected.”

Ha Hee-Jeong nodded quietly. She felt much the same.

They were standing in a famous overseas amusement park. No one around them recognized them. It wasn’t that people weren’t looking, but rather, they simply couldn’t perceive them.

Kwon Su-Hyeok looked up at the ride they had just exited without the slightest bit of lingering excitement, not even a trace. To be honest, they struggled to have fun anymore. As individuals who could cross hundreds of meters in the blink of an eye, a mechanical ride built to simulate speed and danger was bound to feel dull. If he wished, he could leap from thousands of meters in the air without protective equipment and survive. Well, considering they had repeatedly crossed the boundary between life and death in battle, feeling a thrill from artificial danger would have been stranger still.

“It’s nice to just be here with you, though.”

Ha Hee-Jeong smiled softly as she looked at him. “Well, shall we go eat instead?”

He returned her gaze as he agreed without hesitation, “Absolutely. It’s about lunchtime anyway. What do you feel like having?”

“I’m not sure. Is there anything you want?”

At her question, Kwon Su-Hyeok fell silent, taking some time to think. Since returning to Earth, he had eaten nearly everything he had ever wanted to try, from street food that cost only a few thousand won to restaurants whose prices reached into the millions. More often than not, they had chosen expensive meals, since they tended to be unique foods he had never tried. However, after days of refined flavors and carefully plated dishes, he found himself longing for something simple and ordinary.

As he searched through his memories, a familiar place surfaced.

“Do you remember the kalguksu[1] place near our school? How about that?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember. They are good.”

Within a second of her agreement, the two of them shifted through space—Kwon Su-Hyeok no longer needed to even open a portal. They appeared in the restaurant abruptly, but no one noticed them arrive.

As they stepped into the shop, Kwon Su-Hyeok received messages from Cole and Hakin. They were currently spending time in Africa to bring an end to a civil war. They couldn’t correct the borders drawn during the colonial era, but they were doing everything they could to prevent further meaningless bloodshed. From afar, Kwon Su-Hyeok offered guidance and judgment where needed.

After taking a few bites, he glanced at Ha Hee-Jeong. “It tastes a little different. Did the owner change?”

“Maybe. Or we probably ate too many good things lately. Could also be that our nostalgia made it seem better than it really was.”

“What about you?”

“For me, it’s fine. Not as good as I remember, but still decent.”

Kwon Su-Hyeok nodded. It was probably nostalgia. The food didn’t taste bad, but it simply didn’t meet his expectations. Then again, it had been a long time since he had last eaten this. It had only been about four years for Ha Hee-Jeong, but it had been decades for him. It was more than enough time for memory to soften and embellish the past.

They continued talking about trivial, everyday things until a brief silence settled between them. Kwon Su-Hyeok seemed lost in thought, and Ha Hee-Jeong waited without interrupting him.

After a while, he took a sip of water and spoke.

“I think it’s time I head back out.”

Ha Hee-Jeong nodded quietly. Compared to the time they had spent in the tower, these few days still felt far too short. Unfortunately, with Kwon Su-Hyeok, that was unavoidable. Contrary to what she assumed, however, he didn’t have an obligation to fulfill—he simply felt like he had rested enough. Measured purely in time, the break was certainly insufficient. On the bright side, though, the quality of that rest had been exceptional.

Time spent with Ha Hee-Jeong, family, and people he could truly relax around. Those moments had multiplied his inner sense of calm many times over. It was the first period of genuine rest he had experienced since entering the tower.

Well, there were also matters that demanded his attention. First among them was meeting with the Kwon Su-Hyeok Sect.

He had been rather at ease right after completing the hundredth floor, but the moment Kwon Su-Hyeok arrived at Gwanghwamun, he found himself genuinely taken aback.

Now that I am back on Earth, there are far too many of those Shadow Su-Hyeok fan club types.

Among the climbers, the term had been used half in jest, but those who took their devotion too far were often labeled the “Shadow Su-Hyeok fan club.”

However, they operated openly on Earth—under the name the Kwon Su-Hyeok Sect. That, in itself, wasn’t something he found unpleasant. After all, these people believed in him and increased his divinity. He had no intention of outright telling them to stop. Even so, a measure of restraint was necessary.

Earth already had long-established religions, and he had no desire to stir conflict or compel belief by force.

There were other matters waiting to be addressed as well.

Still, he didn’t intend to bury himself in work alone. He planned to maintain a balance, weaving rest in between his responsibilities. Also, he still wanted to meet Doppy, Ryun, Thunder Axe, and Master of the Five Carriage Wheels.

Ha Hee-Jeong cautiously asked, “Then... are you heading out today?”

“No, two days from now.” Kwon Su-Hyeok looked at her and let a grin spread across his face. “We should spend a little more time together first. When the end of a break starts drawing near, your outlook changes before you realize it.”

She didn’t say anything. Well, perhaps because she felt like an end to their vacation felt regrettable, Ha Hee-Jeong broke into a soft, lingering smile.

1. 칼국수 is a Korean noodle soup made with hand-cut wheat noodles served in a hot, savory broth, usually topped with simple ingredients like zucchini, clams, or meat. ☜