CHAPTER 11
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A week had flown by since my induction into the Yeolmu Guild, marked by an uneventful routine.
My primary duty was assisting Jehee to sleep, a ritual that involved administering a high-grade mana potion each night. The combined effects of the potion and the Servant Ring's enhanced mana capacity allowed her a solid five hours of sleep every other day.
However, this left me grappling with sleep deprivation.
"Ugh, I'm so sleepy it's driving me crazy."
As I stretched and yawned, my hand instinctively covering my mouth, Director Yoon's gaze bore into me with a mix of concern.
"If you're tired, you should rest. We have no appointments today, and your presence isn't mandatory."
"I have just a few days left here. I want to give it my all until then. Have you come across any new job leads?"
"Not yet. It's proving quite a challenge. Maybe because of Professor's kindness, my expectations are too high."
Director Yoon's sigh, heavy with worry, stirred a sense of unease within me. She had been my anchor in this parallel world since day one, teaching me survival tactics and helping me adapt.
I vividly recalled the day I awoke in that strange house, bewildered and lost. It was Director Yoon's call that jolted me back to reality, her voice on the other end questioning my absence from work. Though taken aback, her insistence led me to the clinic where she patiently tutored me on managing it effectively.
Throughout the tumultuous period of adjusting and coping with my inhibited abilities, she was a pillar of support. In gaming terms, she was akin to a tutorial NPC – invaluable and irreplaceable.
Adapting to this new reality within a month was largely due to Director Yoon's guidance, enabling me to make logical decisions even in these extraordinary circumstances.
But it was her influence, too, that compelled me to join the Yeolmu Guild, leading to the impending closure of the Happy Care Clinic, a place I had grown fond of. The clinic was set to cease operations at the week's end, temporarily shuttering its doors. While there was a possibility of it reopening in a year when the contract expired, I knew I wouldn't be around. By then, I needed to return to my own world, leaving the responsibilities to the actual Yeon Seonwoo of this realm.
"You're selling Director Yoon short. She's more capable than you think. Keep your hopes high; a suitable job will surface soon."
Jehee, hearing my earnest assurances, responded with a chuckle and a playful retort. "Isn't that overdoing the compliments?"
"I'm not saying it just for the sake of it," I protested, but Director Yoon, sprawled over the reception desk, just sighed deeply.
"I understand, you don’t have to reassure me."
I offered her a comforting smile, the kind an obliging child might give while performing an unwelcome task. "It's just a joke. You know I'm appreciative."
Reaching out, I gently patted her shoulder as she rested her head on her arms. Even as I discovered the most plausible route back to my world, a sense of unease lingered. It was akin to the trepidation a child feels when facing an undesirable but necessary task.
Suddenly, Director Yoon raised her head, continuing our conversation with renewed interest.
"I was just teasing. I read online that getting into the Yeolmu Guild is extraordinarily difficult. Do you realize how fortunate you are?"
"Thank you," I said, my gratitude sincere yet tinged with a bittersweet note.
When playing from Jehee's perspective, I had assumed recruiting new members would be a more formidable challenge. Yet, from my own viewpoint, the difficulty in finding new recruits seemed even more daunting. This disparity filled me with a sense of perplexity.
I straightened up from my slouched posture, offering an awkward smile. Director Yoon, catching my gaze, returned a warm smile of her own.
The thought crossed my mind – Jehee's relentless use of her summoning skill without considering others' circumstances felt somewhat cruel. It was her actions that ultimately led to the closure of the clinic, a decision I couldn't help but lament.
As we conversed, the sound of an alert paper pinned to the clinic's door caught our attention. A face, large and somewhat familiar, cautiously peered through the glass door.
"Oh? Kim Hyun Oh? Today isn't your appointment day. What brings you here?"
Director Yoon recognized the regular customer, his imposing stature contrasting starkly with the narrow gap in the glass door.
Standing by the reception desk, I was half-drowsy until my gaze landed on the familiar face. It dawned on me – he was a customer who had visited thrice in the past month.
"Hello. I heard the clinic is closing this week, so I wanted to come by to say goodbye and offer my regards."
Hyun Oh, with the demeanor of a Warrior class member, bore an innocent expression that seemed at odds with his robust build. He scratched his head sheepishly, extending a shopping bag emitting a tantalizing aroma.
The smell immediately awakened my appetite. Curious, I reached for the bag, unveiling its contents. Inside, egg tarts were arranged neatly, their golden crusts promising a delightful treat.
"Thank you, this is really thoughtful of you," I said, placing the bag on the reception desk.
Kim Hyun Oh seemed somewhat out of his element with the gesture, his awkwardness betraying a lack of familiarity with such exchanges. Yet, beneath that, his playful nature was unmistakable.
Director Yoon, who had been quietly observing, suddenly paled upon noticing the bakery's name on the bag.
"This place is renowned! People line up for these treats. We're truly grateful, Hunter Hyun Oh!"
"Really? From such a famous shop? I'm doubly thankful now."
Recognizing the bakery's logo, I reiterated my thanks to Hyun Oh. He responded with a blush, waving his hands in a bashful, yet teasing manner. His red face and exaggerated gestures hinted at his playful intention.
"Oh, it's nothing! I was just nearby on a support mission and thought I'd bring these for you to enjoy."
His face, now a deep shade of crimson, extended down to his neck. Both Director Yoon and I couldn't help but laugh at his endearing embarrassment. As our eyes met, there was an unspoken bond of camaraderie, sealed with a shared, mischievous spark.