HDHK CH 32

Chapter 32

Part 6. The Dragon’s Shadow (1)

Today, I just wanted to quietly attend classes, stop by the prep room, and organize my potions.

But the moment I closed the classroom door and turned around, I felt dozens of eyes land on me all at once.

They weren’t staring outright.

Still, countless gazes slid past me while pretending not to look.

Normally, those looks would include things like “Another F-rank?” or “Why is she even here?”
But today wasn’t like that.

They were unfamiliar. Careful.

No one was saying anything, but it felt like everyone was swallowing their words.

Like they didn’t know what to say.

I awkwardly adjusted the strap of my bag.

“Jin Hari!”

Iseo waved at me from his seat.

His usual sulky face was oddly reassuring.

I headed over to sit down, when Hui, who sat in front of me, glanced back briefly and lowered her head as she spoke.

“Morning, Hari.”

“Morning, Hui. But… did something happen? The atmosphere feels weird this morning.”

On top of that, Erich was giggling away in my head.

While I was bickering with Erich internally, Hui whispered,

“They say you saved two people yesterday.”

“Huh? Me? When?”

Had I healed anyone?

“Apparently someone still had one of your potions. Two upperclassmen who went into another dungeon were critically injured, and they were healed with it.”

Looking closely, I noticed that despite Hui’s bright, angelic smile, a vein was standing out on her forehead.

“Third-years have healers, so why they even used a potion there is beyond me.”

I followed Hui’s subtle glance and pressed my lips together.

‘That’s strange.’

A brown-haired student caught my eye, pretending not to look while shooting me a cold glare.

“Did I mess something up?”

Why was she glaring at me like that?

Part of why I openly talked about knowing my place as an F-rank was so I wouldn’t draw attention from people like Lee Sanghee.

If you showed you understood your position, people usually left you alone.

But apparently, that didn’t apply anymore.

“What mistake? What could you have done wrong?”

Hui whispered sharply, lightly punching my arm.

She was unbearably cute doing it, so I leaned down to her level and whispered back,

“She’s glaring at me.”

Hui stared at me blankly for a second, then her face flushed as she narrowed her eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hari. So don’t worry.”

She lightly bumped her forehead against mine as she said it, and I clutched my chest.

“Why’d you do that? Did it hurt?”

Iseo asked flatly the moment he saw it.

I shook my head.

“Hui’s just too cute.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“You poor thing, Iseo. You don’t even realize how cute our Hui is.”

“Go away.”

As usual, Iseo grumbled while floating a game screen in the air.

We giggled together.

Lee Sanghee had already slipped from our minds.

So we didn’t notice her staring at me without blinking.

***

Yoo Hanseong entered the classroom without hiding his gaze.

Normally, he wouldn’t have cared about the noise of students.

But today was different.

Jin Hari’s seat.

The air around it.

The weight of the gazes directed there was clearly heavier than before.

Hanseong could feel it clearly—the F-rank healer who had been treated like excess baggage had become the center of the room overnight.

Maybe it was time to reassess her value.

An F-rank, but possibly a crafting healer who could one day possess S-rank manufacturing skills.

And yet, for some reason, he hesitated.

He didn’t know why.

Suddenly, he remembered Hari’s worried glance and her eyes curving into a bright smile.

‘There were far more survivors than expected.’

Shaking off the unnecessary thought, he reflected.

Not only his own party, but even the volunteer student teams that entered afterward—many of them survived.

It far exceeded his expectations.

The small light Hari had cast had held people in place and kept them alive.

‘It was a dungeon that should’ve produced enough casualties for people to realize it was the start of the final catastrophe.’

Yet now, the shock had been reduced so much that most didn’t even notice.

Whether that was a good thing, he didn’t know.

What was certain was this—

In an irregular dungeon that had reached S-rank, an F-rank named Hari had become hope.

He glanced at his party members—temporary, for now.

The companions who would soon become S-rank.

The people he would face the final apocalypse with.

Perhaps rank was not an absolute measure after all.

A strange sense of freedom brushed past his chest like a breeze, then vanished.

‘No. That’s not right.’

Maybe he was thinking strangely because he’d gotten too close.

If his judgment was being affected—

‘That can’t happen. Bringing Hari into this party…’

Would be killing her.

And yet, he had to save this world.

Not because of pride, but because after countless regressions, it had become the only thing holding him together.

The reason he kept living.

So, Jin Hari.

I—

Even after reaching a conclusion, he couldn’t forget that sensation for a long while.

****

After the Moon Halo Dungeon, Hanseong no longer approached me as often as before.

Our relationship hadn’t changed, but he seemed busy, deeply absorbed in work.

The party members were the same—harder to see, all of them rolling around with things to do.

As long as I could pass potions naturally, I didn’t mind.

But today, Hanseong passed by my desk without saying a word.

Still, his gaze lingered briefly on my hand as I set my potion notebook down.

The trace of his presence stayed with me longer than it should have.

I forced myself to look away.

Today, I needed to live like someone nothing had happened to.

Yesterday was yesterday.

Today, I was just a frank healer.

When the bell rang, noise slowly returned to the classroom.

It felt like the sound was cutting through the awkward gazes the students had been holding.

In that moment, Haesol entered the classroom.

His face was pale, with dark circles faintly red beneath his eyes.

The marks of yesterday were still there.

Some students looked worried, but Haesol avoided their eyes and quietly took his seat.

Then, just once, he glanced briefly at me.

I raised my hand slightly.

Are you okay?

Haesol didn’t respond. He only lowered his head slowly.

But his fingertips were trembling.

The moment I saw that, I realized it.

This was as far as I could intervene.

If I stepped in any deeper, the flow would twist.

‘Even if the lingering mana was cleared by the barrier potion, the aftereffects have to be dealt with on his own.’

I inhaled and opened my notebook.

From today on, it was damage control after Moon Halo.

And preparation for the next dungeon.

As I wrote the date on a scrap of paper, I thought,

‘Next is the Blue Dragon, huh.’

Strictly speaking, the first wave of the apocalypse dungeon ended here.

It was extremely rare for two S-rank dungeons to occur with a time gap like this.

I clenched my fist.

***

When first period began, the classroom fell quiet.

Not focused quiet, but the kind where small fragments seemed to keep falling somewhere unseen.

I rolled my pen over the formula written in my notebook.

My head was clear, but my fingers kept trembling slightly.

Not from yesterday’s tension, but from today’s stares.

The teacher seemed aware of the Moon Halo aftermath and kept the lesson light and theory-based.

“A lot of you aren’t in great condition, so we’ll keep it simple today.”

Several students sighed the moment he said that.

I turned my head slightly and looked at Haesol.

His expression was firm, but something hollow was frozen inside.

The image of him enduring yesterday’s patterns weighed heavily on me.

‘Haesol’s problems aren’t just the curse.’

His childhood trauma must have been stirred.

When class ended and break time began, students slowly started moving.

Today, everyone seemed unusually aware of who went where and who looked at whom.

Hui came close to my desk and whispered,

“Hari, you should be careful today.”

“Why?”

“There are some pointless rumors going around.”

Rumors.

Just hearing the word made my head ache slightly.

Interest in my potions was fine, as long as it didn’t cross a line.

Anything more than that, I really didn’t want.