Chapter 12 : The price of Rage (2)

The silence after Seo-Yeon's explosion was deafening.

Seo-Yeon lay unconscious, the air heavy with static after her Berserk explosion. Her body trembled as if her spirit hadn’t caught up to her body yet. I stumbled over,arms shredded and ribs cracked, but alive.

Then the message appeared.

~Nature: Gluttony – STALKER has been used.

The monster didn’t run. It didn’t heal. It disappeared.

Vanished.

Exactly like Sang-Woo had once done to save In-Ji and seo-yeon.

Now, his stolen power was used against us.

A bitter, cruel echo.

Dust and smoke curled through the air. Chunks of asphalt and shattered glass littered the street like confetti from a funeral. The Chalybotaur stirred from the wreckage, groaning—its frame bent, metal plating cracked and hissing, multiple tails twitching with electrical spasms.

It was injured. Badly. It used it's ability a little late.Too late.

Its legs shook as it rose, screeching in mechanical agony. Blood—oily black and laced with sparks—oozed from its side where Seo-Yeon’s attack had connected. It wobbled forward. It staggered, the weight of Seo-Yeon’s wrath still bearing down on it.

Then Mother moved.

She slammed her hand into the ground.

"False Healing."

A ring of black mist spread across the concrete, tendrils of corrupted light latching onto everyone.

[HP restored by 20%]

[Healing applied: Shin Ye-Jun, Shin Ye-Rin, Seong In-Ji, Park Seo-Yeon, Shin Mi-Sun]

The Chalybotaur twitched. Its hind legs buckled. The false healing had touched it too—draining its strength just as it tried to stand.

“Now!” Mi-Sun roared.

Ye-Rin was already moving. Her axe gleamed under the sun light as she launched herself at the horse.

CRACK!

Her weapon cleaved through several of its metallic tails in one wild arc. Sparks flew. The beast shrieked in pain, staggering backward.

It wasn’t over yet.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three sharp gunshots rang out. In-Ji stood guard by Seo-Yeon’s unconscious body, barrel steady, breath ragged. Each shot found a target—weak points where flesh and wire met. Blood splattered. The monster flinched again, snarling.

Then In-Ji yelled, “Stay down, you freak!”

He positioned himself protectively over Seo-Yeon, reloading with shaking fingers. Ye-Jun—wounded but mobile—limped back into formation, spider webs coiled around his arms, shielding the girl like silk armor. Ye-Rin joined him, her axe ready. Mi-Sun stood behind them, already casting again.

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Together, they formed a shield wall—everyone braced around Seo-Yeon’s body.

The Chalybotaur hissed, shaking, glaring at them all with fractured, rage-filled eyes.

And that’s when the ground began to rumble.

Soft at first.

Then louder.

A sound like claws scraping metal. A thousand tiny feet in rhythm.

The horde was coming.

The swarm of white-furred rabbits poured in from the alleyway like a living wave—red eyes glowing, limbs twitching, teeth gnashing.And right at the center stood the Boss Rabbit Candidate—its fur stained red, a mark at the centre of it's chest,its claws sharpened from its last monster duel. I knew the moment I looked at it. The one who escaped from us in the building.

The two monsters locked eyes.

And lunged at each other.

“Now!” I shouted. “We move!”

We ran through the shadows, ducking through broken alleyways, glass crunching under our feet. Moyher, barely conscious, still managed to heal us with one final False Healing. She also fell down due to mana exhaustion.

– Shin Mi-Sun used False Healing on Party Members.

That healed our broken bones and torn muscles. But the pain was still there. The bruises, cuts and injuries still remain.

In-ji lift seo-yeon onto his back.Her limbs dangled limply over his shoulders, her head pressed against his neck, her face pale from mana exhaustion. But she was breathing. That was enough.

“I’ve got her,” he muttered.

Ye-Rin carried Mother onto her back as well. I carried the tiny monkey, cradled in my arms. Its white fur was matted and trembling, and its tiny chest burned with a fever. It whimpered occasionally, clinging to my thumb.

Hey, hang in there, monkey junior,” I muttered. “You’re not dying on me now.”

No one spoke after that.

They just walked.

Down the cracked highway. Through broken lamp posts and scattered wreckage. Under an early dawn sky painted in deep blues and dead purples.

It was a long road—several kilometers. A graveyard of vehicles and abandoned luggage stretched endlessly. The city behind them shrank. The sounds of battle faded into the stillness of early morning.

Just five survivors, walking.

Two limp bodies.

One fevered monkey.

And three ghosts.

The studio House, 5:10 am.

Our walk ended up being several hours. Occasionally rests and injuries could be blamed here. It definitely wasn't in my plans.

The door cracked open.

I pushed it with my shoulder, half-dragging my aching legs across the wooden floor. The moment the lights flickered on, the illusion of safety washed over us like a blanket—soft, temporary, fragile.

The studio was untouched, just like I left it weeks ago. Soundproof walls. Recording booths. Posters of old guests on the walls.

In-Ji gently laid Seo-Yeon down on the small couch by the far wall. He moved quietly, with care. He brushed aside strands of hair from her forehead and wiped the sweat from her cheeks. Then he fetched a clean towel and a bowl of water, placing it beside her like he’d done this before.

Ye-Rin took Mother away in a room and laid her down on a bed. Cleaned her injuries and bandaged them. I placed the baby monkey in a towel-lined box and sat beside it. I poured water over its burning body slowly, whispering to it like it could understand.

"You're not gonna die, furball. I almost die just to carry your furry ass here.”

It sneezed in reply. Maybe it fought with me or I became its master, I can feel a connection that wasn't there before. I didn't want this thing to die.

Everyone was bandaged up within the hour.

Scrapes, bruises, burns—wrapped, stitched, cleaned. The worst injuries were internal—the kind no spell or bandage could patch.Ye-Rin sat on the carpet, knees hugged to her chest. “I… I really thought she’d die,” she said softly.

“She didn’t,” I said.

“Yeah. But someone did.”

We all knew who she meant.

The studio was quiet.

Too quiet.

Somewhere deep in Seo-Yeon’s unconscious mind… a soft light glimmered.

A memory.

Faint at first—then vivid.

Seven Years Ago – A Cold Studio in Gangnam

She was 14.

Her costume itched.

The lights were too bright. The script had changed again. The director had yelled three times already. Her co-actor, a popular boyband trainee, kept forgetting his lines. She’d gotten them right—but he was still the one getting praise.

They wrapped late.

Too late.

The makeup artist had gone home. The set crew was packing up. Seo-Yeon sat alone near the equipment cases, legs pulled into her chest, hoodie zipped up to her chin. She tried not to cry.

But her eyes burned.

Her fingers dug into her sleeves.

The world had felt unfair.

Everyone kept saying she was mature for her age. Everyone kept saying she was going to be big. But no one saw how tired she was. No one saw how it crushed her—being perfect for people who didn’t even know her name.

Except one.

A hand reached into frame.

“Here,” Sang-Woo’s voice said, warm and calm. “You forgot your strawberry milk.”

She blinked up at him. “I didn’t forget it.”

“Oh?” He gave a tiny smile. “Then you were just ignoring it on purpose?”

She frowned, hugging her knees tighter. “It’s stupid. I’m not a baby.”

Sang-Woo didn’t push. He just sat beside her on the concrete, in that cheap puffer jacket he always wore, the one with the duct tape on the sleeve.

They sat like that for a long moment.

“I thought you did great today,” he said.

Seo-Yeon didn’t answer.

He continued anyway, voice softer now. “You remembered every cue. You didn’t snap when the director changed the scene on the spot. And when the camera got stuck—you waited without complaining. You carried the shoot.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “He’ll still get the credit. He’s the star.”

“No,” Sang-Woo said gently, placing the strawberry milk between them. “You are.”

She looked at him.

He smiled again. Not the “manager” smile. The real one—the one he only used with her.

“Not just because of your face. Or your lines. But because you care. You give a damn. That’s rarer than talent.”

Seo-Yeon stared at the milk carton.

She picked it up without a word, and took a sip.

He chuckled. “Told you.”

“…Shut up.”

Sang-Woo leaned back against the wall. “You’ll have worse days than this, you know. But you’ll also have better ones. You just have to survive the bad ones long enough to reach the good ones.”

And then he added, after a beat:

“And on the worst days, I’ll still be here.”

Present Time.

Eyes staring at the unknown ceiling. A wooden ceiling. She moved her head a little to see In-Ji, sitting besides her, deep in slumber. Her eyes filled with tears and she only murmured one word.

"Liar".

She started to cry. In-ji wakes up to see her crying her eyes out. He didn't say anything. Just stood up and gave her a strong, firm warm hug.