The Villain Hunter Only Lets the E-Rank Healer Touch Him novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Man Nobody Heals
A day-labor healer finds the S-rank everyone calls a deserter bleeding black in a gate tunnel and washes the wound clean when no one else will touch it, then hears him say, wash your hands, that is my blood.
Baek Seon-ho was on his fourth hour of carrying water when the crew leader shouted that someone was down in the east tunnel.
It was a Tuesday night in late October, and Gate 12 had been cleared for a week.
The crew was only there to haul out the leftover crystal.
Seon-ho was the day-labor healer.
That meant he stood by in a mint-green smock, with a satchel of herb pouches, and waited for someone to stub a toe.
He was twenty-five, E-rank, and three weeks late on his rent.
He ran toward the shout anyway.
The east tunnel was lit by cold blue crystal that made everyone look drowned.
Six crew members stood in a half circle and did not go any closer.
On the floor at the end of the tunnel, a man sat against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.
He was tall even sitting down, in a long charcoal coat, with short black hair swept back from a pale face.
Both of his hands were in black leather gloves, and one of them was pressed flat against his chest.
Blood ran out between the fingers.
It was the wrong color.
It was dark, almost black, and it left thin dark threads on the stone.
"That's Yoon Tae-hwan," someone whispered.
"The Deserter."
"Don't go near him."
"The gate cursed him. He left his whole team at Gate 9."
Seon-ho had heard the name, like everyone had.
An S-rank hunter, the strongest on the Seoul list, who had walked out of a sealed gate alone while five friends died behind him.
The newspapers called him a coward.
The crews called him a villain, and made the sign against bad luck when his car went by.
"Has anyone healed him?" Seon-ho asked.
"Our B-rank tried," the crew leader said.
He pointed at a woman sitting against the other wall, her hands wrapped in gauze.
"It went black up to her wrist. She's lucky it stopped."
"The Association says he can't be treated," said another man. "His body rejects healing."
"Then why is he still bleeding?"
Nobody had an answer.
The man against the wall lifted his head.
His eyes were narrow and dark, and they were very tired.
"Leave," Tae-hwan said. His voice was low and even. "All of you. It will stop on its own."
"It's not stopping," Seon-ho said.
He knelt down in front of him.
Behind him, somebody drew a breath.
Up close, Tae-hwan smelled of rain and iron.
There was a long cut under his collarbone, a claw mark, as deep as a finger.
The black was moving inside it, slowly.
"My healing doesn't close anything," Seon-ho said quietly. "Everyone says so. I'm rated E for it."
"Then you're no use to me."
"I don't close cuts. I wash them."
He did not wait for permission.
He peeled the gloved hand away from the wound, and Tae-hwan, to his surprise, let him.
Seon-ho laid both palms flat on the torn skin.
His light came up the way it always did, pale green and warm.
It poured into the cut.
The black threads stirred.
Then they pulled out of the wound, one by one.
They dissolved into the green light until there was nothing left but clean red blood.
The skin closed by itself, slowly.
The tunnel went completely silent.
"What did you do?" the crew leader breathed.
"I washed it," said Seon-ho.
He was grinning, a little stupidly, because it had gone so well.
He looked up.
Tae-hwan was staring at him.
It was not the stare of a man being rescued.
It was the stare of someone who had been handed something he had stopped believing existed, and did not trust it.
His breath came short.
His eyes went to Seon-ho's hands, still resting on his chest, and something crossed his face that looked a lot like fear.
His gloved hand came up and closed around Seon-ho's wrist, fast and tight.
The grip was hot, even through the leather.
Seon-ho felt his own pulse jump against it.
"Who are you?" Tae-hwan asked.
"Baek Seon-ho. Day crew."
"Rank?"
"E."
"Who sent you?"
"Nobody sent me. I was carrying water."
Tae-hwan looked at him for a long moment.
Then he looked at the dark threads on the stone.
Then he looked at the thin black smear on Seon-ho's left palm, where the blood had touched it.
His face changed.
"Wash your hands," he said. "Now."
"They're clean, I just..."
"That is my blood. Go to the water barrel and wash your hands. Now, Baek Seon-ho."
His grip let go.
It was the first time Seon-ho had ever heard his own name said like an order and a plea at once.
He stood up, and everyone in the tunnel backed away from him.
He looked down at his palm.
The black smear was already gone, thinning to nothing in the pale light that still clung to his skin.
Only a faint gray shadow was left, and that faded while he watched.
When he looked back, Tae-hwan was staring at the palm too.
He had stopped breathing.
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