The S-Classes That I Raised - Chapter 514: Dogfight (5)

“It felt like my insides were on fire.”

Despite the endless rain drumming coldly across his body, Song Taewon felt the heat rising within him. His outstretched hand felt alien, like someone else’s on a TV screen. Han Yujin sprawled to the ground, barely avoiding his fists. Even that sight felt strangely unreal.

The ground was already sodden and muddy. Both of them were a disgrace to behold—what had been white shirts were now dulled to muddy brown after rolling in the muck multiple times.

Song Taewon’s boot kicked toward the fallen Han Yujin in a practiced motion. The moment Han Yujin began to push himself up, the blow would shatter his ribs. But instead of rising, Han Yujin lifted his leg. Song Taewon’s kick struck Han Yujin’s shin, and Han Yujin’s heel caught Song Taewon’s leg in return.

Crack!

A sharp blade bit into Song Taewon’s calf. The Ruler’s Sword protruded from the back of Han Yujin’s shoe. Even a simple stab would have left a grievous wound—but with Han Yujin’s strength behind it, the sword drove deep, snapping at the last moment. Han Yujin, kicked by Song Taewon, tumbled backward and rolled away.

Staggering, Song Taewon looked down at the blade embedded in his leg. Crawling to put distance between them, Han Yujin grabbed a wooden rod lying nearby.

“You only kicked once, yet—”

A searing pain shot up Song Taewon’s leg, whether it was broken or merely cracked. Gritting his teeth, Han Yujin pressed the rod against his own leg and tied it tight. Then he rose to his feet once more.

“…Why?”

“Why? What kind of why is that?” Han Yujin laughed, meeting Song Taewon’s gaze squarely.

“This is how I’ve always lived.”

He spread his two arms wide, showing off the mess of himself like a badge.

“This is just who I am.”

This was nothing. Han Yujin refused to shrink back; he bared his teeth instead. Song Taewon’s opponent was a mere unranked human—no Fear Resistance needed. He had entered dungeons without such safeguards before. He’d sparred with stronger mid-rank Hunters; he’d even argued with S-Rank Hunters.

In the rain, Song Taewon stared at Han Yujin’s fierce smile. Now downgraded to F-Rank, he remained weaker in comparison—a person Song Taewon was meant to protect. His injured leg, bound with a wooden splint, stood out in Song Taewon’s vision.

Originally, he should have subdued him cleanly, without injury. Song Taewon could have done so. He blinked slowly, clearing his blurred sight. Yet moments ago, he had thrown himself at Han Yujin without mercy—using even stones after vowing to fight unarmed.

Before he could sort his burning thoughts, Han Yujin moved again. Despite the hurt leg, he briskly retrieved the bicycle, then fished something from the pink basket.

“You’d better dodge this!”

Han Yujin cried, flinging a round object at Song Taewon. One of his belongings—surely a bomb. The word flashed in Song Taewon’s mind as he leapt aside reflexively. His injured leg made running impossible; he slid across the wet ground. The object he’d stood on sprang and bounced where he had been. It was a toy ball from the Puppy Beast’s playset.

There was no explosion. Before Song Taewon could even react, Han Yujin leapt onto his back. He’d jumped the moment he threw the ball. Ignoring the tear in his splinted leg, Song Taewon sprang upright—only for a wire to coil tightly around his neck.

“Ugh—!”

Carrying his full weight as he clung, Han Yujin yanked the wire with all his might. Song Taewon twisted his uninjured arm behind him, trying to grab Han Yujin—but the angle made it impossible to pry loose. The wire tightened more. With a strangled breath, Song Taewon hobbled toward a nearby building and slammed his back against the wall.

Thud!

Just before the impact, Han Yujin rolled aside and drew a dagger, swinging at Song Taewon’s unhurt leg. But before that—

Smack!

“Ugh!”

Song Taewon drove his boot into Han Yujin. Han Yujin, stunned and rebounding, hurled something back at Song Taewon. Thinking it another trick, Song Taewon dodged—only to see a flat metal disc clang against the wall and spin to a stop.

“What—?”

“It’s something Myeong-woo made. I thought you’d like it.”

With a quiet wheeze, Han Yujin seized the Ruler’s Sword dropped by Han Yuhyun. Exhaustion had cost him speed and strength; his swings dripped rain and mud. Song Taewon evaded, and the dark blade struck the ground, splashing water. As Song Taewon reached to grab the staggering Han Yujin—

“…!”

He felt his leg go stiff and stepped back. The blade-pierced leg wouldn’t bend at all.

“It’s Bellare’s venom. It’s just basic serpent toxin now without any skill enhancements.”

Han Yujin had switched off his Poison Resistance, stored a small vial in inventory. If used with Resistance on, it’d instantly neutralize; off, it was tricky to handle—so he’d kept it just in case. Now it was mere hemotoxin, easy to coat on a blade.

It wouldn’t kill in an instant, but it could paralyze a limb. The rapid movement had spread the toxin, slowing his good leg too.

Drawing a deep breath, Han Yujin charged at Song Taewon. He hit with his whole body—tackled him hard. But Song Taewon somehow stayed upright, grabbing Han Yujin with his remaining arm. Clasped, Han Yujin wrapped both arms around Song Taewon’s and drove his knee into his abdomen again and again.

Thwack! The huge body wavered and fell backward in the mud. Han Yujin scrambled atop him and rained punches on his face. He showed no mercy, but only the ground took the blows. Overpowered, Han Yujin’s torso pitched forward.

Gasping, he bore flames his body couldn’t cool even in the rain. Song Taewon’s hand tightened around Han Yujin’s throat, pinning him to the wet earth. Slap—the splash of water rang out. Han Yujin’s fingers clawed at Song Taewon’s grip, then he lunged, wrenching a fistful of hair and slashing at Song Taewon’s eyes.

As Song Taewon recoiled, he lost control, falling sideways. His loosened grip bit fiercely—Han Yujin landed kicks and spat blood between ragged breaths.

It was pure chaos. A struggle that failed to be a fight, unending thrashing from both of them. Both were utterly spent.

Song Taewon tried to shove Han Yujin off, but unlike before, he couldn’t throw him—only toppled sideways. Han Yujin’s punch struck Song Taewon, but it made no sound. The rain submerged them both. Song Taewon’s vision blurred, and a metallic taste filled his mouth.

“I—ugh—really…”

Han Yujin, crawling atop Song Taewon, raised his fist then wheezed. His lips were split and his jaw bruised. Yet his face looked clearer than Song Taewon’s, who bore no bruise despite being struck solidly. Han Yujin chuckled at the unfairness. Still, a red welt marked his neck.

Song Taewon raised his arm and caught Han Yujin’s wrist—but that was all. No strength remained to push him away. Rainwater streamed into both their eyes.

“Look at us, huh?”

Han Yujin laughed through his battered face and body. The sky was black, and flashes of lightning danced.

“It’s… really funny. Why aren’t you laughing?”

“There’s nothing to laugh at…”

“Well then, should I cry?”

Song Taewon’s chest rose and fell heavily, cold and hot at once. His lips, dry despite the rain, moved.

“I—”

“Nothing’s wrong, right?”

Han Yujin said, “Your stubbornness, too—it’s not wrong. There are so many people who’d say it’s right.”

It could have ended with the sacrifice of just one—or maybe two. Plenty would feign blindness or actively support it.

“And my stubbornness? Before whether I could, it wasn’t wrong, right?”

He wanted everyone to survive. How could that be wrong? If it succeeded, it was obviously the best outcome.

“Look at me. This is persuasion.”

Pointing at his wrecked self, Han Yujin continued,

“Not a fight—but proof that it can be done. You thought it couldn’t.”

“…Han Yujin.”

“Ouch—my whole body aches.”

Song Taewon looked at Han Yujin, unable to speak easily. He seemed relieved. He knew—and understood—how weak Han Yujin might appear, why mistrust was natural.

So he shouted with his body.

Then Song Taewon—habitual apology lodged in his throat—swallowed it down. Han Yujin said his stubbornness was right, even as he hurt, got angry, and felt sorrow. But was it correct for Song Taewon to apologize?

“…I, I—”

Song Taewon struggled to continue.

“I am weak.”

“You’re absurdly strong.”

“I don’t trust myself.”

“I’m not exactly trusting myself, either.”

“…You said my actions were right too, Han Yujin.”

Song Taewon squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them.

“I can’t say I didn’t want to run away.”

Pathetically. He’d wanted to flee. Unable to bear the thought of damaging something because of himself.

“I’ve kept closing my eyes…”

He forced himself into a mold, looked only at the Song Taewon fitted to it.

“Director Song.”

“Because I feel so out of place. And—”

When had he first felt it? Song Taewon exhaled shakily. Outside his mold was ever-radiant spring. He could gaze at that peaceful everyday scene without growing tired. Until he realized he didn’t belong there, and found satisfaction in merely protecting it. He never thought beyond. He continued to feign ignorance and avoid it.

But when dungeons appeared, Awakened emerged—and he awakened—Song Taewon could no longer shut his eyes.

The Awakened. Among them, the S-Ranks. And… the monsters.

It was as if they stripped away his shell and held a mirror to him. They, too, must be stopped at all costs.

“Han Yujin says I’m… a good person. But the truth is, I wanted to protect myself. Selfishly, for me.”

“Protecting yourself isn’t selfish. Besides, Director Song, look at how you’ve lived—anyone would call you good.”

“…I hate myself.”

“Director Song.”

Song Taewon raised his arm, covering his eyes.

“I hate myself.”

Since meeting Han Yujin and watching the S-Rank Hunters around him, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy. They seemed happy. He couldn’t say he didn’t feel some of that joy himself. Turning away, wanting to be alone, it felt like only he remained a monster.

Around Han Yujin, it was spring—bright yellow blooms everywhere. Similar monsters, drawn to him, laughed and chatted like ordinary people.

“I… can’t do it. Especially now…”

A lamb trotted to his side. He couldn’t help but find it adorable. But Song Taewon—

From the Chinese dungeon to Hwanglim’s warnings. He tried to accept it with calm. Perhaps he’d suspected it long ago. He wanted to give up and leave.

“…I’m sorry. I still can’t accept myself.”

“Yes.”

Han Yujin replied calmly.

“So what if you do? That can happen. They tell us to love ourselves—it’s right, but right things don’t come easily.”

“Easy is only words,” Han Yujin nodded.

“Just a little more. I hope, just a bit more, Director Song does things for yourself. Me too… I have trouble with that.”

“……”

“Taking care of myself isn’t easy. It should be, but… it feels hateful, burdensome, guilty.”

Han Yujin’s gaze dropped. His fingertips trembled faintly.

“So I—honestly—don’t deserve to say this to you.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Really? Anyway, let’s try a bit ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) harder. We don’t know what’s ahead; it could be harder. It might sound irresponsible, but—”

His voice faltered. Between the rain, only their breaths mixed with the downpour. Their hearts and minds twisted in complexity, yet both felt a blank calm washing over them.

“Do you still have bullets?”

“I’m not sure they’ll fire properly.”

“I’m not sure I can accept myself. I have no confidence.”

Song Taewon lowered the arm shielding his eyes. He met Han Yujin’s gaze.

“But I’ll speak honestly.”

He offered a faint, weak smile.

“I hate myself too. I want… to live more.”

“…Yes.”

Han Yujin rose to his feet, staggering once before standing. He reached into the bicycle basket and pulled out the pistol, wrapped in plastic to keep it dry. He brought it back to Song Taewon.

“Let’s really have a proper drink sometime.”

A gunshot rang out.

“Ugh, my whole body still aches.”

Moments after firing at Director Song, Han Yujin was ushered into the waiting room. Like a return to his original form, he bore no scars or mud stains—yet his entire body felt sore and heavy.

“And Seong Hyunjae….”

He froze. What on earth? Seong Hyunjae lay curled peacefully asleep in a tangled heap of hot-pink yarn. Beside him, a laundry basket lay overturned.

Well. It was a maddening sight. Some of us had been through hell, yet… he looked so composed. Well enough, at least—and no doubt Han Yuhyun and Director Song were resting comfortably in the other room.

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