NPC Fell onto My Bed C10

Chapter 10

“Noah-ssi, are you some hidden master physician from the mountains or something? Damn, I swear I thought I was going to die from the pain all day yesterday, but now it’s completely gone.”

Gu Taeheon cast a sharp, skeptical look at Nam Jinwoo, who was making exaggerated gestures as he spoke. He too had received Noah’s treatment, but honestly, his experience hadn’t been nearly as dramatic. It wasn’t as if a mere touch of the fingertips had instantly cured a lifetime of pain.

“Is that so? I’m relieved to hear you are well now. But please keep in mind, the treatment I just gave was merely an emergency measure… It is highly likely the pain will return by tomorrow.”

“Really? Well, even so, having no pain today is already a blessing. Even painkillers don’t work anymore.”

“If the pain continues, please come to me again. If you receive treatment consistently, in time you will be permanently healed.”

At Noah’s gentle words, Nam Jinwoo’s lips parted in astonishment. Permanently healed? Could such a thing truly be possible with nothing more than the touch of a hand?

Suspicion flickered briefly in his mind, but as soon as he met Noah’s serene, sacredly beautiful face, it melted away like snow in the sun. Nam Jinwoo decided Noah must simply be a remarkably skilled traditional healer and refrained from probing further, thinking it rude.

“Seriously? Permanent healing? Wow… Then how should I pay you?”

He fumbled to pull out his phone, ready to transfer money since he had no cash on hand, waiting for Noah to recite an account number. But Noah only blinked and replied softly:

“Pay me? Oh, no. A priest does not take money for healing.”

“Eh? Priest? You’re a priest? Ahh, that explains it. I thought there was something different about your atmosphere. Which religion, then?”

“I belong to the Church of Saint E—mmph.”

Before the words Saint Eir Church could escape Noah’s lips, a large hand clamped firmly over his mouth. Gu Taeheon’s palm was so broad it nearly covered Noah’s entire face. It was Gu Taeheon who answered in his stead.

“Catholicism.”

“Ahh, right? If you’re a priest, that makes sense.”

Noah, hearing this unfamiliar name of a religion, wisely closed his lips. He thought it better to conceal his identity here; otherwise, he would likely only invite strange, wary looks.

“But then, if you don’t accept money… what should I do? I want to give you something.”

“Then fruit, or something simple to eat, will be more than enough, Nam Jinwoo-nim.”

At times in the Temple of Eir, when the sick came to him, Noah gave freely of his healing without ever expecting compensation. Yet, there were always those who insisted on offering gratitude, and in those moments, Noah would tell them that some fruit gathered from the Tyrel Forest, or humble herbs and vegetables, were enough.

That was the sort of “food” Noah had in mind. Simple gifts of the earth one could find sprouting from the soil.

“Then… would it be alright if I treated you to a nice dinner tomorrow?”

“Forget it. Don’t.”

“Aw, why not?”

“If anyone’s treating him, it’s me.”

Gu Taeheon swiftly cut off Nam Jinwoo’s ploy. His eyes flashed with a silent question meant only for Noah: Just what are you to him? If anyone was to spend their wealth, it was Gu Taeheon—who had more than enough to spare. There was no room for Nam Jinwoo to wedge himself in.

“I only want to treat him because I feel like it! Why don’t you stay out of it, bastard? I wouldn’t even bother with someone already drowning in money. Noah-ssi, what would you like to eat?”

“Hmm…”

“Samgyeopsal? No, no—if I’m treating you, it’s got to be beef. Only the best.”

Noah smiled awkwardly. He was not particularly fond of meat, but with Nam Jinwoo’s eyes sparkling so brightly with eagerness, he found himself accepting before he could think better of it.

With Nam Jinwoo’s unstoppable persistence, the time and place of tomorrow’s dinner were fixed down to the very hour, and their talk dragged on far longer than expected. Finally, when it grew late, Nam Jinwoo took his leave.

Forcing him out and locking the door with deliberate finality, Gu Taeheon let out a long sigh of relief. At last, peace had returned to the apartment.

“You are fortunate to have such a good friend.”

“…A good friend? Who?”

“Nam Jinwoo-nim, of course. Surely he came all the way here out of concern for you.”

Since the day he was told he could no longer practice judo, Gu Taeheon had scarcely left the house, fearful that his awkward gait would draw unwanted eyes. Sensing this, Nam Jinwoo often made excuses to drop by—claiming he only came to use the massage chair, or insisting on meals together—anything to coax Gu Taeheon out of his solitude.

Noah had easily seen through this. Beneath the excuses, Nam Jinwoo was clearly worried for his friend.

“…Some friend.”

Gu Taeheon muttered awkwardly, throwing himself into the sofa. The leather cushions sank beneath his weight, yet Noah, who had been seated first, remained upright and composed, his posture immaculate as his golden eyes stayed fixed on Gu Taeheon.

That steady gaze made Gu Taeheon strangely restless. He was a man who had devoted his life to discipline and competition, not words or company, and now—sharing his private home with another—he found the feeling uncomfortable. To distract himself, he snatched up the remote control.

Click.

The vast hundred-inch screen came alive. Noah’s gaze shifted curiously from the remote to the television, but his attention was swiftly captured by what played upon the screen.

<Once again, tensions in the Middle East have escalated into large-scale military conflict. According to reports, early this morning, the Israeli Air Force launched a precision strike on what is believed to be a missile base in Iran…>

The scene shifted, the broadcast showing horrific images of the battlefield.

<…A soldier of the Iranian army has released direct footage from within the war zone, sparking global outcry.>

The shaky video, recorded on a phone, displayed grainy images of people unable to escape falling missiles, bodies lying broken, blood staining the earth.

Noah’s eyes widened, transfixed.

A battlefield. It was not a distant memory for him.

“Mother, mother…!”
“Please, someone, save me!”
“Aaahhhh!”

As High Priest of the Eir Church, Noah had often been conscripted to the front lines whenever war erupted within the Empire, owing to the tangled politics between the Church and the state. Each time he was dragged to those bloody fields, he had felt horror beyond description.

To witness lives extinguished before his eyes wrenched his heart in unspeakable pain. And as the one who stood at the very pinnacle of healers, capable of saving all but the dead, the burden was heavier still.

He could not—would not—stand idle before death.

“…Noah?”

Gu Taeheon noticed belatedly that Noah’s gaze was fixed, unblinking, upon the screen, his golden eyes wide with grief. He called his name gently, but Noah did not stir. Only when Gu Taeheon reached out and laid a tentative hand upon his shoulder did Noah finally turn his face.

“You—why are you…”

The rest of Gu Taeheon’s words faltered and died.

Noah was crying. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks, dripping from his chin to soak into his robe. Though his lips made no sound, he wept as though the weight of the world pressed upon his chest.

“Where… where is that place, Gu Taeheon-nim?”

His voice trembled with sorrow. Gu Taeheon turned his head toward the screen once more.

Iran and Israel. Their war had raged for more than a year now. To Gu Taeheon, it was just another distant conflict, one of many in that part of the world. He could not fathom why Noah should weep so bitterly over it.

“It’s another country. Far, far from here.”

“…Could I go there now?”

Noah stepped closer, until his tear-stained, luminous face was almost brushing his own. Startled, Gu Taeheon instinctively drew his head back. He had never realized before that even tears could be beautiful—until he saw them on Noah.

“You can’t. Civilians can’t enter war zones.”

“But… if I went, I could save them all…”

Noah’s voice broke as his gaze returned to the screen, to the image of a child, body scarred with burns, stumbling barefoot across the blasted earth. If only he could be there. If only…

“Noah.”

Gu Taeheon’s voice cut through the grief. As tears trailed down Noah’s jaw, Gu Taeheon raised his hand awkwardly, brushing his thumb beneath those wet lashes and whispering:

“Their deaths are not your fault.”

Noah’s breath caught. Not my fault. How could that be true? If only he had been there… if only…

Yet the warmth of that voice lingered, steady against the tide of guilt flooding his heart.