NPC Fell onto My Bed C3

Chapter 03

Gu Taeheon.
Judo athlete Gu Taeheon, dominant alpha Gu Taeheon, the pride of South Korea, Gu Taeheon.

Perhaps there were fewer people in Korea who did not know his name than those who did. Even in middle school, he was already a well-known figure in the industry, but it was during his high school years that he began to set monumental records, soaring as the rising star of the judo world.

Victory at the Presidential National Judo Championships, victory at the National Youth Sports Festival, an unbroken winning streak at the Japan–Korea High School Judo Exchange, selection for the national youth team every single year throughout high school, and at last, a gold medal at the Berlin Olympics.

His life was nothing short of dazzling. No, dazzling was too pale a word—his life had been unstoppable. He could scarcely even recall the times he had been defeated, for his existence was a tapestry woven entirely of triumphs.

Until six months ago, when he was struck by a truck.

“It may be difficult to hear, but multiple fractures have been confirmed—not only of the tibia but also of the fibula.”
“Focus on living a normal daily life. Frankly, it is only because you are an alpha that you’ve escaped with this much.”

Unable to accept the doctor’s words—that his athletic career was over—Taeheon sought out surgeons across the country and even overseas. But everywhere he went, he heard the same verdict: he would never return to the mat.

News of the truck accident spread widely through the media. Some clicked their tongues, saying his career was over. Others mocked him, saying that at least, as a handsome alpha athlete, he had earned enough through advertisements and public appearances, so he should be satisfied with that.

“So you can’t do judo anymore—does that mean your life is over? Instead of wasting time, start thinking about how you’ll make a living now!”

It was true, as people said, that Taeheon still had much left. Thanks to his affluent family, he had inherited wealth, and during his judo career, money had naturally flowed in as well.

But he could not adapt to a life that felt like misfortune.

For the past six months, he had thrown himself into rehabilitation, to the point that he could now walk without trouble. Yet whenever it rained or he attempted even a light jog, searing pain shot up from his shin. Taeheon could no longer step onto the mat, and he was forced to accept defeat—a reality he had never once imagined, even in his dreams.

Living a life worse than death, he became the object of pity for those around him, who began recommending hobbies of every kind. That was just one month ago.

In the end, pushed and pushed again, Taeheon finally turned to something he had never touched even in elementary school: the computer. It was to play Last Chronicle, a game recommended by a friend.

“Nickname…”

But the moment he logged into Last Chronicle, he was confronted with a mountain. A nickname. Having lived so far removed from games, he had never once invented a nickname in his life.

All that came to mind was judo, judo, judo. Yet he did not wish to insert any judo-related word into his alias. As he wrestled with it, a sharp pain shot through his leg, and almost without thinking, he typed Limp1219.

Even after that, he wandered aimlessly in the chaotic game world, unsure of what to do. While watching the unfolding tutorial, his eyes caught upon one figure.

“The priest Hildegard, who descended to heal wounded souls.”

On the battlefield, where countless lives perished, Hildegard offered himself without hesitation to heal the sick. When soldiers began losing arms and legs in droves, he struck his staff upon the ground, invoking the light of divinity. At once, the wounded were healed.

The white light radiating from Hildegard spread like waves, surging outward until they enveloped the broken bodies. Those who had been contorted in agony surrendered themselves to the waves of light, their expressions softened as though they had been granted salvation.

“……”

Taeheon had stared, transfixed, at Hildegard—the protagonist of the healer’s job tutorial. If his ruined leg could be healed as those soldiers’ had been, how wondrous that would be.

That was all he had thought. And yet—

“Then, pardon me.”

—it happened in reality.

The man who introduced himself as Hardiel Noah Hildegard now, upon closer inspection, had a face strikingly identical to Hildegard’s in the game. Only the discrepancy between the flatness of two dimensions and the depth of three had kept Taeheon from recognizing him at once.

Even then, Taeheon had dismissed him as a madman, some eccentric who happened to be cosplaying Hildegard. Beautiful, yes, but no more than that.

“It may feel cold, or perhaps warm. The light of God manifests differently for each patient. If it hurts, please raise your left hand.”

With a gentle murmur, Noah smiled faintly and reached toward his injured right leg. Normally hypersensitive to anyone touching his damaged limb, Taeheon found himself unable to push him away—the man’s motions were too smooth, too natural, leaving no moment to resist.

Noah’s hand did not quite touch his leg, but stopped just before it.

At his fingertips, white light began to spill forth. Though not as vast a radiance as the one Taeheon had seen in the tutorial, it gleamed with the same sacred brilliance.

The light slowly spread, enveloping his knee.

Or was enveloping the right word? It seemed instead that the light was swallowing his entire leg, starting from the knee and descending downward.

“…!”

“Does it hurt?”

“N-no, not… painful.”

Struggling to steady his pounding heart, Taeheon answered haltingly. For indeed, it did not hurt. The light was warm, or at times cool, wrapping him in a soft, tickling embrace, as though enveloped in something unbearably gentle.

And yet, paradoxically, it was too ticklish—so much so that he had to press his nails into his palms just to endure it. Unconsciously, he clenched his jaw tight.

Kindness. Yes, that light was imbued with Noah’s kindness.

“I see. That is fortunate. It seems the Lord does not look upon you with disfavor.”

But Noah’s murmured words barely reached Taeheon’s ears. All he could do was squint his eyes, fists clenched, enduring with the same iron resolve he used to resist an opponent’s throw on the mat.

How long he endured, teeth set and jaw tight, he could not say. Gradually, Noah’s light began to fade.

No—fade was not the right word. The light was seeping into his knee. Earlier it had seemed that the glow was consuming his knee; now it appeared that his knee was devouring the light, greedily, hungrily.

Through it all, Taeheon’s eyes never left Noah.

Those golden irises, shining with divine radiance, sank beneath his eyelids, replaced by lashes of dark green, long and luxuriant. The sight of such a man—radiantly beautiful, exuding sanctity as he poured forth white light—was so divine that even if it were all deception, Taeheon could hardly care.

“Gu Taeheon-nim, may I make brief contact? Healing may be performed without touch, but for a precise diagnosis, contact is best.”

“…Do as you like.”

At his casual consent, Noah’s eyes lit like stars. When he smiled, his lips curved wide, revealing white teeth—and suddenly the solemn aura gave way to a face brimming with warmth.

In that instant, Taeheon drew a sharp breath and jerked his head aside. Noah’s beauty was not a matter of preference; it was the kind of beauty that made one hesitate to even meet his gaze. When such a face shone with a radiant smile, it felt suffocating.

“Thank you for granting permission. Then, allow me once more.”

Contrary to Taeheon’s expectation that Noah would seize his leg the way physical therapists often had, Noah instead laid his fingers slowly, one by one—index, middle, ring, and little—against his shin. At last, when his thumb, too, pressed lightly into his calf, his hand enclosed Taeheon’s leg with utmost care.

In that posture, head bowed, Noah remained silent for some time. White light still streamed forth, but he said nothing. Taeheon swallowed, his throat dry.

“This is… strange.”

“…Why?”

“The healing is slower than I expected.”

Noah’s brows furrowed deeply as he gazed down at the firm calf beneath his hand. It was a most peculiar thing. As the pinnacle of healers, Noah could revive any mortal not yet seized by death itself. A fracture of this kind should have mended even before he touched it.

Yet it had not. Or rather—it was healing, but far more slowly than it would have in his world.

“I do not know the reason. Please, grant me a little more time.”

Time was one thing Taeheon had in abundance, so he nodded without hesitation. And so, the two sank into a long silence.

While the silence stretched, Noah examined his leg with the heart of a scholar confronting a new substance. His touch remained cautious, yet his fingers traced every inch—from knee to toe.

Because of it, Taeheon had to stifle the sounds threatening to escape his throat. To speak honestly, it was maddening—ticklish, suffocating, almost unbearable—so much so that he longed to throw an opponent on the mat just to release the tension.

But however much he bore it, Noah showed no sign of letting go. When it seemed he would not speak, Taeheon finally broke the silence.

“How long are you going to keep touching it?”

“Ah, forgive me. Did it hurt?”

“No, not hurt, but…”

Raising a hand, Taeheon scratched roughly at his nape. Searching for words, he opened his mouth with difficulty.

“…It’s because I’m an alpha.”

“Pardon?”

Taeheon’s troubled expression was plain. Of course, he was not shameless enough to entertain improper thoughts in the midst of treatment. Yet Noah’s light—and his touch—bore a faint resemblance to pleasure. Each time the fingers and the light brushed along his leg, his body twitched, and he had to resist the inexplicable sensations with all his might.

Unable to confess it outright, Taeheon chose instead to speak obliquely, before matters grew worse.

“You… aren’t you an omega?”

“Omega?”

“I’m an alpha. Which means… we should probably be careful.”

Taeheon was certain: with such beauty, Noah could not be a beta. No—surely he was an omega, and judging from his looks, close to a dominant omega. For an omega like him to hold the leg of a dominant alpha like Taeheon for so long—it was impossible not to feel the sexual tension.

But Noah merely blinked and tilted his head. And then he asked,

“What is an alpha?”