NPC Fell onto My Bed C45

Chapter 45

“Fire! Fire!”

“This way, please! Hurry!”

Sliding open the paper door and stepping out, they found far less smoke than expected. What little there was didn’t seem to originate from inside the restaurant but drifted in from outside. Coach Jung, shoving his feet hastily into his shoes, snapped:

“Go—go! Move!”

“This way! Don’t push!”

Guests poured out of the private rooms, following staff directions in a hurried wave. Noah stayed right beside Gu Taeheon, their hands clasped tightly, but Coach Jung fell one step behind and was swept along by the crowd. As they were carried toward the exit, a guest nearby shouted:

“It’s not this place that’s burning—it’s the big building next door! You know, that 20-story one!”

“For real? That building?”

So the restaurant itself wasn’t on fire. But flames next door were powerful enough that they were being evacuated just in case. The hanok-style building—low, wood-heavy—would be dangerously flammable if the fire spread.

They emerged safely into the street. Just as the other guests had said, heavy smoke billowed from a window on the eighth floor of the adjacent commercial building. Ambulances, fire trucks, and crowds flooded the roadway, chaos filling every inch.

“Captain, we can’t reach the eighth floor! The hallway fire is too intense!”

Firefighters stood nearby discussing urgently. In the ambulance, Noah caught sight of several people, their skin charred black.

“Damn it! How far out is backup? Call again!”

“They’re coming but traffic’s a mess! Do we risk going in now?”

The captain scrubbed his face with one hand, torn. In the same moment, a hand burst through one of the smoke-filled eighth-floor windows.

“Help! Someone’s here! Please—help!”

He swung his head toward the air cushion below. The trapped person braced to jump even as rescuers continued working frantically—many more still trapped on upper floors.

Noah stared blankly. Flames surged, smoke billowed, and desperate cries cut through the air.

It looked like a battlefield. His head hollowed with shock. A ringing built in his ears—like he’d been thrust underwater, unable to form a thought.

“…Noah!”

Someone yanked him out from that drowning silence. A voice slammed into him—clear, firm.

“Hardiel Noah Hildegart!”

Hearing his full name snapped him back. Before he could even process why he reacted like that, Taeheon seized his shoulders.

“Let’s get out of here first, Noah.”

“…Taeheon.”

It was the obvious thing—get away, before they were caught in chaos. Coach Jung had already disappeared somewhere in the crowd, pushed along by the flow.

Taeheon gripped Noah’s hand tightly and started to pull him through the throng—

“Noah?”

But Noah did not move.

When Taeheon turned back, he found Noah staring toward the injured lying near the ambulance.

Understanding the meaning in Noah’s eyes, Taeheon’s expression darkened instantly.

“No.”

“….”

“I said no, Noah.”

He knew Noah’s past now—what kind of life he’d endured, what trauma chained him. But this time, he could not allow it.

The fire was still spreading like a living thing, rescue efforts barely organized, desperation tangible in every face around them. Too many witnesses, too public, too exposed. Healing someone here wasn’t the same as secretly helping Taeheon or a car crash victim.

Taeheon’s cold stare met Noah’s, and Noah’s expression shifted—urgent, pleading. Noah cupped Taeheon’s hand between both of his.

“I cannot abandon the wounded, Taeheon.”

Raised amid war and called to battle again and again, Noah had never walked away from suffering. He carried guilt for creating monsters, but also a holy mission as a priest to tend to the fallen.

He had never ignored an injured person. That was his fate.
A cruel destiny—one he never rejected.

Despair makes humans fragile. And in desperation, people died easily.

Noah had watched countless lives fade away.

“I won’t do anything dangerous.”

“It’s not about danger, Noah. Look around—there are too many people—!”

“I will weaken the healing so they do not notice. I’ll only keep them alive.”

Noah tightened his grip. He lifted his head, golden eyes meeting Taeheon’s. Deep within them, flames glimmered.

“I’m not doing this because of divine duty.”

“….”

“If I leave now, they will die. Please allow me, Taeheon.”

Hearing Noah’s earnest plea, Taeheon shut his eyes tightly. Even if he forced Noah away physically, could Noah live with that guilt?

He had never truly believed he could stop him.
Noah was Noah—the man who gave everything to save others.
The man Taeheon loved.

Finally, he nodded.

With Taeheon’s permission—and the promise not to take risks—Noah stepped away and moved toward the injured lying near the ambulances and on the ground.

The truth was, Noah’s promise to “weaken” his power was only possible in Last Chronicle. His healing here had not yet fully returned. But he had to succeed.

He wanted to protect Taeheon.
Taeheon’s life.
The peaceful world Taeheon lived in.

Noah knelt, palms pressed to the ground. He looked like a devout believer praying for mercy in disaster. His lips moved rapidly in low chant.

Light began to pulse faintly from his body—but the raging flames nearby drowned it out. Noah was casting Wave of Light, a high-tier healing miracle that only he could use in his world.

But the waves never spread—they rippled only around him.

His power was too weak.

He could unleash the full spell—bright and overwhelming. But he had promised to conceal it. And to hide it, he needed to layer more complex divine weaves—requiring far more power.

“Please… O God…”

As always in dire moments, he reached for his deity. But what filled his vision was Taeheon watching him with worried eyes.

The stalled light shimmered—until a voice echoed inside him:

The light of dawn has guided you here.
Hope shall always be your lantern.

At once, gentle warm light poured from Noah—sinking invisibly into the earth. Quiet, swift, unseen, the healing spread to the wounded.

But Noah’s gaze trembled.

He recognized that voice.
Those words.

It was what he said to adventurers—when a healer succeeded their second job advancement.

Congratulations on your class advancement, adventurer.