The Tone-Deaf Healer Kills with a Song - Episode 7

T/N: In the story, “정환” (Jung-hwan) is his alias/hunter name, while “정환재” (Jung Hwan-jae) is revealed to be his real full name. 

His thick black hair fell straight, side-swept bangs shifting with each head movement.

His eyes, which I’d thought black, revealed their true color in the sunlight—a dark wine-red, matching the door I’d entered through.

Like countless other awakened ones whose appearances changed through skills or circumstances, he must be among them.

“I worked night shifts at a convenience store.”

“Why night shifts?”

“The hourly wage was 200 won higher.”

Each word came out smaller, somehow more exposed.

He methodically asked about my convenience store hours, sleep schedule, and wake times.

Though unsure if guilds typically investigated such details, being new to hunting, I answered everything diligently.

“So you’d get home near morning, typically waking in the afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must be very sleepy now.”

‘Is it safe to admit that?’

Jung-hwan stood, his expression balanced between testing and concern.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen before looking up.

“Starting tomorrow, shall we begin at 3 AM after you’ve rested?”

“What?”

“Forcing lifestyle changes prevents optimal efficiency. It doesn’t have to be 3 AM—I’ll make time early in the morning, just contact me when you wake up. I won’t do anything inappropriate. That would violate the contract.”

“…But the last train will have stopped running for such an early office arrival.”

A taxi would mean surcharges. Petty, but unavoidable. No driver’s license, no car—what options did I have?

Jung-hwan fell silent, seemingly at a loss. Then he retrieved the black jewel I’d returned.

“May I ask what that is?”

“A gift from my assigned staff. Everyone sees it differently, and only I see its true form.”

“Ah, but you left something so important in your pocket and gave it to me…”

He froze as if struck. Some unexpectedly casual sides to him.

Desperately ignoring that observation, he levitated the object. His lips moved in whispers as wine-colored light scattered.

“From our contract—perhaps you missed it—I cover all work-related expenses. Food, transportation, everything.”

“Ah, yes. I saw that.”

“I could provide transportation costs, but I won’t trust my personal healer to unknown drivers.”

When I opened my eyes, a pitch-black void door stood before me. Jung-hwan faced me, his back to it.

“I’ll pick you up. Wherever you are, whenever you wake.”

The implication: it needn’t be 3 AM.

“…”

“Ah, don’t worry. I won’t break into your home or anything unscrupulous.”

“That wasn’t my concern. Don’t you sleep early morning?”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s part of company benefits.”

Do all guilds adjust their leaders’ sleep patterns for healers under company benefits?

It seemed unreasonable by any standard, yet he presented it as basic guild leader duty.

Jung Hwan-jae checked the time, adjusting his posture as if concluding guidance.

“Guilds can’t start work immediately after training like regular companies. We offer basic first-time hunter training—interested?”

His tone suggested leaving was an option.

At the convenience store, I’d have left immediately. Such offers usually came during overtime anyway.

But this was different. The Hanttae buff still affected me.

The Hanttae buff—that first-day glow of company loyalty and enthusiasm to tackle any task, even seeking extra work.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be grateful!”

“…There’s nothing to mind about standard provisions.”

He blinked slowly, taken aback by my spirit. While appearing to make calls and shuffle files, he glanced my way.

“The 11th floor offers training. After machine-based training, there’s situation reporting and coaching, but I’ll handle your coaching separately. Here’s my card. Contact me directly through this if needed.”

Jung Hwan-jae handed over an elegant business card with a slight bow. Sensing my cue, I stepped back.

Should I say “goodbye”? “See you tomorrow!”? Or neither…

“Guild Leader, I’ll, I’ll call in the early morning!”

Only after turning away did I realize how that might sound to eavesdroppers.

But he suggested early morning first, not me. I blamed him as I descended to the 11th floor.

Instead of people waiting, I found narrow booth-like compartments. A floating display message read:

[Please enter any booth, put on the headset, and play the training on the desktop.]

Surprisingly simple for the Great Hunter Era.

I entered a random booth. The expensive-looking black headset went on, and I clicked the desktop file.

The booth’s screen transformed beyond mere augmented reality—more like entering a new world entirely.

“No, please! Who are you!”

I might have stayed impressed if armor-clad figures hadn’t suddenly appeared.

Standing majestically in an impossibly vast space, one figure faced me, their face veiled.

“Hello, I’m your Valkyrie Network instruction guide. This is official Baldur-distributed footage for all hunters and cannot interact directly. Please direct questions through your assigned staff.”

The voice vibrated through my eardrums rather than entering normally, coming from the figure now standing with their back to me, gazing into space.

Must be an educational mascot.

Distributed from above rather than guild-produced.