Chapter 115: SUN-YOUNG: Sleeping A Mile
"Ngh..."
Sun-young slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh brightness. Confusion swept through her as she tried to piece together the last memories she had. The sharp pain she’d felt moments ago was now replaced by a soothing calmness that enveloped her entire being.
Sun-young glanced down at herself, expecting to see bubbling acid erupt from her stomach, but to her astonishment, there wasn’t a scratch on her. It all came crashing down on her. The memories. The healing. The desperation.
"Heavenly Resurgence!"
"C-Commander?! It’s not working—"
"I know! Supreme Magic—"
She closed her eyes again. She couldn’t remember much after that. Commander Cedric hurled a ball of white magic into her wound and...that was it. That was the extent of her memory.
She checked her surroundings and noticed she was lying on a comfortable couch in what seemed to be a classical office. Green-brown walls ripe with Christian imagery, from paintings to carved walls. All of a sudden, Sun-young was reminded of her grandparents and the stories they told. They were staunch Christians, unlike her parents, and were adamant in Sun-young not turning out like them.
On one side, there was a mural illustrating the Good Samaritan parable. Adjacent to it was a smaller but detailed painting capturing the moment when Moses split the seas. Next to the door, a series of framed prints narrated the story of the Prodigal Son, depicting his departure, struggles, and eventual return. Sun-young never considered herself particularly religious. Today, however, she seemed to be nostalgic about it.
Blinking, judging each of the paintings, she was caught by the sudden opening of the door. Not a single strand of hair adorned his scalp while a strange circle of white hair wrapped around his head. From head to toe, he was covered in white, his robe long and meaningful.
"Yoon Sun-young. Excellent to see you in good health." The aged man glanced at the paintings and smiled at her. "Beautiful, are they not?"