Please Give Me A Kiss, Healer! – Chapter 75

Author: Asternkm

The librarian looked no different than usual.

Except that she was staring straight at Jiwoo so intensely it was almost embarrassing.

“Why is she doing that? Did I do something wrong?”

Jiwoo awkwardly waved her hand.

Just then, a notification rang from the phone inside her bag.

Ding.

Heeseong

Sis
The fridge is making a weird noise

“The fridge? What kind of noise could it be—ah, right! The potion! Today’s the day!”

With so many things on her mind lately, she’d completely forgotten the date.

Jiwoo texted Heeseong back, telling him she’d be there soon and not to touch anything.

‘Please let it have turned out well.’

As the bus pulled away, Jiwoo leaned back against her seat, her heart pounding.

The presence of the librarian she’d locked eyes with faded away together with the receding bus stop.

****

When Jiwoo arrived at the safe zone, she took a glass bottle puffing out wisps of steam out of the refrigerator.

Item

Special Potion

An ultimate potion that cures all status abnormalities.
Please store refrigerated and handle with care to avoid impact.

“I succeeded… on the first try……!”

Tears welled up in her round eyes.

The system chimed in mercilessly.

[You may add a creator tag.]

System

⟨Creator: Do Jiwoo⟩

⟨Creator: Everyone’s Supporter (S)⟩

⟨Creator: The Nameless Saint⟩

…The system definitely hates me.

“What is this uselessly honest tag supposed to be?”

It was like holding up a placard in every direction screaming, ‘I’m a second awakener! My name is Do Jiwoo!’

“At least number three is better.”

System

Would you like to select ⟨Creator: The Nameless Saint⟩?

Yes No

It was a bit embarrassing, but that title was the safest option.

At least it didn’t include a single word related to Jiwoo.

System

If you choose the ⟨Creator: The Nameless Saint⟩ tag, the creator’s achievements may be obscured.
Are you sure you want to select this tag?

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want—my achievements hidden. Nameless Saint, selected!”

As Jiwoo pressed accept, a new notification window popped up.

[You have obtained a hidden title.]

System

Title: The Nameless Saint

You, who achieved a great feat yet chose to hide it until the very end.
Your humble and benevolent name will spread widely across the world.]

Applied Effect: ???

“Spread widely across the world? Why would you say something so horrifying!”

Jiwoo’s wish had always been simple, past and present alike.

To live a long life, well-fed and warm.

She’d only just started receiving a stable monthly salary—having her identity as a second awakener exposed and dealing with the fallout sounded like a nightmare.

‘Now I just have to give this potion to Mina.’

She couldn’t honestly guarantee the effect.

The system had labeled Heeseong’s illness as a “status abnormality,” but there was no assurance it would apply to Mina in the same way.

‘Will Mina’s mom even allow her to drink it? I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t think I’m crazy.’

Trusting Jiwoo was one thing—giving an unverified substance to her sick daughter was another.

Most parents wouldn’t agree to that.

After some deliberation, Jiwoo packed away the completed potion and returned to the apartment.

“Sis, let’s eat dinner! If I starve for another thirty minutes, my stomach’s going to shrivel up.”

“Is food the only thing you ever talk about when you see me?”

“Nope. Meat side dishes too.”

Her little brother treating her like a housemaid was irritating, but his role in making this potion had been significant.

Jiwoo put the potion back in the fridge and started cooking.

She made kimchi jjigae using well-fermented kimchi and pork she’d bought a couple of days earlier.

Heeseong, lurking around the kitchen, opened the fridge out of hunger.

“What’s this glass bottle? Grape juice?”

Holding the potion, Heeseong opened the lid.

As he sniffed and tried to drink it, Jiwoo—who was frying eggs—screamed and lunged for him.

“Hey!! Don’t drink that! That’s the potion I just made!”

“What?! When did you finish that? No, more importantly, why is something that precious in the fridge?”

“Because you said you were starving and told me to cook first!”

“Is my stomach more important than Mina? She’s still suffering from her illness right now!”

“When did you ever see Mina to call her our Mina?”

Heeseong ignored her and started getting ready to go out.

“Hurry up and get dressed, Sis! We need to get there before visiting hours end!”

In the end, Jiwoo was dragged along by Heeseong.

****

An hour later, the Jiwoo–Heeseong siblings arrived at Daewoon Hospital.

For Heeseong, returning after so long stirred deep emotions.

“It’s been a while, Daedora! You’ve been doing well without me, right?”

He patted the teddy bear statue standing by the entrance walkway.

He’d spent a third of his life here—this place was practically another home.

“Heeseong, go say hello to the nurses. And give them the bread we brought.”

“Aren’t I coming with you?”

“No. You’re not.”

She couldn’t bring a healthy Heeseong to see a sick Mina.

When the body hurts, the heart grows sensitive too.

Jiwoo went up to Mina’s room alone.

But whether the room had been changed or not, Mina wasn’t there.

Jiwoo went to the desk.

“I’m here to visit patient Kim Mina in room 1404. Has her room changed?”

“Please wait a moment.”

After checking the monitor, the staff member replied.

“Patient Kim Mina was transferred to the VIP ward a few weeks ago.”

“What? Really?”

The last time Jiwoo visited, Mina’s mother had mentioned worrying about hospital bills.

She’d said they were a single-parent household without much financial room—so a VIP ward?

“Please go up to the 21st floor, verify your identity, and receive guidance at the ward desk.”

Feeling uneasy, Jiwoo took the private elevator to the 21st floor.

In front of the luxurious private room—

“Oh my, Hunter Do Jiwoo?”

Mina’s mother, Minyoung, greeted her in surprise.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m sorry for coming without notice.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just grateful you came again.”

Mina was asleep in her bed.

Her cheeks, which should have been plump like a child’s, were pale and etched with exhaustion.

Minyoung led Jiwoo into the attached lounge.

Sitting on a soft sofa, Jiwoo slowly looked around.

She tried not to show it, but her eyes widened at the refined interior.

“To be honest, this is my first time in a VIP ward. It’s much bigger and more comfortable than I imagined.”

“Right? Mina says it feels like a hotel trip—she loves it. We received the sponsorship so suddenly, I still feel dazed myself.”

Apparently, a foundation’s chief secretary had visited Minyoung personally, handed her a business card, and offered support.

‘Not just covering treatment costs, but upgrading the room too?’

What kind of generous benefactor would do something so drastic…?

It was strange, but in any case, it was good news.

Jiwoo spoke carefully.

“Ma’am, how has Mina been lately?”

“Mina… is undergoing drug treatment. But she still suffers often, and she has trouble breathing.”

Dungeon sickness was incurable, but there were ways to slow or ease its progression.

One was forcibly replenishing vitality using a healer’s skills.

Another was extracting effective essence from dungeon byproducts and injecting it.

When neither worked, narcotic painkillers were used to manage the pain.

That was essentially the final stage of hospital care.

Even Heeseong, who’d been hospitalized long-term for five years, hadn’t progressed this quickly.

“They say long-term exposure to gates can cause this. The hospital is now suggesting palliative care… so that Mina can be comfortable for the time she has left.”

Minyoung, who’d been speaking calmly as if relaying someone else’s story, finally broke down.

She was clearly forcing herself to hold back the surge of emotion.

“I don’t want much. If I could just give my child a little more time… I’d give anything.”

Caring for a sick child was said to be like walking through an endless tunnel.

A path that felt never-ending, with no idea when it might stop.

But Minyoung was already falling before even stepping into that tunnel—before she could prepare to say goodbye.

‘I shouldn’t have hesitated.’

Watching Minyoung crumble, Jiwoo regretted delaying her visit.

A mother carrying her child would cling with all her strength to anything visible at the edge of a cliff.

Whether it was a sturdy rope, shallow-rooted weeds—

Or a potion meant to heal her daughter, or medicine with unknown effects.

“Ma’am, there’s something important I need to tell you now.”