The all-knowing Player (Solo Leveling)

Summer Wind

Corresponding episode: 89

The hospital's green cross glows in the night, calling out to the wounded like the North Star guides the sailors. Its faint light shimmers through the darkness that reigns over the slumbering city. But the hospital never sleeps—at least, not really. The quiet hum of life-saving machines fills the hallways as constantly as the scent of disinfectant. A few windows remain lit on the first floor, and, deep into the maternity ward, the first cries of a newborn child blow a new breath of life through the still corridors. The automatic lights jump to life as a nurse scouts the hallways, covering a wide yawn with her hand as her slow steps echo in the silence. Her shadow flits over the white tiles, following her frame that lazily turns around a corner to climb down a flight of stairs. The bright lights keep on drizzling on the empty corridor for a few minutes before going out, letting darkness claim the floor once again.

The window to Park Kyung-Hee's room creaks open as soon as the ray of light filtering from the thin gap under the door disappears. A crisp breeze blows into the room, lifting the thin curtains into a gentle dance. Their movements project shadows fluttering in the silver moonshine. They reveal Jin-Woo's frame as he climbs into the room, as discreet as the dark wisps of mana retracting into his shadow. He is greeted by the usual beeping of his mother's heart rate measurer—unwavering, breaking the frozen stillness of the room with tactless regularity.

She lies motionlessly under her white sheets, the subtle heaving of her chest at each breath she takes the sole proof of her fight against her eternal slumber. Her breaths deepen as the fresh gust of wind streams into her room and chases the characteristic antibacterial scent away. It seems to blow life back into this small room frozen in time, just like its resident. Only the wilted flowers gathered in a vase above the nightstand bear witness to the passage of time, a petal delicately coming off its receptacle and drifting to the surface of the table under the caress of the breeze.

Jin-Woo halts beside his mother's bed, his throat tightening nervously at the sight of her sleeping face. Her once sunken cheeks have gained a healthy shade over the past few weeks—as if her body knew that she would be rescued. As if a new shade of pink had bloomed on her cheeks just like hope had in his heart. Her doctor, unable to explain this welcome change, could only celebrate it.

But Park Kyung-Hee needs a second miracle.

The Holy Water of Life materializes in Jin-Woo's hands in the midst of blue streaks of mana. They crackle quietly against the vial before dying down, plunging the room back into its shadows. Only the silver shimmer of the moonlight pools the hospital room as he decapsulates the bottle and watches the glass catch the dim light before placing the cap on the nightstand. He slides a hand under his mother's head and gently lifts it, his fingers inadvertently brushing over the scar covering her nape. Another scar he inflicted on someone he loves.

His fingers tremble as he lifts the vial to his mother's lips, causing the surface of the liquid to crinkle softly. He pinches his lips, closing his eyes as a long, shaky breath escapes him. Anxiousness claws at his heart. A part of his mind yearns for Hee-Jin's reassuring presence as his grip around the bottle tightens. But he will have to remain content with the ghost of her arms around him and the reminder of the subtle irregularity of her skin crossed by her scar he felt against his lips. She did promise that the elixir would heal his mother. They both staked their hopes on it. So it will work. It has to.

The quivering of his fingers has subsided as he tilts the vial against his mother's lips for the red liquid to trickle into her mouth. Her body replies automatically, swallowing the Holy Water of Life weakly.

Jin-Woo sets the bottle aside once it is empty and sits down on the stool standing near her bed. His heart pounds anxiously as his gaze rests on her face, waiting for her eyes to flutter open. But she merely keeps on breathing serenely in the silence, unmoving. Not a single twitch of her fingers hints at a possible awakening.