The murmurs grew louder, the words ringing in my ears.
âDid he say dragon?â
âA dragon? Whatâs going on?â
The sound of voices swirled around me, joined by an oppressive wave of stares.
Everyone had turned to look, reacting to the word that Myung Song had blurted out in shock.
And it wasnât just their gazesâit was the emotions I could feel emanating from them.
There was anger, fear, and even hints of resentment and confusion.
But the important thing was clear:
âNone of this is positive.â
Every single reaction was filled with negativity.
I glanced down at my palm, still throbbing. The skin looked like it had been melted away. Then, I turned my gaze to Myung Songâs hand.
âItâs that.â
The reason my hand was like this was simpleâit was because of Myung Songâs hand.
The metal gloves he wore.
Touching them had done this to me.
ââ¦â
I narrowed my eyes, examining the gloves closely. I could tell immediately that they werenât ordinary.
âThis is why I came here.â
The reason I had bothered to visit the blacksmith at Mount Hua. The gloves confirmed it.
I shook my hand out, flinging away bits of burned skin that peeled off in the process.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
The damage wasnât shallow, but the area was small enough that it would heal quickly if I left it alone.
ââ¦Hm?â
At least, thatâs what I thought.
But something felt off.
âThe healingâs slow.â
Compared to my usual recovery speed, it was painfully sluggishâat least twice as slow.