Chapter 2

“…All right, then. What do we do now?”

Cho Yoon rubbed his smooth forehead. He didn’t have a headache, but his thoughts were such a tangle that his hand kept drifting upward.

Before him, an emaciated child slept soundly, his complexion pale and drawn.

Kneeling beside the bed, Cho Yoon stared at the boy in silence for a long while before pressing his temples and tilting his head toward the ceiling. The dusty rafters of the old inn met his gaze.

“What on earth am I supposed to do about this…?”

The thought that had consumed him all day finally slipped past his lips. Cho Yoon, or rather Jeong Hayoon, felt like he was truly going to lose his mind.

Simply put, Jeong Hayoon did not belong in this world. He was an exceedingly ordinary citizen of twenty-first-century South Korea, with hobbies limited to casually reading genre novels and looking at pictures of cute animals. He swore he had never once wished to transmigrate into the martial arts novel he’d been skimming before bed.

Not now, and certainly not like this.

Letting out another long sigh, Cho Yoon stared blankly at the child. He hesitantly reached out to touch the boy’s forehead. The child was sleeping so deeply he hadn’t stirred once. Cho Yoon took the small hand to check his pulse, then froze when he noticed the torn, overturned fingernails.

Doesn’t this hurt terribly? Wait, his hands are a complete mess… and his legs are in awful shape too.

He had been so frantic trying to soothe the wailing child that he hadn’t even noticed the injuries. Black soot was smeared everywhere, and splinters were embedded deep in the boy’s flesh. It was obvious he had crawled through the wreckage. The thought of what this child must have seen before Cho Yoon arrived made his chest tighten with pity.

As if he’d reached a decision, Cho Yoon stood and donned his bamboo hat. The veil attached to the brim cascaded down to his knees, perfectly concealing his flowing white hair. Looking a little suspicious was still better than drawing unnecessary attention.

Stepping out of the room, Cho Yoon called for the innkeeper’s assistant.

“Is anyone there?”

“Yes, my lord!”

The young assistant, who had been dozing in a chair in the dining hall, scurried over. Cho Yoon had fully intended to say, Excuse me, could you help me for a moment? but entirely against his will, the antiquated tone of a much older man slipped out. It was a speech pattern he still couldn’t get used to.

Hidden behind the veil, Cho Yoon cringed as he continued. “Fetch a set of clothes suitable for a seven-year-old and fill a bucket to the brim with clean water. I shall also require a brazier. Do you have one that can be brought into the room? If not, I would like to borrow the fire from the kitchen.”

“We do have braziers. Would a winter brazier suffice, my lord?”

“It will do nicely. However, it would be disastrous if you were burned carrying it, so I shall fetch it myself. Simply leave the clothes and water in my room.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The assistant bowed deeply, gave directions to the braziers, and hurried off. Glancing back at the sleeping child one last time, Cho Yoon stepped out.

In the storage shed behind the inn, braziers were stacked to match the number of guest rooms. Cho Yoon pulled one free, scrubbed it clean with well water, wiped it down with straw, then filled it with dry firewood before returning to his room. Cast from assorted scrap iron, it was surprisingly heavy. While it was nothing to Cho Yoon, he was quietly relieved he hadn’t made the young assistant carry it.

When he returned, he found the assistant setting the clothes and water down beside the bed. The young man only noticed Cho Yoon, who had entered without a sound, after Cho Yoon lowered the brazier to the floor.

Startled, the assistant stammered an apology. “I-I’m sorry for entering without permission, my lord! I was afraid the clothes might get dirty if I left them outside the door…”

“You have done well. Thank you. What is your name?”

“Y-yes. I-Ildo, sir.”

“I see. Sit for a moment.”

Fetching a large medicine chest from the corner of the room, Cho Yoon sat beside the bed. He opened a small drawer tucked into the side of the chest and pulled out a thin brush, a small sheet of paper, an inkstick, and a wooden board.

“Ordinarily, I would reward you with coin, but my travel funds are meager. Instead, I shall give you what is most needed in this place. Tell me, Ildo, is this inn run by your family?”

“H-huh? Y-yes, that’s right.”

“Then the woman tending the kitchen… is she your mother?”

“She is…”

Ildo nodded, bewildered. Cho Yoon studied him for a moment, then began to write, the paper braced against the wooden board.

“Though she is heavy with child, she cannot step away from her work. Has she complained of abdominal pain? Has she mentioned violent kicking from the infant, or bleeding?”

“Huh? S-she did mention stomach pains and bleeding… Should I fetch my mother here?”

“Do not be foolish. You must not make a pregnant woman climb the stairs. I shall write you a prescription. Take it to an apothecary, not a physician. If she develops a fever, combine agrimony and cogon grass root, and use raw rehmannia.” He kept writing without pause. “I have written it all down. The apothecary will know what to do. If her blood deficiency persists after she delivers, have her take this again.”

After writing seven herbs, their dosages, and the instructions for administration, Cho Yoon dried the ink, stamped a small seal on the paper, and handed it over. Flustered, Ildo accepted it with both hands and stared at it with wide eyes. He couldn’t read, so the contents were a complete mystery.

“A-are you a physician, sir?”

“I am merely a troublesome guest who will fill this place with the stench of boiling medicine for a time. You may go back downstairs now.”

“Thank you! Thank you, Doctor! Please call for me anytime. I will serve you with all my heart. Thank you so much!”

Clutching the prescription, Ildo bowed repeatedly as he scurried out. Cho Yoon watched the door for a moment, then removed his bamboo hat.

He opened the densely packed drawers of his medicine chest, pulling out what he needed one by one.

“What I need… ginseng, cinnamon bark, cnidium, rehmannia, angelica root, white peony…” He exhaled. “I only have simple herbs on hand. For now, I’ll administer first aid. Do I have ginger and jujubes? Or will I have to beg some from the kitchen?”

After carefully washing small amounts of each herb, Cho Yoon lit the fire in the brazier. Watching the flames coil around the dry wood and catch, he let out a heavy sigh. He had long since lost count of how many he’d let out that day.

Yes. This was the problem.

Jeong Hayoon had been a graduate of an education university, someone who knew absolutely nothing about pharmacy or medicine. The only reason he could handle ancient herbal remedies with such practiced ease was because of Cho Yoon, the original owner of the body Jeong Hayoon now inhabited.

—Cho Yoon mastered every mountain and river in the Central Plains, along with the formations of Haedong, the poison valleys of the Southern Barbarians, the seas of the Eastern Isles, the minerals of the Northern Sea, and the medical arts of Tianzhu. There was no medicine or poison in heaven and earth that he did not know. Countless people desperately sought him out, but Cho Yoon remained in seclusion deep within Mount Dumang, refusing to emerge. In time, the people began to call him the Immortal Healer.

Cho Yoon.

The Immortal Healer, Cho Yoon.

The Immortal Healer Cho Yoon from The Returned Hero.

And that child over there, who had witnessed his family’s corpses the moment he emerged from hiding, who had starved for a week after his clan was annihilated, was probably Joo Cheon-oh.

Joo Cheon-oh, the absolute villain and final boss of The Returned Hero.

Ah, seriously. What do I do?!

Cho Yoon collapsed onto the bed beside the sleeping child and screamed silently.

If his suspicions were correct, he had just scooped up the final boss of this world and brought him here.

No. Depending on how you look at it, I rescued him and brought him here. What was I supposed to do, leave a kid there? Obviously not. How could anyone walk away from a child going through something that will clearly scar him for life…?

Trying to comfort himself by calling it a rescue did nothing to lift his mood. No matter how much he wanted to break down, Cho Yoon’s body moved on its own. The moment the brazier’s flames reached the right heat, he set the decoction pot on top and began to brew the herbs.

Then, carefully, he stripped off the child’s clothes and wiped down his small body with a damp cotton cloth, taking particular care with his badly injured shins and hands.

Cho Yoon’s gaze caught on the boy’s jutting ribs and sunken cheeks. He stared at the skeletal child for a long moment, then sighed again.

If events were unfolding exactly as they had in the original novel, then Joo Cheon-oh… no, Seomun Cheon-oh, who had yet to receive his father’s surname, had just clawed his way out of a pitch-black underground hiding place after a week.