Chapter 63: One Hunter’s Trash Is Another Hunter’s Treasure

A shadow drifted over Ethan’s blissfully unconscious face, blocking out the warm afternoon sun.

Standing above him was a woman who looked like she had stepped out of a high-fashion combat magazine. Her hair, a striking shade of violet-magenta, was tied back in a sharp ponytail that swayed as she tilted her head, peering down at the man currently using his own scalp as a mattress.

"This is the guy, huh?" she muttered, her voice carrying a rough, tomboyish edge. "The one my sister is so obsessed with?"

She circled him like a predator evaluating a particularly pathetic piece of prey. To Ran, Ethan didn't look like a rising star or a hidden powerhouse; he looked like a twig that had been dressed in human clothes.

"I mean, sure, he's got a decent face," she shrugged, her eyes scanning his slight frame with a judgmental squint. "But that's it. The rest of him is a joke. I feel like if I accidentally stepped on him, I'd just fold him in half like a piece of cheap origami."

With a smirk, Ran whipped out her phone and snapped a high-angle photo of Ethan’s sleeping face—mouth slightly open, looking utterly defeated by the concept of standing upright.

She opened a chat with her sister, Seo-Yeon, and fired off the photo with a flurry of typed aggression.

Ran: Ummm, sis? Be for real right now. IS THIS THE GUY? Please tell me you aren't actually trying to pursue this beanpole lmao.

The reply came back almost instantly, the tone shifted toward a disciplined, professional sternness that Ran lived to provoke.

Seo-Yeon: Correct your tone, Ran. And stop projecting your misconceptions. My interest in him is entirely professional. I can sense a latent potential within him that far exceeds his current appearance. I intend to bring him into the Crimson Scale Guild to ensure that potential actually blooms.

Ran snorted, her thumbs flying across the screen.

Ran:'Bloom' lol. He looks more like a wilted lettuce leaf.

Seo-Yeon: Wait. Is he... is he sleeping?

Ran looked down at Ethan, who let out a soft, whistling snore, perfectly content with his moss-pillow. She burst into a quiet, jagged chuckle.

Ran: Yup. Fast asleep in the middle of a D-Rank gate. He’s literally napping while monsters are probably ten feet away. Absolute legend.

Ran tucked her phone away, glancing back at the sleeping boy. There was something genuinely entertaining about his sheer audacity—or perhaps his sheer stupidity. Either way, she wasn't ready to leave just yet.

"Hmm," she mused, crossing her arms and leaning back on her heels. "I guess I can stick around and watch this train wreck for a bit longer. The day is long, after all."

...

I drifted back to consciousness slowly, the world returning in blurry, disjointed fragments. My brain felt like it had been replaced by lukewarm porridge.

"Mnuuu... glurg... hnnngh..."

I didn't even know what I was saying. I was just making noises that sounded like a drain clogging in slow motion. I blinked, feeling a suspicious dampness on my cheek, and instinctively wiped a long string of drool from my face. I looked around, my vision still swimming, wondering if I had accidentally ascended to a higher plane of existence or if I was just really, really groggy.

"How long... was I out?" I mumbled, my voice sounding like I had swallowed a handful of gravel.

A holographic window popped into existence right in front of my eyes, practically vibrating with smugness.

[System: Forty-two minutes. You didn't just nap, Ethan. You practically entered a coma. I was starting to wonder if I should start drafting your eulogy.]

I let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn that nearly dislocated my shoulders. "Did... yawn... did anything happen while I was out?"

I shifted my head, feeling the plush, springy texture of the moss patch. My eyes glazed over with genuine affection. Seriously, this is the greatest skill I've ever acquired. I didn't need a fancy sword or a legendary shield; I had a built-in organic pillow. I could go into any gate now and just take a nap whenever the stress became too much. Who needs a bed when your own scalp provides five-star lumbar support?

[System: Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Plenty of things happened. Strange things. Fascinating things. Very 'observational' things.]

I frowned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Wait, what? Like a monster attack? Did Zane find something? What happened?"

[System: Let's just say you were the star of a very interesting photo shoot. More specifically, you were a masterpiece of 'Busty Fatale' proportions.]

I froze, my eyes snapping wide open. I bolted upright, the moss patch on my head bouncing with the sudden movement.

"What?!" I shrieked, looking around frantically. "Who? Where? Since when was there a busty fatale?!"

[System: ...Nothing. You heard wrong. Go back to sleep, you degenerate.]

After spending a solid ten minutes just breathing—mostly because my heart had tried to exit my ribcage thanks to the System’s little joke—I finally gathered my gear.

First, I grabbed my new stretchable baton. It was the bargain-bin special, the absolute cheapest model the shop offered, probably manufactured in a factory that also made oversized straws. It felt a bit flimsy, but hey, it was budget-friendly, and that was all I cared about.

Then, I picked up my shield. I liked to call it 'Heaven’s Grace,' though the reality was much less divine. It had been "gifted" to me by a fellow hunter who had been so utterly traumatized by a goblin's projectile—specifically, a clump of goblin feces that flew straight into his wide-open mouth—that he had simply abandoned his gear and sprinted for the exit in a state of pure existential horror.

I actually shuddered, the memory of that man's face flickering in my mind like a cursed movie clip. Poor guy. Some traumas you just never recover from. Still, this polished, medium-grade, bootleg American-style shield was mine now, and I wasn't complaining.

I started trekking back to the regrouping point, expecting to find them prepping for the next push. Instead, I found a scene of absolute, lazy tranquility.

The three of them were out cold, sprawled across a massive tree. They had cleverly used the wide, sweeping leaves as makeshift umbrellas to block out the harsh sunlight.

Zane was the loudest, letting out a snore that sounded like a chainsaw trying to cut through a metal pipe. SNNNNK-Rrrr-Pshhh!

Then there was Kaela. She was perched right on top of him. Now, look, I know they're married, so a bit of affection is expected, but I didn't realize Zane had such... adventurous tastes in his sleep. His massive hand wasn't just resting; it was firmly anchored, gripping Kaela’s plump, soft rear with a level of commitment that was honestly impressive for someone who was unconscious.