Chapter 47: Wendy Lowell

“Look, he’s been hyped up since earlier… It’s weird. Like he saw a walking tree. I only keep Nicotiana tabacum leaves around, but Skully loves any plant, even roadside weeds.”

“So what do you want?” Ion asked.

“Do you use plant-related skills? Like a skill that makes a necromancer’s summon think your body’s a plant?”

“…”

Ion stared, as if to say, Really?

“Or are you using a plant-related item? Got leaves on you or something?”

Ion subtly tore off a bit of his finger in his pocket, forming a few vine leaves before restoring his skin.

“These?” he said gruffly, handing them over.

Clack! Clack-clack-clack!

The skeleton went wild with excitement.

“Oh, that’s it! Man, why do you carry leaves in your pocket? That’s confusing!” Uiji exclaimed.

“…”

Confusing how? Did Uiji suspect Peter Argen’s body was a vine disguise?

Clatter-clatter.

Ion handed the leaves to the ecstatic skeleton, who snatched and chewed them.

“People might think I starve him,” Uiji said. “Thanks, Argen. Don’t report me for summon abuse. I fed him a whole plant for lunch.”

“A whole plant?” Ion asked.

“Yeah, a Sansevieria this big, and he’s acting like he’s been starved for days. Greedy guy.”

Clack-clack. Crunch-crunch.

The sound of teeth chomping leaves was eerie.

Ion decided never to bring Sansevieria near Skully during raids.

And separately…

Plant-loving beings are always good.

Feeling fond, Ion tore off another fingertip in his pocket to make more leaves.

When he offered them, Uiji blinked, then burst out laughing.

“They keep coming! What’s this skill? Plant summoning? If so, we gotta team up. Saves on Skully’s food bill—I’ll buy you a drink… Oh!”

Uiji shouted, looking past Ion. “Hey, Onil! Guildmaster Onil!”

What?

Ion stiffly turned. Dam Il-on was crossing the parking lot with her entourage, glancing over with indifferent eyes at the eager call.

“That was so cool earlier. Felt refreshing! Totally smitten. I’m Uiji Krillin—wanna grab a drink later?”

Uiji probably expected to be ignored, but something unexpected happened.

Il-on, staring, walked straight toward them.

“Uh, uh…?” Uiji stammered, caught off guard.

Il-on’s lips were pressed into a tight line. She’d always been blunt and quiet. When Sa-on chattered beside her, Il-on would shove her away, covering her mouth with a large hand.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” Uiji said. “Not busy? You’re a guildmaster.”

“…”

“Up close, you’re intense. Going to the afterparty? I’m in—let’s go together.”

“What’s this?” Il-on asked, ignoring Uiji’s chatter and eyeing the vine leaves Skully was eating.

“Oh, this? My summon, Skully, is a total vegetarian. Skully, say hi. This is an S-rank foresight skill holder.”

Clack-clack-clack.

“You always carry these leaves?” Il-on asked.

“What? Talking about the leaves, not Skully?” Uiji said, slinging an arm around Ion. “This is Peter Argen, my buddy. Gave them to Skully. Either he carries vine leaves or has a vine-summoning skill. Cool, right? Hey, Argen, show our briefing hero your skill.”

Ion wanted to smack Uiji’s head.

“…”

Il-on’s gaze scanned Ion—or rather, Peter Argen’s exterior.

Ion tensed.

The orphans knew his magic: flame sword, vine growth, purification, flight. Il-on’s reaction to the leaves likely stemmed from recognizing the vine type he often used.

But this transformation spell, created yesterday, should be undetectable.

“You got a skill for summoning plants or vines?” Il-on asked in a low, heavy voice.

Ion shook his head. “Nonsense. I was in a forest dungeon, and some leaves got in my pocket.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Il-on glared. Ion met her gaze unflinchingly. She intensified her stare; Ion matched it, eyes blazing.

He’d always looked up to her, but now their eye levels were nearly even.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Uiji asked, intrigued.

“First time meeting,” Ion said sharply, still locking eyes with Il-on.

“…”

Il-on broke the stare first, turning and leaving with her entourage without a word.

Ion couldn’t relax.

Was she leaving due to lost interest or lingering suspicion?

“What a charismatic but antisocial guy,” Uiji said. “Hey, Onil! See you at the raid, buddy!”

Oblivious to Ion’s mood, Uiji waved. Ion glared, but Uiji just grinned, asking again about a vine-summoning skill.

Exhausted, Ion returned to his lodging. The dish of water he’d left was empty, and the bat was gone.

Shedding Peter Argen, he collapsed, hugging Sansevieria.

“Sanse… the bat’s gone?”

“…”

“Good thing it didn’t eat you. Rough day. Didn’t expect Il-on there… Should’ve seen it coming.”

“…”

The cheap bed creaked with every move, but it felt like melting comfort to Ion.

“Yawn!”

Nearly dozing off, Ion jolted up, slapping his cheeks. “No time to rest. Gotta find the ‘Wendy Lowells.’”

He’d narrowed Ryu’s Wendy Lowell list to five likely candidates.

The U.S. was vast, requiring flights.

No time to roll around with Sansevieria—his schedule was tight.

Ion packed Sansevieria and left the inn.

Wendy Lowell, 24, never once thought herself ordinary.

With lush blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, a brain sharp enough to skip a pharmaceutical internship for a full-time role, and a toned body from handball and tennis, she was exceptional. Her eloquence charmed strangers in ten minutes, and her captivating smile turned heads.

Wendy prided herself on being special.

One hobby was muttering gloomily to friends or family, “I’m just an ordinary person.”

Without fail, they’d exclaim, “No, Wendy, you’re one-of-a-kind!”

Then they’d list why she was special for thirty minutes.

It was praise she expertly elicited.

But that was the past.

Now, when Wendy mumbled, “I’m ordinary,” people responded, “Yeah, but most of us are. Let’s cheer up together!”

Wendy Lowell was now ordinary.

She still had her blonde hair, blue eyes, job, tennis hobby, eloquence, and smile.

Yet, undeniably, she was ordinary.

If she claimed, “I’m special!” people would pity her.

In this world, special and ordinary were clear: awakened versus non-awakened.

Among 7 billion people, only tens of thousands were awakened—less than 1%. How could she, one of 7 billion, be special?

Now ordinary overnight, Wendy always wondered:

How can I be special again?

What did she lack to awaken?

Why didn’t the system choose her?

What must she do to be special?

To hear, “No, Wendy, you’re truly special!” again, what must she do?

It boiled down to:

How can I awaken?

Awakened shared one trait: intense emotions in life-threatening situations.

Knowing this, some who envied awakened threw themselves off buildings or ingested poison, “suiciding.”

Wendy didn’t choose that path.

She pondered how the system judged “intense emotions.”

When in danger, stress hormones surge. If the system reacted to those?

As a pharmaceutical employee, she had access to test materials.

She gathered like-minded colleagues.

Wendy began secret research.

A year later…

“Wendy Lowell.”

Leaving the company after a late shift, Wendy froze.

A woman stood under a streetlamp, hood up, face hidden by sunglasses and a mask.

“Who… are you?” Wendy asked, slipping her hand into her crossbody bag. In an era where dungeons could overflow or rogue awakened might attack, she carried a pistol.

“Come with me,” the woman said.

“What? Who are you?”

“We…”

“Wait, don’t come closer!”

As the woman approached, Wendy drew her gun.

“I’ll shoot if you get closer!”

Pointing the barrel, the woman calmly removed her sunglasses, as if revealing her face would calm Wendy.

“…”

It worked.

Wendy gaped at her.

“You’re…!”

The woman lowered Wendy’s gun hand firmly. Wendy didn’t pull the trigger.

Ion spent days staking out Wendy Lowell candidates but returned to Korea empty-handed.

He used Ryu’s private jet again.

Gazing at the night sky, he reflected.

He hadn’t gained nothing.

The most likely Wendy Lowell had vanished four days ago.

Not exactly “vanished.”

“Mom, Dad, I’m doing confidential research with a group. Take care of Sunny. No need for a missing person report! Wait a few months—I’ll return with good news!”

Her parents found her cat, Sunny, meowing alone in a tidy house with no signs of a break-in.