Woo Joo-in watched, his brow furrowed in that particular, intense way it did when his brain was trying to solve a puzzle that no one else saw. His eyes darted from his now-uninjured hyungs down to their suits. Bo-gum’s white dress shirt sleeve was stained a dark, ugly crimson. Maru’s jacket had a clean tear, the fabric around it soaked with blood.

A memory surfaced, sharp and clear: Bo-gum hyung visiting him when he was ten, always in a clean hoodie. And later, at thirteen, in a crisp, proper standard suit. He’d never seen him like this—bloody and torn.

He turned to Onjo, his expression one of pure, genuine curiosity, completely devoid of mockery.

"Er... Noona," he began, pointing at the gruesome stains. "Why... why did Maru hyung and Bo-gum hyung's blood in their suit not vanish after you healed them?" He looked at her staff, then back at the stains, his head tilting. "Why didn't you clean them?"

The cave fell silent for a beat, save for the dripping of water.

Then, from within the hulking Jung-armor, a snort escaped, followed by a choked cough that quickly erupted into Bae Si-eun's full-bellied laughter. The metallic suit shook with his mirth.

"Pfft—HAHAHA! J-Joo-in!" he wheezed, reaching out a massive, armored hand to slap Jooin on the back with a loud clang. "That's called healing, not some magical laundry service! Hehe, it's the reason why only the wound is closing, not the... hehe... the outfit!"

Joo-in stumbled forward from the friendly blow, his face instantly flushing a brilliant, embarrassed red.

Han Maru, who was used to the kid's strangely literal and logical way of looking at the world, adjusted his glasses. He understood this wasn't a stupid question, just a... very young one. He spoke softly, trying to be helpful.

"I-its real life, J-Joo-in..." he stammered, gesturing vaguely at his own bloodied jacket. "Th-that's... that's just how healing magic works. It m-mends flesh... n-not fabric."

Joo-in stared at the ground, the tips of his ears burning. "I-I see..." he mumbled, the words barely audible. It made sense when they said it, but in his mind, it still seemed terribly inefficient. You fixed the person, why not fix their clothes, too? It was messy.

Seeing his continued flustered state, Onjo offered a gentle, clarifying smile.

"And Joo-in,that's why we always send our suit at the Weap—"

Still bright red, Joo-in cut her off, the words tumbling out in a rush of embarrassment and a deep-seated resentment for his least favorite subject. "S-sorry Noona, but our guild name is too long! And it's in English! Can we just call it 'WAG'? It's easier!"

From inside the armor, Si-eun’s laughter hit a new, wheezing pitch. "W-WAG as in the English word 'wag'?! Pfft-hehehehehe! It sounds like a tail! Our guild is a happy little tail! Aigoo, our Joo-in-ah hates English so much he's renaming the guild!"

Onjo sighed, a fondly exasperated look on her face, but finished her sentence patiently. "...At the Weapon Armory Guild," she said, enunciating the full, dreaded English name with a slight, teasing smile, "so our suits can be fixed properly."

Before Joo-in could mumble another apology, Kim Bo-gum walked over. The small, amused smile never left his lips as he reached out and ruffled Joo-in's hair, a familiar, grounding gesture that had comforted the boy since he was ten years old.

"Let's go," Bo-gum said, his voice back to its usual calm steadiness. "We still have a quota to fill."

The simple touch of the hair ruffle had instantly eased Joo-in's embarrassment. He fell into step beside his hyung, the strange logic of healing magic and his hatred of English already forgotten. As they began to move, his eyes, ever-observant, scanned his teammates. They landed on Han Maru’s hands as the older boy adjusted his grip on his pickaxe.

"Then what about that wound on Maru hyung's finger?" Joo-in asked, his curiosity resurfacing. He pointed at the faint, fresh red line across Maru’s index finger. "That's new, right? From this morning? Why didn't you heal it, Noona?"

The group's pace slowed slightly. All eyes turned to Maru, who instinctively curled his finger, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"Ah...t-this?..." he stammered, holding up his hand briefly. "...y-yes. From this m-morning. I-I was... making breakfast." He took a deep, steadying breath. "...c-cut myself with the knife. It... it stopped bleeding b-before we left."

Onjo nodded, her expression one of gentle professionalism. "And that's exactly why small wounds are sometimes the most unhealable, Joo-in," she explained. "Because they heal so fast on their own. And with our Awakener bodies, they heal even faster. By the time we gathered for the mission, Maru-ssi's cut was already closed—his body had naturally healed it. My magic has nothing to work on."

She gestured to the bloodstains on Bo-gum's and Maru's suits from their recent fight. "But bigger wounds, like gashes or deep punctures... those are different."

A shadow of memory passed behind her eyes—the horrific X-shaped gash on Bo-gum's chest years ago, the day she joined. "Something big, a critical injury... it can be healed as long as it's still an open wound. That's why first aid is so important. If you cover a big wound with a bandage to stop the bleeding and stabilize someone, the magic can still work through it to mend the flesh underneath. The bandage just keeps them from dying before I get there. But a tiny cut that's already sealed? The spell just sees it as... done."

Joo-in’s eyes widened as the final, crucial distinction clicked into place. Healing magic wasn't a time-reversal spell; it was an accelerated mending process. It couldn't rewrite the body's own finished work.

"Ooooh," he breathed out, the sound full of dawning comprehension. It was a system with rules, limits, and a very specific purpose.

"Anyway, let's go," Bo-gum said, his voice softening. He reached out and ruffled Joo-in's hair again, the gesture now filled with a new layer of meaning. "It's still good you decided to ask. It's important to understand these things when you're new."

He looked at the teenager, whose stats now dwarfed his own, and the old, instinctive promise he made in his grandparents' living room surfaced. The words came out before he could stop them, earnest and utterly sincere.

"And if you get tired because you're new... just tell me." He gestured with his good hand to his own back. "Hyung will carry you."

Joo-in's face instantly flushed a brilliant, mortified crimson. "H-hyung! I'm grown up!" he protested, his voice cracking slightly. "A-and my stats are better than yours! So I can endure longer than you!"

The words were logical, true, and delivered with the blunt honesty of a sixteen-year-old. They were also a tiny, invisible knife to Kim Bo-gum's heart.

Ah... he thought, the single syllable echoing with a profound and sudden sense of loss. Why does it feel so disappointing that Joo-in won't be carried by me anymore?

The boy was right. He was stronger, faster, and more durable. He didn't need to be carried. He was no longer the small, trembling child from the shelter.

Without another word, Bo-gum's shoulders slumped just a fraction. The proud leader facade crumbled, leaving behind a man feeling strangely... obsolete. He turned and began to walk down the cavern path, his steps somehow slower, his posture radiating a quiet, palpable dejection.

From within the hulking Jung-armor, a loud, unmistakable snicker erupted.

"Pfft-hehehe!"

Bae Si-eun, who had witnessed the entire exchange, was shaking with silent laughter inside his metallic shell. He’d seen the whole thing: the earnest offer, the teenage rebuttal, and their mighty leader's spirit being utterly crushed by the simple, brutal logic of a power gap.