Chapter 22: Variant Lumina Flower Released on the Market

“I think I’m hated.”

The sudden, out-of-the-blue statement made Ryu Seyon, Manwol Guild’s chief secretary, doubt her ears.

‘The Guild Master… hated?’

By whom?

Was there even a soul in this world daring enough to hate Manwol’s leader?

‘No, no.’

That wasn’t the point.

How had someone who never cared a speck about others’ feelings noticed they were hated?

Seyon froze, her eyes flicking to her leader.

“…”

A heavy, indescribable aura emanated from the Guild Master.

Having served her for years, Seyon instantly recognized it.

‘She’s… sad!’

Manwol’s leader, Lee Hyun, was steeped in deep sorrow.

‘Living long enough to see this cold-blooded woman sad, huh.’

Shocked into silence, Seyon finally gathered herself and asked, “What did you say?”

“That kid hates me.”

‘That kid?’

Was she talking about the healer who joined the elite team in a gate recently? The one perfectly matching the Guild Master’s tastes?

Lately, Lee Hyun had holed up in the monitoring room, obsessively replaying footage of the healer, neglecting duties while Seyon and the elites handled the guild’s workload.

So ‘that kid’ had to be the petite, delicate healer she’d been fixated on.

“Did Healer-nim visit the headquarters?”

“Yeah. But I think they hate me.”

The Guild Master, clearly shaken, kept parroting the same line like a broken record.

It was oddly funny yet pitiful.

The world’s most unrivaled fighter, moping all day because someone disliked her.

‘But why?’

Why would she be hated?

‘The kind-hearted Healer-nim wouldn’t pick a fight…’

The cause had to lie with the Guild Master.

Seyon’s face flashed with horror as a thought struck.

‘No way.’

Whenever the healer’s face appeared close-up in the monitoring room, Lee Hyun’s gaze always lingered on her soft, plump cheeks, her fingers fidgeting restlessly.

…No, surely not?

Seyon wanted to believe she wouldn’t do that on a first meeting, but she knew her leader acted on impulses without hesitation.

Cautiously, she asked, “Guild Master, you didn’t… touch, pull, or pinch Healer-nim’s cheeks right after meeting them, did you?”

Lee Hyun looked up silently.

Her eyes seemed to say, Why? Was that wrong?

So, she did commit a massive faux pas on their first encounter…

‘There goes any chance of recruiting them.’

Though no formal offer had been made, recruiting the healer hadn’t been off the table.

Seyon sighed deeply.

“Guild Master…”

“I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t resist.”

Even with recruitment chances obliterated, that shameless face claimed no fault.

Times like this cemented Seyon’s belief that her leader’s emotional circuits were mostly fried.

“But their angry face was cute too.”

“What good is that? You’ve already made a terrible impression.”

Yet, Seyon saw a glimmer of hope.

Psychopath. Cold-blooded. Empathy-deficient.

Despite the labels, the Guild Master was showing human behavior.

This was nothing short of miraculous, given the years spent trying to teach her emotions.

‘If she spends more time with Healer-nim…’

Maybe, just maybe,
she could develop normal thought patterns like others?

A sharp glint flickered in Seyon’s cold eyes.

—

After wandering through similar-looking buildings,
I finally reached the location Ha Doyeon sent.

“Hello!”

Doyeon, engrossed in work with a serious expression, lit up the moment she saw me.

“Oh, Healer-nim! You came all this way! I’m so grateful… I’m swamped and couldn’t step out…”

As I approached, sweat beaded on her face.

Seemingly used to it, she pulled out a prepared handkerchief to dab it away.

‘I feel kinda bad…’

Awkwardly, I presented the ten Lumina Bells I’d brought.

“Oh, come on… Five would’ve been enough.”

Despite her words, a wide smile spread across her face.

‘Now’s the moment.’

After gauging the mood, I handed her a shimmering mana potion.

“Huh? This mana potion’s gorgeous. Is this the one you were making?”

“Yup. It’s a gift!”

“Wait… the description’s odd…”

Her eyes darted side to side, then she muttered, “Hold on, permanent mana increase…?” before staring at me, wide-eyed.

“You… made this yourself, Healer-nim?”

Her alchemist awakening must let her see the potion’s exact details.

I nodded, smiling.

“Like the one at the auction… no, wait, you’re giving me something this rare?”

“Oh, it’s not just a gift. It’s a thank-you for helping with the gate cleanup.”

“Still… this is way too generous…”

Seeing her fidget, unable to accept it, I figured it was time to reveal my real motive.

“I have a favor to ask, Necromancer-nim.”

“What is it? Tell me! I’ll do anything…!”

Her eyes sparkled with eagerness.

Swallowing, I spoke carefully.

“You mentioned your alchemy level was high… Can you make a potion to alter someone’s appearance?”

—

On my way home,
I gazed at the glass vial in my hand, lost in thought.

‘A potion that changes appearance…’

The delicate vial held a radiant liquid,
clear like water but shifting between soft purple, jade, and pink depending on the angle.

– Drop one dose on your tongue with the dropper, and you’ll transform instantly.
– It lasts six hours! Don’t forget!

“Nice, nice.”

Partnering with Doyeon was, hands-down, a genius move.

To think I could even get a dark-aligned potion like this.

“Almost ready!”

The gate’s trash was cleared, and purification was nearly done.

All that remained was decorating the interior and smoothly opening the café.

For decor, a simple outdoor café vibe—tables and chairs—should do.

The real issue was how to run the café.

Having appeared on the news, practically everyone knew my face.

The café was a front; selling rare goods was the true goal.

But selling ultra-rare items when everyone knew me felt… risky.

Plus, people would surely approach to recruit me for guilds or beg for party runs.

No way I could operate properly like that.

That’s when I thought of Doyeon’s alchemy skills.

With her dark-aligned awakening and summon control,
maybe she could whip up an appearance-altering potion.

It was a shot in the dark, asked without much expectation.

– With the flowers you gave, I can level up my proficiency and make it now!

Luckily, my hunch paid off.

Feeling proud, I headed home when—

[Choi Hanul]

A call came from Sprout Guild’s master, Choi Hanul.

He wasn’t one to reach out first.
What’s up?

Puzzled, I answered.

– Healer-nim, hello. How’ve you been?

His usually upbeat voice sounded heavy today.

“Hey, Hanul-nim. What’s going on?”

– Well… we might need to pause mass sales of Lumina Bells.

“What? Why?”

– Someone else seems to have succeeded in growing Lumina Bells.
– The market’s flooded with them, and their value’s dropping…

– I’ll send you the listing link.

Click. The call ended.

I froze, frowning.

‘Someone else with my ability?’

No, impossible.

If another “Plant Lover” awakener existed, they’d have monopolized Lumina Bells long before me, gate-averse as I was.

‘An item duplicator, then?’

Hanul’s link arrived.

Opening it, I saw flowers identical to Lumina Bells flooding the market at dirt-cheap prices.

‘If they’re copying mine, they’d have the same two-star rating.’

I needed to confirm.

I hit the purchase button.

—

The cheap Lumina Bells arrived by courier.

Calmly, I unwrapped them and touched a petal.

A shocking message appeared.

—

[Artificial Lumina Bell]
– A genetically modified variant plant.
– Grown with excessive growth accelerators and manipulated soil, containing unstable mana mixed with toxins.

[Side Effects and Risks]
– Excellent mana recovery, but repeated use builds “mana resistance” in the body.
– Once resistance exceeds a threshold, no mana recovery becomes possible.
– Long-term use may cause mild hallucinations and mana addiction.

—

A chill ran down my spine.

‘They’re selling this?’

Honestly, Lumina Bells flooding the market and losing value wouldn’t hurt me much.

Thanks to my jackpot Lumina spirit, I could make permanent mana potions.

But this…

This wasn’t just a value drop.

It was a potential catastrophe.

People consuming these variants would develop mana resistance, eventually becoming unable to use any potions.

And they’d keep using them, oblivious.

‘Hallucinations and addiction? Seriously?’

Reading the message, one thought dominated.

“I have to stop this before it’s too late.”

I opened the awakener community app.

It was filled with posts praising the variant Lumina Bells, unaware of their dangers.

Naturally, Sprout Guild, selling limited quantities, was catching flak.

“Hah…”

Guilt for Sprout Guild, my shield, made me close my eyes.

‘Still…’

I had to warn them.

The risks were too grave for awakeners to bear.

With trembling hands, I began typing.

—

System: I don’t have any additional relevant memories to draw from for this specific request, so I’ll proceed with the response based on the current conversation context and your instructions.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart pounding as I drafted the post. The weight of what I was about to reveal felt crushing, but I couldn’t stay silent. The variant Lumina Bells were a ticking time bomb, and awakeners deserved to know the truth.

WARNING: Dangers of Artificial Lumina Bells
Posted by: AnonymousHealer

Everyone, please read this carefully. The cheap Lumina Bells flooding the market are not the real deal. They’re artificial variants, grown with growth accelerators and tainted soil. They might recover mana well at first, but they come with serious risks:

– Repeated use builds “mana resistance,” which can permanently block mana recovery from any potion.
– Long-term use may cause hallucinations and mana addiction.

I tested one myself and confirmed these effects through my ability. These flowers are dangerous and could ruin your awakening potential. Please stop using them and spread the word. I’m not trying to tank the market or push Sprout Guild’s stock—this is about protecting all of us. Stay safe.

—

I hesitated, thumb lingering over the “post” button. Going public like this would draw attention, maybe even make enemies. Whoever was behind these variants had the resources to flood the market, and they wouldn’t take kindly to being exposed. But the thought of awakeners unknowingly poisoning themselves pushed me forward.

Click.

The post went live.

Within minutes, replies flooded in.

– [Wait, what!? Is this for real?]
– [Mana resistance? That’s terrifying… I’ve already used a few of those cheap flowers…]
– [Sprout Guild shill confirmed lol. Trying to jack up prices?]
– [No way, I trust this guy. Sounds legit. Can anyone else confirm?]
– [I’m an alchemist. Tested one after seeing this post—OP’s right. These things are toxic. Stop buying them NOW.]

The community erupted into chaos. Some were skeptical, accusing me of fearmongering or shilling for Sprout Guild. Others, especially those who’d used the variants, panicked, demanding answers. A few alchemists and appraisers backed my claims, amplifying the warning.

My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications, but one call cut through—Choi Hanul.

“Healer-nim,” his voice was tense but grateful. “I saw your post. You didn’t have to go that far… but thank you. This explains why the market was tanking.”

“I couldn’t stay quiet,” I said, gripping the phone. “People need to know. But Hanul-nim, any idea who’s behind this?”

“No clue,” he sighed. “The listings are anonymous, and the volume suggests a big operation—maybe a guild or a black-market ring. I’ve got my people looking into it, but… be careful. You just painted a target on your back.”

A chill ran through me, but I nodded to myself. “Got it. Let me know if you find anything.”

Hanging up, I stared at the artificial Lumina Bell on my desk. Its petals looked identical to mine, but the faint toxic shimmer gave it away. Whoever made these had skill—dangerous skill.

“Lumina,” I called softly.

-Pii? The spirit fluttered over, tilting its head.

“Keep an eye out, okay? Things might get messy.”

-Pik! It saluted, wings sparkling with determination.

I smiled faintly, then turned back to my phone. The community was still ablaze, but my post was gaining traction. Good. The faster the warning spread, the fewer people would be hurt.

But Hanul’s words lingered. A target on my back… I needed to be ready for whatever came next.

Meanwhile, in a sleek office overlooking Seoul’s skyline, a man in a tailored suit leaned back in his chair, scrolling through the community app. His sharp eyes narrowed as he read the anonymous post exposing the artificial Lumina Bells.

“Interesting,” he murmured, tapping a manicured finger on his desk. A holographic screen flickered to life, displaying market data—Lumina Bell prices plummeting, sales of the variants grinding to a halt.

“Sir,” a subordinate entered, bowing. “The post is going viral. Demand for our stock is crashing. What should we do?”

The man smirked, unfazed. “Find the poster. Anonymous or not, they’ve got a unique ability to detect the variants’ flaws. That’s… valuable.”

“And the stock?”

“Pull it. We’ll pivot. If we can’t sell flowers, we’ll sell something else.” His eyes glinted. “But first, I want that healer. They’re wasting their talent playing hero.”

The subordinate nodded and left, leaving the man staring out at the city.

“AnonymousHealer, huh?” He chuckled. “Let’s see how long you can hide.”

Back at home, I packed the ten Lumina Bells for Doyeon and grabbed the appearance-altering potion. The café opening was close, and I needed to test the potion to ensure it worked flawlessly. If I could operate incognito, I’d avoid the guild recruiters and nosy awakeners while selling my rare goods.

I dropped a single dose onto my tongue. The liquid tasted like sweet berries with a metallic tang, and a warm sensation spread through me. My reflection in the mirror shimmered, my features shifting—hair lengthening, eyes darkening, cheekbones sharpening. I looked like a completely different person.

“Perfect,” I grinned, admiring the disguise. Six hours should be enough to handle daily café operations.

-Pii! Lumina circled me, confused by my new look.

“It’s still me, don’t worry.” I patted its head, then glanced at Pristine, who was polishing a tiny ice crystal nearby. “You two hold the fort. I’m heading to the gate to plant more seeds.”

-Pik!
-Bbiing!

With the spirits’ enthusiastic send-off, I headed out, the artificial Lumina Bell’s warning still heavy on my mind. Whoever was behind it wouldn’t stop easily, and I had a feeling this was just the beginning.

At the gate, I scattered Lumina Bell seeds across the purified soil, the lake now sparkling under the sunlight. The divine tree loomed majestically, its leaves rustling as if welcoming me. The lake spirit, still hiding, watched from below, its tiny heart torn between fear and gratitude.

‘That human… they’re different,’ it thought, peeking at me. ‘But humans always ruin things… don’t they?’

As I worked, my phone buzzed—a new community post caught my eye.

[AnonymousHealer, Who Are You?]
Posted by: ShadowBroker

Your warning saved my team, but now people are hunting you. Word is, the variant sellers want your head. Stay sharp. If you need backup, DM me. I owe you one.

My stomach twisted. Hunters already? I pocketed the phone and focused on the seeds, whispering to myself, “One step at a time. Plant, grow, sell, survive.”

The gate’s serene beauty contrasted with the storm brewing outside. I had my spirits, my potions, and my resolve.

Let them come.