Chapter 25: Found it, new dopamine!

‘It’s way worse than I thought.’

Seeing the side effect of the artificial flowers—“mana addiction”—up close drove home its danger.

Unable to tear my eyes from the trembling, pale patient, a nearby staff member spoke cautiously.

“They say mana addiction feels like your insides are being ripped apart…”

The patient’s faint, wheezing breaths were heart-wrenching.

A grim premonition hit me—if left like this, they might die soon.

But even pouring all my mana into Cleanse didn’t improve their condition.

The staff who’d guided me and the center’s employees sank into despair.

“Even Healer-nim’s skill doesn’t work…?”

“Then… they’re just… going to…”

Truthfully, there was a way to treat them.

—

[Glacie Bloom]
– A miraculous flower blooming in eternal winter
– Holds potent cold and purifying power

[Effects]
– Purifies foreign substances and toxic mana
– Temporarily refines impure mana into high-purity elements: stabilizes magic circuits and maximizes high-level spell efficiency

—

The flower Pristine gave me when we first met.

With Glacie Bloom’s strong purification and ability to cleanse toxic mana,
I felt confident it could treat mana-addicted patients.

“This problem… give me a little time. I think I can solve it.”

I rushed home and pulled a delicate glass vial from deep in a drawer.

A flower, shimmering with frost crystals, revealed itself.

‘The first gift from Pristine…’

Pristine, who bloomed flowers freely based on her mood, hadn’t produced a single one since sprouting from her seed.

Maybe she could only bloom in the gate where we met.
Or perhaps my room’s temperature was too warm.

I didn’t know why, but the thought I might never see this flower again made me a bit melancholic.

‘I wanted to keep this flower forever…’

Still,
nothing was more precious than human lives.

Resolute, I turned to the workbench where I made mana potions.

‘More mana-addicted patients will come.’

I’d need to dilute the flower to treat as many as possible with minimal amounts.

I filled seven spare glass vials with warmed purified water and dissolved one Glacie Bloom petal in each.

The frost crystals coating the petals melted, sending cool mist rising from the vials.

Inhaling the scent of a winter dawn,
I headed back to the medical center.

—

A middle-aged man, pacing anxiously, spotted me and broke into a wide smile.

“Healer-nim, thank you for coming. I’m Ha Yoonseob, the center director.”

“Oh, hello.”

He adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses, gauging my response.

“I heard you might be able to treat the severe cases…”

“I’ll need to try to know for sure, but yes, I think I can.”

His face lit up, and without another word, he led me to the isolation ward.

The patients there still clutched their stomachs, breathing faintly.

Approaching the most critical one, I pulled out a vial and dripped a tiny amount of the liquid between their lips.

Color slowly returned to their deathly pale face,
but they still writhed in pain at regular intervals.

‘A whole petal might’ve cured them instantly.’

Diluted in purified water, the effect wasn’t dramatic.

‘Still, I can’t use a whole petal per patient.’

With no idea how many more would come, I had to conserve the petals.

‘Then…’

What if I used my skill again in this state?

With a flicker of hope, I cast Cleanse—and a miracle happened.

“Hoo, hoo…”

The murky aura over the patient lifted, their ragged breathing softening.

The recurring spasms stopped.

Soon, their tightly shut eyelids fluttered open.

“I’m… okay now… I feel alive…”

At that faint voice, the staff and center employees exhaled in unison.

“Healer-nim! You did it!”

“I thought we’d have to shut down…” the director muttered, grabbing my hands with a beaming face.

“We tried everything, but nothing worked. It was devastating.”

“Not only did you save the patients, Healer-nim, but you saved me—no, our entire center. Thank you, truly…”

Other healers, who’d been touring the isolation ward after finishing treatments, bit their lips and bowed their heads, pride stung by the director’s words.

“We didn’t exactly slack off…”

“What could we do when even pouring all our mana didn’t work…?”

Watching quietly, I pulled a few vials from my pocket.

“But other healers can do this too.”

I handed a vial to each dejected healer, explaining the treatment briefly.

Skeptical at first, they dripped small amounts into other patients’ mouths and used their purification skills.

Then—

“Huh…? It’s actually working…?”

“Wow… incredible…!”

Gasps of awe burst from them.

Smiles bloomed on their faces.

‘Hehe…’

I smiled quietly too.

If word spread that only I could treat severe cases, I’d be dragged around alone forever…

‘Let’s all suffer together…!’

Oblivious to my scheming, the healers looked at me with newfound respect.

“What’s in these vials, Healer-nim?”

“Oh, uh, a clear reward from a gate I ran long ago. I don’t know much about it… haha…”

Dodging the director’s question, I pretended to focus on treatments.

—

After days at the center, the crisis dubbed a disaster began stabilizing.

The YouTube account I’d thrown together to warn about the artificial Lumina Bells had ballooned past 500,000 subscribers.

The lone video had tens of thousands of comments.

[Sorry for doubting you… Sorry for doubting you…]
[Without this video, my family would’ve… Ugh, it’s horrifying to think about.]
[Wish I’d seen it sooner…]
[Thank you for treating me. It was an honor to meet you in person.]
[Healer-nim! Make gate raid vlogs like other healers! ㅎㅎ]

And the community, which I hadn’t checked in ages, was plastered with posts praising the foresight of “Healer Lee Chorok” and “PlantPangin.”

‘Hehe…’

Which meant…!

It was time for the hidden powerhouse “PlantPangin” to shine!

[PlantPangin: Saw your blind hype, lmao]
[PlantPangin: Yawn~ Boring, no feels…]

But something was off.

The community’s vibe had shifted strangely.

Normally, my comments would be ignored, met with spicy insults, or buried under “Reported!” replies…

—

[PlantPangin: Saw your blind hype, lmao]
– Just a guy who loves trolling…
– Just a guy who loves hate comments…

[PlantPangin: Yawn~ Boring, no feels…]
– Yo, OP, what’s up? Our hero says it’s boring!!
– PlantPangin’s posts did have some feels…
– PlantPangin! PlantPangin! PlantPangin! PlantPangin! PlantPangin!

…Users were busy hyping me up.

Some even competed to see who could get more PlantPangin replies.

[PlantPangin< Why no reply on my post, huh?]

This guy replies to PlantPangin2’s knockoff posts but ignores the OG PlantPangin.
Sad.

– PlantPangin: Your post is boring af.
└ OMG!!! Finally got a reply!!! Thank you… I’ll write funnier posts to satisfy you, PlantPangin-nim…!

[My posts always got PlantPangin replies from the start, pretty cool?]

At first, it annoyed me, but now I wait for PlantPangin’s comments
Guess I’ve fallen to Plant-corruption…

– Plant-corruption lol, plants and corruption go together?
– That’s dope
– I’m on the verge of Plant-corruption… Please reply to my post too @@@
– Got one reply once… My goal’s three more.

Seeing this fervor,
it seemed I’d finally achieved my dream of becoming a community legend.

But…

Why did it feel so hollow?

“…”

Shouldn’t I be thrilled to become a legend?

Instead of joy, I felt like I’d missed something crucial.

‘How do I even describe this…’

Thinking back, I realized I loved watching users lose it over my comments.

The spicy insults piling up, getting blocked with a familiar ding and grumbling, “Ugh, banned again!” while hiding a satisfied smirk…

‘…Oh. I get it!’

Frowning seriously, I understood what my other self, “PlantPangin,” truly wanted.

PlantPangin didn’t want to be a generic legend.

He wanted to be a dark legend…!

“…”

But it was too late to fulfill his true desire.

[Dammit! No matter how trash my posts are, I love you, PlantPangin!]
[Lmao why don’t I hate him anymore?]
[Caught myself reading PlantPangin’s post again… Gotta worship him…]
[PlantPangin! PlantPangin! PlantPangin! PlantPangin! PlantPangin!]

Every post got positive reactions,
and the “User banned for a week” warning never appeared.

“No, this isn’t right…”

Cold sweat dripped down my forehead.

My legs trembled, sensing something had gone horribly wrong.

—

[PlantPangin6: Hello, I’m PlantPangin.]
[PlantPangin5: I’m the real PlantPangin.]
[PlantPangin9: Looked fun, so I changed my nick too, let me in, waa @@]

[PlantPangin2: Fakes, change your names while I’m being nice.]
└PlantPangin5: —Says the OG fake.
└PlantPangin7: Let’s not fight among fakes.

—

Even impostors were popping up, giggling and blooming with joy.

“Stop it…”

Please, stop…

You guys weren’t like this before…

Truth is, your spicy reactions were my greatest joy.
They were my life’s biggest dopamine hit.

But if you keep hyping me like this…
I can’t get my quality dopamine anymore…

Thud—

Collapsing onto the floor, I stared at the ceiling with empty eyes.

It was time to embark on a long journey for new dopamine…

—

How could I find quality dopamine again?

Would checking my contribution points spark it?
Or maybe selling freshly grown Lumina Bells dirt-cheap to restore Sprout Guild’s rep—and get a dopamine rush?

Pondering with hollow eyes,
a knock interrupted.

Knock, knock, knock—

“Healer-nim, are you home?”

Manwol’s chief secretary’s voice came from outside.

“Oh, Secretary-nim, hello! What brings you here?”

“Hello, Healer-nim. It’s been a while.”

Bowing politely, she continued calmly.

“I’m here regarding the reward for clearing the rampaging gate earlier. It took time to prepare something you’d like.”

She unfolded a paper before me.

A small building in Seoul’s outskirts, relic-grade armor and weapon sets, ten copies of ancient spellbooks, a Manwol-owned gate…

The list was worth well over 10 billion won.

“Anything catch your eye? If not, I’ll prepare another list.”

Staring at the paper, a sly grin spread across my face.

“…This is it.”

“Pardon? Have you chosen, Healer-nim?”

I’d finally found my new dopamine.