When it was over, the barn was very quiet.
Much later, Sung-Il sat against a wooden support beam, looking like a man who had just experienced something his brain hadn’t been designed to process. Brina stood nearby, adjusting her sleeve. She seemed considerably less embarrassed than before.
Neither said anything for a while.
"...So," Sung-Il whispered.
"So."
"Your itch?"
"Better." She said it with surprise, as if she hadn’t expected it to work. "Much better."
"Good."
He watched moonlight stretch across the floor. Then the system opened in front of him.
[ANOMALY RESOLVED]
Target ability: Iron Gut
Excess foreign magical residue was blocking natural expulsion.
Residue has been cleared.
Target status: RELIEVED
Sung-Il frowned. "Brina. Iron Gut converts everything you eat into energy. But there’s a limit to how fast it can process. When too much of something you can’t fully digest builds up..."
"It gets stuck," she finished. She sounded tired, but relieved. "That’s why it itches."
"So it was simply overuse of your ability."
"Probably."
"Does it happen often?"
"It’s never happened before."
He considered that. It didn’t sit right. Whatever she’d eaten, it wasn’t normal. But that was a problem for tomorrow.
[RESONANCE STABILIZATION COMPLETE.]
[COMPATIBILITY: 76%.]
[STORED ENERGY CONVERTED TO USABLE RESONANCE: 14.]
[GENUINE MUTUAL CONNECTION CONFIRMED.]
Sung-Il checked the balance twice. The fourteen hadn’t multiplied. The energy he had already drawn had become something he could spend.
"Fourteen Resonance..." Sung-Il murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You keep saying that."
"I know. Sorry. The energy I drew out of you has become something I can use to grow stronger. It calls that Resonance."
Brina blinked. "So removing it helped both of us?"
"Apparently. But the conversion only became available when the Resonance settled."
"And what made it settle?"
"It says a genuine connection. I don’t know how it measures that."
Brina glanced at their hands, then back at him. "Neither do I. Read the rest before you spend it."
A new window appeared.
[RESONANCE: 14]
[AVAILABLE CONVERSION TO LESSER IRON GUT : YES/NO]
[TARGET PERMISSION NEEDED]
[RESONANCE MAY ALSO BE SPENT TO DEVELOP ANALYSIS.]
"Brina," he said carefully. "There’s something else. I can spend this Resonance on you."
She went still. "On me?"
"On your ability I mean. The system says I can synchronize with a part of Iron Gut. A lesser version. Not the whole thing. Yours stays yours. I’d just get something smaller, something like it."
"A copy?"
"A fraction. If you don’t mind."
She studied him for a long time. Sung-Il kept his hands where she could see them.
"What would it cost me?"
"Nothing, as far as I can tell. It wouldn’t take anything away from you."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I won’t; I can use it for something else I think."
Brina looked toward the open door, then back at him.
"You asked," she said. "That’s more than I expected." She exhaled. "It’s my ability. But I’ll share a piece of it with you. You earned the right to ask."
"Thank you."
"Don’t thank me. Just don’t die from stomach problems."
He grinned. He selected YES.
[CONVERSION INITIATED]
Compatible trait: IRON GUT
Source: Brina (permission granted)
Compatibility insufficient for complete acquisition.
Cost: 14 Resonance
Acquire LESSER IRON GUT?
Wait. Can it be that simple?
He confirmed.
[CONVERSION COMPLETE]
[RESONANCE SPENT: 14 · BALANCE: 0]
Heat flooded his body. A furnace lit in his stomach. His muscles tightened. His breathing deepened. Then—
BOOM.
A shockwave of Mana burst outward, rattling the barn doors. Hay flew through the air. Outside, chickens screamed. Somewhere in the dark, a pig squealed in absolute betrayal.
Sung-Il collapsed to his knees, gasping.
"What did you do?"
"I think it worked."
[SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]
LESSER IRON GUT ACQUIRED
Effect: Increased resistance to toxins, spoiled food, monster-derived substances, and unstable magical materials.
Small amounts of consumed magical material may be converted into stamina.
Warning: Incomplete synchronization. The original ability remains considerably stronger.
Strength: 5 → 7
Agility: 5 → 6
Vitality: 5 → 8
Magic: 5 → 7
Unique Ability: Rectum Analysis
Synchronized Trait: Lesser Iron Gut
Sung-Il stared at the screen. Then he laughed.
"Brina’s ability." He flexed his hand. "I actually got part of it."
He stood. His body felt different. Not dramatically, but heavier. Denser. His legs were steadier. His stomach was strangely warm.
He picked up a wooden crate that had needed two hands to lift that morning. He hoisted it with one.
"...Holy shit."
He put it down. Picked it up again. Grinned.
Brina watched him from the doorway, arms folded, trying very hard to look unimpressed.
She failed.
"If this is the lesser version," he said, "I’m beginning to understand the barrel."
"You’re holding an empty crate."
"I’m celebrating in stages." He checked the description once more. "It doesn’t say I can eat a sword."
"Good. Terrible texture."
He looked at her.
"A joke," she said.
"With you, I have to check."
They washed, put the barn in order, and walked back to the house. At the guest-room door he hesitated.
"About the treatment—"
"Sleep first," Brina said. "Words are harder when you’re exhausted."
That was the most considerate instruction anyone had ever given him.
He obeyed immediately.
Morning arrived with an axe striking wood.
Sung-Il emerged to find Brina splitting kindling. She wore her patched work shirt and had tied her hair up with a red cord. Nothing about her suggested she intended to provide him with a convenient explanation of their relationship over breakfast.
She handed him bread and a bowl.
He ate, watched her, and attempted not to watch her.
"You’ll strain something," she said.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking."
He decided to discuss something manageable.
"I want to learn to fight."
"Why?"
"So I can survive."
"That answer took less thought than I expected."
"I had a worse one ready."
"I know."
She set down the axe and cleared a patch of yard. No sword. No dramatic stance. She told him to stand with one foot slightly ahead of the other.
He spread his legs magnificently.
"Are you fighting a horse?"
He narrowed them.
"Bend your knees."
"Less. You’re standing, not waiting for a chamber pot."
By the time she approved his posture, he felt personally attacked by every joint he owned.
Brina put two fingers against his shoulder and pushed.
He fell over.
Six-Ears examined him from the fence.
"I wasn’t ready."
"Neither will the person trying to hurt you be considerate enough to wait."
She offered a hand. He took it, got up, and tried again.
The second time he stepped back instead of falling. The third, his feet crossed. The fourth, he stayed upright and looked so delighted that Brina pushed from the other side.
He landed in the dust.
"You’re enjoying this."
"A little."
He wanted to complain that his new strength should count for more. But her hand had barely touched him. This wasn’t a contest of numbers. He was arranging himself badly.
She taught him to step without crossing his feet. To keep his hands where they could protect his head. To breathe when he moved instead of holding everything tight and hoping for the best.
He tried analyzing her during a demonstration.
Local bracing increased.
"There," he said. "You’re about to move."
She remained still.
"Oh."
"People brace for several reasons."
"That’s becoming the theme of my life."
She laughed, then made him practice falling without catching all his weight on one stiff arm. His pride took most of the damage.
When the lesson ended, he asked whether eating more would refill the warmth faster.
"Normal breakfast first," Brina said. "We don’t know what that fraction can tolerate."
"So no experimental monster buffet."
"No."
"I had barely begun imagining it."
"Imagine the healer’s bill too."
She gave him a small portion of a familiar, properly prepared ration with ordinary food. They waited. Nothing spectacular happened. He felt less empty after working, but he could not separate the trait from the fact that he had finally eaten enough.
He wrote that uncertainty on the back of his employment slip.
Brina leaned over his shoulder.
"Keeping notes?"
"I’m hoping to impress the next sensible person I encounter."
"You’ve met me."
"You tied me to a chair."
She accepted that without argument.
"Such an asshole"
Sung-Il crossed out his guess about the food and wrote: need comparison, not more food.
Back home, he had once bought a fitness supplement and considered that the difficult part of exercising. He remembered the unopened tub beneath his bed with a pang of irritation at himself.
This time, he would at least do the work before buying the promise.
By noon they were back at the fence.
He found the post he had installed crooked the previous afternoon. Brina had not mentioned it. She had simply worked around it.
"I’ll redo this one."
"It holds."
"Badly."
He dug it out before he could change his mind. This time, he measured the hole against the neighboring post instead of trusting how impressive it looked from above.
The work used up his new stamina quickly. Lesser Iron Gut did not hammer nails, choose the right angle, or stop his palms blistering. It helped him keep working after the first wave of exhaustion, and that was useful enough.
When he finished, Brina shook the post.
It stayed upright.
She gave him a nod that felt absurdly good.
Later, while he washed the tools, she said, "The healer’s ointment did help. I’m keeping the appointment tomorrow."
"Good."
She glanced at the new post. "It’s a good post."
He looked away before she could see how pleased he was.
Dusk turned the aqueduct overhead orange. A bell sounded at the livestock gate, followed by a second, much faster ringing.
Brina stopped drying her hands.
Sung-Il knew that expression now. It wasn’t embarrassment, or amusement, or the patient look she used when he held a hammer backward.
Something heavy struck the western fence.
His good post snapped in half.