I Became a Raid Boss

Preemie, or premature baby.

A child born before 37 weeks of gestation.

Since they didn’t have enough time to grow, it’s no surprise that they were physically weak, and cases of mortality were not uncommon.

Joanie, Da-eun was one of those preemies.

Born before the moon could be filled, she went straight into an incubator before she could even feel her parents’ embrace.

Fortunately, a tragic scenario of quietly stopping her breath in the incubator didn’t occur, but like other children, she didn’t have a healthy body.

She often suffered from fever and would be bedridden for days, and there were times when she fell into a coma due to breathing difficulties.

Because her body was fundamentally weak, her childhood was filled with minor ailments, causing Da-eun to frequent the hospital as if it were her home.

Especially around the time she entered elementary school, she endured a major illness and had to stay in the hospital instead of attending school.

While others mingled with peers and fought, made up, and studied at school, Da-eun had to lie in a hospital bed battling illness day in and day out.

As a result, Da-eun had no memories from elementary or middle school, nor any friends to share those memories with.

Still, she considered herself lucky.

Her family was well-off, so she didn’t have to worry about hospital bills, and her parents cared for her with love rather than viewing her as a burden due to her poor health.

Considering that some families fell apart from the strain of prolonged caregiving or were crushed under the increasing weight of medical bills, Da-eun’s situation was almost a blessing.

Da-eun knew that, but…

“Well, still, I can’t help but feel something’s missing.”

Her childhood taken away by illness.

The frustration of being trapped in the hospital.

The loneliness of having no friends to share childhood memories with.

These feelings continued to constrict Da-eun even now as she grew older.

Her journey began for those reasons.

She thought that going out into the wider world and experiencing many things could alleviate the frustration built up from her long battle with illness.

She enthusiastically learned languages and enrolled in college, and when she was finally of age to travel alone, she immediately started exploring various regions and countries.

It was possible because of her parents’ support, who sympathized with Da-eun’s frail health since birth.

She sometimes shared stories of having been sick as a child who loved to travel a lot.

…her audience was aware of these facts, but she had never poured out such detailed accounts of her past until now.

Da-eun casually scanned the chat room in front of her.

Though she had just shared more of her past than she ever had before, the chat room remained eerily quiet.

‘Of course.’

The broadcast had already ended before she climbed this mountain.

The viewers must have been seething, but she had closed the stream without leaving any room for discussion.

It wasn’t that she felt shy about sharing her past.

Hoo- Taking a deep breath, Da-eun gazed at the girl standing in front of her.

Non Player Character.

In short, NPC.

The girl was not a player enjoying the game like Da-eun, but rather a resident created artificially by the game company in Silia Online.

She was merely a program made of zeroes and ones, thinking and acting as the game company intended.

Even knowing that one of the strengths of Silia Online was its level of AI so high it could not be compared with current games,

‘…I know, but…’

Looking into the girl’s eyes and talking to her often gave Da-eun the feeling of conversing with a person.

At first, it was just curiosity.

The thrill of wanting to uncover a raid boss that no one had conquered yet.

With that mere curiosity, Da-eun climbed the mountain, but the moment she saw the girl, she was thoroughly enchanted.

“I’ve wanted a little sister for a long time.”

Da-eun didn’t quite remember the reason.

However, she could only guess that, having been unable to mingle with her peers from a very young age, she unconsciously longed for something to fill that void.

Or perhaps she wanted to share the love she had received from her parents with someone.

But unable to voice that to her busy parents who were caring for her, her attention naturally shifted to small and cute animals.

It would have been impossible to raise one due to her hobby of often being away from home.

Then, Da-eun discovered Kana.

“…I won’t deny it.”

Yeah.

Da-eun’s obsession with Kana stemmed from the feeling that Kana could fill her empty heart.

She let out the feelings she had been keeping hidden all along.

It was embarrassing to think of viewing someone as a substitute to satisfy her desires, a truth she wished to hide forever.

“But not anymore.”

As she spent more time with the girl, getting to know her, Da-eun’s perspective on the girl changed.

The aloof demeanor was merely a facade to avoid getting hurt.

Tending to flowers was Kana’s way of remembering her benefactor and father who had passed away.

Though she seemed disinterested in making connections by pushing people away, she actually showed a vulnerable side in her persistent efforts to connect.

If she truly hated people coming near, she wouldn’t have revealed her name, nor would she have saved Da-eun numerous times from life-threatening situations, nor would she dismiss Da-eun so heartlessly when she clung to her.

Gravekeeper, the worst raid boss, the idol of Silia Online, master swordswoman, the Empire’s nemesis, and so on…

Though the girl had many titles attached to her, to Da-eun’s eyes, she appeared merely as an honest child who had yet to learn to be sincere.

A child who yearns for the warmth of another but is scared of the scars people leave behind.

That was how Da-eun saw Kana.

According to Aaron, Kana had quite an unfortunate past, so that was likely the reason.

For that reason, Da-eun felt pity for Kana.

She wanted to take the girl’s hand and let her feel warmth.

She wanted to put a smile on that stoic face.

Just like her parents had done for her long ago.

“Will you trust me on this one thing? That I really like Kana.”

Just as she had overcome illness, she wanted this little girl to be able to rise above her wounds as well.

With a smile, Da-eun pulled something from her inventory.

“Kana, would you stretch out your hand?”

“….”

A silver bracelet that wasn’t adorned with anything special, bought in Ordo, thus possessing a strange charm.

At the time, Da-eun had debated whether to buy a necklace or bracelet, remembering that Kana wore a black choker around her neck, she chose the bracelet.

Since it wouldn’t match if she gave a necklace while she already had a choker.

After being interrupted by a commotion right after, it was the bracelet she had kept neatly in her inventory since then.

Holding Kana’s hand, Da-eun slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

“…Done!”

Holding hands and examining the bracelet from various angles, Da-eun beamed.

“Yep. I knew it would suit you well. My taste never fails, does it? …Though it might just be that your outfit is great.”

Would there really be anything that wouldn’t suit that outfit?

Even in rags, it would be a fit, so how could a bracelet not go well?

“I wanted to give this to you in Ordo, but it ended up being a farewell gift….”

Ah, but don’t take it to mean that I want you to take back the gift, Da-eun hastily added, in case it might be misunderstood as bribery.

“Just, I hope you remember that there was a person named Da-eun.”

Kana stood quietly, saying nothing until Da-eun’s long story came to an end.

No one knew if she was really listening, or if she was letting it go in one ear and out the other.

But Da-eun was sure that Kana was listening to her story.

“….”

“….”

Even as night fell and the bustling streets quieted, and the lights illuminating the roads gradually vanished.

The little moonlight that was left was obscured by clouds, casting Kana’s face in shadows as Da-eun gazed at her.

Maybe she was enchanted by the magic of the night.

Holding Kana’s hand tightly, Da-eun impulsively opened her mouth.

“Hey. I can’t tell you the details, but actually, I came from a place far beyond the continent across the sea, a very, very distant place.”

A flinch.

Suddenly, Da-eun felt a subtle response in Kana’s hand that she was holding.

The residents of Silia understood that players like Da-eun came to the Ardina Continent guided by Edel from the continent across the sea.

Perhaps Kana was surprised because she had believed that, but learned the truth was different.

At least that’s what Da-eun assumed.

“…I know.”

“…Uh, what, really? You know…?”

“….”

Da-eun was stunned at Kana’s reply, which she had kept silent about until now, and was doubly surprised by the content.

But that shock was momentary.

Da-eun soon regained her composure and smiled broadly.

“Other people don’t know, but you’re smart, Kana.”

She reasoned that Kana must have known because she had been to the continent across the sea.

Da-eun brushed aside Kana’s words with that thought.

“This is a secret, but my name in my hometown isn’t Joanie. Now that I think about it, Kana told me her name, so it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t tell you mine, right? So let me share it too. Of course, I realize it’s not my place to say this since I’m the one who spilled a secret….”

She whispered softly.

“‘Shin Da-eun.’ That’s my name.”

If we ever meet again someday, then please call me by this name.

Just then, the clouds parted and the moonlight shone down on the two of them again.

Under the moonlight, Kana’s face revealed a look of sorrow that Da-eun had never seen before.

‘…Ah, now I understand.’

Da-eun could finally put a name to her feelings.

This wasn’t merely sympathy, pity, or just a sense of fondness.

It was affection, a blend of all those feelings.

She knew she would never be able to forget this girl within her heart throughout her life.

Swish.

Kana reached out.

The small hand touched Da-eun’s cheek.

Right where Kana’s sword had grazed in the morning.

Each time Kana’s fingers brushed against the wound, Da-eun felt a slight sting on her cheek.

But she didn’t even glance at her health bar.

Instead, Da-eun’s eyes turned upwards, noticing the clouds that had hidden the moonlight were now completely gone.

Kana, who had been gently caressing Da-eun’s wound for a long while, turned her back.

One step, two steps.

As Kanaaria slowly distanced herself, she turned back again.

The girl’s tiny lips opened.

*

“So, have you made up your mind?”

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