The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves filled Jinwoo Ha's nostrils as he blinked into the dim light of the cave. The sound of dripping water echoed like a lazy drumbeat, and somewhere in the distance, an unfamiliar growl—or perhaps a roar—rumbled through the stone corridors.
"Well… this is new," he muttered, brushing moss off his pants. "Not Seoul, not even remotely familiar, but… opportunity, perhaps?"
He scanned the cave carefully. Nothing in his memory could explain how he had ended up here. One moment he had been analyzing exotic reptile tissue in his laboratory, the next, he had felt a pull, like gravity itself had been rewritten. A flash of silvery light, a disorienting spin, and then… darkness.
Now, he was here. Alive. Safe. And in a place where no ordinary veterinarian would dare set foot.
Jinwoo checked his satchel. His instruments—thermometers, portable microscopes, vials, and improvised diagnostic tools—had survived the transition. Good. That was crucial.
He crouched at the cave's edge, peering into the forest beyond. Strange, luminescent flora shimmered faintly in the filtered sunlight, and small creatures—some vaguely reptilian, others entirely alien—scurried among the roots.
"First step: observe. No heroics, no chasing glory. Just data," he muttered. He jotted down notes on a small, waterproof pad, sketching patterns of behavior, paw prints, and plant toxicity cues. Every observation was a potential business opportunity.
The roar came again, louder this time, shaking dust from the cave ceiling. Jinwoo stiffened. Emerging into a clearing, he saw it: a dragon, wings folded but body massive, bronze scales catching the sunlight, eyes gleaming with irritation—or intelligence.
The creature was clearly unwell. Its breathing was labored; it shifted uneasily, occasionally letting out pained growls. Jinwoo crouched, careful to stay at a safe distance.
"Fascinating… this is like a scaled reptile, but… bigger, and exponentially more dangerous," he thought. "Symptoms resemble a gastrointestinal distress or mineral deficiency. Not exact, but close enough."
He approached cautiously, using body language learned from reptile handling and speaking softly, though he doubted the dragon understood language.
"Premium service begins with careful observation," he murmured. "And if I play this right, the profit margin will be exceptional."
As he examined the dragon, the creature let out a hiss that made Jinwoo jump back. He froze, notebook in hand. The dragon tilted its head, eyes narrowing as if scolding him. Jinwoo blinked, muttering under his breath:
"Note to self: dragons are drama queens. Possibly the most dramatic client I've ever had."
He scribbled additional notes: "Temper: high. Reaction to touch: unpredictable. Likely to incinerate anything in proximity if mishandled. Business opportunity: high-risk, high-reward."
The dragon sneezed. A gout of steam scalded the nearby ferns. Jinwoo ducked.
"Excellent. Start price hike for hazardous conditions."
Using his tools, Jinwoo measured the dragon's temperature and observed its scales, which had lost some luster.
"Calcium deficiency, minor dehydration, signs of gastrointestinal irritation… I can fix this, and charge for premium care, supplemental minerals, and risk allowance."
He concocted a makeshift serum using herbs and minerals scavenged in the cave, mixing with precision. Every drop was scientifically calculated, though he presented it as mystical remedies.
The dragon sniffed suspiciously, then tried to swipe at him with a claw. Jinwoo ducked, scribbling in his notebook: "Reaction: hostile but manageable. Adjust approach."
"You know, for all your fire-breathing menace, you're just a giant lizard with attitude," he muttered, shaking his head with a grin.
He straightened, adjusting his satchel. The forest, the cave, the dragon—they were all data points. And in a world where only the clever survived, Jinwoo Ha intended to turn every observation into wealth, influence, and survival.
The dragon shifted, its massive wings brushing against the stone walls of the clearing, sending a gust of wind that ruffled Jinwoo Ha's hair. The creature's eyes, sharp and calculating, tracked his every move, as though it were sizing him up not just as a healer, but as a negotiator.
"Alright, big guy… let's see how smart you really are," Jinwoo muttered under his breath, circling cautiously.
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a vial containing a shimmering liquid, which he presented with an exaggerated bow, half in mock ceremony, half in genuine caution.
The dragon snorted, sending a small plume of flame into the air—not enough to scorch, but enough to make Jinwoo take a careful step back.
"Noticeable caution, good," he murmured, scribbling a mental note. "Always observe the client's reactions before administering the treatment."
He uncorked the vial and let the liquid glimmer in the sunlight. The dragon's gaze followed it, narrowing thoughtfully. Jinwoo took the opportunity to speak, "This… is a remedy for your discomfort. Administered correctly, you'll feel better in no time. Compliance ensures the best outcome."
The dragon tilted its massive head, and for a moment, Jinwoo swore it was considering the terms. Then, as if on instinct, it exhaled a puff of magic-infused mist. Jinwoo's heart skipped a beat. That wasn't ordinary fire—it carried a faint pulse of energy, something almost tangible.
"Interesting…" he whispered. "Payment, then? You're not giving gold… you're offering something else entirely."
He realized quickly: the dragon's "payment" wasn't coin. It was a form of latent magical energy, something he could harness later—either to enhance his own abilities, craft potions, or even power tools that no ordinary human could manage.
"Brilliant. I didn't have to ask for coin. Instead, I get something far more valuable—an advantage in this world," Jinwoo said, grinning.
Carefully, he approached the dragon again, this time speaking softly while observing its reactions. He administered the remedy in small doses, each measured precisely, noting subtle changes in breathing, eye focus, and tail movement. The dragon's growls softened, and the magical aura around it seemed to pulse more steadily.
"Excellent," Jinwoo murmured. "Not only does it work, but it seems to acknowledge my authority… at least partially. That's leverage for future clients."*
Minutes passed. Jinwoo allowed himself a brief moment to breathe. The dragon regarded him calmly now, a silent agreement hanging between them. In exchange for the healing and careful treatment, Jinwoo would receive a gift that no gold could buy—a gift that could very well change his standing in this strange world forever.
"I like you," he said aloud to the dragon. "Clever, stubborn… profitable. We might just make a good team."*
For the first time since arriving, Jinwoo felt a surge of genuine excitement. Not from heroics, not from glory, but from calculating opportunity—the thrill of securing resources that could give him an edge in this unforgiving world.
And as the dragon's magical essence subtly infused his tools and concoctions, Jinwoo Ha knew that this was only the beginning. Every step from now on would be strategic, profitable, and most importantly, survivable.
Jinwoo Ha crouched near the dragon, observing every twitch of its tail, every flicker of its nostrils. He was meticulous, almost annoyingly so.
"Its scales… still dull near the flank. Breathing irregular… likely caused by a combination of dietary deficiency and stress. Treatable. And yes, that can be monetized."
He opened a small portable microscope, inspecting a drop of the dragon's saliva. Using a few basic reagents he'd concocted earlier, he confirmed his suspicion: minor bacterial infection plus nutrient imbalance.
"Perfect. Exactly the kind of problem I can solve without risking life—too much."
As he prepared a second concoction, the dragon shifted impatiently. Jinwoo didn't flinch. He muttered under his breath:
"Drama queen still at it. Honestly, for all the 'majestic power' you have, you're just a giant, grumpy lizard."
He carefully administered the treatment, whispering instructions like a maestro conducting a symphony: gentle but precise. The dragon's massive eyes narrowed, then relaxed slightly as the remedy took effect.
Jinwoo allowed himself a small smile. This was not heroics it was efficiency with flair.
With the dragon visibly calmer, Jinwoo turned to the subtle part of his strategy: payment. He'd already sensed the dragon's magical essence during treatment.
"Ah… no coin, no gold, but something far more interesting," he whispered. "Latent magic… raw energy. This is going to be useful."*
He reached out, carefully extracting a faint pulse of the dragon's energy into a vial. The dragon tilted its head, seemingly approving. Jinwoo chuckled:
"You're paying me with power. I approve. Much more valuable than coin—especially in a world where everything else is… medieval."
The dragon, now calm, exhaled a soft plume of magical energy, which Jinwoo stored in several small containers. Each pulse was carefully analyzed, labeled, and secured—future leverage guaranteed.
"Clever, stubborn… profitable," he muttered. "Exactly my type of client."
By late afternoon, the dragon lay resting, its scales brighter and its breathing more steady. Jinwoo Ha stepped back, surveying his work.
"First client: success," he noted. "Payment received in magical currency. Side effect: self-confidence skyrocketing. Secondary effect: opportunity maximized."*
From the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes watched. Jinwoo turned, instantly alert. Another magical creature, smaller but aggressive, prowled closer. He sighed, smiling faintly:
"Of course. One dragon solved, another problem waiting. Good. Keep moving, keep calculating, keep profiting."
He adjusted his satchel and tapped the vials containing the dragon's magical essence. Every step from now would be strategic, measured, and rewarding. Survival in this world wasn't about bravery—it was about intelligence, timing, and a little opportunism.
And Jinwoo Ha intended to excel at all three.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in amber and shadow, Jinwoo allowed himself a rare thought:
"This… might actually be fun."