Chapter 72: Doctor Caren

...

According to the rules of medical practice—or rather, the rules set by the school nurse herself, anyone other than students seeking treatment must pay a fee. Caren Hortensia—as observed by Fatalon, was a nun with an unusually unique aura. Her amber eyes were cold and clear, devoid of emotional fluctuations. When she looked at him, it was as if she was examining a corpse. Her white hair, reaching her elbows, resembled snow, her petite figure moved moved with grace, and her pale, thin lips were tightly pursed in a detached manner. Her speech was concise, always maintaining a silent and reserved demeanor.

This nun was as beautiful as the rumors say, but she was also too cold and indifferent.

Fatalon mused that he was not naturally suited to get along with someone so cold, and it would be better to stay with Vina, the tavern owner's employee... She was simple and honest, and he felt that he had a good chance of pursuing her.

"Burns?" she asked after Fatalon had raised his thick, large hand and placed it on the medical cushion. 

"Yes, Sister," Fatalon respectfully replied, scratching his rugged black hair with his other hand, "I work as a cook at the tavern run by the Barghast man Gahar. Yesterday, I got drunk while roasting a pig and burned my hand. I rely on this job for a living, and I'm afraid that improper treatment might leave a lasting issue..."

Caren extended her slender fingers, covered in medical white gloves, and turned over the cook's blackened and cracked palm, as if she were flipping a piece of roasted meat.

Not sure if it was a just figment of his imagination, but Fatalon felt that a glimmer of schadenfreude flashed in her eyes.

It must be his imagination, Fatalon thought.

"It was a wise decision not to just randomly find a priest to cast a healing spell," Caren said, her hands continuing to work, pressing on the palm until blood flowed out. Fatalon's face began to sweat, and his eyelids twitched wildly. "The dead skin and burnt flesh might stay with you as the wound heals," Caren muttered to herself, casually tossing the cook's hand aside as if it were an empty beer bottle. Then, she stood up from her chair and looked up and down the cabinets in the medical room, "Let's see, gut thread, probe, toothed knife, medical alcohol, cotton swabs, sutures, and a bowl of clean water."

"Sister... what are the toothed knife and probe... for?"

Caren looked at him expressionlessly, "I need to disinfect your wound, remove the dead skin and rotten flesh from your hand, then stitch up the wound, and finally, cast a simple healing spell."

"Is there a less... terrifying method? Or maybe start with an anesthetic injection first?" Fatalon's voice trembled. The robust man, as strong as a tiger, was now shaking like a sieve.

"Anesthetic injection?" Caren's tone was indifferent, "I never keep anesthetic injections here. If you want one, you can buy it yourself outside."

"??!"

"As for the advanced healing spell that doesn't require stitching—if you double the amount of money you've paid, I might consider it."

Hearing this, Fatalon leaned back woodenly against the chair. "I accept the treatment," he said with a deathly pale face, "That's all the money I brought."

Caren tossed a deformed black belt over, "Bite on it, don't scream when it hurts." She said coldly, "Otherwise, I might get startled and slip, cutting into the wrong place."

The nun's threat made Fatalon tremble with fear. He was willing to bet that this belt had been bitten by more than just him—the countless clear or blurred tooth marks on it proved everything—all of them had bitten down hard.

Next, Caren spent over half an hour treating Fatalon's burns. After disinfecting with cotton swabs and alcohol, she began to remove the scars and dead skin from his hand—first peeling off the outermost layer of skin, expanding the wound, and then carefully using the sterilized probe and toothed knife to clean the blackened rotten flesh in the palm, taking care not to cut the blood vessels.

During the surgery, her expression was very focused.

While Fatalon bit down on the belt, holding back from screaming.

After that, she inserted the probe deeper into the wound, as it was close to the main blood vessels, making the situation more complex and dangerous. However, she seemed to be quite skilled at this, taking only about ten minutes to remove everything that shouldn't stay in the hand—although a fine layer of sweat had appeared on her forehead. Finally, she stitched up the wound and connected to the Healing Warren, casting a simple healing spell.

After everything was completed, Fatalon was nearly unconscious, his complexion extremely pale, and the belt had two deep tooth marks on it.

"Alright," Caren casually patted Fatalon 's wound, hearing him let out a short scream. "The wound has mostly healed, just find someone to remove the stitches when you get back, and your cooking career won't be affected," she said.

"Th-thank you, Sister."

Caren discarded the blood-stained white gloves into the bowl of water, and casually picked up a wet towel to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Her tone of speech remained unchanged, neither cold nor warm, just devoid of emotional fluctuation: "If you ever have an arrow lodged in your internal organs, or shrapnel from an explosive embedded in your muscles, or if your arm or fingers are severed, feel free to come to me. I'm quite skilled in such surgical procedures."

Fatalon's heart trembled again, and with a pale face, he left the medical room.

...

After Fatalon left, Caren closed her eyes on the bench, feeling a bit of fatigue from the half-hour surgery—a result of her naturally weak constitution. The blinds behind her were rustling in the wind, then quieted down. Suddenly, a piercing scream came from outside the glass. Caren impatiently turned over, too lazy to even open her eyes. The second scream sounded, louder than the first, and Caren stood up with a very annoyed expression, grabbing a sharp scalpel and throwing it towards the glass.

—A short, sharp scream.

The giant crow knocked away the scalpel flying towards its eye and landed fiercely in the room. It glared angrily at the woman, then slammed its protruding chest against the table, producing a loud bang.

"What brings you here, black hag?" Caren sat back down on the bench with a cold expression, "Broken wing? Broken claw? Or did your boy friend's toy break inside you?"

"Your mouth is still as foul as ever!" Felisin roared, puffing up her chest and feathers to glare at her. Then she lowered her head, looking down at the woman sitting expressionlessly on the bench, "I've brought you a suitor." She blinked, slyly adding, "Although he didn't say it outright, I'm sure that's what he meant."

Caren nodded indifferently, "Alright, since you've said what you came to say, I have no further questions. Please return."

"But I've brought you valuable information!" Felisin clacked its beak, "Don't you have anything to eat here?"

"I can smell the red wine on your breath," Caren said, "From what you, the black hag, have said, I sense ill intentions, so there's no food for you here."

Then Caren turned her chair around to face away from it, staring blankly at the medical room door.

"You're too heartless," the crow fluffed up its feathers, "But I can still tell you," it said, "Your guest is no ordinary person, and he's a restless one. There's a demon living in his soul, a real demon—not just a descriptive term for personality."

"...Demon?"

Caren's tone carried a slight fluctuation.

Demons... ever since the last time I was restrained by the Dark Elf Lord due to the Lord Cororan going mad, I haven't summoned a demon of lord status again.

Could this mean a new toy? She propped up her chin and gently tapped the disinfectant bottle beside her. A pungent smell began to waft out, causing the giant crow to grind its beak in dissatisfaction—the medical room always reeked of strong disinfectant.

"My eyes! My eyes!" A loud scream came from the doorway, but it had little effect on the two inside the medical room.

A brown-haired little girl rushed into the medical room. She covered one eye with her hand, while the other eye was wide open—apparently pecked—with a living, fat bird-shaped toy following behind her, flying in mid-air and pecking at her butt.

"I don't see any demon residing in this girl's body," Caren said with an indifferent gaze, watching the girl running towards her.

"I'm not talking about this girl. I don't care about mortals; I only guide powerful mages." The giant crow shook its head, turning a blind eye to the unfolding tragedy.

"Miss School nurse! My eye hurts so much!"

"Are you a student? If not, then pay up. If you don't have money, go back the way you came." Caren said without even lifting her eyes.

"Hey! That's too heartless!" The little girl shouted with one hand covering her eye.

She covered her butt with her other hand, letting out another scream. The bird-shaped toy, enchanted with a living spell, continued to peck at her butt fiercely, like a woodpecker searching for insects on a tree trunk.

After a moment, the cold gazes of the two in the medical room began to make her uneasy, "I'm Akko—Akko Kagari! I'm a new student!"

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