“I believe my presence is no longer required,” Sebastian said calmly. “I shall return to my duties. Lady Diana, would you prefer a maid escort you home later, or do you know the way back?”

  “Hm…”

  Before I could answer, Raphael spoke without taking his eyes off me.

  “Ancillam mittere potes,” he said, studying me as though I were a particularly difficult puzzle. “Iube eam post horam redire.”

  Sebastian frowned faintly.

  “Master Haju… you know that I do not..."

  “Ah— sorry, the—”

  I tilted my head. “Is healing really that fast? Just one hour?”

  Both men looked at me, equally baffled.

  Raphael blinked once — then smiled, clearly impressed.

  “…Y-yes. One hour will suffice,” he said smoothly. “Please have her return then.”

  “Very well,” Sebastian replied. He bowed lightly. “I wish you a swift recovery, Lady Diana.”

  The door closed behind him with a soft click.

  Silence followed.

  Weird…

  Raphael immediately rolled back toward his desk, muttering under his breath.

  He turned sharply.

  “Please, take a seat on the bed.”

  I obeyed the doc, not like I had many choices. He gathered tools with barely contained excitement — scissors, glass vials, one empty and another filled with sky-blue liquid faintly resembling slime.

  “A weapon huh? I assure you, I have no intention of harming you. That would contradict the medical profession rather severely."

  “Hm? Interesting.”

  Then he moved.

  Fast.

  The room grew quiet — so quiet my sharpened senses picked up every detail. The pleasant scent of medicine lingered in the air: clean bandages, sterilizing agents, fresh wind drifting through the open window.

  I removed my cloak and lifted my shirt just enough to expose the wounds across my abdomen and shoulder.

  He leaned closer, inspecting them for nearly a full minute.

  “You take very good care of yourself,” he said.

  “Y-yes?”

  “Your wounds are remarkably clean. I prepared a cleansing solution, but it appears unnecessary.”

  Must be the cleanse effect from purity, I thought. Maybe I should’ve toggled it off.

  “Not even a speck of dust,” he added approvingly. “Hygiena excellens!”

  “T-thank you…?”

  He uncorked a bottle filled with deep crimson liquid.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “This may sting slightly.”

  He poured it directly onto the bandages.

  Steam exploded upward.

  Pain detonated through my body.

  “WRAAAAAAAAAAGH! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”

  I nearly launched off the bed.

  “It is a numbing potion,” he said calmly. “Used before stitching. Please allow a moment— ah, you may lose mobility shortly.”

  << PURITY DETECTED PARALYSIS >>

  << Status Effect Removed >>

  Five minutes later, he returned with tools in hand — and froze mid-step.

  “…Fascinating.”

  He adjusted his glasses.

  “Your body rejected the potion entirely. I have never seen such resistance. Perhaps related to the slime physiology… Either way, conventional anesthesia will not function, apologies in advance.”

  Purity does it again... I definitely should've toggled it off.

  “May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the wrappings.

  “Yeah…”

  He carefully unwrapped the wound.

  Then stopped.

  Completely.

  “Oh.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Ohhh!”

  The atmosphere shifted instantly.

  “Amazing,” he whispered. “The wound cavity has been filled with a slime-like biological membrane… identical to the shoulder injury.”

  His fingers hovered just above the surface.

  “It is functioning as temporary flesh.”

  He looked like a student discovering forbidden knowledge.

  “Incredible… a skill manifesting as a secondary organ…”

  He leaned closer, utterly absorbed.

  “It stabilizes structural integrity… accelerates regeneration…”

  A quiet laugh escaped him.

  “I may not be of much use to you,” he admitted. “Your ability surpasses several branches of modern medicine.”

  He looked up at me, emerald eyes shining.

  “How extraordinarily intriguing.”

  Silence settled as the slime membrane visibly shifted, knitting damaged flesh together.

  “…So,” I asked slowly, “what do we do now?”

  “Well,” he said brightly, snapping back to professionalism, “I will provide three vials of Ambrosia. And you'll spend the rest of the day relaxing. No sudden movements, which obviously implies you won't go fighting spiders, okay?"

  I gave him an awkward laugh, then asked. "What is Ambrosia?"

  "A healing elixir extracted from the Dreamrot plant. No narcotic effect whatsoever, perfection in a bottle!"

  “Awesome. Thank you, doctor. Really.”

  He hesitated.

  Then raised the scissors.

  “…Before you leave… may I ask something?”

  “Hm?”

  He clasped his hands together and bowed slightly.

  “Please — allow me a tiny sample of your slime.”

  “Haaa?”

  “I'm seriously begging you here,” he continued, sincerely. "You have no idea how important this is to me—to people around the world! Your skill, if I can reproduce it, even as a potion—no, even as an enchantment for ambrosia, it could single-handedly be the reason adventurers, laborers, civilians—get to see an extra day of life!" He pleaded again. "So please, allow me the tiniest piece!"

  I couldn't refuse someone begging me like this now, how could I? What kind of monster would say no to such a request?

  And thus, one snip later, I was out of the medical ward, fully functional, with three bottles of Ambrosia and a doctor who owed me one favor.

  As soon as I was done with the trade—which was generously reduced to one single gold coin—I locked eyes met with a beautiful maid.

  Her long black hair flowed down to her bum, framed by soft cat ears and a gently swaying tail of the same color. Her clothes were exactly what you'd expect: the classic, never-dying, always-trendy and always loved maid uniform. A white apron above an inky short dress that flowed in layers of dark and light with dark ribbons on the right and on the left. The final ribbon, the biggest of all, rested just below her chin. Her final wardrobe item had been a pair of white tights that rose from her fancy shoes all the way to her underskirt.

  The picture any man dreams of, except... I was a woman, so hugging her was completely acceptable.

  Humans require at least one hug per day. I read that on ROOGLE, I'm tryina survive here, nothing more!!!

  A warm and soft embrace.

  Just as comfortable as the wool-woolf bed.

  "Haaaaaah."

  “Hm?” I tilted my head slightly as my hands brushed against something extremely hard. “What’s this?”

  Scientific curiosity activated.

  “…A wooden plank? No… more like a stone tablet?”

  I slipped around to her front to investigate properly. Again, since I am a girl, it’s completely fine.

  Screw gender equality!

  I lifted the edge of her apron—

  …and immediately started drooling.

  “Aahhh,” I breathed. “Girly six-pack."

  Perfect lines. Defined muscle, elegant and absurdly unfair.

  "Aahhhwesome.”

  My brain short-circuited.

  “Hey,” I said as I wiped the drool from my mouth. “If you let me stare at this daily, I’ll do anything.”

  After a moment of considering, she replied.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Anything!” I declared with no dignity whatsoever.

  Her moment of consideration turned out to be nothing more than a facade.

  "Then..."

  She stared at me with immaculate, aristocratic disgust.

  “Then, in exchange for this service,” she said calmly, “I would like you to never touch me again. Thank you very much.”

  She slapped her skirt back and took me by my hand to drag me back home where Zarra awaited.