When we reached the town again, I went straight to the inn. It was the middle of the night, so I wasn’t sure if an iionist would work, but the innkeeper’s son was there, reading something. He was delighted to see me and greeted me like a friend. That was nice. I paid for the room a straight to bed.

  The following two days, I zed about in town, read, took long walks through town with Stretch, and tried to teach him to fetch a stick, but he wasn’t ied, and mostly regeed my mana—again.

  On my sed day, there was a frantioy door. When I ope, the innkeeper stood there, his face pale and eyes wide with urgency. He asked urgently, “You said you are a healer, correct?”

  I nodded quickly, my heart rate pig up. “Yes, what do you need?”

  “Not me,” he replied, wringing his hands anxiously. “The bcksmith’s apprentice had a terrible act. you help him?”

  “I’ll be happy to,” I said, stepping into the hallway. “Where is he?”

  The apprentice was badly hurt. A crucible full of molteal had overturned and spilled on his legs. They were burnt and had pieetal embedded in his flesh. The smithy smelled like cooked pork. I immediately took out and prepared my “operating table.” The bcksmith and I lifted him onto it, and I cut his pants off, revealing the extent of the damage. His legs had severe burns, and pieces of cooled metal had embedded deep into them.

  I began by casting Diagnose, and the spell revealed deep tissue damage, multiple metal fragments lodged in the muscles, and signifit blood loss. The step was to prepare him for the procedure. I cast Ahesia to ensure he wouldn’t feel any pain during the operation.

  With the apprentice sedated, I split my mind and carefully started removing the metal fragments. Using a small knife, I made precise incisions around each pieetal, extrag them one by one. Ohe metal was out, I cast to sterilize the wounds and prevent iion.

  , I cast Stop Bleeding, but the apprentice’s legs were still a mess, with burnt flesh and exposed muscle tissue. I cast Heal Muscle, fog on repairing the damaged muscle fibers. The spell worked quickly, knitting the torn muscles back together a their fun.

  With the muscles healed, I turned my attention to the bones. Although the bones were not broken, they had sustained heat damage. I cast Heal Bothen and repair any micro-fractures that may have occurred due to the intense heat.

  The burns required a different approach. I cast Regrow Flesh, slowly f new flesh to cover the raw muscle beh. The process was slow and exhausting, but necessary.

  Ohe new skin had formed, I cast Healing Touch to promote overall healing and ehe apprentice’s body accepted the regrown tissue. The spell enveloped his legs in a warm glow, accelerating the natural healing processes and redug the risk of plications.

  I cast Purify to se his body of any toxins that the molteal might have introduced. The apprentice’s breathing became steadier, and his pulse normalized. Finally, I cast Fortify Life Force, rest his body’s vitality.

  After stopping the Ahesia, I gave the bcksmith instrus for aftercare. “Make sure he eats, drinks, rests, and sees me at the inn tomorrow for a final checkup.”

  Feeling lightheaded from the extensive use of mana—80/4200—I sat down tee until I was stable again. The apprentice remained unscious, allowing his body to heal and regain strength. When he woke, he looked roughly ten kilograms thihan when I started, but his legs were whole again.

  The bcksmith, deeply grateful, handed me three silvers as a token of his appreciation. Graciously, I accepted the gesture, knowing I had saved the apprentice’s life.

  When I returo the inn, the innkeeper approached me with a hopeful expression. His eyes were wide with a mixture of and anticipation. “Would you be able to see some other people?”

  I nodded, but held up a hand. “Yes, but only in two days,” I replied, feeling the fatigue settle into my bones. “I ee my mana first. Direct all the people to the inn, and I’ll see them then.”

  The innkeeper’s shoulders rexed, and he sighed in relief. “Thank you,” he said, his face brightening. “I’ll let them know.”

  As he walked away, it suddenly dawned on me—I hadn’t sidered my services when I arrived in town. I shook my head, a wry smile pying on my lips. I was still thinking ih’s terms, where you go to a doctor, and the doctor doesn’t go around his services. But I realized then that I wasn’t just a doctor anymore; I was a healer, and my role here was different.

  Refleg on this, I knew I o adapt and reize that I had the potential to tribute beyond the boundaries of a ic or a hospital in this world. I o be more proactive and make myself more avaible to those who needed my help. This wash, and my approach had to ge to fit the new reality.

  I approached the innkeeper, who was busy polishing the bar. “Do you know a good carpenter around here?”

  He looked up, wiping his hands on his apron. “Yes, indeed. Go down the main road, take the sed left, and you’ll see his shop. ’t miss it.”

  I thanked him and headed out. The carpenter’s shop was easy to find, a modest building with various wooden items dispyed outside. I stepped inside and saw the carpenter, a burly man with sawdust in his hair, w on a chair.

  “Hello,” I said, catg his attention. He looked up, wiping his brow. “ I order a table from you?”

  “Yes, what do you need?”

  “I need a special table for healing. It o be long enough to hold a person lying down and narrow enough so I reach them easily. It should also be a bit higher than a regur table.”

  He houghtfully, scratg his . “I do that. Anything else?”

  “Yes, I also hree standing partitions with four panels each,” I tinued, notig his fused expression. “Let me sketch it for you.” I grabbed a piece of paper and began drawing, expining as I went. “The frames should be sturdy, with fabric stretched over them like this, and hinges here so you open or close them.”

  He leaned over, eyes lighting up with i. “I see. And the fabric?”

  I took out a thick, dark blue fabric roll. “I brought this for the partitions,” I said.

  He took the fabric, feeling its texture. “This is excellent quality. I’ve never worked with something like this before.”

  I smiled, gd he appreciated it. “So, do you think you do it?”

  He grinned, noddihusiastically. “Absolutely. This is a great idea. I use your idea to make more to sell?”

  “Go ahead and make a lot of money,” I chuckled.

  He ughed heartily. “Thank you! For all this work, it’ll be seven gold and three silver. But I’m only charging you for three partitions; the fourth is payment for the idea. Everything will be ready in two days.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” I said, shaking his hand. He was genuinely excited, and I felt fident that the new setup would make a big differen my work.

  I asked him where I could buy a tent, and he directed me to the general store. The general store was… well, general. It had a little of everything in a very fusing pt. The front of the store was full of fruits aables that looked quite simir to the ones from Earth, but ly—there were always minor differences—pced in big baskets that resembled bamboo, and interspersed between them were baskets with books and clothes, all sizes together in the same baskets, and a bucket, a bucket! With swords that looked used—they looked chipped and quite rusty. I’m sure there was some logic behind it, but I didn’t see it. Further in, there were shelves with a jumbled assortment of household goods like dles, linen, cookware, some toys, soap, etc.; it was a freak’s nightmare.

  The shopkeeper, a stout man with a broad smile, looked up from behind the ter. “Hello there, stranger. Looking for something?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

  “Yes,” I replied, sing the chaotic dispy. “A big tent.”

  His eyes lit up with uanding, and he nodded. “Ah, a tent! Just a moment.” He disappeared into the back. Moments ter, he returned with leather sheets, poles, spikes, and rope. “Here you go. 2 gold.”

  I stared at the heap in front of me, feeling a headache ing on. “How do I assemble it?” I asked, scratg my head awkwardly.

  This “tent” resembled nothing I was familiar with. My teher popped open or came with numbered poles with corresponding numbers oent. I just had to thread the poles in acc to the numbers, pce four spikes to tie the tent so it wouldn’t blow away, and I was done. If I opehe opy, I had to pce two more poles, tie the opy to the poles, and tie awo spikes.

  The shopkeeper gave me a look that let me kly what he thought about my intelligence. “It’s simple,” he said, demonstrating with exaggerated patience. “You just y out the leather sheets, assemble the poles like this, and thehe spikes to secure it.”

  “Got it,” I said, trying to hide my annoyahanks.”

  Trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy, I looked around at his iory and asked, “Are you ied in buying some things to sell?”

  He perked up, curiosity piqued. “Sure, show me what you’ve got.”

  I moved to a clear area iore and summoned one of the shelving units with gssware. He examihem, nodding appreciatively. “These are beautiful, but those are rich folk things; we are simple people. They are too fancy for us.”

  “Okay, ,” I said, st it and summoning a more “down-to-earth” colleostly pin ptes, mugs, and cups. “How about these?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think anybody in this town afford those things; they are too fancy.”

  I summohe cheapest pots, pans, and bowls from the flea markets. He chose a few pieces, but the rest were still “too fancy.”

  I could feel my annoyance growing. “Those e 1-2, and it’s still too fancy?” I muttered under my breath.

  Baskets of clothes. He chose a few, the rest—too fancy. Linen and towels—too fancy. I was beginning to dislike this phrase.

  Simple, cheap silverware—“Nobody uses those fancy things here.”

  I sighed, summoning sharp cooking knives. He liked those and bought one for his wife as a birthday present. The rest—too fancy.

  Rolls of fabric—he chose one roll of simple chocote brown cotton—the rest too fancy, but he couldn’t stop plimenting the quality of the weave and colors. “This is excellent work but too fancy for our folks,” he said almost apologetically.

  I offered to sell it to him for cheap, but he refused, shaking his head firmly. “Everybody knows I’m ho. If I cheat you and buy expensive goods for cheap, folks will stop trusting me.” You had to admire an ho businessman, even if it was frustrating.

  Thread, needles, yarn—again, the quality and colors surprised him, but he took only a few rolls of white and brown thread and a few needles—the rest were too fancy.

  Toys—he bought a bunny plushie for his daughter, but the rest were too fancy.

  Empty copper pouches—he bought one for himself—the rest too fancy.

  I o delete this phrase from the Shimoorian nguage!

  Finally, I had nothing else to show him. He checked everything he chose, thought for a minute, and said, “I give you 47 gold, 6 silver, and the tent. Is that acceptable?”

  My Mert Profession told me it was a fair price, but I could haggle to raise it—I decided not to. We cluded our business, and I returo the inn, relieved and exasperated.

  After a pleasant lund asking for a bath, I spent the rest of the day regeing, petting Stretch, and reading. With his bushy tail wagging happily, Stretch leaned into my touch while I read.

  The following day, the apprentiocked on my door for his checkup. He looked much better, a hint of color returning to his cheeks. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gesturing for him to sit down.

  “I’m okay,” he said, rolling up his pao show me the healed skin. “Just some soreness.”

  I cast a general heal, feeling the minor issues melt away uhe spell. “You should be good to go back to work,” I said, patting his shoulder. He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face, auro the smithy.

  Later, the innkeeper approached me with a curious look on his face. “I heard you were selling some fancy rich folks things in the general store,” he said, his eyes glinting with i. “Sometimes nobles pass through town and expect to be served acc to their station.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I have some items that might i you.”

  “Would you mind showing me some of what you have?” he asked eagerly.

  I took out some serving gssware, each sparkling in the light.

  The innkeeper’s eyes widened in amazement. “These are exquisite,” he excimed, pig up a delicate goblet and turning it in his hands. “Ooh, look at this craftsmanship!”

  He tio examine each piece, a series of appreciative “ah’s” esg his lips. Finally, he selected a few items, his face glowing with excitement. “These will be perfect for when the nobles visit,” he said, handihe s. “Thank you.”

  At least I emptied my ste a bit, but looking at everything I had there, I saw that the stuff I sold didn’t even make a dent ial amount of stuff.

  “Yeah, I might have gone a bit overboard.” I thought, scratg my head.