Kenji?

  Kenji looked at the potion bottle in his hands, the soft light of the oil lamp reflecting off the surface of the glistening liquid. He could not deny the impressive power of these magical potions, something that in his home world would be considered an absolute miracle. But as a doctor, his critical and analytical eye could not ignore the possible hidden risks.

  To test his theory, Kenji did something few would do: he made a small cut on his own arm and poured a drop of the potion over the wound. The effect was immediate and surprising. The skin regenerated as if the cut had never existed. It was an extraordinary feat, but at the same time, alarming. He knew that, biologically, such rapid regeneration could trigger serious problems.

  "If a cell divides too quickly or incorrectly..." The thought made him shudder. "Could that lead to something similar to cancer in my world?"

  Without the modern instruments he was familiar with, such as microscopes or laboratory tests, Kenji was limited in his tools for investigating in depth. However, he knew that the human body itself was a living book, and he needed to read it as best he could.

  Determined to investigate, Kenji went to the sick tent, where the wounded soldiers were recovering thanks to magical potions. He began a careful examination, examining the areas where the wounds had healed. His experience as a doctor helped him identify unusual patterns.

  What he found made him uneasy: small nodules under the skin of patients who had used the potions. They were soft to the touch, painless, and seemed harmless at first glance, but Kenji knew they were classic signs of benign tumors.

  "If this continues to develop or if any cells divide incorrectly... it could turn into something malignant."

  Kenji spent hours examining patients, recording his findings in his notebook. He made sure to remain calm when speaking to soldiers and healers, to avoid alarming others. After all, how could he explain something as complex as cancer to a medieval society that didn’t even know the basics of hygiene?

  Kenji returned to his tent with a heavy expression. He knew that magical potions were a life-saving boon in extreme situations, but he also recognized the dangers of using them indiscriminately. He himself had resolved that he would not use them on himself or other patients unless absolutely necessary.

  "I need more data," he thought, looking down at his notebook. "I need to watch these tumors over time. Do they go away on their own? Do they grow? Or worse... do they become deadly?"

  Kenji knew that facing this situation would be a monumental challenge. How could he explain to the general, to the healers, to the soldiers, that something as seemingly miraculous as healing potions could come at such a high price? In a world where scientific understanding was minimal, he would need to find a balance between saving lives and avoiding long-term risks.

  As Kenji pondered all of this, Francesca appeared in his tent. She looked worried upon seeing his expression.

  — Doctor, is everything okay? You look exhausted.

  Kenji hesitated for a moment, but decided to share some of his findings.

  — Francesca, have you ever stopped to think about the long-term effects of healing potions? They are incredibly powerful, but I'm starting to think they might do something undesirable to people's bodies.

  She frowned, confused.

  — Something like what?

  Kenji sighed.

  — Imagine that the body is trying to heal itself too quickly. If something goes wrong in this process, it can cause... unwanted growths . Where I used to live, this is known as cancer.

  Francesca looked at him, alarmed, but also not fully understanding the concept.

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  — And what can we do, doctor?

  Kenji clutched the notebook to his chest.

  — For now, we need to observe. I will continue to examine the soldiers and take notes. But, Francesca, don't let them use these potions as a solution for everything. They should only be used in cases of life or death.

  She nodded slowly, trusting his judgment.

  Kenji knew he was only scratching the surface of something much bigger. Magic potions were both a blessing and a curse, and he was determined to fully understand their effects. He also knew that in a medieval world with little scientific basis, raising such questions would likely provoke disbelief and resistance.

  "Science is my guide," Kenji thought, looking up at the stars through the tent's entrance. "And even in a world of magic, it will still be my greatest ally."

  With this renewed determination, he continued his notes and prepared himself to face the challenge of explaining to a medieval world the complexities of the human body and the hidden dangers behind healing potions.

  Francesca

  Francesca was uneasy after her conversation with Kenji. The idea that healing potions, something so miraculous and indispensable to the survival of soldiers, could cause long-term illnesses was disturbing. As a healer, she trusted blindly what she had learned from her master: potions were a gift blessed by alchemists and magic. But the doctor, with his analytical methods and precise logic, had saved her life without using any magic, only his knowledge. That was enough to make her deeply respect him.

  Sitting on the edge of her bed in the healers’ small tent, Francesca pondered Kenji’s words. He was not only a man of science, but also someone who carried the burden of knowing things that no one else in the world seemed to understand. “What if he’s right?” she thought. Doubt grew like a seed planted in fertile ground.

  The next day, Francesca began observing her patients more carefully. She took extra time to check on the soldiers who had been treated with magical potions, noting every detail: the color of their skin, any swelling, changes in breathing or behavior.

  One morning, while examining a young soldier who had been given a potion days earlier to heal a deep laceration on his shoulder, she noticed something strange. The young man's skin was perfect where the wound had been, but when she felt the area, she felt a small lump beneath the flesh.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

  — No, healer. I didn't even feel it was there.

  Francesca hid her concern, but her heart was racing. What Kenji had said about “unwanted growths” seemed to be coming true before her eyes. “What if this isn’t just a coincidence?” she thought.

  Francesca knew that as a healer, her job was to bring relief, hope, and healing. But how could she continue to use the potions without questioning their long-term effects? She began to avoid using them in less urgent situations, opting for traditional treatments whenever possible. But the pressure was on. The soldiers relied on the potions, and the other healers saw them as indispensable, especially in the midst of war.

  One afternoon, while organizing supplies in the tent, Francesca found Kenji reviewing his notebooks. He seemed absorbed in his notes, but he looked up when he sensed her presence.

  — Francesca, you look worried.

  She hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to him.

  — I examined one of the soldiers today. He was healed, but I noticed a small lump where the wound had been treated with the potion.

  Kenji closed his eyes and sighed, as if he had already expected this.

  — So it's exactly as I feared.

  Francesca looked at him, doubt evident in her eyes.

  —But how is that possible? Potions heal wounds and save lives. How can something so powerful cause problems?

  Kenji was silent for a moment, organizing his thoughts.

  — Where I come from, we have something called cellular regeneration. It's the process by which the body's cells multiply to repair an injury. The potions do this quickly, almost instantly. But when cells multiply too quickly or in a disorderly manner, problems can arise... like tumors.

  Francesca absorbed every word, feeling her stomach churn.

  — So you think these potions can cause diseases?

  “I’m not sure,” Kenji admitted. “It’s still just a theory. But the fact that you noticed this lump confirms that we need to investigate further before we blindly trust these potions.”

  Although her conversation with Kenji left her feeling even more disturbed, Francesca made a decision. She would continue to observe her patients and record any anomalies. She also decided to seek information directly from the alchemists responsible for the potions. Perhaps they would know more about the ingredients and methods used in their manufacture, something that could shed light on what was happening.

  However, she knew that this investigation would have to be done in secret. Questioning the potions could cause an uproar among the soldiers and healers, undermining their confidence in the few tools they had to save lives on the battlefield.

  Meanwhile, Francesca promised herself that she would do everything in her power to protect patients. Even if it meant defying everything she had learned so far.

  “You may be a strange man, Kenji,” she said with a small smile. “But I think I’ll trust your science.”

  Kenji smiled back, grateful to have found someone who shared his concerns.

  — Thank you, Francesca. Together, maybe we can figure this out before it’s too late.

  And so the two began a silent alliance, facing not only the wounds of war, but also the mysteries of a world where magic and science collided in unexpected ways.