Chapter 3
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Old Lord's Incurable Disease (2)
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"Ugh!"
Dominic gasped for air as he regained consciousness.
Was his body bound with iron chains? It had to be some dank underground cell—he thought as much when he opened his eyes. But what was this?
"Ahem. Finally coming around, are you?"
The room was bathed in warm sunlight pouring through the windows.
Dominic wasn't tied to some rickety wooden chair. Quite the opposite. He had woken up on the finest bedding he'd ever experienced—not just in this life, but his previous one as well.
"It seems my subordinates misunderstood my orders. I never expected they'd drag you here so roughly. My apologies."
A middle-aged man scratched his temple with a sheepish look and offered a straightforward apology.
"Ah, no, not at all. Everyone makes mistakes now and then."
Dominic climbed down from the bed, rolling his eyes subserviently as he replied in a somewhat fawning tone.
Whoa, damn. One wrong move and I'm really dead! They're all packing real swords at their waists!
Not only the middle-aged man, but the two knights who had clearly knocked him out and dragged him here were armed with longswords and daggers.
No, even without weapons, he wouldn't have dared to resist.
The knights guarding the door—and even the middle-aged man in his light cotton clothes, chuckling casually—were all bulging with muscles even bigger than old man Kallon's from the village. They looked every bit the human weapons they were.
Sweat trickled down his spine.
"Might I ask how I should address you...?"
"Insolent fool!"
"Tch!"
One of the knights standing like a folding screen barked at Dominic's words, but he shrank back at the middle-aged man's tongue-click and returned to his position with a sullen face.
"I've kept you waiting without proper introduction. I am Theodore Sinclair."
Sinclair? Theodore?
That name rings a bell... Eek!
Dominic dropped to his knees and bowed low.
"Old Lord!"
"Haha, Old Lord? I'm just a retired geezer these days."
"P-Please spare me!"
He had no idea what he'd done wrong, but being dragged here for a private audience with the Old Lord was no small matter.
Did he notice the irreverent switch in village chief? Kallon, you bald bastard! Fine my ass—it's not fine at all!
No matter how he racked his brain, that was the only possible offense.
The village chief led the villagers in the lord's stead. Changing that title on paper just to avoid learning to read could certainly be seen as lèse-majesté.
But why would some high-and-mighty noble bother with something like that?
A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, but first, he needed to escape this room alive.
"Kill... no, please spare me!"
Even twisting his tongue with historical drama lines from his past life felt awkward since he never used them normally.
"Do I look like I'm about to devour you?"
"...Pardon?"
"I heard you said something odd at the restaurant. Is it true?"
The Old Lord's face didn't show any sign of punishment.
He just seemed curious.
"My knights said you mentioned a disease that hurts even when the wind blows?"
"Ah...! Gout!"
Dominic realized his slip the moment he spoke.
Being dismissed as a quack peddler was one thing, but if the target was a great noble, it was entirely different. Add lèse-majesté and fraud, and his life was truly at stake.
Best to deny it outright!
"Is there really such a disease? One that hurts when the wind blows?"
"W-Well, actually, that was a lie on my part..."
"You're not about to claim you made it all up, are you?"
"...No, of course not!"
Damn. Busted.
He couldn't backpedal now and call it a lie. Just look at those piercing eyes.
He was cornered.
Wait, no? If they really thought I was a quack misleading the territory's people, they would've dragged me to a courtroom or dungeon, not this fancy bedroom.
His brain started spinning at full speed for the first time in ages.
Could it be... real gout? Does he have it?
Otherwise, the man wouldn't be probing so subtly.
No matter how he thought about it, that seemed right.
Come to think of it, a protein maniac chowing down on greasy meat dishes—especially organ meats—with booze three meals a day didn't sound off-base at all.
"Old Lord."
"Speak."
"Has anyone around you suddenly experienced swelling and pain starting in the toes or ankles?"
"...Be more specific."
As Dominic feigned ignorance and elaborated in earnest, the Old Lord's expression shifted subtly.
"Those afflicted typically feel worse pain at night or dawn. It usually starts in the toes or ankles, but sometimes the elbows or finger joints. Once it begins, even a breeze is agony, but then one day, it vanishes like a lie."
"...And what is this disease called?"
"It's called gout, though I'm not entirely sure. I picked it up wandering around..."
Now that he thought about it, he'd never heard the term in this life.
It was pretty common in 21st-century Korea from his past life.
Well, yeah. This isn't a world where you can eat enough greasy stuff to build up uric acid like that.
The gap between his past and present lives hit him at times like this.
But he had no time for reverie. He was facing a man who could end his life with a gesture.
"Gout. First I've heard of it. So, what causes it?"
"Many reasons, but the biggest is diet."
"Diet?"
"Yes. Greasy fish and seafood, meat—especially organ meats—are loaded with something called purines. Alcohol's bad too. It hinders uric acid excretion, triggering attacks."
"Purines...? Uric acid...? Hmm, I don't follow."
The Old Lord tilted his head, but Dominic's words rang true. The symptoms and dietary causes he described all pointed straight to himself.
"Simply put, certain nutrients in greasy foods build up instead of flushing out, causing problems from the toes up."
"Oh ho."
The Old Lord nodded.
"In short, meat is the culprit."
"Yes."
"But I've eaten like this my whole life. Was fine until recently—can it just hit suddenly?"
The Old Lord no longer hid that he suffered from this 'gout.'
"Age might weaken digestion. Or accumulated buildup finally caused issues. I'm no healer, so it's just a guess..."
Dominic trailed off.
He didn't want to take the fall unnecessarily.
If he demands a cure, I'm screwed. I was a nutritionist, not a doctor.
Time to bow out gracefully.
"Not a healer? Then how do you know so much about this rare ailment? No intimidation intended—just curious. Even skilled healers couldn't diagnose me."
"One of my wandering masters taught that ingredients make fine medicine if used right. Just shallow knowledge from then."
"Hmm. Food as medicine? Intriguing."
"Yes. My master believed medicine and food share roots. The world has five energies; eat in balanced harmony with them, unite with nature, and enjoy longevity without illness."
"Five energies... the five elements of mana?"
Dominic was mangling yin-yang and five phases with food as medicine, but as long as the listener didn't call it fraud, it was fine.
No backlash? Jackpot.
Lying was getting easier with practice.
"What was your master's name?"
"Heo Jun."
"Heo Jun? Unusual name. Perhaps he carried ancient elf blood."
Look at that—misunderstanding on his own.
But Dominic's face held a wistful, reminiscent expression.
"Fine. Since you're no healer, I won't demand you cure me."
"My apologies, Old Lord."
"But you've studied ingredients under your master and pinpointed my dietary issue. So... yes, that works!"
The Old Lord muttered to himself, then clapped as if struck by a brilliant idea.
"You'll handle my meals."
"...Pardon?"
"Whether you're a silver-tongued trickster or bearer of ancient elf wisdom, I'll see for myself. Change my diet as you say, pain vanishes—I reward you greatly. Hey!"
"Yes, Old Lord!"
"Give this man a guest room and attend him day and night."
"Yes, sir!"
"Tell the kitchen too. He's in charge of my meals. Make sure they understand—no backtalk."
"Understood!"
Attended? More like dragged. With the two knights gripping his arms, Dominic thought as they hauled him out.
Ah, screwed.