Flowers Blooming Amidst the Plague (3)

"Ugh… my head feels all fuzzy…."

After a chaotic day, Erika, who had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spent the entire time feeling people's bone marrow (?), melted into her desk. "Teacher. I hear strange noises coming from my body. Do you think I caught a cold too?"

"That’s the sound of your stomach, Eri."

The number of infected patients Eri had screened throughout the day was about four. Most of them were patients with latent syphilis or latent tuberculosis. "Eri. You should be proud, though. Thanks to you, we were able to save eight people."

Originally, latent syphilis was a disease I had no way of diagnosing as of now. Since equipment and technology were limited in this era, even I couldn't diagnose it if there were no symptoms. However, ever since Eri became my assistant, it had become possible to diagnose latent diseases that lacked symptoms. Her ability to sense abnormalities in bone marrow through mana was incredibly useful.

"Eight people?"

"I counted the children as well."

"Aha."

"And your magic proficiency must have increased quite a bit today, too."

In addition to this, I could expect an improvement in Eri's magical abilities. Having peered into nearly dozens of people, her senses had sharpened significantly before she knew it. Didn't they say that even the sense of smell becomes more sensitive the more you train it? It seemed to be a similar principle.

"Eh? This was training?"

"Yes."

"Aha. If it was that, you should have told me sooner."

As soon as she realized that what she had been doing wasn't just simple repetitive work but training, Erika lifted her body from the desk. Perhaps because she was a child with a strong desire for growth, she would recover her energy quickly if I just gave her some motivation like this.

"Ayy. If I’d known it was training, I would have looked even harder. Ah, or how about we do night rounds, Teacher?"

"We have tomorrow and the day after, so don't burn yourself out too early."

I calmed down Eri, who was burning with belated enthusiasm, and packed my bags as I prepared to leave work.

Creak— creak—

Just then, Wangcho came down from the second floor where the mothers were staying.

"Teacher. I'll take care of the mothers, so you should head home now."

"Ah, thank you, Wangcho."

"But, Teacher. May I ask you one thing?"

"Go ahead."

"What is that white powder you fed the mothers?"

"Ah, that?"

I pointed to the drawer containing the white powder Wangcho had mentioned and said, "It's a medicine made from seaweed and the ashes of burnt wood."

The exact name was Potassium Iodide. It was a medicine that suppressed syphilis to some extent. Although syphilis should ideally be treated with penicillin, I still couldn't make that, so it was a substitute I was using. 'I know blue mold is the ingredient, but I don't know the next step.' That wasn't what was important right now, though.

As soon as Wangcho heard the ingredients for the medicine, he wore an expression that suggested he didn't trust it at all. "Is that effective? Wouldn't it be better to just expose them to mercury?"

"The child is inside her womb, what are you talking about?"

"No, well. Still, isn't it better to be crippled than to die?"

"If we have the white powder, there's no need to die, and no need for the child to be born with a disability, so please don't say such things."

"Tsk... Understood. You've never said anything wrong, Teacher."

Phew. Perhaps because it's a tough dark fantasy, people around here sometimes casually blurt out things that make my heart sink.

"But Wangcho."

Erika, who had been listening quietly, interrupted the conversation. "Wangcho, you're the boss, so why are you so devoted to the prostitutes?"

At Erika's blunt question, Wangcho's thick eyebrows twitched. He spat out, looking somewhat uncomfortable, "Why are you asking useless questions, kid? The mothers are people from my nest, and in the end, they are assets that bring in money from my brothel, so of course I have to manage them."

"Huh? Didn't Wangcho's former boss not do that? He just used them and threw them away..."

"That human and I are different, kid."

Wangcho continued his answer unnaturally, coughing in the middle. I knew the reason Wangcho reacted like that. 'He said he had many mothers.' Wangcho had no biological mother. She had passed away while giving birth to him. It was the various prostitutes of this street who raised such a Wangcho. This was because beastmen had a culture of communal child-rearing. That was why Wangcho treated the prostitutes with such care. It was because some of them might have breastfed him just like his own mother. For reference, the reason I knew this was because Wangcho was my patient. It was a fact I naturally learned while asking about his family history.

'Well, I shouldn't go around telling anyone.'

I recalled the doctor's duty of confidentiality and kept my itching mouth shut. Wangcho himself didn't seem to want to let it be known why he protected the prostitutes. I smiled brightly, pretending not to know, and buckled my briefcase.

"Anyway, thank you for your hard work. Please continue to feed them that powder medicine for the time being."

"Understood, Teacher. Oh, right."

Wangcho, who was about to turn around, suddenly remembered something and pulled a small glass bottle from inside his thick coat. And he handed the bottle to me, not hiding his disgusted expression as if he were holding a plastic bag filled with food waste.

"Did you ask for this, Teacher?"

"What's that?"

Erika's eyes gleamed with curiosity at the sight of the bottle. She reached out toward the bottle naturally. Wangcho recoiled and pulled the bottle away from her hand.

"Don't touch it, kid. What's inside isn't exactly a clean item."

"You say that and it makes me curious. Will I get hurt if I know?"

Wangcho looked at me. It was a signal asking if it was okay to tell Erika. I nodded my head... or rather, my beak. It wasn't exactly a secret, anyway. Wangcho, having received my permission, revealed the identity of the contents of the bottle.

"It's pus from a cow's udder."

"...Excuse me?"

"You've been asking me to get this for you ever since you first came down here, Teacher. So whenever a cow gets sick at the slaughterhouse and is thrown away, I bring it to you."

Erika, who heard that, looked at me in shock. "Why pus?"

"Because I need it."

"Don't tell me..."

Erika trailed off for a moment, then continued, "...Teacher, were you a dark mage?"

Tap! This time, it wasn't me.

"Hey! What kind of nonsense is that to the angel of our brothel, kid!"

"Ouch! Teacher said if you keep hitting my head, I won't get smarter! What are you doing to a precious head that will become a mage!"

"If it's a head that won't get smarter just from getting hit a little, it wasn't smart to begin with."

"Ugh..."

Erika rubbed her head where she had been hit and turned her head toward me. Perhaps because Wangcho's hand was stinging, tears were welling up in her eyes. "But really, what do you use that for, Teacher?"

I carefully put the glass bottle into my bag and answered, "I have a place to use it."

"So where is that place?"

"Do you think I'd use something like this for anything other than medicine?"

Erika's eyes narrowed at those words. She thought about something intently, then lowered her gaze to her own arm. At the end of her gaze were injection marks.

"...Teacher."

"Yes?"

"By any chance, does the medicine I get injected with contain things like that?"

"..."

"...It doesn't, right?"

I chuckled and nodded. "You saw the process of making heparin right next to me."

"Ah, right."

Erika let out a sigh of relief. I quietly turned my gaze away from her. 'I didn't use injections for that. For injections...' I had secretly applied it for vaccinations in the past, but anyway, I hadn't lied.

***

We had packed everything up. We were finally on our way home.

"You worked hard today too, Eri."

"You too, Teacher."

Erika, Otto, and I left the clinic side by side.

"Ah, and you too, Mr. Otto."

Bow. Otto, who was wearing his coat like a cape, bowed his head without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a word.

"Are you not going to greet me?"

Wangcho was added to this as well. The reason Wangcho joined us on the way home wasn't because his house was in the upper district, but because of the incident last time. After I had left Otto alone to guard me last time, the defense had been cleanly breached. Since that day, Wangcho had started volunteering to escort me home.

— "If even a scratch appears on your body, Teacher, my head might fly off."

Judging by the look in his eyes, it seemed he had received an additional request from the butler. It seemed that Otto's reliability in the heart of Butler Wilhelm had dropped after the last incident. Since it wasn't easy to find a 1st-class superhuman just anywhere, it seemed the butler had pointed to Wangcho. Tsk tsk. How did Otto end up being treated like this? Anyway, for that reason, Wangcho had come to accompany me on the way home.

"Ah, I'm hungry. I want to eat soon."

"Is there something you want to eat?"

"Everything you make is delicious, Teacher?"

"I'm glad you like it."

We chatted like that as we headed toward the upper district where the car was parked. It was because the road was a bit icy right after the heavy snow had melted, making it difficult for Otto to drive the car all the way to the front of the clinic.

The Limbus Pit at night was particularly desolate. This district, which had taken a step back from welfare and administration, could not find anything like mana gas lamps. And what usually replaced those gas lamps were the red lanterns hanging from every eave.

"But Teacher. Don't you think there are a lot of gas lamps turned off tonight?"

"..."

"Is it because they don't light well due to the heavy snow?"

Erika tilted her head. Her gaze was directed toward the end of the dark alley. That was when it happened.

Zzzzt.

One of the red lanterns ahead lit up. Blink. Before long, the light of that red lantern turned off and on once.

"...?"

Something revealed itself at the end of the alley.

"What is that?"

It was far away and the lighting was dark, so I couldn't see it well, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but it was the shape of a person. Blink. As the light blinked once, the existence had come ten steps closer. Only then did the existence's attire enter my eyes.

'A clown?'

A worn and tattered robe. A scepter with bells. A belly bulging out from under the robe. A giant clown, who looked like he was at least 2 meters tall, was striking a ballet pose.

'What the fuck.'

Blink. The fat clown twisted his body obliquely, crossed his front paws, and came ten steps closer. Blink. He stretched one leg straight and tapped the floor with his toes, coming ten steps closer. Blink. This time, he was supporting himself with one leg and lifting the other high behind him, bowing his upper body deeply forward.

"I know that! It's an arabesque!"

You don't have to explain it to me, Eri. I was already contemplating whether it was okay for someone as precious as me to be looking at something like that.

Even after that, the fat clown showed off his unnecessarily flexible body, approaching every time the lighting turned off. By the time the clown's face, which looked like it had been stitched together from rags, became visible, I felt like I vaguely knew the identity of that existence.

'The Clown King?'

The day the Ironclad Special Forces returned after finishing their mission. I remembered the photo that was in the report they submitted. It was difficult to recognize because his face was a mess, but his attire and the scepter in his hand were clues.

'I heard his head was smashed to pieces?'

Or did he dismantle the bomb well? But that wouldn't happen. I wasn't a third-rate villain who would throw someone off a cliff and feel relieved, so I had ordered them to confirm the corpse for sure.

The clown made a bubbling laughing sound.

"Oh— ho— ho—."

The clown's mouth opened, spilling black liquid between his torn lips. Only then could I know.

"Teacher. That..."

"It's a ghoul."

The ghoulified Clown King continued to dance like a ballerina as he approached. However, the Clown King's gaze was fixed on one person.

"Damn it. We made eye contact."

Wangcho spat out phlegm. The Clown King's gaze was fixed on Wangcho's face. "Teacher. I'm asking just in case, but he came to see me, right?"

I nodded my head to signify affirmation. A bit of trivia here. For naturally occurring undead, the cause of death has a major influence on their behavioral principles. Undead who died by drowning try to drown the living, undead who died of starvation try to eat the living, and undead who died of hypothermia crave warm blood. And vengeful spirits usually seek out the target of their grudge first.

"Tao Che—"

The King of Fools approached, transforming his scepter into a flail. However, before the ghoul could even finish his lament, Wangcho disappeared into the darkness.

Blink.

As the red lantern flickered once, Wangcho appeared above the Clown King's head.

"Ugh?"

Wangcho's handaxe was embedded in the clown's neck. The axe, flickering with blue energy, was half-embedded in the Clown King's neck.

"Krrk—?!"

Wangcho twisted the handaxe he had embedded. Crunch! With ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a terrible sound, the neck of the Narrenkönig turned. Wangcho, who had separated the clown's head from its giant torso, landed on the ground and said, "Hey, do you think you're on the same level as me to share a meal, you bastard?"

It was an obvious result. The opponent was the boss of numerous small point organizations in H-Sector. Compared to that, Wangcho was a superhuman who had unified D-Sector. Considering that H-Sector was scary not because they were strong, but because they were crazy, it was natural that there would be this much of a gap.

"But this guy is persistent too. Did he walk from there to here?"

Wangcho poked the corpse that had lost its head. However, that giant corpse, which should have been dead by rights, began to twitch bizarrely and floundered to grab Wangcho's ankle with its stiff arms. The head that had been shoved into the mud was the same. The two pupils revealed beyond the clown's thick makeup were rolled back white, having completely lost their sanity. The unfocused eyes were directed solely at Wangcho.

"Kaaaaaak! Hehehe... Meat...!"

With his jaw joints dislocated and vomiting black blood, the head clattered its teeth like a wild beast.

"What the fuck. Does a ghoul that was 1st-class have something different?"

"Kyaaak!"

"It's unsightly in front of the Teacher. Let's end this bad relationship here."

Wangcho clicked his tongue and was about to raise his handaxe to smash that noisy head completely, when it happened. At that moment, a calm voice cut through the Clown King's shrieks from behind the alley.

"I intended to send a knight worthy of the occasion to welcome the guest, but as expected, the lowly cannot understand nobility even in death."

"Hmm? What is it?"

Our gaze turned toward the darkness. The voice came from the alley where even the light of the red lanterns couldn't reach. Click-clack. Tap. The sound of shoes tapping on the wet stone floor approached this side. The sound of a cane tapping on the stone floor heard between the shoe sounds. Before long, the existence slowly revealed itself under the red lantern.

"Materials that are 1st-class are hard to find, so I tried using them, but as expected, it seems it was not an appropriate choice for entertaining guests."

Walking out of the darkness was a man wearing a worn frock coat and a crushed silk hat. It was like a stereotype of a fallen aristocrat. The man lifted his silk hat slightly and spoke toward me, "I apologize, Teacher Schnabel. This was not originally intended."

The man in the silk hat placed his hat in front of his chest and bowed with etiquette. "My name is Belgian. I have come to make a truly interesting proposal to you, who deals with death just like I do."

Looking at that man, I thought. Misunderstandings are all well and good, but the downside is that things like this keep getting tangled up.