Everything Is Already Prepared
“Do we really need to look human?”
“We do. Half of us is human. But humans see half-orcs like us and freak out. They hate us.”
Jason—not the chainsaw murderer, mind you—answered Rachel's question with a gloomy expression, and she nodded lightly in response.
“There's no legal issue if the Count hires half-orcs. But this isn't the Squinoa Mountains where subhumans live; it's human territory. Humans set the standard here.”
Rachel shifted her gaze to the half-orcs and continued.
“Humans get attacked if they even accidentally cross into the Squinoa Mountains. They harbor hostility toward orcs because of that. And these guys? Their faces scream 'orc' at first glance. I don't know what the Count plans to have them do, but people will feel repulsed. Some might even feel outright enmity.”
Her explanation made sense. The Initiium Empire and the subhuman alliance had halted their mutual slaughter, but that didn't mean the war was over—it just meant a ceasefire.
The emotional chasm must run deep. Thousands died on both sides in the last battles alone.
They didn't have the sharp fangs protruding like pureblood orcs, nor their dark green skin. But at a glance, their faces were pure orc. Especially those shovel jaws—protruding so severely they'd make the Habsburgs look cute by comparison.
“Even orcs don't welcome us. We didn't fight in the Squinoa Mountains battles. But humans treat us like pureblood orcs. We don't hurt humans! We're half-human!”
Jason dropped to his knees before me, pleading their case.
“We didn't choose to look like this. We've been this way since birth. If we could... we'd want normal human faces... just that...”
“And what would you do then?”
“...?”
Jason, who had been whimpering in a low, metallic rasp, lifted his head in surprise.
“If you could have a normal human face, what would you do?”
He clamped his mouth shut, pondering for a moment. Then he slowly opened it, the metallic rasp leaking out again.
“It'd never happen, but... if I could have a normal human face... I'd go to a restaurant.”
“...Huh?”
“The little things that aren't special to humans—the everyday stuff they take for granted. I'd want to experience that normal life—”
“Wait, hold up. What are you even talking about? I'm not asking what you want to do. I'm asking what you'd do for the person who could change your face.”
“...Ah!”
This half-orc was dense. Jason blinked his bulging eyes, finally getting it, then smirked crookedly.
“If such a being existed—one who could do what even gods can't—I'd worship and revere them like a god. Though that'll never happen... Why do you ask?”
Worship and reverence. Not bad. Put those together, and it's basically a resume volunteering for salt farm slavery.
“Rachel, Walter and I will vouch for them. Hire them at the Beauty Tower and handle their housing.”
“...Really?”
“Director?”
Rachel and Walter stared at me in surprise, while the Jason crew gawked even wider, eyes practically watering like worship was about to commence any second.
But I raised a hand to cut off their melodrama before it started and turned back to Rachel.
“Process their full-time registration first.”
Worship and reverence. That sealed their utility.
* * *
My hospital, mansion, and the territory granted by the emperor were all in Gold Territory, but we still lacked territory residents and an administrative office. So today, as usual, I handled the half-orcs' territory registration and Beauty Tower full-time employee paperwork through the Frederik Territory office by proxy.
And now, I'd arrived back at the hospital with all 22 of them.
On the way, I'd updated Cache via crystal orb, so I led them straight to the B1 staff lounge cafeteria, where we sat in a circle around the tables.
“N-No way! You can fix our faces... make us look human... Is that for real?!”
Jason, self-appointed rep for the half-orcs, had been buzzing with excitement ever since I dropped the news upon arrival.
“To be precise, it's not 'fixing'—it's plastic surgery to make you look however you want. Your current appearance isn't 'wrong' or anything.”
“Unbelievable... A magic tower like this in the boonies...”
“Human magic towers just amputate everything, they say. Can't believe it!”
“Hurry! I wanna look human! Live like Mom! Hate Dad's face!”
The half-orcs couldn't hide their thrill, erupting in cheers.
“Okay, settle down—we haven't even started. First, everyone take off those masks and tuck them away.”
“Ah, got it. Sorry.”
Now that they were at the Beauty Tower, they'd be valuable workers. They needed to fit our image.
Whew... I just can't handle those.
They weren't actual chainsaw killers, but those hole-riddled masks triggered my PTSD like hole-phobia central. Hard to consult with masks on.
The Jasons stowed their hideous masks, and I continued.
“Your builds are a bit bigger than average humans, but not ogre-sized like pureblood orcs. And your skin tone matches humans'.”
“Yeah. No fangs like matrilineal hybrids.”
“Matrilineal hybrids? What's that mean?”
Before diving into treatment details, I pressed Jason on his comment. He frowned slightly and opened his shovel jaw.
“Unlike other subhuman mixes, orc hybrids look different based on patrilineal or matrilineal. Matrilineal means orc mom, patrilineal means orc dad.”
“They look different?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. Hybrids might be smaller or weaker than purebloods sometimes, but they look the same otherwise. Matrilineals aren't discriminated against in orc society.”
“So... you're all patrilineals?”
Jason nodded, shoulders slumping.
“Orcs are huge from birth—bigger than humans. Patrilineal moms all die giving birth. That's why we're abandoned right away. 'They ate their moms coming out,' they say.”
“...”
“But even patrilineals have half orc blood. We survive being abandoned as kids. So... give us work, and we'll bust our asses.”
“Y-Yeah! We can work hard! Harder than oxen or horses!”
“Don't even need feeding! We'll forage ourselves!”
Eyes watering at memories of their deadbeat orc dads, they begged me for jobs.
I'm gonna give you work anyway—no need to grovel. But damn... maternal mortality...
From my 100% human perspective, interspecies marriage was shocking enough. But if patrilineal orc births were common, this was a serious issue.
Human pelvises can't compare to orcs', but... how beefy are these babies that moms die right after?
With this world's medicine? No postpartum care, barely any proper OB-GYN. Midwives at best, obviously.
C-section could slash maternal death rates for orc-pregnant women. But shake off the thoughts—focus on the Jasons now!
“Everyone, calm down. I can feel your burning passion and will to work. And as a doctor, I sense how badly you want change.”
Intense stares from their deep-set eyes locked on me. Seeing their desperation warmed my heart—indirectly, anyway. The more they craved surgery, the wider their wallets opened.
“The surgery to make you look like normal humans? It's called double jaw surgery.”
“Double... jaw... surgery? Never heard of it.”
“Me neither. Surgery sounds scary. They gonna cut something off?”
“I'm scared, but I'll do it... Wanna look human.”
Murmurs rippled through the half-orcs. I raised a hand to quiet them.
“Surgery uses anesthesia—drugs to knock you out cold, so no pain.”
“Ooh! That's a relief—”
“But double jaw surgery requires cutting. Gotta saw the jawbones.”
“...J-Jawbones?!”
“Saw the jawbone?!”
They'd gotten excited about looking human without grasping the details. Hence the horror-struck faces.
“Double jaw means operating on upper and lower jaws at once.”
Typically for fixing malocclusion untreatable by orthodontics alone, or abnormal facial structure. For orcs, it'd heal aesthetic and emotional wounds.
“One issue, though. It's very expensive.”
“H-How much...?”
“We got no money. Can't we work it off?”
Their faces twisted at "cost." But I smiled brightly.
I had a plan.
“Haha, no worries if you're broke. Just borrow the money.”
“Ooh! For real?! But who’d lend us?”
“Don't sweat it—put on your masks and follow me. I know a specialist.”
I stepped out of the lounge first, pulling out my crystal orb and fiddling carefully with my fingers.