The Soprano Who Can't Hit High Notes
The woman we'd invited as the guest soprano for the Gold Territory promotional concert was Daprone. She was a soprano who couldn't hit high notes. And no matter how I thought about it, the ones who should be bewildered right now weren't her—it was Cache and me.
"Hic... sob, hic-sob..."
After her high note cracked badly, Daprone collapsed flat on the floor and began wailing.
"..."
It wasn't easy to understand why she was bursting into tears like this during an audition. But her desperate, pitiful sobbing was throwing me off.
"...Cache? Do sirens cry a lot like this?"
"Hmm, I've never heard that. Just that they have richer emotions than humans? This is my first time seeing one up close too. For now..."
"Hm?"
Just as we were waiting, arms crossed, for Daprone—who was sobbing like she'd lost her country—to calm down, Cache wiped the smile from her face and strode over to her.
"Lady Daprone. Are you alright?"
"Sniff-hic, so, sorry. I just got overwhelmed with emotion—"
"Get out."
"...Pardon?"
"Audition's over. Go cry outside. And you're rejected."
Cache had an uncanny nose for money. And if there was no scent of profit, she showed no mercy, no matter the sob story.
"Hic-sob, so-sorry. I'll go right—"
"Yes, please leave quickly. We're running way behind. Just go back the way you came."
My right-hand woman, Cache, faithfully embodied the ancient wisdom that time is money in any situation.
"Daprone, hold on a second."
But Cache still had a ways to go in her training. She'd missed the faint whiff of pure gold emanating from this siren crying like a kid who'd had her toy snatched by the neighborhood bully.
'Of course, only a doctor like me could pick up on that scent.'
I flashed a subtle smile at Cache's puzzled expression and turned to Daprone.
She stopped her hiccuping sobs and looked up at me with teary eyes.
"Before you go, one question: that footage in the crystal orb—is that from a few years ago?"
"Y-yes... I was 22 then, so three years ago."
Three years ago. That meant something could have gone wrong with her throat in the meantime. If not...
"Was it edited or manipulated?"
"N-no! Crystal orb footage can't be faked, and even if there was a way, I never would! Sirens are serious about their singing!"
With micro-expressions already activated, I could tell she was sincere. But I tilted my head as if still doubting her, buying time to seize the advantage.
If my hunch was right and she was in that situation, I needed the upper hand first.
"Really? That makes it even harder to understand. In the crystal orb, you had explosive vocal power and nailed the high notes. But today, they came out all gravelly."
"Th-that's..."
As Cache said, sirens must be emotional—Daprone's eyes welled up again.
Swoosh—
"If you're gonna cry, leave. If there's a reason, stop crying and explain properly."
I cut her off with a casual hand gesture. Right now, I wasn't the director of Beauty Tower—I was the lord of Gold Territory. No need for the warm bedside manner I used on patients.
"W-well... It was around winter three years ago. After a show, I ate like usual, but my throat felt a little sore—different from normal. Then the phlegm got worse, coughing started, and my voice got rough like this. And after a bit more time... I just couldn't hit high notes at all."
"So it started then..."
"It's true, my lord! This isn't my real voice—it used to be so much clearer and purer. I wasn't trying to deceive you!"
Of course she wasn't lying. A close exam would confirm it, but her symptoms screamed laryngitis. And if laryngitis wrecked her voice, it wasn't incurable.
"Hm, we'll know once I check. Daprone, do you know what I do before being lord of Gold Territory?"
"You're the master of the magic tower..."
Master of the magic tower. Accurate, but not my favorite title. In this isekai, "magic tower" and "mage" were more common than "hospital" and "doctor." Can't be helped.
"I'm called that, but first and foremost, I'm a doctor—specifically, a plastic surgeon."
"Ah, yes. I've heard from adventurers at the guild. You can change people's looks to whatever they want with that mystical magic—"
"Not magic—medicine."
"...Yes. You have this medicine called plastic surgery."
Good thing she knew the basics; years of operating here had made my hospital and reputation somewhat familiar locally.
"Right. I handle other fields too, but my specialty is plastic surgery. And with a precise exam, depending on the case, I might be able to 'plastic surgery' your voice too."
"C-can you reshape a voice?"
I nodded lightly at her wide-eyed stare.
"Voice plastic surgery isn't like rhinoplasty or double-eyelid surgery at Beauty Tower—totally changing your voice to something else. But treating damage or enhancing your original voice to be stronger? That's possible."
Voice surgery wasn't magic. No martial arts novel tricks like altering your uvula for a new voice.
"Ah, ahh..."
My words sparked a glimmer of hope; a soft whimper escaped her lips.
"Daprone, I just said it's possible—don't get like this, or it'll be trouble—"
"If you can restore my voice, I'll do anything!"
"Anything?"
"Yes! Anything! Please, please bring my voice back, my lord!"
Perfect. Now she had the right attitude. I'd already planned how to cash in.
"Oh my~ Why are you still on the floor? Come on, up you get. Director, I'll escort the patient. Which floor?"
Cache, with her nose for money, sprang into action the moment she sniffed profit. Her eyes sparkled, posture ramrod straight—a total 180 from before.
Attitude flipping just for the scent of gold. Cache still had a long way to go.
"Take her to ENT on the third floor. We'll start with tests."
* * *
"Hmm..."
"Wh-what is it, my lord? Don't tell me it's incurable?"
After the precise exam in ENT on the third floor, I was analyzing Daprone's condition on the monitor. She peered at it too, but a layperson wouldn't understand.
"Traces of laryngitis."
"Laryngitis... like a cold?"
I shook my head at her question.
"The larynx is the part of the throat that produces sound and blocks foreign objects from the airway. Inflammation there usually follows a cold or respiratory illness—common in winter with cold winds and big temperature drops."
"I don't get it... I didn't go anywhere dirty..."
Daprone gently cradled her throat like precious treasure, utterly baffled.
"Winter means big indoor-outdoor temp swings. And cold weather weakens immunity."
"Immunity?"
"Your body's resistance to pathogens. Back home, we had 'fight fire with fire'—hot tea in scorching heat or ice swims in midwinter. Extreme stuff."
"Ah! I've seen knights train like that! If I'd—"
"You'd be dead."
"Eek?"
"Someone with low immunity like you? You'd be picking out a grave."
Body temp ties closely to immunity. Generally, a 1°C rise boosts white blood cell activity 5x; a 1°C drop cuts it 30%. Testing "heat beats heat" like folk remedies can kill—especially if your immunity's weak. Low immunity means fatigue, vulnerability, diseases like Daprone's laryngitis turning her into a high-note-less soprano.
"Plus, winter's dry air weakens respiratory mucosa, spiking laryngitis. Most cases clear in a week with rest and hydration—but you didn't manage that, huh?"
"N-no! Before shows, I always ate raw eggs to keep my throat moist! Though after, I'd be too drained for food or water..."
Raw egg folk remedies even here? Salmonella risk made me shake my head.
"Oh dear, even in my world, singers swore by raw eggs for throat care. But it doesn't help your voice."
"What? No way! All sirens do it for—"
"Then go ask the other sirens."
"..."
I try to empathize with patients, but I hate ones like Daprone spouting unproven folk nonsense. Especially unscientific ones.
"Eggs have vitamins, amino acids, protein, minerals. But raw? You absorb half at best."
"Only half...?"
"Yeah, uncooked nutrients don't fully absorb."
Throat has esophagus for food, trachea for air. Epiglottis blocks food from trachea. Raw eggs slide down esophagus to stomach via epiglottis—larynx and vocal cords are on the airway side, untouched.
"So, thinking the moisture and softness helps your cords? Unproven myth."
"Then let's treat it now."
"R-right now?"
"I'll fix it right away. That high note you lost."