Pinhole Cell Treatment
"From now on, it might get a bit noisy. It won't hurt much, but try not to flinch from the sound."
Since we'd gone with local anesthesia instead of general, the PoDoSongi mercenary could hear me loud and clear.
Beedle-beep— tick— beedle-beedle-beep—
I pressed the foot switch connected to the CO2 laser and dove into the full reconstruction surgery.
'Pinhole cell treatment. It's been ages.'
Pinhole cell treatment was a technique designed to treat burn scars and the scars left after skin grafts. It used a CO2 laser to drill precise holes into the scar tissue at even intervals, matched to the scar's depth.
Beedle-beep— tick— beedle-beep—
'It punches tiny holes in the skin to soften the rigid, clumped abnormal collagen.'
Pinhole cell treatment was labor-intensive and the process dragged on forever. But for jagged scars like these—after excising the tumor—it was the only way to smooth them out and restore the skin's texture to something close to normal. It was practically a symbol of modern medicine's explosive progress!
'And the most effective method I know.'
The PoDoSongi mercenary was one tough bastard. Most patients flinched at the unexpectedly harsh laser whine when pinhole cell treatment started, but he didn't twitch or groan once throughout the whole thing.
Beedle-beep— tick— tick— beedle-beedle-beep—
Of course, pinhole cell wasn't a miracle cure. Since it worked by regenerating skin toward normal, you needed at least a month's downtime after each session.
'But I've got my dragon for that.'
After finishing the first session, I raised my right arm and traced a circle in the air. Without missing a beat, the dragon cast a healing spell on the PoDoSongi mercenary. I could feel the warm energy seeping into me too, right there beside him.
Once the dragon's healing wrapped up, the mercenary's stiff skin definitely felt softer to the touch.
'As expected... pinhole cell. Way better already.'
Tack— tak— tack— tacka-tacka-tack!
For the second session, I cranked up the laser output right away. My hand holding the laser moved exactly as I'd planned beforehand, and my foot synced the foot switch to the tempo of my hand's angle and motion.
Tack! Tacka-tacka-tack! Tacka-tak!
By the third session, I'd maxed out the laser power. We powered through the fourth and fifth sessions nonstop, and nine hours had passed since we started.
My stamina was fading, and the gold I'd fed the dragon was running dry too.
"Whew... That's it for this surgery. Now, slowly get up from your—"
Swish—
Before I could finish, the PoDoSongi mercenary was already on his feet. He strode out to the waiting room on his own.
"...You did good too, dragon."
I muttered just loud enough for the dragon to hear, and the transparent fluffball latched onto my shoulder, rubbing its fuzzy fur against me. I wanted to pry it off right then, but I was too drained, and the mercenary was standing stock-still outside the waiting room. Summoning every ounce of patience, I held back.
Hell, even moving to shake it off felt like too much effort.
—Huh? Maaainer! The PoDoSongi mercenary right now...
Screech—
I slammed the surgery room door to the waiting room shut before the dragon could finish. Then I whispered, just for its ears.
"Don't forget. When a man—a grown-ass adult—cries, you pretend you didn't see it."
And with that, I stayed put in the surgery room for a good while.
* * *
"I offer my heartfelt thanks. And... I deeply apologize for my rudeness last time."
"I... I can really feel your sincerity."
Once the PoDoSongi mercenary's sobs fully subsided, I stepped out of the surgery room—transparent hatchling perched on my shoulder—and faced him.
He dropped to one knee, head bowed, expressing both gratitude and apology at once. Still in his patient gown and those worn flip-flops.
'This is getting awkward... Suddenly going all super formal feels off too.'
As goosebumps prickled my skin from the overly earnest gesture,
"My name is Walter Hager. I swear on my name to repay this grace until my dying breath."
"Haha... Grace? I was just doing my job as a doctor."
'So? When do those 3,000 gold come out?'
I was starting to itch for it. Of course, my honest inner voice didn't reach Walter—or the former PoDoSongi mercenary. He kept gazing at me with those deep, burdensome eyes.
"Ah! My apologies. I forgot the treatment fee."
"Haha, no rush. Let me guide you to the changing room first. Your belongings are safely stowed there."
I punched in the locker code for him, and Walter emerged in his ragged, reeking old clothes. He pulled out a palm-sized cloth pouch and showed it to me.
'No way... He's not trying to pay with that tiny thing, is he?'
Physically impossible for 3,000 gold to fit in there. The moment that thought crossed my mind,
Swoosh—
"Wh-whoa?! His, his arm!"
No time to react—Walter's arm plunged into the pouch like it was being sucked in. His thick forearm vanished past the elbow, and my vitals spiked like crazy.
"...Huh?"
But the shock didn't end there. What I'd thought was severed clean off—the mercenary's arm—reemerged from the brown pouch, now fist-sized, pulling out two sheaths longer than his forearm. He set them down on the floor.
Thud! Thud!
A heavy clink-clank from inside. No need to check—I knew those sheaths held the gold he'd promised.
"First time seeing a subspace pouch, I take it? I have a spare, so please take one as well."
"A subspace pouch?"
Walter shoved his arm back in, rummaging around. Moments later, he handed me a red pouch like his—plump, like a gourd.
"It's made with magic. Time doesn't flow inside, so it's great for storing odds and ends or food. Please accept it."
"Looks valuable... Thank you. I'll take it."
I hadn't even asked. If he was offering, no need to play polite.
I took the red subspace pouch but didn't inspect it. No need—it was obviously like an inventory bag from a game. Right now, focus on the money.
"2,500 gold in each sheath."
"Ah, thank you. If you could add 500 more to one—"
"No need. Both are for you, Director."
"...?"
My initial quote was 2,000 gold. He'd upped it to 3,000. 'But now 5,000? Two hundred million more? Plus a subspace pouch I can't even price?'
When people encounter something they can't comprehend, fear kicks in. Why more than promised? The amount was too huge to just ask—but joy was giving way to dread. No one hands over this kind of fortune lightly.
"It's not without strings, so no need to be shocked. It's also a plea for your help with the remaining treatments."
No Kim Young-ran Act in this world anyway. Honestly, I just wanted to bury my face in those gold-stuffed sheaths and sniff that metallic tang. But nothing comes free.
So I masked my greed and probed.
"What strings? The promised 3,000 gold is plenty for your treatment. 2,000 more is a fortune."
"Use me."
"Use you? You mean... work at my hospital? The Beauty Tower?"
Walter nodded at my puzzled question.
"I wandered the continent to lift the curse on my face... no, this neurofibromatosis tumor. But nowhere did I find someone like you, Director—truly dedicated to healing others. With skills to match."
The stoic Walter was suddenly pouring it on thick, gilding my reputation.
'I just needed the money...'
My conscience twinged a bit, but all I could do was nod with a faint smile, like every word rang true.
"So let me be your sword."
"...Pardon? Your sword?"
He nodded at my baffled repeat.
"You don't seem to grasp your own power yet, Director. You've performed miracles no priest or mage could. If others with power learn the true scope of your medicine, it could be dangerous."
"No... that serious?"
"It is that serious!"
Walter raised his voice like he was scolding me.
"Your medicine reaches the heavens! Let me stand by your side, protect it so it can help sufferers like me. I may not be the continent's best, but my skills aren't lacking. No need for pay—just let me stay."
"... "
A bodyguard knight? Paying to work for free? Bizarre situation.
Thud!
Sweet offer, but as that thought hit, Walter dropped to one knee again, head bowed. Iron resolve radiated from his unseen face.
'Bodyguard, huh... He's offering unpaid labor. Not bad. From that guild sword draw, he's no newbie swordsman.'
The dragon was just a gold-guzzling backup battery. Useful for misc stuff, but unreliable for protection. And as Walter said, as I built my place here, troublemakers would multiply.
"Mm... Alright. You're hired. Partners get paid, though not much."
"Doesn't matter! Thank you!"
A beaming thirty-something uncle. Tumor gone, he looked his age—decent face too, scars aside.
'Plenty of uses for a guy like that.'
Right now he looked age-appropriate, but groomed right, more than just muscle.
"Now, I should learn everyone's names here. What's that hatchling's?"
"...?"
"The invisible one. Hiding from shyness? It stuck by you invisible through surgery—loyal companion."
"You can see the invisibility?"
"More like sense it. With aura, not eyes."
I didn't know aura, but Walter's skills seemed impressive. Then,
Swish—
The dragon dropped invisibility, hopped off my shoulder, and waddled to the emergency stairs with slumped shoulders, pushing the door open alone.
"Dragon? Where you going?"
Weirdly, no reply. Walter tilted his head, puzzled, and asked me.
"Wait... 'Dragon' is its name?"
"Name? Dragon's just Dragon... Ah?"
Wait, was it? Come to think of it, no one knew the dragon's name. Not even me, its legal owner.
"We'll figure that later. Something more important now."
"Important?"
"First, a makeover. Follow me."
My first male employee in hand, I dragged Walter to the total beauty care shop I'd planned for the Beauty Tower's second floor corner.
And picked up the scissors.