Sometimes, Melodrama Is Necessary Too
“Ha…… hahahahaha!”
I'd barely said I could treat his eyes, and Count Pepper threw his head back, roaring with laughter like a madman. Then, abruptly, he stopped, his face hardening into a cold glare as he stared at me.
“Amusing. Very amusing, Count Gold.”
“Pardon? What's so—”
“Luring me in with sweet talk about mixing spices and seasonings! All so you can gouge out my eyeball? Or maybe slice it up with a knife!”
“Pardon? What are you—”
I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But before I could even process my confusion, Count Pepper's outburst continued.
“Do you take me for some ignorant fool? Do you think I haven't looked into it—that white eye surgery only restores sight in one out of a hundred cases? You're plotting to blind me completely and bring down House Pepper!”
What the hell……? So the magic tower quacks didn't just chop off limbs—they botched treatments everywhere they went?
My bewilderment didn't last. Judging from the count's flailing, like a fish out of water, those magic tower charlatans had clearly killed more than a few with their so-called “treatments.”
“Calm down and hear me out first, Count Pepper.”
“Calm down? You think I can calm down right now?! I've been betrayed by those East Continent bastards I trusted my whole life, and now you're trying to fool me too—”
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Phut!
“Wh-what did you just do!? Father? Father!”
“What happened? Did something sting……”
“Father! Fath……”
Conversations heat up when voices rise, emotions take over. And with the recipe already spilled, I couldn't just let him cherry-pick what he wanted and bolt. So I deployed the lightness skill passed down from Minsia, the Hoblood Clan's supreme matriarch. I'd learned a few other things too, but after he left Gold Territory, I'd drilled this one relentlessly.
One: To escape danger.
Two: To shut up noisy types like this.
Physically.
“Take a deep breath, sleep it off, and we'll talk when you wake up.”
From the moment his voice started climbing, I'd prepped propofol from my subspace pouch. The milky fluid went straight into the veins of Count Pepper and Marien. Seconds later, they slumped over like sacks of potatoes.
Dialogue requires a calm state to get what you want. With the count at peak hysteria, propofol was perfect for toning things down.
“Ready to wake up now?”
Thud—thud—
I circled my right arm like a windmill as I approached the snoring pair sprawled in their chairs.
One key to handling patients physically: warm-up stretches.
Smack! Clap!
“Ngh…… where……”
“Hnnng…… so sleeeepy……”
A firm cheek tap for the count who'd raised his voice at me; a gentler one for his daughter, out of courtesy. Count Pepper rubbed his blind eyes and sat up first. Lady Marien stretched like she'd enjoyed a solid nap, slowly coming to.
“That was a therapeutic sedative for short, intense rest when you're exhausted. Feeling clear-headed now?”
“Nngh…… Count Gold?”
“Huh? Oh, Father?!”
“Shh, focus, please. We can only talk comfortably if you're both calm.”
This was the isekai world. No medical laws, lawless frontier. To survive the shadows, you become the light that reveals all—or the shadow itself.
Marien, now fully alert, traced signals on her father's palm and whispered. I ignored it and pressed on.
“The formal name for white eye disease is cataract.”
“Cataract?”
“Yes. Simply put, the lens clouds over grayish-white, impairing vision. Most common from aging, but trauma or diabetes can cause it too. Let me explain the terms briefly……”
I kept it simple—even middle schoolers could follow—but clearly neither the count nor his daughter grasped it. So I broke down the lens, diabetes, and basics.
No interruptions mid-explanation; I hated hook attacks.
“To continue: I don't care what botched surgeries the magic tower…… er, quacks performed. But mine are entirely different. Surgeries that save lives, not end them.”
“Ha…… I've never heard such nonsense! They all stab or slice the eye for cataract surgery, don't they? You magic—”
Damn it. I'm a doctor, not a mage, you old coot.
I didn't say it aloud. Here, mages had the rep of licensed butchers chopping limbs. No interest in fixing that image, but I needed him to know I'm different. For my goals.
“Well, yes. Strictly speaking, I do cut the eye with a blade—”
“Knew it! You're scheming to blind me after all!”
“Hey, listen! Okay?”
“Ah, Father…… just hear him out.”
“Ahem.”
As the count kept cutting me off like taffy, I subtly pulled a syringe from my subspace pouch and dangled it. Marien urgently reined him in.
“Seeing your deep distrust, you've consulted other mages before, right?”
“Hmph, yes. Not one claimed they could fully cure it. Charlatans who couldn't even diagnose properly!”
His defensive posture—arms crossed, tongue clicking—was understandable. Cataract surgery starts with mydriatic drops to dilate pupils, exposing the lens clearly. On the table, anesthetic drops numb it—no pain, poor visibility anyway.
But limb-fetish quacks wouldn't know that.
Back on Earth, cataract surgery dated to 6th century BCE India, via Sushruta Samhita, father of surgery. The genius figured out the lens and removal.
Though his method was jabbing a needle into the eye center, bursting it……
History says he'd poke, swirl, and the lens would drop. Given the count's freakouts, isekai cataracts were probably Sushruta-level. And whatever ancient fame Sushruta had, my knowledge and skills topped it. Fact.
“Cataract surgery is a once-in-a-lifetime procedure. Its outcome shapes the rest of your life. We'd need precise scans to confirm feasibility, but yours is advanced for your age. If I may ask—how old are you, Count?”
“……Forty-five.”
I knew from Cache and Rachel's intel, but asked anyway. Creepy to know personal details upfront.
Cataracts can hit in forties. But needing support and a cane meant severe progression.
“Forty-five…… yes, quite advanced for your age.”
I adopted a grave expression.
“Feasibility requires scans, but one thing I must tell you first.”
“What?”
“The process is straightforward: remove the clouded lens, insert an artificial one. Problem: even the best artificial can't match a natural lens.”
Common patient misconception: surgery restores youthful vision.
“If artificial is inferior, isn't there a way without replacing it?”
“Unfortunately, no. The body develops optimally for its natural state—barring congenital issues. Lenses included.”
As I explained steadily, even the count started listening calmly.
“When natural lenses fail—like with cataracts—we swap for artificial to restore function. But artificial function is…… limited.”
“How limited?”
“Roughly equivalent to a natural lens in the mid-to-late forties.”
“Then……”
“Yes. It'd match vision for your age group.”
“……”
He fell silent, pondering. Then, cautiously:
“Truly…… cataract surgery would let me see again? Without risking my life?”
A faint tremor betrayed his turmoil. Though he couldn't see it, I met his gaze with resolute sincerity.
“Minor Gold, on my name, I promise: no life-threatening risks from this surgery.”
“……”
“Count Pepper. Don't you want to roam the continent again, drinking in its sights?”
“……”
“I'm the only one who can do it safely and effectively.”
“……”
Still silent. Time to close.
“It's been ages since you properly saw your daughter's face. Don't you want to again? Her bright smile?”
“……”
“She'll marry someday. Miss seeing your only daughter at her most beautiful?”
“……”
Still no? Fear that deep? Then, hesitantly:
“I'll…… do the surgery.”
“Haha, wise choice. Now, shall we revisit the mana stone count?”
Of course. Sometimes, melodrama is necessary.
And melodrama or sentiment aside, the real priority was, naturally, money.