Stroma Laser Treatment
With the cataract surgeries on Earl Pepper's right eye and then his left eye both successfully completed, it was now the turn of his daughter, Marien Pepper.
"Alright, we'll proceed with the treatment right away. As I mentioned, it won't hurt and won't take long, so no need to worry."
"Y-yes... But, Earl Gold."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Um, well..."
Marien Pepper lay on the treatment table, her lips twitching anxiously as she hesitantly opened her mouth.
"Will my eyes really become the same color? And it's certain they won't revert to their original color after the treatment, right?"
I set down the laser device in my hand and gently clasped her hand in reassurance at her words, laced with unease.
"Once you undergo this procedure, there's no going back to your original eyes. Afterward, your left brown eye will match the right one—both turning the same blue. If you prefer your original eyes, we can stop right now. I won't perform any treatment against your wishes, Lady Marien."
In exchange for the spice and seasoning recipes, I'd secured three mana stones. The cataract treatments on Earl Pepper would net me seven more, and Marien's heterochromia procedure would add nine on top of that. Completing the full heterochromia treatment would bring the total from the Pepper family to nineteen mana stones.
Gold Territory still needed thirty-six to meet its quota, so even nineteen wouldn't come close. But my words to Marien were sincere.
In non-emergency situations where life isn't at stake, surgery always demands utmost caution.
The surgery to treat odd eyes was actually quite simple. However, its fatal drawback—that once the color changed, it could never revert—forced me to reconfirm her consent.
"No, it's the opposite. I was just scared that even after treatment, I might somehow go back to my original eyes... I'm sorry, Earl."
"No need for such worries. After the procedure, both eyes will be the same color forever."
"Thank you, Earl. Then... please proceed."
"Understood. Let me just finish prepping, and we'll get started."
I changed my gloves—the ones that had wrapped her hand—and slowly resumed preparations.
Good thing. Our customer isn't having second thoughts.
Unlike other surgeries or procedures, I took my time here because changing eye color took mere moments.
"Alright, here we go."
"Yes, Earl."
After swapping gloves, I activated the laser device.
Zing— Ziiing— Ziiiing—
In a warehouse on the first basement level of my hospital were piles of unused—or more precisely, unsold—products. Among them were cosmetic color contacts.
But with this world's zero hygiene standards, filthy hands popping lenses in and out would risk orbital cellulitis far more than color change. A girl hiding her odd eyes out of fear wouldn't remove them even for sleep if she got hooked.
Ziiing— Zing— Ziiiing—
That's why I opted for a permanent stroma procedure to alter eye color for good.
Who'd have thought I'd make money off stroma laser treatments? Or even perform one on a person.
The stroma laser procedure, named after the iris's tissue layer, was invented by American scientist and inventor Dr. Gregg Homer. Starting in the late 1990s, his research to change eye color culminated in 2001 with experiments turning rabbits' brown eyes blue, proving its safety. By 2009, clinical trials used low-power lasers similar to LASIK to turn human brown eyes blue.
Zing— Ziiing— Zing—
Dr. Homer's stroma laser method is ridiculously simple. I'm already more than halfway done.
The principle was astonishingly straightforward. Iris colors—brown, amber, blue, green, hazel—stem from melanin density differences. Even brown-eyed people like Marien technically have blue irises underneath. The blue base layer is just obscured by the brown pigment layer above, so we perceive only brown.
Low-power stroma lasers break down and remove that overlying brown tissue layer into tiny particles—like laser tattoo removal.
Ziiiing— Zing— Ziiiing—
Remove the brown pigment, and the natural blue beneath reveals itself. Simple as that.
Yet even in the patent-holding U.S., it never commercialized. Low demand, no government approval, and above all, ethical concerns. Mark Sheldon, ethicist at Chicago's Rush University Medical Center, directly criticized Dr. Homer and plastic surgeons.
Zing— Ziiing— Zing— Ziiing—
Not just him—countless ethicists blasted iris color change as vulgar.
They accused plastic surgeons of preying on women's insecurities, promising sharper, more alluring looks—not treating disease or pain, but hawking 'products' like merchants. No 'patients' for them, just 'customers.'
I'm a plastic surgeon. I don't fully disagree.
Before my regression, Homer wasn't stopping at brown-to-blue. He was developing commercial variants: light brown, hazel, or green to blue.
Ziiiing— Zing— Ziiiing—
But as the saying goes, technology's meaning depends on its use. Though stroma lasers were made for blue-eyed dreams, now they heal a young girl tormented by odd eyes.
And my pockets get fatter in the process.
If patient or customer alike finds satisfying compromise, isn't that decent doctoring? With that thought, I finished the stroma laser procedure.
"All good. Now for the main treatment. No pain so far, right?"
"No, Earl."
"It'll sting a bit now. When you feel sleepy, just drift off comfortably."
"Yes, Earl. When I wake up, my eye color will..."
Marien started to speak, but propofol surging through her vein knocked her out before she finished.
Stella, watching from the side, gave me a puzzled look.
"What? Something to say?"
"Well... isn't the procedure already done?"
"It is."
"But you said 'main treatment' now, and propofol too... Is there another reason?"
Oh no—I'd skipped explaining one key part. I'd briefed Stella beforehand, but this being my first stroma laser, I got too focused.
Confirming Marien was fully under, I smiled at Stella.
"It's been three years working together, hasn't it?"
"Yes."
"You've seen all sorts of patients and learned plenty—like how cosmetic or dermatology visits rack up the highest fees depending on the procedure."
"Mm... yeah? You always price those highest, right?"
"Exactly!"
Even a temple dog recites poetry after three years—Stella's picked up a keen eye from assisting me.
"Listen up, Stella. Patients seeking beauty treatments, especially big spenders, come with huge expectations. They anticipate a total transformation post-procedure."
"Sure."
I crossed my arms and nodded.
"Got it? They arrive hyped, pay a fortune they deem fair. But if it ends in under a minute—what do they think?"
"That it was quick?"
"No, besides that!"
"Um... simple procedure?"
"Bingo!"
I clenched my fist, raising my voice, and Stella flinched back a step.
"Even if it's what they wanted, if it's too easy, they'll think: 'Was this even hard? Did they rip me off?' Right?"
"...Honestly, wasn't it simple? The laser took maybe twenty seconds—"
"Hey! Be reasonable! Remember, Stella: doctors heal wounds, but not just physical—emotional ones too!"
Stella still looked baffled, but I pressed on with my philosophy.
"Especially with wealthy nobles—if it ends too fast, they get doubts: 'Was my procedure worthless?' That's an emotional wound! And what are we?"
"...Doctors who heal wounds?"
"Yes! Perfect doctors heal mind and body."
"Ooh, sounds good. I won't forget, Director!"
"Good. Tell Rebecca and Hazel too. When Lady Marien wakes, cast a healing spell and give her another propofol dose."
"Yes, Director!"
A doctor caring for both body and psyche—that's my ideal.
Nineteen mana stones. I'll put them to good use.
A day enriching my heart and wallet.