I Wish We Had O-Type Blood.
“Die! Die, you cult bastards!”
“My year! How are you gonna compensate me for my year?!”
“It’s a mouse tit! You mouse-tit bastard!”
It started with the very first corn patient he'd treated, followed by the wart patient, the mouse-tit patient, and the mole patient. The treatments for all those things they'd mistaken for witches' marks, symbols of demon pacts, were finally over.
“Kuhhhehh! Sp-spare me... Kuhhek!”
“You dog bastard! Cult scum! Dog bastard!”
“St-stop, pl-please... stooop...!”
And now the Black Moon Church cultists were getting beaten like dogs in the dog days of summer right in front of the Beauty Tower.
Serves you right. Why'd you have to peddle that bullshit with skin conditions? And right in front of a doctor, no less.
“Director, that's 23 gold, 6,529 silver, and 9,751 copper!”
“Here's the list of usable items too.”
As the cultists continued to get the thrashing of their lives, Cache and Walter finished reporting on the tasks I'd assigned them.
“Hmm... nothing really usable here? I'll get the explanation on this later. Cache, divide the donation box money among the four patients.”
“Four people— what about the amount that doesn't divide evenly?”
“You know.”
“Haha, got it. Should I handle the gold the same way?”
I nodded silently, and Cache flashed a grin as she slipped the 23 gold and the uneven remainder into the Cash Shop till.
Cache is perfect as long as she doesn't touch the booze.
“Trash! Forcing people into a year of slave labor! Are you even human? Human?!”
“Huhu-huk... After I got excommunicated, no one would talk to me! Like a shadow! Living alone like an outcast!”
“Kuhheee... Spare... kuhheee...”
The Black Moon priests had held out at first by casting healing magic on each other amid the blows. But now their mana was tapped out—they couldn't even use spells anymore, their bodies a mess of bruises and blood.
What the cultists had done was blatant fraud. But as a doctor, I couldn't just stand by and watch them get beaten to the brink of death, so I approached the people laying into them with steady steps.
“Everyone, I know you've been deeply hurt—deceived by these cult priests—but as a doctor, I can't just stand here and let this continue.”
I spoke as if trying to calm them, but the fury of those who'd been branded witches and warlocks, those endlessly extorted by the Black Moon Church, showed no signs of fading.
Snap—
Standing before the bloodied, dirt-caked victims on the street, I snapped my fingers. The invisible dragon perched on my shoulder cast a healing spell.
“But... didn't you say you weren't a mage? Yet you're using healing magic?”
“Something like that. Any of you locals in need of healing magic, feel free to stop by anytime.”
—Minor, all done.
“Healing magic's finished. You can all get back to what you were doing.”
“Uhuhu-huk! Thank you, Director! Now I can finally vent my resentment!”
“Kuhhek! D-demon...!”
“Shut up! You're the demon, you bastard!”
“Kwaaaak!”
The enraged crowd's beating went on without end—not a single onlooker who hadn't landed at least one hit. About two hours later, the long pummeling finally wrapped up.
“Cache, divide the money among the patients.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Walter, drag our priest friends inside the hospital.”
“Understood.”
Sipping tea in the first-floor cafe, I watched Walter drag in the three priests, bound with rope.
That was a figure of speech, but he took it literally...
I'd have to watch my words when giving Walter orders from now on.
“Kuuu...”
“Uhuk... Uhuhu-huk...”
“Kuhheee...”
Moments later, the three priests were dumped at my feet. Looking down at them leisurely over my steeped tea brought a thick wave of unethical depravity—and a thrill of pleasure.
“Priests, I cast healing magic on you, so you're all good as new. Pull yourselves together and sit properly.”
““......””
“That's weird. Can't you hear me? What do you think, Walter?”
Shing—
“Ah, sitting!”
“M-me too!”
“Me!”
“Me too!”
Humans really are fascinating creatures. Why make it so complicated when you're gonna do it anyway?
“First off, priests, you remember our bet, right?”
“The bet...? My head's fuzzy from the beating, memories are...”
I could practically hear leader George's brain whirring. Josephine, Joy, Jonathan, and the other Jo's all hastily averted their eyes, united in denial of reality.
“Hmm... fair point.”
“R-right! I really can't remem—”
“Lying! Walter?”
“Heeik!”
Shing—
At the sound of Walter drawing his sword from his belt, the Jo's flung themselves flat on the floor, trembling.
“We could talk nicely, so why make it complicated?”
“I-I remember!”
“We bet our lives!”
“Pl-please spare us!”
Looks like we're finally ready for an honest chat. Should've done this from the start.
“By the rules of our fair bet, I should end your miserable lives, but I'm a doctor who saves people, not an undertaker. So how about we settle for some useful items from you instead? Sound good? No need to speak—just nod.”
“Wh-who could object!”
Aside from the donation box they'd been shaking people down with, the cultists didn't have much of value. Except for a few items.
“As expected from such noble priests—barely anything worthwhile. Can't go without compensation for the victims, though, so we'll take these little things.”
I crooked a finger, and Walter handed Crystal Orbs to the cultists.
“You know what to do? Crystal Orbs require user cancellation like Subspace Pouches, right?”
“B-but then we won't be able to contact anyone...”
“You won't?”
“Pardon?”
“How's a dead man gonna make calls?”
“Uhhek! R-right, canceling now!”
Just once, and they'd get it. No need to waste breath.
The first things I'd seized from the Black Moon priests were their donation box and Subspace Pouches. I'd learned from the one Walter gifted me, like a lucky charm bag: Subspace Pouches lock to their owner even if stolen. To unlock? Either the owner does it themselves... or they die.
And the Crystal Orbs from their pouches had locks too.
“Kuh-huk... All... all done.”
“Thanks.”
George handed over the three reset Crystal Orbs with trembling hands that screamed he hated every second. I snatched one up, handing one to Walter and one to Cache.
“Minor! Me! Where's mineee!”
“Res is family. We're always together.”
“Ehehe, right?”
Can't give valuables to beasts.
One Crystal Orb left for me, but as the saying goes, pearls before swine. Can't waste it.
In this world, Crystal Orbs were multi-tools. From the simple color-display ones in magic towers to the Black Moon Church's all-purpose versions.
This is the isekai smartphone—no data fees. Clunky, but hey.
Black Moon priests get issued these. Rare outside production, with wireless video calls and tons of features. I'd figure out the manual later.
“Think we've taken enough from you three. Time to go your separate ways. No more scams from now on.”
“N-no!”
Suddenly, the Jo's prostrated themselves, shaking.
The sudden shift caught me off guard.
“We have nowhere to go now!”
“Please, take us in!”
“Spare us! We'll die out there!”
What's with these guys? Some scheme?
“If priests mess up a heresy judgment, the Black Moon Church excommunicates them. First time in continental history, though.”
Cache sidled up and whispered.
Oh? Lost lambs with no home?
With their karma, finding work post-excommunication would be tough. Their world would be like a crooked cop's life in prison.
But questions lingered. Can't seem too easy.
“Take you in? Me? Why?”
Amateur move.
“B-but!”
“Nah, your story doesn't add up. You all use healing magic—head to a magic tower. They're hiring mages like crazy.”
“Th-that's...”
George hemmed and hawed; Josephine and Jonathan eyed him.
Hate to say it? Fine. Minimal help.
Shing—
A subtle nod, and Walter's sword slid out like an automatic door. Instant reaction.
“Heeik! Sp-spare us!”
“I-I'll tell everything!”
“Josephine! What the—!”
Oh, infighting already? Time to help.
“Quiet, everyone. Josephine talks from now on. Open your mouth if you wanna lose your head.”
“B-but Josephine's lower rank than—”
“Rank matters now?! We're dead anyway!”
“You bitch!”
Shing—
“Kuhk...”
Quick judgment, swift pivot. My type.
People like her are easy to mold with the right incentives and favor.
Josephine steadied her breath, eyes resolute as she met mine.
“The Black Moon Church and magic towers are closely tied. We didn't come here for nothing.”
...Ah, got it.
“The magic tower sent you?”
My low tone made her nod vigorously.
“Yes. We were instigated by the Wind Tower in the Frederik Dungeon Zone to come here. To bring down their rival, the Beauty Tower.”
Her casual confession sent chills down my spine.
Cache had warned me after the tower visit, but a direct attack like this?
And trying to brand me a heretic for a year of labor reeducation?
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression—straight to acceptance in the five stages of grief. Situation clear.
“Sigh... So with the plan failed—me in labor camp, Beauty Tower down—you'll get death threats from the tower mages?”
“Not threats—we will get killed! Can't go back to the church either.”
“Hmm...”
Picture forming. What Josephine wants.
“I'll do anything well! The Black Moon Church is a cult!”
“Jo-Josephine! What—!”
“......What?”
“Hired.”
And how I'd use them.
“Josephine's leader from now on among you four. Don't like it? Leave... or chat with Walter.”
Shing—
“N-no!”
“No objections!”
“Of course!”
“Thank you, Director! We'll work hard!”
Fast pivot. Josephine's my favorite of the Jo's.
“Follow me then, Jo's. I'll assign your tasks.”
“Anything, we'll do our best!”
New leader Josephine's eyes burned. Good fire.
“But... what will we be doing?”
“Lots of things, but today: blood donation.”
“Blood... donation?”
“It'll sting a bit. Let's go.”
No money but wanna pay for food? Nothing beats blood.
I wish we had O-type blood.