Diagnosis is an Art.
Medical school and dental school are separate for a reason. Their curricula and what they teach are worlds apart. Sure, med school covers tooth development and such, but to a dentist, it's just surface-level stuff, like skimming a watermelon rind.
But I'm different.
As a plastic surgeon who ended up opening a general hospital, every floor of my place is packed with money-makers: internal medicine, ENT, orthopedics, dentistry, you name it.
To be precise, they're all set to move in...
I'm a perfectionist who demands flawlessness in everything. So before hiring department heads—paid doctors, or "paidocs"—for fields outside my expertise, I personally inspected and verified every surgery they perform, from risks to procedures.
These paidocs were top talents in their niches, and the salaries fitting for my hospital weren't chump change. With patient consent, I even recorded their procedures. Dentistry was no exception.
Some docs called me a pervert for obsessing over other departments' surgeries.
But if even one paidoc slipped up, it could lead to a malpractice disaster. That's why I didn't just observe—I mastered every risk and step. Of course, only a genius like me could pull that off.
"Unlike that quack mocking patients and peddling lies, here at the Beauty Tower, we can extract teeth painlessly in the cleanest, most hygienic environment imaginable!"
"What nonsense! No procedure is completely painless!"
And the loudest voice right now belonged to the tooth-puller, Clementine. He'd just been putting on a show claiming painless extractions, but his flip-flop was faster than light. I couldn't help but click my tongue.
"Mr. Tooth-Puller, drop the prejudice that if you can't do it painlessly, no one can. I can."
As Clementine twitched to spew more bullshit, I turned back to the crowd.
"The reason I can boldly claim my treatments are painless—unlike those quacks—is anesthesia!"
"What the fu—"
"Anyone who's plunged into ice water on a freezing winter day knows the feeling: your skin stings from the cold, but pinching it hurts not a bit! The anesthesia injection might sting briefly, but the extraction or treatment itself? Zero pain!"
Of course, I couldn't claim zero pain. Anesthesia blocks sensation, but the needle? That shit hurts.
"Bullshit! Never heard of anesthesia! If it exists, let Ravi try it!"
"M-Me?"
The acrobat Ravi, whom Clementine pointed at with a flourish, dropped the knife he'd been juggling mid-act.
"Your toothache's brutal, right? And no family to speak of?"
"B-Boss!"
The random low blow at this timing made my head spin. I get why Clementine doubts anesthesia—back on Earth, until modern times, painkillers were mostly cannabis, henbane, and opium.
And here? They don't even use those. No concept of anesthesia at all.
While treating patients at the Beauty Tower, I'd explained anesthesia plenty. But they probably thought, "Must not have hurt much anyway." Most were dermatological, not the limb-chopping "surgeries" of magic towers.
"Fine. If that's what you want, Mr. Clementine, we'll do it. But if my treatment is truly painless, promise you'll quit this scam and find an honest job."
"Hmph, deal! If Ravi feels no pain during the procedure, I'll disband our Tooth-Puller Troupe without a word."
Tooth-Puller Troupe... Hard to imagine how many more victims they'd scam across the continent.
"But if not! We'll sue you for damages—10 gold per person!"
The acrobat Ravi was obviously in Clementine's pocket. Even if painless, he might lie.
"Agreed. If there's any pain, 10 gold each to every troupe member."
I had my aces up my sleeve, no hesitation. The crowd cheered—the tooth-pulling show was entertainment, and our bet just spiced it up.
"Ravi, was it? Let's go."
As the head-down, criminal-like acrobat followed me toward the Beauty Tower—
"Um..."
"Yes?"
A bald man and a dozen others approached sheepishly.
"Truth is, we're Tooth-Puller Troupe too. Had to tell you before Ravi's extraction."
"Me too."
"And me."
Now they openly confessed. More troupe members than I'd spotted—my smile turned rotten.
"Got it. Troupe members, wait on the platform so we can distinguish you. After the extraction, Ravi and I will return to reveal the truth."
"Th-Thank you!"
"Thanks!"
"Ravi! Hang in there!"
Hearing them cheer him on so casually, none believed painless extraction possible.
On the dungeon zone caravan to the Beauty Tower, my crystal orb buzzed.
Walter, beside me, messaged without looking up, mindful of Ravi across the caravan.
The carriage soon reached the Beauty Tower.
"Next stop: Beauty Tower. Anyone getting off?"
"Yes! Ravi, let's go."
"Uh... y-yes."
Upon arrival, Walter headed to the basement garage for the proof flower as instructed. I took the trembling Ravi to the fifth-floor dental clinic.
Come to think of it, first time on five.
Post-isekai, I'd stuck to B1 (staff lounge), 1F (cafe and esthetics shop), 2F (pharmacy and total beauty), 9F (my bedroom ward), 10F (consults), and 11F (my office). Inspected all floors day one, but five felt new.
"X-ray first. This way."
"X... what?"
"Think of it as a photo of your teeth's condition."
"Ah... okay."
The acrobat Ravi replied with a soulless face, like death loomed. Easy to see why—he'd watched Clementine's "murderous extractions" up close.
"Hmm..."
"..."
"Hm..."
"D-Director? Aren't you treating me? Is something wrong?"
In the unit chair, I groaned at the monitor, and anxious Ravi piped up.
"This image is your X-ray. Looking at it, I'm wondering if I should treat your mouth or your ass."
"Wha? What do you—"
"What folks call 'tooth worms' are actually cavities."
"Cavities? Not worms burrowing in like earthworms?"
I nodded lightly.
"Bacteria erode teeth like worms munching—disease from tiny, invisible bugs."
Patient-friendly diagnosis, eye-level. Recalling my prof's "diagnosis is an art," I circled spots on the screen with the mouse, explaining simply.
"Here, here, here, here, here, here! Sixteen cavities."
"S-Sixteen? In me?"
Ravi's pupils shook wildly as I nodded.
"Sixteen on the X-ray. Maybe more. You skip brushing entirely?"
"Brushing...?"
"Cleaning teeth and rinsing. Skip it, and cavities keep coming."
"Euhuhuhu... euhuhuk. P-Please spare me, Director."
"...?"
Mid-explanation, Ravi burst into sobs.
"Back home, fox-like wife, rabbit-like kids—"
"Don't you have none?"
"...None, but I strive daily to change that. Never even dated properly—can't die like this! One extraction nearly kills folks; sixteen means yanking 'em all! Kill me quick—or save me! Pleeease!"
I got it now. Here, "cavity treatment = extraction."
Handing sobbing Ravi tissues, I continued.
"Listen up, Ravi. That's why anyone can't treat teeth. Sixteen cavities, but not dire—no need for extractions."
"Euhuk, spare m— Huh? What?"
"No extractions needed. Proper cavity treatment rarely requires them."
"R-Really?"
Ravi's eyes bulged in disbelief.
I'd exaggerated to scare him, but his cavities were mild—barely visible on X-ray.
Need a closer look, but crowns or inlays unnecessary. Resin fillings will do.
Time to show my skills.
"Let's begin. Say ahh~"
"Ahh—"
"Heads up: might be a bit loud."
Vrrrrrrrrr—!
"Arghraaaaaah!"