No Way... Is It the Eye Difference?
Kellogg's first surgery had begun, and the second week of December was cleared of all appointments. He planned to devote the entire week to Kellogg's treatment.
"Good. No need to walk faster—just keep going slowly like that. Rushing could make things worse, so take it easy."
"Got it."
Using healing magic from Rebecca, Hazel, and Stella appropriately, the surgeries had started on Monday with the first one, proceeding once a day until the fourth and final surgery yesterday, Thursday.
'Nice, the knee's extending 100%.'
And finally, Friday—the first day of rehab. The physical therapy room was on the seventh floor, equipped with just about every exercise facility imaginable.
"Well done. Now, hold the support and try walking backward, step by step."
"Like this?"
"Perfect. Keep going just like that. No rush—nice and slow."
Under Minho's guidance, Kellogg began practicing slow backward steps in the pool therapy area inside the physical therapy room.
"Now, grab the right support with both hands and sidestep like a crab. Turn your body slowly and grip the bar first. Good."
Aquatic therapy used the water's buoyancy to allow walking and movement with less weight-bearing stress on bones and newly lengthened muscles, helping prevent muscle loss.
'He can handle all this... I'll make good use of it.'
The rental fees for the aquatic therapy equipment must have been piling up, but what could he do? He was stuck in this isekai world.
Before the pool work, Kellogg had undergone stationary bike therapy without a saddle to stimulate his quadriceps and glutes, plus shockwave therapy.
"Alright, last one—walk over to me on your own."
In truth, with healing magic perfecting the surgery, Kellogg had probably sensed it himself even without Minho saying anything.
Lifted out of the pool with a crane and set back on the physical therapy room floor, Kellogg asked, "Without the supports?"
Minho nodded at the faint tremor in his voice. Then, one step at a time, Kellogg walked toward him—purely on his own leg power, no wheelchair, no crutches.
With each step, the growing vibration from Kellogg's body wasn't a surgical side effect; that much was obvious.
"Thank you."
"You did great."
Like weeks ago, Kellogg gripped Minho's outstretched hand with his callus-covered palm. But this time, he'd walked over and reached out entirely under his own power.
* * *
Limb lengthening rehab normally couldn't wrap up in a single day. But for Kellogg—with dwarven muscle flexibility and resilience combined with Minho's skills and healing magic—he could walk and even jump right away without further therapy.
'The rehab was more like a final checkup for him. Just confirming everything had recovered perfectly to original function.'
"I'll never forget this favor, Miner. I'll head to Breath of Fire and make sure to return without delay."
"You better come back. We've still got time left on the contract."
"Haha, of course. Looks like my carriage is here—time to go."
"Safe travels. And don't forget the rehab exercises I taught you—keep at them steadily, just in case."
"Thanks, Miner! Take care, everyone!"
Kellogg's contract with the Beauty Tower had a year left. But he wanted to show his changed self to someone special back at Breath of Fire.
'We've got plenty of stockpiled work from him anyway. The contract even stipulates extensions for any delays.'
The gait analyzer had confirmed perfect pressure distribution and foot direction, so the next day, Minho cleared Kellogg to leave for Breath of Fire—not to reclaim the Lonely Hammer name, but to show his new self to that someone.
"Director, do you know who Kellogg wants to show his new self to?"
As they watched Kellogg board his carriage, Cache asked Minho.
"No idea. Seemed personal, so I didn't pry. Probably the Lonely Hammer."
"Come on, Director—you're clueless about men."
"Huh?"
"His expression before leaving... it was like he was heading to meet a lover."
Cache smirked slyly, clearly itching to gossip.
"Kellogg's the Lonely Hammer's prized disciple, remember? A workaholic dwarf—or whatever—having a... wait, what?"
They were bantering idly outside the hospital when—
Rawr! Raaawr!
"D-Director! Looks like it's landing at our hospital?"
"..."
Like the noble who'd come for double-chin surgery, or the now-executed former Frederik wife who'd poisoned her stepchildren, sky carriage arrivals never failed to astonish.
"...A tiger this time. Winged tiger."
"That's a sky tiger—only from the East Continent! Faster than sky turtles, way smoother ride, they say."
Makes sense—tigers were predators. Not as absurdly huge as sky turtles, but dozens of them were harnessed not just fore and aft, but atop the carriages too.
'...Do they not eat the passengers inside?'
Rawr! Raaawr!
Unlike sky turtles blasting wind from their shells, these tigers landed with a different flair. But the real issue: these beasts were growling fiercely, fluff bristling, right in front of his hospital.
'No... I said weekends are closed.'
A baron's carriage he could shoo away on arrival, but those inside screamed higher nobility.
Unlike Beauty Tower's prior visitors, the green-and-gold livery screamed prestige—microexpressions confirmed it.
The winged tigers roared as they touched down. From the four end carriages of the five-car train, people poured out in disciplined formation.
"Director? That looks... East Continent?"
"...Yeah."
Unlike West Continent knights with sheathed swords at their waists, these men carried spears; women bore curved crescent blades like new moons.
One woman approached the center carriage and opened the door. Two veiled women emerged, supported, and mounted a tiger's back.
"D-Director? The tigers are coming our way?"
"Stay back, Director."
Walter stepped in front of Minho and Cache as two winged tigers approached.
Grrr... The low growl choked the air. Without Walter shielding him, Minho might've lost bladder control from the pressure. He subtly pulled a spare low-grade stamina potion from his subspace pouch—just in case.
"It's been months, Baron Gold. I hope you've been well."
Huh? Baron Gold? He hadn't even told his own staff about the title.
"Walter, hold up. These are my guests."
Stepping past Walter, Minho recognized her from the Frederik duke's banquet.
'...Jasmine?'
Jasmine Esmael, eldest daughter of the Esmael ducal house—one of East Continent's five pillars—descended gracefully from her prostrated sky tiger and smiled.
"Sorry for the surprise, Lady. My staff didn't know about the title."
"Oh? I assumed you'd had a celebration already. This is unexpected."
Behind him: 'What? Director got a title? First I'm hearing.'' and 'Me too.'' But Minho ignored Cache and Walter, focusing on Jasmine.
His barony was irrelevant; Jasmine was Esmael ducal heir.
"Haha, been tied up with this and that. More importantly, what brings you all the way here, Duchess?"
Smooth chocolate skin like cream-drizzled truffles, sharp nose, full lips, deep double eyelids, lush lashes—flawless. Hard to fathom why she'd trek to remote Beauty Tower.
"Sorry for the unannounced visit. It's not me—it's my sister. Sharyl, greet Baron Gold."
Beside Jasmine's tiger loomed another house-sized beast. A small girl atop it dismounted with her maid's help and approached.
"Pardon the late greeting, Baron. I'm Sharyl Esmael, second daughter of the Esmael ducal house."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Miner Gold. Please, come inside."
He led them past the Cache Shop's cafe and aesthetic displays to the eleventh-floor elevator. Too crowded for talk now.
In the director's office, the ducal daughters paused, eyes drawn to the panoramic glass walls.
"Fascinating design. Exterior's unique, but inside too. Seen other magic towers—this one's stunning."
"Thank you, Duchess."
"Call me Jasmine, Baron. Sharyl and I don't hold titles yet."
Perfect—no awkward 'first/second duchess.'
Their house outranked his, but he was the only titled one here.
"Of course, Lady Jasmine. You mentioned a consultation for Lady Sharyl."
They nodded, gesturing maids outside. Then, in unison, they unveiled.
"Sorry for hiding our faces, Baron. Sensitive matter."
"No issue. So, what's troubling Lady Sharyl?"
"Have you... noticed anything off about Sharyl's face, Baron?"
"...?"
As Jasmine spoke, unveiling, Minho checked for something like Melanie's missing brows.
'What's the problem? Perfectly beautiful—no flaws.'
Sharyl had full brows, lashes—everything lush. Skin tone, eye color—all matched Jasmine's.
But scrutinizing via microexpressions, one stark difference emerged.
'No way... Is it the eye difference?'