Chapter 73
“You're even getting into loan sharking now...? I heard the Sky Tower's official notice arrived over the weekend. Must be tough, huh?”
“......”
Two days had passed since the Sky Tower notice incident. And now it was Monday. I was at the territory office.
“Anyway, can you add the business type?”
“Yes, we can. Please read and sign the documents first.”
“And give me the forms to register two more full-time employees too.”
Just the day before, on Sunday, I'd visited the adventurer's guild to prepare countermeasures against the Sky Tower notice and talked it over with the Guild Master.
“Collaborate? What do you mean?”
“Simple. Lend them money, and have the patients we've treated for free do guild quests until they pay it back.”
“And you pocket the quest fees from those adventurers?”
“More precisely, the guild holds onto what they're owed and passes it to me. It's a straightforward process. You can assign them the quests nobody wants—ones that pay little and are a hassle. Just keep them alive with all their limbs intact until the debt's cleared.”
“Heh, I like it. Deal.”
This world's freedom was a real pain in the ass. So I'd just have to worm my way into that messed-up freedom.
Sure, expanding into loan sharking meant the Beauty Tower would stray far from the elegant general hospital I'd envisioned when building my high-rise in Cheongdam-dong back on Earth. But the endgame stayed the same: money pouring into my hands, solidifying my foothold in this world.
I shrugged off the contemptuous glare from Rachel, the territory office clerk who saw me as some money-crazed lunatic, finished registering the loan business, and headed back to the hospital.
“Two low-grade stamina potions! No, make it three!”
“Five low-grade mana potions!”
“We've got plenty in stock! Line up nice and easy, folks! Nice and easy!”
Starting yesterday, we'd slashed potion prices in half, turning the Beauty Tower's first floor into a buzzing hive of adventurers even busier than usual.
“Don't bolt out of the dungeon injured—find someone in a red cross vest and come to the Beauty Tower! We save lives here!”
“Hey, miss! Got it, so two low-grade stamina potions—!”
“You'll see the red ambulance carts parked outside the dungeon! Hop in one! No money right now? No worries—the Beauty Tower loans out treatment fees!”
My right-hand woman, Cache, as expected. Promoting the ambulance crew and carts perfectly.
Seeing Cache pour her heart into it just as I'd instructed, I felt like she'd fully filled the void left by Manager Lee.
Time for me to get back to seeing patients. As I approached the elevator—
“Emergency! Emergency patient coming through!”
“Eek, w-what is that?”
“Emergency patient, move!”
A guttural cavern rumble echoed the moment the first-floor automatic doors slid open. A man in a vest marked with red crosses front and back pushed a stretcher inside, and the crowd flinched, hurriedly parting like the Red Sea.
“Jeff! Emergency?”
“Yeah! One's got a fractured orbital bone, the other's nasal bone smashed. Both took orc fists to the face. Magic tower mages were gonna snatch 'em, so I brought 'em here.”
“The guy on the stretcher's the orbital fracture—Richard, right?”
Jeff had brought two patients. But the stretcher patient's legs showed no wounds, so I double-checked for injuries elsewhere.
“Yeah. They can both move okay, but Richard says his eyes won't track right—sees double, can't walk straight. So I carted him.”
“Good call. I'll take over from here. Patient info?”
“Here.”
The two new full-time employees I'd just registered at the office? Jeff and Ollie. They were alternating ambulance duty. Day two, still rough around the edges, but smoother than day one.
“I'll head out then.”
“Yeah, I'm off back to the dungeon.”
Last Saturday, after treatment, Jeff and Ollie had approached me first: Can we be the ones hauling patients from the magic tower to the Beauty Tower?
We had two magic carts built by Kellogg so far. Jeff and Ollie parked them at the dungeon entrance, ferrying emergencies like this nonstop.
Some folks still waver between the fake magic towers and my hospital... but that'll sort itself out.
On the 11th floor, Stella took the stretcher the second we wheeled in.
“Saw the crystal orb update?”
“From Hazel. Patient one, male, Clifford, 42, nasal fracture. Patient two, male, Richard, 37, orbital fracture. Correct?”
“Spot on. Get Clifford changed and to a room. I'll examine Richard right away. Brief the nasal case on tomorrow's surgery and precautions.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Um, Baron!”
“...Yes?”
As I pushed Richard's stretcher toward the orbital exam, the nasal patient called out desperately.
“Am I not getting treated today?”
“No, nasal fractures need swelling down first. You said it happened fighting an orc three days ago?”
“Yes.”
“Varies by person, but adults take 3-4 days fast, up to a week slow for swelling to go. Then we fix the fracture. You'll stay overnight and surgery tomorrow.”
“W-wait, Director!”
Heading to my office for the next patient, Clifford called again, frantic.
“It stabs like a knife every time I touch it. Is it really okay to just wait?”
“Yes, fractures feel like stabbing pain, swell, bruise—that's normal.”
“R-right! Jeff said there's bruising on my nose too.”
I nodded at his distraught face.
“Nosebleeds, shape changes—various symptoms. Key is: don't touch it now. Messing with it could turn simple surgery into major.”
“Ah, got it.”
Finally, relief on his face.
“He'll keep poking it—splint the nose fully. Tomorrow's general anesthesia, so fasting instructions too.”
“Yes, Director.”
Leaning in, I whispered. Stella nodded, wheeled him off with the patient. I continued with Richard.
“Patient, anything to eat in the last 8 hours...? No! Don't blow your nose!”
“Uh...? Snot was...”
Richard looked sheepish at my bark, snot dripping from his nose.
“Here's a handkerchief—wipe drips only. Never blow. Air goes into the broken orbital—eye socket bone. Swells the eye, no surgery. Absolutely not!”
“Y-yes... Understood.”
Sheepish, he dabbed with the cloth and nodded.
“Anyway, what were you asking?”
“Yes, eaten in last 8 hours? Need 8-hour fast pre-surgery.”
“No... Ran nonstop, dizzy eyes—no appetite. Water 3 hours ago...”
“Three hours is fine. Exam then straight to surgery.”
Orbital fractures like his had minimal swelling—surgery-ready. Technically, general anesthesia guidelines: 8+ hours NPO, no water.
Water's okay, really.
Water clears the gut in 1-2 hours. Meds: hypertension okay small dose 1-2 hours prior; diabetes no—hypoglycemia risk.
But doctors say nothing pre-anesthesia because patients stretch it: Water's fine, so soda? Porridge? Rice with water?
“Richard, vision test first. Cover one eye with this spoon-like occluder, read what I point to.”
“Got it, Baron.”
Orbital workup: vision, video nystagmus for vestibular, pupil response, X-ray baseline.
Severe fracture, globe motility issue.
For suspects like Richard: facial CT next. His was bad—surgery needed.
Lucky no muscle entrapment.
Parked him in recovery, sped through cosmetic bookings. Stella, trained in VR sims under me, handled doctor-level tasks beyond nursing now. Quick wrap-up.
“Director, Richard's under.”
“Surgery now.”
Scrubbing in, into the OR with orbital patient Richard. Time for the real work.
Swish—shh—swoosh—
“Watch close, Stella. Through the nasal cavity into maxillary sinus.”
“Yes, Director.”
The globe sits in a funnel of bone, like a pool with a floating tube. Fracture herniates fat, sinks the tube.
Muscle trap's the nightmare.
Entrapped extraocular muscle? Eye won't move—emergency. 6-8 hours? Permanent diplopia, muscle necrosis.
Backstep dodged orc fist, minimized impact—thank god not worse.
Strong blow like orc fist: thin orbital bones shatter first, shield globe.
Treatments vary: titanium or absorbable implants replace bone. For inferior like Richard's: lower lid incision, orbital floor implant cushion.
But I go scarless: transnasal balloon sinuplasty to support the floor.
Balloon restores position. Heals with own bone—fast recovery.
But I recover them way faster. The thrill of instant full heal post-op? Indescribable.
“Stella, healing magic.”
“Yes!”
Her spell done, surgery flawless. Satisfaction swelled again.
“Good work, Stella. Wake him, send to floor 2 via Hazel.”
“You too, Director.”
Out of the OR, shed scrubs, crystal orb call to Walter.
The Beauty Tower's second floor, tucked in the farthest corner—an empty office once. Now called Cache Capital.