Now Only the Magic Tower Remains?
Today was Ailene Year 3, Month 3, Day 13—a Monday. A few weeks had passed since their first encounter with the retired heroes.
"Ahhh, this feels so gooood."
"Aigoo, it itches so much. I've become a body that can't survive without physical therapy now! Heh heh heh!"
The retired heroes, who had once opposed Beauty Tower's treatments more fiercely than anyone, had become its most enthusiastic promoters.
Once you get hooked on physical therapy, there's no escaping it.
Beauty Tower's physical therapy regimen included four types: low-frequency stimulation, near-infrared therapy, extracorporeal shockwave therapy, and hot pack compresses. At just 1 copper—about 1,000 won in Korean money—it exploded in popularity among the retired heroes.
"Oh? Mr. Bomba, how'd the treatment go?"
"Hello. Thanks to you, it went well."
Bomba, the leader of the retired heroes, looked far more affable than before. He still had that grumpy edge, of course.
"Is it helping?"
"Ahem, some of the guys say their phantom limb pain is already completely gone. Mine's frequency has dropped a lot too."
Over the past few weeks, the retired heroes had diligently undergone mirror box therapy, and their phantom limb pain had improved significantly.
Dr. Ramachandran is truly remarkable.
The retired adventurers were amazed at the idea of simply putting the stump into a box with mirrors and moving it—how could that possibly work?
In truth, Dr. Ramachandran's theory was quite simple. Through mirror box therapy, the patient's brain receives conflicting signals. Bomba's muscles tell the brain the leg is gone, but his eyes send signals that the leg is moving again. The brain, faced with this dilemma of contradictory information, eventually accepts that the amputated leg is truly gone.
Once the brain erases the leg from its body image, the pain from that nonexistent limb vanishes too.
Even people with intact limbs often have distorted body images—like closing one eye and bringing the pinky fingers together from afar; they don't quite meet in the middle.
"Thank... you."
"Pardon? I didn't catch that."
"Ahem, I said thank you."
Of course, he'd heard it fine from the start. Hearing gratitude from a stubborn old-timer was always a pleasure. And at just 1 copper per treatment, he could take it multiple times over. It didn't cost him anything.
As Bomba emerged from the phantom limb treatment room, he paused for a moment.
"It makes me think."
"Think what?"
"If a doctor like you, Baron, had existed when my leg was amputated... maybe it would still be intact today."
Bomba had told him his leg was "treated"—amputated—at the damn magic tower next to the dungeon. By the current tower master, Servius, no less.
"......"
He'd heard the amputation was due to infection, but if Minho had been in this world back then... Bomba's leg might still be fine.
"Tower Master Servius must have done the right thing. Focus on rehab now."
Of course, he didn't have the guts to say that aloud. No point dwelling on an already severed leg.
"Heh heh, you know how to talk pretty."
"Pardon?"
"Forgive an old man's rudeness. I'll be off."
"Sure, take care."
As expected from a seasoned veteran—he's sharp.
I wonder how Stella's doing?
Over the past few weeks, as the retired heroes got treated at Beauty Tower, the patients who'd trickled away had all returned. Thanks to their promotion, numbers had even grown beyond before. Things were busier than ever, but Minho could now check on the physical therapy room and rehab center because the witches had reached the point where they could handle simpler procedures like Botox or fillers.
Pssht—thud—thud—thud—
"You're here, Director?"
"Square jaw?"
"Yes, just finished."
On the 11th-floor treatment room, Stella was expertly injecting Botox into a jaw to slim it down.
I need to train the witches more. They're geniuses to pick this up so fast; an average person wouldn't stand a chance.
He was cramming medical knowledge into them in case he got hurt in this world—then there'd be no fixing it. From simple procedures to emergency treatments for fractures, he burned with determination to have them master it all.
Then, the crystal orb in his pocket vibrated.
Bzzz—bzzzz—
"Yes, Cache."
—Director! The potion co-op chairman is here!
Oh, really? Finally showed up?
Three weeks had passed since Beauty Tower started its half-price potion sale. He'd expected them to crack in a week, but they'd held out longer than thought.
"There's a meeting room on the first floor, right? Stick him there. I'll be right down."
"Yes, Director!"
Now was the moment to cleanly lop off the bastard's head.
He headed to the first-floor cafe and into the corner meeting room. The glass-walled room, like a greenhouse, was Kellogg's recent masterpiece. The dwarf had buried himself in work to forget his heartbreak, producing whatever Minho wanted faster and more beautifully than anyone.
"Haha, who do we have here? Isn't it Gregory Balio, the grand chairman of the Frederik Dungeon Zone Great Potion Co-op?"
"Ahem, Baron. Just call me by name."
"Haha! Sure, Gregory. Have a seat."
The spacious meeting room felt a bit awkward with just the two of them.
Not awkward at all. Look at that face groaning like a dog desperate to shit.
His heart danced a carefree tap, but Minho stared down at Gregory impassively.
"If you've come crawling back, you must have business. Speak."
"......I couldn't."
"Pardon? Speak up."
"I was wrong, Baron! We won't do tattoo procedures, so please... revert the potion prices to normal!"
"Ah~ that's why you're here?"
He'd known all along, but Minho smiled calmly and continued.
"But why should I?"
"......Pardon? Well, our potion co-op won't do tattoos anymore...."
"Why?"
"......Pardon?"
"Why should I?"
"W-well, our co-op won't do tattoos...."
"No, do whatever. Your co-op can tattoo all you want, and I'll sell potions at Beauty Tower however I like. Business follows the market flow—I was the foolish one meddling."
He savored Gregory's rotting expression twisting with every word.
"Haha, whether it's the shit-tattoo artists or the shit-customers who take that crap—they're all the same. No more to say. Exit's that way. I'll get up fir—"
"Pl-please spare us, Baron!"
"Whoa, what's this? Bow so low and your shiny bald pate's on full display."
Even under the insults, Gregory didn't budge, having steeled himself. He even dropped to his knees.
"If you don't change the prices, our entire potion co-op will starve! Doctors save lives, not take them, right? Forgive my foolishness, please!"
"Foolish? You copied our tattoos without even being taught—pretty clever. Wait, is there ventilation here? What's that pig stink?"
"Sob.... Call me a pig, whatever! But at this rate, we'll all starve!"
"If you're that desperate, why come now?"
Minho couldn't believe the jiggling jowls. The half-price sale started ages ago—why beg for life now?
"W-well...."
"Stutter and get out."
"Y-yes.... Our co-op didn't expect your half-price sale to last this lo—."
"Last this long, huh?"
"......Yes."
See? As expected. They'd thought the three-week-plus sale would end soon, but with no sign from Beauty Tower, their cash flow dried up and throats tightened.
"Fine. We'll raise prices back to normal."
"Th-thank you, Baron! Truly th—"
"Hear me out. Only Beauty Tower raises prices."
"Pardon......? Well, yes. Our co-op members never sold at discount. Just adjust yours and we're fine."
Yeah, they might think that. But life doesn't go your way.
"Not getting it? Only Beauty Tower raises prices. In exchange, co-op members stop selling potions entirely."
"......?"
Gregory's eyes bulged like a toad's. He stared, breathless, murderous glare and all.
Fine by him. What's mine is mine. Soon, yours will be too.
"What do you m—"
"Stop jiggling and listen. One explanation only. I'll sell all potions from now on. Well, depending, the shop nearest the dungeon might sell some."
"Really?!"
Look at this guy. Whining about co-op "family" moments ago, now grinning because his shop's closest.
"In exchange, the co-op joins under Beauty Tower. And most importantly, you get potions supplied from us."
"Th-then with the magic tower...."
The co-op had always sourced from the magic tower next door. Switching meant open war.
Roll.
The toad's beady eyes darted merrily.
"Need time? Fine."
"Pardon...... It's not a simple choice...."
"Got it. Pretend this never happened. You reward obedient dogs with big bowls. Stay chairman forev—"
"The dog! Right here! Woof woof! Arf arf!!"
As expected—physiognomy is science. And the greedy don't self-sabotage.
Potion co-op's done. Now only the magic tower remains?