Mana Depletion
Ailene Year 52, March 29th, Wednesday.
It had been about two weeks since they signed the new contract with Gregory Balio representing the Potion Cooperative.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly, but as always, the unexpected struck without warning.
“Hic, sob! P-please! Please save him! He's not the kind of guy who should die like this! Please!”
The emergency patient Jeff had brought in. The adventurer who rode with him in the ambulance carriage clutched the unconscious patient's hand, his tear-streaked face pleading desperately with me.
Beep—beep—beep—beeeeep—
“Director……”
The green line on the EKG monitor flatlined.
Unlike the adventurer begging to save his comrade, Stella stared at the screen, knowing full well what it meant, her face etched with bewilderment as she looked to me.
“Do something! He's not waking up right now!”
“……”
His wide eyes burned with rage and despair. Having been an adventurer for years, he must have sensed it instinctively.
I offered him a brief bow of condolence first.
Click—
I shone the penlight into the patient's eyes, confirming the pupils were fixed and unresponsive. Then I pressed the stethoscope to his chest, listening for breath and heartbeat. Finally, I checked the carotid pulse with my fingers before slowly turning to the wailing companion.
“……Ailene Year 52, March 29th, 11:32:17 AM. Vincent has passed away.”
“What? What did you say? No, no way! That's bullshit! Save him! Save him, I said!”
“Calm down—!”
Clack—
The companion grabbed my collar after the pronouncement of death. Stella reached to restrain him, but I blocked her gesture with a subtle bow, signaling I was fine. Then I turned back to the man shaking me by the collar.
“We came straight here in the emergency carriage! How? How could he die?!”
“If you have something to say to me, we can talk after.”
“Now's not the time for—!”
“The last sense to fade is hearing. Even though the patient's breathing has stopped, his ears are still open. Vincent can't respond, but he can hear you.”
“N-no……”
The man collapsed to the floor.
I helped him up and continued.
“When someone you love is at the end, you must tell them. I'll give you plenty of time—say your final goodbyes to Vincent. I'll be right here.”
“Hic, sob… Vincent, you idiot! Why'd you have to go and get hurt? What the hell does it matter… what does any of it matter?!”
“……”
The last sense is hearing. Whether the patient comprehends the words is unknown, but the message gets through somehow. That's why, in those final moments of farewell, you have to say I love you.
“Director… are you okay?”
“Be quiet during their time of grief—for them. I'm fine.”
“Y-yes……”
I spoke to Stella matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing, but no doctor can face death with complete detachment.
It's been since residency…
The last patient to die on my watch was back in my university hospital ER days. Sometimes death comes with poor prognosis, but often without warning—like now.
From their conversation, I learned the man's name was Philip, as he whispered stories into Vincent's ear.
“……Remember that time? Our first quest together, toasting with ale afterward. You said that ale was the best thing in the world.”
Philip recounted how he first met the magic tower adventurer Vincent, their dungeon ordeals, and more. No reply came, but his words flowed like a conversation.
“Hoo… my apologies, Baron. Forgive my rudeness.”
“No need. My condolences for your loss.”
After about thirty minutes of heartfelt talk, Philip wiped his eyes and approached me, much calmer now.
“Normally, we'd ask if the family wants an autopsy……”
“No, that's fine. I know better than anyone it was mana depletion. Besides, Vincent hated autopsies—that's why we came here instead of the magic tower at the dungeon entrance. For non-nobles, the bodies… don't come back.”
“……”
“Sorry for the trouble. We'll take our friend now. He needs a sunny spot to rest.”
And so, the first death in this world departed.
“Director… you're really okay, right?”
After Philip and Vincent left the Beauty Tower and afternoon clinic wrapped up, the quiet-all-day Stella approached me.
“If I weren't, I wouldn't be human. But as a medical professional now, Stella, you need to assess situations coldly. Emotions are for the family, not us.”
“Yes… It was my first death here at the Beauty Tower, so I was honestly shocked. Back at the magic tower, deaths were so common I didn't feel this way……”
“……”
Listening to Stella, it was hard to shake the thought that magic towers were death traps.
This couldn't be ignored.
“Anyway, snap out of it. Our job is preventing this from happening again.”
“Prevent it how…? Finding a cure for mana depletion?”
“No, not that—but making sure it doesn't happen to our patients… hmm.”
“What's wrong?”
I trailed off, and Stella gave me a puzzled look. But a sudden realization kept me silent for a while.
“Mana depletion—today was the first fatal case we've seen, but we've had patients brought in for it before, right?”
“Yeah?”
“They say using mana near your limit causes dizziness or fainting, and pouring it all out leads to coma or instant death on the spot. No other warning signs?”
Stella shook her head firmly.
“Of course not. If there were, mages and witches like us wouldn't cast a little magic, chug a potion, repeat—that's so inefficient. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking… every disease has prevention even without a cure. But mana depletion? Only way is not using it at all.”
“Obviously……”
It had always been obvious here. But if medicine had settled for that, modern advancements never would have happened.
“Stella, full staff health check this Saturday. Witches and Jo family—mandatory, clear your schedules.”
This was my world now, not modern Earth. No academies or research bodies. Unknown diseases? I'd solve them myself.
* * *
Three days later, April 1st. All Beauty Tower staff gathered at the comprehensive health check center on the 9th floor.
“Thanks for coming, everyone. You've all heard about the first mana depletion death here recently. So today, simple tests.”
“Great! I'm ready!”
“Res… is downstairs snacking. Already did hers.”
“Oh, really? Got it!”
As if some gold-munching pet could join human checks? Her spot was forfeit.
“First, split into mana-users and non-users. Mana-users, over here.”
Stamina is the body's power for physical activity or resistance to illness or cold.
In other words, low stamina means weak immunity, easy sickness, or even death. Common sense.
But what was mana?
I was a mana-less Earthling Korean. Not even a grain—couldn't grasp its mechanics.
More like, never bothered to. No use for it.
Yet mana depletion cases weren't rare here.
If I find even a clue, it could be huge.
With that, tests began. Not just standard checks—continuous vitals on mana-users while casting.
“George, bigger spell.”
“Huff… pant… I, I can't… it'll be too much……”
Thud—
“Hmm, two magic carriage charges, one speed boost—exhaustion. Someone heal him.”
One common thread emerged from repeated tests: Even mana-users like witches and Jo family showed varied precursors—dizziness escalating to nausea, vomiting, shortness of breath.
But symptoms start earlier: hunger, cramps, low-grade fever itch, fatigue… familiar?
Familiar signs in mana-users during depletion tests.
“……Everyone, take a break. Non-mana users, you're done.”
I left them at the center and returned with confirmation gear.
“George, lift your shirt. Belly only.”
“Huh? Why the belly……”
“Hold still.”
““Yes!””
George had this habit of questioning orders. Treating him well with Cache Capital work bloated his head.
“Like a direct mana potion. Won't hurt—don't move. Here goes!”
“Grrrugh!”
Insulin into his belly fat. If mana depletion matched what I knew, this could crack it.
“Feel mana recovering?”
“Uh… yeah, kinda?”
“Final tests, then.”
After more checks that day, I was certain.
Mana depletion was identical to diabetes symptoms.