Six Times the Profit
“Hoo…. You really trust me, bro? Huh? You know I stood surety for you because I trust you, right?”
“……Please don't move.”
I'd dramatically persuaded Jeff at the territory office, and Jeff, terrified of ending up behind bars, had practically bullied Ollie into agreeing. In the end, the two of them stood as my guarantors.
Thanks to that, I'd avoided immediate jail time, but my mind wasn't at ease.
This is insane…. The moment I arrive in this isekai world, I'm living like a debtor.
It wasn't a loan, so no interest accrued. But the total I had to pay over the next thirty years was 53,928 gold, 1 silver, 7 copper. And my monthly payment? 149 gold, 8 silver, 1 copper.
I'd raised my voice at the office clerk over their ruthless rounding to the decimal, but the response was:
'If you don't like it, pay it off in flesh. No complaints.'
That's 15 million won a month…. I'm losing my mind.
After setting aside Cache's pay and living expenses like food, I needed to earn at least 200 gold a month just to scrape by. The thought brought tears to my eyes.
Slick— Slick slash—
I inwardly shed bloody tears as I gripped Jeff's massive bald dome in my 11th-floor operating room and began designing the transplant area with a specialized pen.
Young guy, but he's got a serious bald spot. For a lush look, I'll need to plant at least 8,000 follicles.
As I designed, I recalled a fortysomething patient with severe hair loss. He'd only afforded 4,000 grafts due to budget constraints, but a year post-op, he was thrilled—no longer embarrassed to go out, even if not super dense.
But I couldn't half-ass it for my first specialized patient in this world.
I've gotta pay off this debt somehow. Time to milk him as a promo model.
That's why I planned to turn Jeff's barren crown into a lush forest.
Free surgery means I gotta maximize the promo value.
Two days ago, during Cache's freckle laser treatment, I'd snapped before-and-after photos. Jeff's empty scalp was already documented too.
Once his transplant was done, I'd print before-and-afters and plaster them out front for advertising.
Need flyers too. No medical laws here…. Ugh, hurts giving it away free.
Standard treatments like colds or rhinitis have fixed fees. But hair transplants? No insurance, so I could charge whatever if I delivered results.
Doing it free now boiled my blood.
“Miner bro, just to confirm—you're not cutting me open, right?”
“Yes, as I explained, it's non-incisional.”
Hair transplants divide into incisional and non-incisional. Non-incisional has cuts like full buzz, box cut, line cut.
But mine's the trickiest: no-cut FUE.
No shaving, direct follicle extraction. Tough without cutting, but I always did no-cut so patients could return to daily life immediately.
“Bro, how much does this usually cost?”
“Hoo…. Expensive. Let's stay quiet.”
“Whoops, sorry. Just curious……”
Incisional is cheaper than non-incisional. In Gangnam clinics, 3,000 grafts run 3.5 to 6 million won incisional, 4.5 to 6.5 non-incisional.
Mine? 10 million for 3,000. Here, that'd be 100 gold……
Wait, no? Can't price it the same as Earth. Tech fees exist.
Chatting with Jeff, Ollie, and Cache, one thing stood out: many Earth-curable diseases were incurable here. In a way, I really was a god of medicine.
“Now for disinfection. Might feel cold—don't freak out.”
“Ha ha ha! Bro, I've never been scared in my life…… Ack! Cold!”
“Anesthetic next—might sting a bit. Don't move.”
“Uh…… uh. Ow! Stings!”
I taped off the donor area, disinfected the rest. Tedious without nurses.
Jeff didn't flinch during the shots, surprisingly.
“Surgery starts soon. No need to tense up.”
“Ha ha ha ha! Tense? Me?!”
“……”
Incisional cuts and sutures a strip from the donor area. Mine? Non-incisional.
Punching after so long.
Shock— Shock shock— Sho sho shock—
Post-anesthesia, I swiftly extracted follicles, separated under microscope.
“You're doing great. Now anesthetizing the recipient site.”
“Yeah, but this is wild.”
“What is?”
“Anesthesia. Heard hospitals sometimes use paralysis or sleep magic for amputations, but this ain't magic?”
“……”
Judging by Jeff's reaction, no anesthesia concept here.
“Not magic—just anesthetic injection. Once numb, full transplant.”
Disinfected and numbed recipient site. Go time.
Key in transplants: precise depth and angle.
Tok— To-dok— To-do-dok—
More precise than Italian knitters, my hand danced with the implanter over Jeff's scalp.
To-dok! To-do-dok! Tok! Tok! To-do-dok! Tok!
Loupe on, I transplanted relentlessly. Density mattered, but perfect spacing more.
Jeff's crown evoked a frozen winter wasteland. But deserts bloom—viable follicles remained. Endangered sprouts couldn't suffer from new tenants.
Damn. Solo's killing my eyes.
Skilled docs plant 600-700 follicles/hour. Fast ones 700-800. With nurse assist, I hit 800-900 base, up to 1,000 peak.
Now? Solo, barely 500/hour—half my norm. Insane pace only docs get.
Tok! Tok! Tok! Tok! To-do-dok!
One hour.
To-dok! To-do-dok! Tok! Tok! Tok!
Five hours.
To-do-dok! To-do-dok! To-dok! To-do-dok!
Ten hours.
To-do-do-do-do-dok! To-do-do-do-do-do-do-dok!
Sixteen grueling hours. Surgery started just past 1 p.m., ended at dawn after viability and anti-inflammatory checks.
“Hoo…. Good job, Jeff. Surgery complete.”
Wiping brow sweat with forearm, Jeff—scalp red and mottled—grinned.
“Good job? You had it worse! I just sat.”
Sixteen solo hours possible because of Jeff. Normies whine after three. He didn't groan once.
No popping helped too.
Popping: implanted follicles popping out mid-transplant. Severe case? Might not finish in a day.
“You toughed it out, so faster than expected. Now, aftercare: full results in a year.”
“W-what? A year?”
His mottled scalp made his glare fiercer.
The moment I've waited for.
Hiding my glee, I continued calmly.
“There's a fast way, but extra cost.”
“Extra money? What?!”
To his confusion, I smiled faintly.
“Using cutting-edge tech—demo, but lush hair in one day.”
“No! That's not it! You said free till debt's paid! Changing now? Come on!”
Reason for baldness: loves freebies.
He growled like a beast.
“Jeff, think. I promised treatment for 'injuries' and your 'hair loss.' Check the contract you and Ollie signed yesterday.”
“So? Hair loss ain't done!”
I shook my head at his roar.
“Misunderstanding. Hair loss treatment complete. But did I specify timeline? Or that this non-injury surgery includes acceleration?”
His shrimp-red face paled.
“East Continent saying: wide eyes, nose cut off…. Tsk. Miner bro, didn't peg you for scary.”
“Ha ha, contract's a contract.”
Monthly: 149 gold 8 silver 1 copper. Miss deadline? Punitive fees worse than loan sharks.
“Hoo…. So, one-day treatment cost?”
“15 gold.”
“Whaaat?! 15 gold?! Low potions are 10! Way pricier than stamina heals!”
Cache briefed me on potions: low 10 gold, mid 100, high 1,000. Heals ~5 gold, skill-dependent.
So, add labor: 15 gold. Breaks even.
“Jeff, obviously pricier than potions. Don't cheap out with potions or priests—mishandled, your remaining hair falls out.”
“R-really?”
I nodded slowly to his fear-filled eyes.
Fear loosens purses—universal key.
“Wait a year if you hate paying extra. Surgery succeeded anyway.”
“Hmm…. Miner bro, installments—?”
“Cash only. No financing here.”
“……”
After agonizing, Jeff sighed and stood.
“Honestly…. Not old, but bald embarrassed me. Tall, so crown hidden unless bowing or sitting low……”
He stood awkwardly.
“Wanna pay now, but Ollie's wrist heals soon—dungeon run. Spare cash 7—”
“7 gold. Friends get special. Don't blab.”
“R-really? Thanks, Miner bro!”
I didn't dodge his crushing hug.
Dragon eats 1 gold/hour. Six times profit.
Hard to hide my grin anyway.
“Thanks nothing. Friends help friends. Rest 10 minutes, then cutting-edge finale.”
The Frontier God of Medicine