Another World's Rehabilitation Specialist
"This support budget and scale are set at this level. Is there anything else you need?"
This was the heart of the kingdom—the state council chamber and throne room. Countless kingdom flags hung from the ceiling, fluttering gently, while the king sat upon his throne, listening intently to discussions on state affairs. And the one who had to answer the Kingdom Finance Minister's question, tossed out just moments ago, was none other than me.
"Yes, I've confirmed it. It's increased tremendously compared to previous years, so it should be more than sufficient."
"Then that's a relief, but with the center's scale growing so much, who knows what might come up. If anything additional is needed, contact us anytime."
"Thank you."
Three years after the war's end. Villages across the kingdom were still overflowing with veterans and adventurers suffering from all sorts of trauma, stress disorders, and functional impairments. As a result, the rehabilitation centers were expanding day by day, and the kingdom was pouring everything into their growth—but the reality was that the demand far outstripped the supply of personnel and resources needed for rehab. Especially when it came to manpower.
Rehabilitation medicine wasn't just for specialist doctors and physical therapists; it required collaboration from occupational therapists, nurses, psychologists, and a whole range of experts. At the center's founding, the staff had consisted solely of me—the one specialist doctor—and a handful of assistants to carry out my instructions. To build up our workforce, I'd had to juggle patient treatments with hands-on resident training programs on a murderous schedule. Only now had we finally completed the talent cultivation curriculum and begun implementing it with the support staff we'd received.
The past three years had been a grueling routine of barely three hours of sleep a night, but compared to med school entrance exams or internship hell, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Somehow, I'd made it through.
"Director Hope."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Once the rehab center's operational report, along with discussions on budget and personnel support, wrapped up, the king called out to me directly.
"You can tell at a glance that this support package is enormous, right?"
"Yes, it's all thanks to Your Majesty."
"That's right. No flattery or jokes—this was my direct order. I told them to pour in more than necessary. Enough leftover funding for you to take a trip abroad, even."
"Haha, I appreciate the thought, but for an overseas trip, it's time I lack more than budget."
I was grateful for the king's attention to the center's operations, but right now, I wasn't in any position to go gallivanting off somewhere. He knew that, so it had to be a joke.
Patients in need of rehab weren't just at my center—they flooded the entire nation, the whole world. And the interns needing training were the same.
"I regret it too. Even as king, I can't grant you a few days' vacation."
"Your concern alone is more than enough."
"That's because you're that important to this country. A nation exists because of its people—economy, society, all of it. Anyone with a proper education can see how vital it is what you do: bringing those who can barely move back into society and daily life."
The king had a point, but I was doing this job because I loved it. Sure, it was busy and tough, but the field's future was bright, it earned respect, the support was generous, the pay was good, and it was utterly unique... But more importantly than all that, it drew in hordes of broken former adventurers.
I'd been a rehab specialist in my previous life too, but modern society rarely let me treat war veterans. Working here had taught me something new: people who'd survived war and hardship weren't inherently hopeful or optimistic. They weren't some triumphant heroes staging comebacks. They were just survivors.
They still suffered daily from terror and trauma. Nightmares, hallucinations, screaming skill names they could no longer use—I doubt anyone saw that as often as I did. They'd wail the names of comrades or friends they couldn't save. It wasn't just mental; their physical functions were wrecked too. Trembling limbs struggling through basic daily tasks under my guidance, pouring every ounce of strength into it. Endlessly, endlessly... all while believing, bit by bit, they'd improve.
Adventurers who'd once swung swords and spells could barely lift a spoon. How heartbreakingly pitiful! The hardest part of treating them wasn't the work—it was hiding the thrill rising in my chest, the corners of my mouth twitching upward at their pitiable states.
"So instead of a vacation, I'd like you to go on a business trip."
"A business trip?"
A business trip? It was hard to believe those words had come from the same king who'd just been praising me and emphasizing my indispensability.
"The training program you developed. You're aware it's been shared worldwide on humanitarian grounds, per the global council, right?"
"Yes, of course."
The world-spanning total war had ravaged the entire continent and beyond. The six-year conflict hadn't just produced droves of disabled veterans in our kingdom—every nation faced the same. They all needed rehab centers, and inquiries flooded Nodun Kingdom, the only place with one operating. Under humanitarian agreements, we'd shared our center setup and operations data, plus the curriculum for training specialists, across the world.
The world was still scarred from the war. Humanitarian grounds meant I couldn't claim rights to the treatments, and while the kingdom had surely extracted something in return during those talks, that was above my pay grade.
"I hear the Keroa Empire is opening a rehab center soon. Go take a look. Three days should be fine without you—our kingdom's center won't suffer."
"Three days? But the empire's a weeks-long journey just to get there..."
"I've secured permission for Magic Tower use."
The Magic Tower.... Just like in the novels, they were built in every capital, linked by advanced spatial teleportation magic circles. Independent powers, like the churches—even the king had to say he'd "secured permission," which meant not just anyone could use them.
"This permission is great news for you, actually. I've gotten permanent, unlimited access for the founder of rehabilitation medicine, Hope Harvey, himself. You can use the Magic Towers' teleportation whenever and as much as you want."
"Pardon...? Whenever I want?"
"That's right, anytime. How about it? Feel like an overseas trip now?"
I knew Magic Tower teleports were maintained and activated at enormous cost... and now unlimited access for a mere doctor like me? A privilege reserved for tower lords?
"Other nations will need your help to run their centers too. Every king and emperor pushed for you to have unlimited teleport access. Humanitarian global rehab council left the towers no grounds to refuse."
So that's how it went down. The right to zip anywhere anytime was an incredible privilege—but it also meant a flood of business trips after this one to the empire.
"When can you depart? The empire says anytime, but the sooner the better."
"To prepare the center to hold for three days without me... handover procedures will take another three days."
"Fine, then three days from now. I'll inform the Magic Tower."
"Thank you."
A business trip locked in for three days hence, out of nowhere. The next three days meant piling handover protocols on top of my regular schedule.
Come to think of it, I'd never been away before, so we lacked absence manuals. The mere fact that interns and residents could handle rehab without me was a massive leap forward. Once done, it'd be reusable for every vacation or trip—a necessity.
"You may go."
"Yes. I wish Your Majesty good health."
"You take care too. You're the most needed person in this world."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The most needed person in the world... I got that I was the busiest, sure. Maybe the trip to the empire would actually be a breather. Treating it like the overseas vacation the king mentioned didn't sound half bad.
The destination, the Keroa Empire, was the world's greatest power. Which meant... 'Home to the strongest forces. The most numerous and powerful adventurers and armies. And... closest to the Gate.' The epicenter of the war. Site of the fiercest battles. Where the most people had been broken.
I could hardly wait to see what kind of patients would show up at their rehab center.