Chapter 32
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Basic Implant
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A basic implant.
At just six years old, she had formed the secret organization "Ashen Hand" to keep the current imperial family in check—a leader of unparalleled caliber.
And the moment she turned ten, she reached the fifth circle, a feat that placed her among the elite of the imperial magic corps—an unprecedented record.
A genius of the century.
Princess Evelyn was a being to whom such titles were not the least bit exaggerated.
One might think the author had slapped on some self-insert daughter buff, because her life had been a nonstop chain of absurd achievements from the moment she was born.
Bloodline, intellect, political acumen.
She possessed virtually every talent a human could have, evenly distributed—save for her magic power stat. Truly a chosen one.
And Princess Evelyn herself was keenly aware of this fact.
Thanks to that, even the first prince and his cronies couldn't treat her lightly.
No matter how much of a thorn in their side she was, they had no idea what backlash might come if they touched her carelessly.
It had always been that way.
A position of unchallenged superiority, flawless wherever she went.
Under the banner of genius, she gazed down upon the world with colder clarity than anyone.
—Until this very moment.
'Lucas Argent... how on earth did he acquire such advanced medical knowledge?'
Before the spectacle unfolding under the name of "surgery," Evelyn was tasting—for the first time—the sensation of her known world's boundaries crumbling entirely.
This... wasn't in the realm of comprehension.
It was too advanced to lump under the term "medicine," yet too systematic to explain with magic.
Every field of study she'd mastered, every pinnacle of medical knowledge from the imperial family, paled in comparison—not even worthy as a benchmark.
Cold sweat trickled down her spine.
Unknowingly, her fingertips trembled faintly.
A true genius.
No—even "genius" fell short.
A monster casually wielding techniques that leapfrogged this world's medical history by centuries.
Lucas Argent.
For the first time, Princess Evelyn realized she was the one looking up, not down.
"Piel, scalpel."
"Ah, yes! Master."
"Good, you're doing well. But during surgery, long talks are a bad idea. From now on, just say 'yes' briefly whenever I ask for something."
"...! Yes."
The atmosphere had shifted completely.
The Lucas Argent that Evelyn knew until now was clever, sure—but only to that extent.
A sharp mind that turned quickly, yet sometimes overly sly like a fox, always muddling through pivotal moments with gut feelings or hunches.
Even his astonishing choices, when questioned, boiled down to vague "it felt right" or "seemed like it."
Words impossible to verify.
But the Lucas before her now was different.
In his grasp was a tool called a "scalpel."
A blade far shorter and thinner than any dagger.
Not a weapon for harming people, but one born to part flesh.
With every movement of its tip, only the useless parts separated precisely from the elf's body and were drawn out.
Rotted tissue.
Adhesions blocking blood flow.
Necrotic fibers hindering regeneration.
The criteria for what to cut and what to leave were crystal clear.
Even as he issued orders to Piel, his gaze never once strayed from the bed.
His focus never wavered.
Neither his hand movements, nor his breathing, nor his judgment.
At that sight, Evelyn felt not just admiration, but something bordering on reverence.
'Right now... as regeneration begins in the empty eye socket, he's calculating internal pressure first and loosening the surrounding tissue? If the blood vessels don't open properly, the new eye will die immediately.'
Even desperately trying to comprehend in her mind, she couldn't keep up with half the process.
Yet one thing was certain.
How could he even conceive of that?
It wasn't a matter of talent.
Nor experience.
It was a mindset that treated the human body like a structure.
The gaze of a monster who handled humans like living machines.
But—
'What a shame. Of all things, damaged teeth...'
The eyes, somehow, she could grasp.
Revitalizing the vessels first, stabilizing to prevent the eyeball from bursting under pressure—at least vaguely.
But the mouth was different.
The hardest structure exposed on the human body.
Yet the trickiest to reverse once damaged.
Teeth.
Seeing the horrific state—all shattered and yanked out, leaving gums with exposed vessels and nerves—Evelyn shook her head unwittingly.
No matter that it was Lucas.
No matter the Water of Life.
Teeth could never be restored.
Because that was a limit acknowledged even by the imperial family—a boundary of medicine.
The phenomenon of teeth naturally weakening and falling out with age.
It had never been solved, not once.
Not for nobles, nor for imperial kin who could lavish the Water of Life without restraint.
'Sure, applying Water of Life to the gums will grow new teeth.'
The problem came after.
'But the shape... it's a mess.'
Teeth sprouting haphazardly from random spots on the gums, utterly unrelated to their proper positions.
No alignment, no arrangement—just the result of "growth."
Like sudden wisdom teeth erupting... no, far more grotesque.
Just as a broken bone mends doesn't mean it returns to its exact place on its own.
The Water of Life was purely a force of "healing."
It restored what was lost, but didn't design the original structure.
That's why some past emperors, eager to reclaim their youthful gums, abused the Water of Life—
Only to end up with teeth sprouting everywhere, their faces too grotesque to show in public, or so the tales went.
And yet now.
Lucas was bringing the Water of Life toward the elf slave's mouth.
"...!"
Evelyn's mouth opened reflexively.
"Wait, Lucas. You're not planning to use it there, are you?!"
Using it now might save the eyes, but turn the mouth into an irreversible monstrosity.
The moment that judgment crystallized, she sprang from her seat to intervene.
She had to stop him now.
That instant.
"No, Leader!"
"Piel?"
Piel blocked her path, arms spread wide, obstructing her view.
She knew the danger full well, yet her hands and body stood unflinchingly before Evelyn.
"Piel, move! If we don't stop this—"
"I can't!"
A resolute voice.
"If we don't, that elf's face will end up even more horrific than it is now!"
Evelyn didn't scold her.
Instead, she tried to explain.
After all, she knew the properties and limits of the Water of Life better than anyone here.
"Teeth are different. The structure is complex, and once regeneration goes wrong, it can't be fixed. If you use it now, that child will—"
But Piel shook her head.
"Trust Master, Your Highness."
"……!"
Those words caught in Evelyn's throat.
Piel knew.
How insolent her actions were.
Even so.
"I... I was saved by Master too."
Hands pressed to the floor, head bowed, fully aware it was overstepping, she dared plead in the princess's presence on her master's behalf.
"I think Master can do it. So please... just trust him once."
And then.
A calm voice rang out from ahead.
"Piel, pass me the 'periodontal elevator' there."
"Perio... dental elevator?"
"One of the medical tools I made. About the size of a scalpel, with a rod bent like a hook at the end. The blunt side."
"Ah... Yes! Master."
The moment he took the item Piel cautiously offered, Evelyn's eyes widened.
'That's...'
Unlike the dagger-modified scalpel, this was entirely alien in form.
The blade wasn't sharp like a knife.
The tip curled subtly round, the side shaped with curves for pushing rather than slicing flesh.
'Like the carving tools woodworkers use...'
Cut down to palm size, re-angled and thinned at the tip.
Not for cutting.
For detaching what was attached.
Only then did Evelyn swallow hard.
Lucas dripped a tiny amount of Water of Life deep into the gums.
As regeneration began, a reaction stirred beside the old tooth root site, trying to sprout a new tooth.
Simultaneously, Lucas's hand moved in tandem.
The blunt tip of the periodontal elevator slipped delicately between the emerging tooth tissue and the gum.
No slicing. No cutting.
Just pushing.
Like stripping away the periodontal ligament, guiding the attached tissue back to its proper place.
Meanwhile, his other hand gripped the scalpel, subtly opening clustered vessel points to release pressure and prevent uneven buildup.
Regeneration didn't stop.
It was merely being forcibly "corrected" in form.
'My god...!'
In Evelyn's mind, every medical axiom she'd learned quietly collapsed.
This wasn't "making" teeth.
'He's creating the space for them to grow first...'
He predetermined the eruption site.
Restored the gum and alveolar bone structure accordingly.
And only then induced regeneration.
That's why...
That's why he hadn't used the Water of Life all at once.
Letting them grow in a rush would ruin the shape immediately.
But by designing the framework first, he could control the direction and form of growth.
Only now did all the pieces fall into place.
What she was witnessing was a problem unsolved for centuries—not just by the Abellan Empire, but the entire continent.
Teeth regeneration.
A concept this world didn't even have a name for yet.
'Artificially crafting roots, then growing teeth atop them.'
Barely breathing, Evelyn watched the scene unfold.
This wasn't healing.
This was creation.