Chapter 67
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: I'll Take Responsibility for Life!
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In even today's modern world, where discrimination has faded compared to the past, bringing up disability is still no easy task.
I know this because I'm a doctor.
I know that the blatant exclusion just for having a disability, mixed with gazes that try to consume that disability like some 'special privilege,' ultimately creates even greater distance and silence.
So most people don't say anything.
They swallow the fact that it hurts, the sensation of discomfort—all of it, alone.
But this is the medieval era.
A world where human worth is divided by race, gender, and status.
In a place like this, to speak of one's own disability and ask for help isn't just simple courage.
It's closer to 'resolve.'
I know that.
But at the same time, I can't fully understand that weight.
To me, who's lived under the shield of modern medicine, relying on my profession as a doctor and my upper-class position, that choice is nothing more than something to observe.
That's why, all the more...
The fact that Misha Raltos was sitting here, quietly acknowledging her condition and asking for help, made me honestly think it was amazing.
She'd endured well, lived well, and above all, mustered her courage well.
So now, there was just one thing left.
I'm a doctor.
And a doctor doesn't turn away a patient who's gathered their courage.
If Misha reaches out her hand to me, I'll grab it and pull her all the way up.
With everything I've got.
Mobilizing every bit of knowledge and experience I have!
...That was definitely all there was to it.
Medically, ethically, there wasn't a shred of ulterior motive in my mind.
Yet somehow, the situation was rolling in a strangely weird direction.
"Hic... sob!"
As I'd instructed, Misha was lying prone on her usual canopied bed, clutching a pillow tight.
Her face was buried in it, her shoulders rigid.
Up to here, it was good.
Or more precisely, medically speaking, it was a very 'ideal position.'
A treatment to relax the lower body's tension and loosen the gluteal muscles.
By modern standards, it was rehab 101.
The problem was, I hadn't even started yet.
I hadn't even put on gloves.
No pressure, no stimulation, no treatment at all.
Yet Misha was flushed red to her earlobes, her whole body tense like she was about to burst into tears any second.
As if—like a crude metaphor, perhaps—a bride on her wedding night, holding her breath in needless tension.
And there was one presence that definitively set that atmosphere in stone.
Over my shoulder, the gaze looking down at me with her chin slightly raised, saying nothing.
A face where even the hint of a smile had vanished completely.
Princess Evelyn, Misha's guardian and friend.
"P-Princess?"
I opened my mouth as calmly as possible.
"Your stare... is pretty piercing."
"She's not even married yet."
Evelyn said in a very calm voice.
"If you're treating such a young lady's intimate areas, you should expect this level of attention."
No, you asked for my help!
And this is purely medical treatment!
By modern Earth standards, loosening gluteal muscles for patients with this condition was quite common.
It reliably relieved nerve pressure, improved blood flow, and aided sensation recovery.
Of course.
For female patients, it was usually handled by female staff.
But this was a medieval world.
And I was the only one who truly understood this condition and could calculate the right intensity and spots for stimulation.
"L-Lucas! I-I'm really okay..."
Then Misha's trembling voice came from behind the pillow.
"S-So... this is my first time with treatment like this... P-Please! Be gentle, very gentle...!"
...No.
This was clearly a statement squeezed out with courage.
Why was the atmosphere getting this weird?
And on top of that, Evelyn's glare was now at arrest-on-the-spot levels.
Still, my job is doctor.
Even if it kills me here, if a patient asks for help, I do my utmost to make them healthy.
Wasn't that why I wanted to be a doctor in the first place?
Thinking that, I naturally flexed my fingers a few times.
A flashy prep motion to loosen joints, relax, adjust pressure.
"Eek?!"
"...!"
"Here I go..."
Misha's body twitched visibly.
Her rigid thighs and glutes tensed in unison, trembling faintly on the bed.
Finally, to soften this rock-hard butt, I slowly reached my hand down.
Precisely, right before it touched.
The moment everything was about to start.
"W-W-Wait a second!"
"Princess Evelyn?"
"Hold on, Lucas Argent!"
...It stopped.
What?
I'd only stretched my fingers a few times to loosen up.
Evelyn looked like she'd witnessed something she shouldn't have, her face drained white.
Then, sweating coldly, she cleared her throat needlessly and spoke.
"W-What if! Just hypothetically. What if something big happens during it?!"
"Something big?"
I asked back in disbelief.
"Just... kneading some butt muscles?"
No, anyone hearing this would think it was major surgery, heading into the OR.
I've worked in a severe trauma center in central Seoul, sirens blaring all day, saving lives as a surgeon.
The kind of doctor you first encounter when you call 119 in pain.
I've done rehab for paraplegics, even manually stimulated anuses for patients backed up from urology cases to clear their bowels.
Compared to that, this was child's play.
Yet they were so innocently naive.
Secret organizations or whatever, they're still kids, I guess.
"Y-Yes..."
Evelyn coughed lightly, then asked with feigned seriousness.
"Then... you can take responsibility, right? Lucas Argent."
"Responsibility?"
"L-Lucas! Me too..."
Misha cautiously chimed in from behind the pillow.
"If it's not too rude... I'd like to hear your answer..."
Sigh.
They're teaming up to be all cute about it.
Facing those gazes, hearing that question.
But honestly, I hesitated on how to answer for a moment.
Because from the start, it wasn't even a question a doctor needed to answer.
Why?
Because—
"Isn't that... obvious?"
"Huh?"
"W-What?"
No matter how minor the treatment.
Even if it's just the basics of basics, loosening rigid muscles in a paraplegic patient—a doctor always takes responsibility.
It's beyond professional ethics.
It's the fundamental premise imprinted on everyone learning medicine, even before becoming a doctor.
Like asking someone who breathes why they breathe.
So Evelyn's question didn't even stand.
It wasn't about whether I could take responsibility.
The responsibility had already shifted to me the moment Misha lay down as I instructed.
"Miss Misha is lying prone as I directed, waiting for my treatment right now."
I said calmly.
"From that point, I've already prepared to take responsibility for her."
"Prepared to take responsibility..."
"Already?"
"Yes."
"Th-Then... if something really unexpected..."
Evelyn hesitated needlessly.
"If a real accident happens?"
An accident from loosening butt muscles... at worst, an "Ow!"
But seeing her keep prying, I figured I needed to draw a firm line.
Strong enough to shut the kids up.
"I'll die."
"Wh-What..."
"D-Die?! Lucas!"
Misha said in a panicked voice.
"Even as hyperbole, that's too—"
"It's not hyperbole, Miss Misha."
"...!"
I turned and looked straight at Misha herself.
"You're trusting me and waiting in this position for treatment. So naturally, I have to have that level of resolve."
"Th-That far..."
Misha's voice grew small.
"You'll... take responsibility for me?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Wh-What if..."
She continued cautiously.
"If I have to come back... for something like this again, even then?"
"...?"
I tilted my head briefly.
"Of course."
I added matter-of-factly.
"In your case, Miss Misha, it's important to periodically loosen your gluteal muscles like this. Honestly, you should visit me at least once a month."
"Th-That much for me...!"
"Ah, and she's not even engaged yet..."
Evelyn took a deep breath.
"Talking responsibility to a young lady like that, Lucas Argent. You mean that seriously?!"
"Yeah, I do?"
"!!"
A brief silence.
Then Evelyn nodded, like she'd made a big decision.
"Understood."
It sounded somewhat resigned.
"In that case... I won't interfere between you two anymore."
...Sigh.
Treatment's taking forever.
But it seemed over now.
At my declaration of 'I'll take full responsibility!', they both looked defeated and averted their gazes.
Passing the now-silent Evelyn, I finally placed my hand on Misha's rock-hard butt.
From so much wheelchair time, it felt less like flesh and more like firm rubber.
Muscles knotted, tendons unyielding.
"Eek...!"
"Relax."
I said calmly.
"In this state, kneading won't be half as effective."
That day, I poured everything into treating Misha.
"Th-That's too hard...!"
"Endure it."
I continued, finely adjusting pressure.
"That way your butt loosens up, and you can go without constipation even in the bathroom."
"Hweeeeng...!"
...Medical explanation.
All facts, all necessary.
About a week passed like that.
Finally, the day of the real showdown arrived.