The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint - Chapter 13

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 13: The Blood Demon’s Illegitimate Child (2)

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Meanwhile, around the time Julian had finished the transfusion and resumed seeing patients, Erika stepped out through the clinic's back door.

The lingering chill of winter greeted her.

Shiver.

Erika trembled slightly.

Wangcho snickered and pulled a beanie over her head.

“Put it on. If you catch a cold on the way there, how am I supposed to face Doctor Schnabel?”

Erika grimaced and handed the hat back to him.

“Ugh. It stinks.”

“Tch. Then don't wear it.”

Wangcho put the beanie back on with a sour expression.

Erika walked alongside Wangcho down the alley.

Even within the generally grim Limbus Pit, the back alleys were especially bad.

Layers of unidentifiable graffiti covered the walls, and drunken laughter drifted from somewhere nearby, making the place feel all the more ominous.

“Listen carefully while we walk, kid.”

Wangcho spoke without breaking stride.

“Pick up the medicinal ingredients from Cheon's Apothecary at the corner of Fourth Street. Tell them, ‘I'm here on an errand for the doctor,’ and they'll know what to give you.”

“...Okay.”

“My men will handle contacting the patients. You just clean the clinic, organize the tools, and do whatever the doctor tells you.”

Then Wangcho snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right. When you draw water from the well in the morning, don't take it to the delivery room. No, just boil all of it as soon as you bring it back. That'll prevent any accidents.”

“Why?”

“If you want to see the doctor get pissed and turn this whole alley upside down, try doing it differently. You might even get thrown out into the street in the middle of winter and freeze to death.”

Erika hurriedly nodded.

If even this district's cruel ruler was so horrified by the thought, there had to be a reason.

The rest of his explanation was simple.

Erika had no trouble memorizing it all.

“So I wake up early, draw water, pick up herbs from Fourth Street over there...”

“Huh. Vampire kid, you're smarter than I thought. You might graduate sooner than I expected.”

“Graduate?”

Wangcho nodded and pulled out a book of matches.

With one hand, he quickly struck the head of a match, still halfway inside the book, against its edge.

Sizzle.

He leisurely exhaled smoke, then snapped off the match head and dropped it on the ground.

“You're not the first person to become the doctor's errand runner.”

Wangcho took a drag from his cigarette.

He jerked his chin toward the upper part of the city, in the direction of Civitas Square.

“There's a dessert shop way up there. Apparently it's famous.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“The heir to that place used to be the doctor's errand runner. They worked for him for a month or two, then he had them adopted there because they were good with their hands.”

Erika's eyes widened at Wangcho's explanation.

They were not nobles, but the owner of a large dessert shop was still a master artisan in their own right.

Naturally, it was difficult to believe that a back-alley orphan had suddenly been chosen as the successor to an artisan from the upper district.

But Wangcho continued as if it were nothing.

“And on Adventurer Street in Sector B... Klaus, was it? The doctor bought that guy an expensive bayonet and let him graduate too. I hear he's doing so well these days that he even earned himself a nickname.”

Wangcho began counting off the rest on his fingers.

A slave discarded from the arena after their ankle was smashed found work with the guard.

A prostitute with consumption retired, got married, and now ran a flower shop.

With every finger Wangcho folded down, Erika's mouth fell a little farther open.

“So that's how it is. You hit the jackpot, kid.”

“Then the people around the doctor, they... they...”

“Graduate?”

“Yeah. Does everyone graduate like that?”

It sounded like some kind of new religion.

But Wangcho shook his head in disgust.

“No. Those are the ones who made it big. You think every stray dog and cow gets that lucky?”

“Aw, come on. Then is there some standard for it? You said I'd probably graduate soon.”

“Who knows?”

Wangcho shrugged.

“Seems like it's entirely up to the doctor. Still, errand runners tend to do better than patients.”

He gave Erika a quick once-over.

“Well, it seems more likely if you're young, have a story, or are sick in some unusual way.”

He grumbled as he tapped his own sturdy forearm.

“Damn it. If only I'd been born five years later. Or at least showed up with a broken arm or something. Being too healthy is a sin. A sin, I tell you.”

Wangcho held up two fingers and grinned.

“Anyway, you've got all three of those things, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. That's why your chances of graduating are high.”

Erika swallowed.

Her gaze fell on her thin wrists.

Her sleeves were worn thin, their seams split open, and dirt clung beneath her nails no matter how much she scrubbed.

‘A miracle had already happened.’

There had been no tomorrow in her life here.

Every morning, her urine was black. Her stomach was always empty, and her tongue always craved blood.

She had thought that if she could only escape that horrible daily life, she would want nothing more.

But the moment she escaped it, she began longing for another kind of happiness.

‘Graduation...’

She imagined the life Wangcho had described after graduation.

Inside those steel walls.

There would be warm soup, clean clothes, and a future where no one could look down on her.

Her stomach was already growling.

‘...Yeah. Just for a little while.’

Desire bloomed deep in Erika's eyes.

She still did not trust the human who claimed to practice that strange profession called “doctor.”

If he was a healer, he was a healer. If he was an alchemist, he was an alchemist.

What kind of profession was a doctor supposed to be?

Even that introduction made him sound like a fraud.

She could not trust his motives either.

At the bottom of the world, there was no empty promise less trustworthy than goodwill.

But...

‘It's worth holding out.’

She did not know why that eccentric healer was doing this, but if it benefited her in the end, there was no harm in climbing aboard.

‘I have nothing to lose anyway.’

Since a miracle had already happened, graduation would just be a bonus.

At worst, she would break even.

Just as Erika was about to lighten her steps while vaguely dreaming of a sweet future...

“Hey, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“You can sell the hide before you've caught the bear if you want. But remember one thing.”

Wangcho's low voice cut into her thoughts.

He turned and looked down at Erika.

The golden eyes distinctive to hyena beastfolk shone in the dark alley.

“When you work with the doctor, there are always one or two idiots who mistake it for their own power, cross the line, and start acting up. Especially the ones who use the doctor's name to pull stupid stunts at other shops.”

“...The doctor has that much influence?”

“Haven't you heard the rumors going around down here?”

“I only come out at night, so I don't really know.”

“Right. I'd already forgotten what you were like a few days ago.”

The tension around Wangcho faded.

Perhaps embarrassed that he had suspected a girl who knew nothing, he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Well, you'll learn eventually if you work here, so I'll tell you now.”

He raised a finger and tapped his own face.

“This is the first time you've met him, but none of us have seen the face beneath that mask either.”

Wangcho thought back over the past year.

For the past year, no one in the red-light district had seen the face beneath that mask.

Even when he ate or drank, he used a private room alone. Everyone could only imagine what was beneath that crow mask.

“But you can tell some things from the sound of someone breathing.”

Wangcho pointed at his half-severed hyena ear.

“This is a secret, but sometimes you can hear him coughing through the treatment room door. He's been like that ever since he came here a year ago.”

A cough was one thing for a day or two.

But once it lasted beyond a week, then a month, people could not help thinking it was related to some illness.

Erika thought the same.

“Is something wrong with his throat?”

“Who knows? The cough comes from somewhere deeper. I think the inside of his throat might have been burned. By fire, chemicals, something like that.”

Erika frowned.

“Who would do that?”

“Nobles, probably.”

Wangcho answered calmly.

“What race do you think the doctor is?”

“Um...”

Erika considered it.

He was small for someone with that manner of speaking and that sort of presence.

But he was too slim to be a dwarf.

And above all, there was the delicate handwork he had shown while finding veins during the transfusion.

“A gnome?”

“Right. He's a gnome. This is only speculation, but I think the doctor may have gotten on the wrong side of some demihuman-haters.”

“Demihuman-haters?”

“You know how those people up top are. They call him doctor to his face while secretly waiting for a chance to get him. If even one treatment went wrong, they probably found their excuse.”

“Oh.”

It sounded plausible.

Many of the disabled people who drifted into the Limbus Pit had stories like that.

A dwarf who made a noble's ceremonial sword had both hands crushed so they could never create anything finer.

An elf who had once been a promising magical researcher had their eyes ripped out for observing too much.

A beastfolk performer who acted in a satirical play fell out of a noble's favor and was forced to swallow boiling water.

In these back alleys filled with every kind of story, Doctor Schnabel's story was entirely possible.

“Seeing as he's that skilled and still doesn't use holy magic, maybe he lost his faith back then too. Ah, forget I said that. It's only my guess.”

“R-Right.”

“Anyway. Even after all that, he seems to still have connections in the upper district. That's why I'm telling you not to get full of yourself. Your wings aren't yours. They belong to the doctor.”

“O-Okay.”

Erika stammered as she nodded.

She understood what Wangcho meant.

The doctor was the one connected to nobles, not some errand runner of his.

So know your place and do not get carried away.

It was a virtue necessary for surviving in the Limbus Pit, so she understood quickly enough.

“Good.”

Wangcho nodded in satisfaction.

Of course, Wangcho did not think Erika seemed like the sort of child who would do such a thing.

For the past few years, she had only hidden herself at night, stolen blood, and done nothing beyond that. For someone her age, she had an excellent understanding of her place.

But you never knew with people, so a warning was necessary.

‘If another one like that showed up, it would make everyone uncomfortable.’

During the last heavy snowfall season, there had been someone selling drugs under Doctor Schnabel's name.

Fortunately, Wangcho discovered it first, before Doctor Schnabel returned, so it did not go beyond an attempt.

‘If the doctor had seen that mess himself...’

Just imagining it chilled Wangcho to the bone.

A healer with noble connections who also served as a director at a pharmaceutical trading company.

He had no confidence in handling the aftermath if someone in his district impersonated someone like that and things spiraled out of control.

He wanted to live peacefully as the boss of a back alley.

Getting involved with nobles was absolutely out of the question.

“But, Wangcho.”

Erika's call brought Wangcho back to reality.

“Then why would someone like that come all the way down here? Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?”

“Of course it's suspicious.”

“Then why do you talk like you trust the doctor?”

“What else am I supposed to do besides trust him?”

Wangcho shrugged.

“He saved more than eight hundred of my people last year. After doing that much for us, even if he came down here to conduct human experiments, it would be polite to turn a blind eye to a few people.”

“...”

“And dogs don't pick and choose the food that lands in their bowl. The ones who did all starved to death.”

Who had the luxury of choosing their healers while living in this sewer?

After saying that, Wangcho resumed his tour.

Erika followed behind him, lost in thought.

Dogs do not pick and choose the food that lands in their bowl.

It was not wrong.

Erika had survived that way until now.

But...

‘Nobles.’

The word caught in one corner of her heart like a thorn.

‘Will this be all right?’

There was an old saying.

The more splendid the lifeline, the more surely it would choke you if you became entangled in it the wrong way.

It was also a saying warning people to be careful when forming ties with nobles.

And it described the exact rope Erika was holding now.

‘Of course, she did not know whether that rope would pull her up or leave her hanging in empty air.’

It was an unkind game where she knew neither the standards for graduation nor the reasons for failing.

Even Wangcho, after a year, could only tilt his head. The standards were literally whatever Doctor Schnabel felt like.

But one thing was certain.

Rather than grab a rotten rope and fall, it was better to hang herself from a golden one.

Erika's predecessors must have accepted this path with the same feeling.

‘If I have to die, I should at least die looking good.’

Thinking that, she willingly stepped aboard that dangerous voyage.

* * *

How many years had it been since she had slept in a room with a proper roof and heating?

After Julian left work, Erika remained in the clinic and thought about it.

For the Limbus Pit, it was a remarkably cozy living space.

From now on, this would be her room.

‘When I graduate... will I go somewhere even better?’

She thought as she covered herself with the bear-fur blanket Wangcho had tossed her.

But perhaps because of the unease she could not erase, she slept more uncomfortably than she ever had in the cold alleys.

And in her dream, she lived through a day that no one had ever lived.

======

▽▽▽

This is the story of an ordinary day that no one ever experienced.

▽▽▽

“...Where am I?”

Her hands were covered in blood.

No matter how much she washed them, it would not come off.

It seemed to have seeped beneath her nails, between the creases of her palms, deep into her bones.

Ah, right.

She had been working again today.

The slaughterhouse ceiling was high.

Things hanging from hooks swayed in rows.

There were pigs, cattle, and...

The smell of blood tickled her nose.

A familiar, fragrant scent.

Type A.

Today's delivery had been Type A.

The blood type of the slaughterhouse owner.

“...”

What was that person's name again?

The moment she tried to remember it, her hands began to shake.

A flash of those golden eyes going dark crossed her mind.

They had held neither surprise nor resentment. Only blankness.

Ah. It was you.

They seemed to be saying that.

What had they said at the end?

Had they apologized?

Or had they said they should have killed her sooner?

She could not remember.

It was not worth remembering.

The important thing was that after that, the slaughterhouse became hers.

“...They said they need the pancreas and kidneys today.”

Muttering to herself, she selected the parts with practiced hands and placed them into a silver steel carrier.

The cold yet luxurious case was filled with various cuts of meat and ice.

“...”

She picked up the case and headed upward.

The carriage climbed the slope.

The scenery of Sanctum Hill passed beyond the window.

Streets lined with gas lamps, mansions built of white brick, neatly arranged gardens.

She thought there had once been a time when she admired these streets.

But people were adaptable creatures. Now, even as she passed through them, Erika felt nothing in particular.

The carriage stopped.

A familiar mask emblem hanging at the entrance of the villa greeted Erika.

Knock, knock.

The door opened, and a tall, handsome man with hair the color of crow feathers received her.

He was a pale man who looked as though he had never seen sunlight.

A face she did not know, yet knew.

“Welcome, Miss Erika.”

His cold eyes curved slightly.

He looked like the kind of man who would charm countless women.

In truth, he had charmed quite a few.

“The condition is good. Thank you, as always.”

The man she did not know, yet knew, took the case and checked its contents.

She felt no body heat when their hands touched during the handoff, but Erika did not care.

Ever since this man had found her in the back alley as her body was growing cold, body heat had long become a word from a distant memory.

Erika simply lowered her head.

Whatever sort of person her creator and master was did not matter to her, who was no more than one of his thralls.

Still, her demanding master was particular about titles.

Cult leader, Your Excellency, master.

People called him many things in society, but only one form of address was permitted to Erika.

That person was... right.

The doctor.

The doctor took the case and disappeared inside.

His destination was probably the aging room.

The things she had brought a few days ago would be there too.

“You've come all this way. Stay for dinner.”

She had no option to refuse.

Erika headed to the dining room.

As she walked down the hall, her eyes met a framed photograph hanging on the wall.

A picture of a happy family.

At its center was a young doctor with a gloomy expression.

A black ribbon hung over the picture.

Mourning, perhaps.

She could not imagine that man possessing an emotion like grief.

If she, a mere thrall, dared to guess, he must have regretted not being able to show his art to this family.

That was what the black ribbon meant.

Well, it was not particularly important.

Erika passed the frame and continued toward the dining room.

When she arrived, she saw a white tablecloth gleaming beneath a chandelier, silverware, and glass goblets.

The doctor sat at the host's seat, the place of highest honor.

Erika took a seat on one side reserved for guests.

And in the remaining seat...

“Mmph! Mmph!”

A woman with a bloodstained gag writhed in her chair.

She was young.

Pretty.

She wore an expensive dress.

Ah. One of that sort.

A young noblewoman ensnared by the doctor.

There were many women like that in this city.

They heard rumors of a cold, handsome healer, dreamed of being a fairy-tale princess, and ended up sitting at this table.

“...”

Erika silently looked at the young noblewoman.

Then the doctor, wearing an apron, set a plate on the table.

“The Roman gourmand Apicius considered flamingo tongues the finest delicacy. The Romans understood the potential of the tongue.”

Rome?

Sometimes the doctor was too intelligent. He spoke too naturally about knowledge she did not know.

But it was not particularly important to Erika, so she let it go in one ear and out the other.

“Isn't it fascinating? The muscle that moves most busily and roughly in life becomes so tender when cooked slowly at a low temperature. The flavor will come through even more with Madeira sauce.”

Clatter, clatter!

The young noblewoman with the bloodstained gag tried to move her chair, but the chair nailed to the floor did not budge.

Erika picked up her knife without interest.

Then the doctor cut into her thoughts.

“Miss Erika. Don't you know this lady?”

“Not really interested.”

Had she insulted Erika at the last ball, saying she smelled like a pig?

Or had she frowned at Erika as she passed by?

She did not know.

There had been too many young noblewomen she had crossed paths with.

Besides...

“Would knowing her change anything?”