WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 40: Demon Disease (2)

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“From now on, if you sneak into the kitchen, I’ll cut off your allowance for a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

After my monumental one thousandth time being caught.

Mother scolded me as usual.

Then, as if she had suddenly remembered something, she cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Ahem. That was the wrong thing to say. I mean, if you enter the kitchen again...”

“...”

She seemed to have remembered that, unlike Freya, I was not in a position to receive an allowance.

“If you enter...”

Mother trailed off.

Her pupils trembled as though there had been an earthquake.

Unfortunately, she had realized she had no suitable way to punish me.

Strictly speaking, corporal punishment remained an option.

But it was one Mother, who loved me dearly, could never bring herself to consider.

Her eyes darted around awkwardly, unable to settle anywhere.

Trying to wring out some frightening punishment, Mother finally seemed to give up and played her trump card.

“...I’ll cry.”

“?”

“Every time you go in and out of the kitchen, I’ll skip my meals and cry alone in my room.”

Oh.

That was a little harsh.

“...I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

I bowed my head toward Mother as she prepared a handkerchief.

I could understand why she reacted this way.

From her perspective, I was already a source of worry.

I had not given her many good memories during my childhood, and I was the eldest son without even mage talent.

She probably thought that the only way I could maintain my status and make a living was to marry into another family.

‘Just because I own a huge trading company doesn’t mean I can retain my noble status.’

A major trading company could receive treatment comparable to that of nobles.

But receiving similar treatment was not the same as being treated as nobility.

Unless under special circumstances, wealth could never overpower status.

That was why Mother seemed to want me to enter a proper noble family, even if it meant marrying in.

For that, a good image was essential.

A well-educated young man with impeccable manners and a good reputation in high society.

That was the kind of man a good match would want.

But cooking?

In noble society, cooking was a servant’s work.

Even as a hobby, what noble child personally held a knife and cut meat?

And on top of that, I cooked offal.

The eldest son of a baronial house personally trimming cuts that only the poor ate.

If word got out, every marriage proposal would surely fall through.

‘Even if I ask her to trust me, that’s not how a parent’s heart works.’

I knew I was the protagonist.

And now I had even become the Great Sage’s disciple.

That was why I could confidently push forward on the alchemy route.

But Mother did not know any of that.

So I could understand, a hundred times over, why she wanted me to marry into another family.

If anyone was at fault, it was me for hiding those things from her.

“Whew...”

Mother let out a deep sigh.

Then she murmured as though speaking to herself.

“In a few years, you’ll be old enough to find a fiancée.”

“Yes... that’s true.”

“Then you should start showing some restraint.”

“I understand. I’ll be careful.”

I obediently lowered my head.

But I was truly, truly sorry to Mother, because I had no intention whatsoever of giving up cooking.

If anything, Mother mentioning marriage made me even more certain that I needed to improve my cooking.

‘The things no one else does are exactly the fields worth pioneering as the protagonist.’

That was how genre conventions worked.

A protagonist’s uniqueness came from doing what others did not.

Like how a cold, ruthless northern grand duke became helplessly smitten with a country lady who farmed with dirt-covered hands.

Or how an arrogant crown prince became obsessed with the desserts baked by a noble lady.

It was an awkward comparison because it was romance fantasy.

Still, the point was that the more nobles avoided cooking, the more worthwhile it was as part of my character.

‘I need to redesign my route so I don’t get caught...’

Still, as a son, I could not make Mother sit alone in her room and soak handkerchiefs with tears.

So beginning tomorrow, I decided to show a little sincerity by sneaking in and out of the kitchen.

‘Until now, I’ve been far too obvious about it.’

For a start, I should use the back door instead of openly walking down the corridor.

Pouring all my sincerity into it, I pointed toward the wide front entrance leading from indoors to the kitchen.

“From now on, I’ll never use that door to enter and leave.”

It was a heartfelt statement without a single lie under heaven.

I would not be using that door, after all. In any case, I meant it sincerely.

But perhaps my sincerity had been too intense.

Mother’s gaze wavered instead.

“...”

She kept her lips pressed together for a moment.

Then she carefully spoke.

“...Once in a while is all right.”

“?”

“This is all for your sake, but I’m worried you’ll suffer too much. Once a month... Mother will turn a blind eye.”

Mother’s voice softened.

“I’m sorry for stopping you from doing what you enjoy.”

“...”

Before Mother’s blind love, tears welling in her eyes, I could only bite my lip.

Somehow, I felt less like a protagonist and more like an intensely devoted son.

* * *

In any case, a promise with Mother was a promise.

That did not mean there was any reason not to eat the food I had made.

Tonight’s dinner was Tartare de cœur à la moelle.

Translated into Korean, it was yukhoe. Except it came with buttery bone marrow and more carefully arranged plating.

As I sat in my assigned seat, I spoke to the guest already seated to my right.

“You washed your hands, right, Eri?”

“O-Of course, Doctor.”

Eri answered, tense from head to toe.

Normally, someone of Eri’s status could not sit here.

She was merely an assistant, not even a formal guard, so there was no way she could sit at a family meal like this.

But Father occasionally invited Eri to meals like this.

‘It means he recognizes Eri’s talent that highly.’

When nobles in this world discovered a promising mage, they did more than offer personal patronage. They invited them to meals.

They ate the same food, drank the same wine, and built connections.

Mages were highly likely to either found a new house or enter an existing one.

In some cases, a house even bound them through adoption or marriage.

Considering that, an invitation to dinner was not particularly unusual treatment.

‘That’s why I prepared six servings today.’

Though Eri herself was still having a difficult time getting used to such treatment.

Perhaps feeling sorry for her, Mother, who sat across from us, spoke.

“Miss Erika. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Y-Yes! Mistress!”

Mother’s effort to put her at ease did not have much effect.

Eri answered with her back ramrod straight, just as she had when she first came up from Limbus Pit.

Still, there was one difference from back then.

She now fully understood her own worth.

‘She said Captain Shen was teaching her the mindset of a mage.’

Eri was learning more from that person than simply practical experience.

She was learning how spellcasters, and beyond them, mages, were treated in society, as well as how to respond while receiving that treatment.

“Th-Thank you for inviting me, Head of House!”

Of course, learning and putting it into practice were separate things.

Time would solve that, so I decided to leave her alone and focus on the meal.

Then Father, who had entered the dining room last, spoke.

“Julian.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Did you make tonight’s dinner too?”

“...Did Mother tell you?”

“If you intend to hide it, why not change the kind of food and the presentation first? Is there any cook in the world besides you who serves raw meat on a bone? At this point, it would be faster to count the days you didn’t make dinner.”

Hm.

Father caught me too.

But plating was a serious matter, so I could not compromise.

“Whew... You’ll soon have a fiancée, yet you’re still doing this... You’re a clever boy, so I’m sure you’ll take care of yourself.”

Father clicked his tongue, lightly pressing his brow.

Still, unlike Mother, he seemed to have half given up, since he did not directly scold me and tell me to stop.

Father sat at the head of the long table and spread a napkin over his lap.

Mother tied Fried’s bib, then spread her own napkin across her lap.

I did the same.

“Eri. You shouldn’t fold your napkin.”

I showed Eri as she tried to copy me out of the corner of her eye.

Before we ate, I looked over the table one final time, now that the whole family had gathered.

One seat stood conspicuously empty.

“Come to think of it, Freya isn’t here today.”

At my question, the head butler, who had been helping prepare the meal nearby, gave a slight bow and answered.

“Ah, the young lady said she would dine separately in her room today. She has had a slight fever and cough since this afternoon.”

“A cough? Is it a cold?”

“Yes. Perhaps because of the changing season, she seems to have caught a cold. She decided to eat in her room today in case she passed it on to anyone else.”

Ah, a cold.

Freya’s colds were practically an annual event.

Whenever the seasons changed, she always caught one.

‘Maybe she had measles at some point.’

I had not been in the main residence when Freya was young, so I did not know much.

But considering how often she caught colds, it seemed plausible.

Measles was frightening because the measles virus erased all memories held by the immune system.

That was why someone who had suffered measles remained vulnerable to colds for several years afterward.

‘Or maybe she’s simply prone to catching colds.’

Still, this cold seemed a little different from usual.

“However, this year’s cold seems somewhat severe. It wasn’t just a cough. She couldn’t even get out of bed.”

Hearing that, I began to think it might be influenza rather than a cold.

“Did you call a healer?”

“I did. They should arrive after dinner. Are you going to see her?”

“Of course.”

It was not that I did not trust healers.

In a world without doctors, their skills were excellent enough to replace doctors almost perfectly.

The reason I wanted to observe was simply to watch healing magic.

“Once the meal is over, I’ll bring something for her to eat.”

“Certainly, she should avoid a raw meat dish like this while she has a fever. I’ll tell the chef to send up some warm soup.”

Father calmly nodded and picked up his fork.

“We’ve talked long enough. Let’s eat.”

I smiled faintly and picked up my fork as well.

“Yes, let’s eat before it gets cold. Ah, before that, may I say a few words as the chef who made this meal?”

Then a funny line occurred to me, and I paused with my fork raised.

Father nodded despite his confusion.

As everyone stopped their forks, I received my family’s full attention and delivered my pre-meal greeting.

“I never serve a dish without soul. So please, savor it with yours.”

* * *

“Hamburg! It tastes like Hamburg steak!”

With Fried’s cheerful cry, the meal ended very satisfactorily.

Father and Mother had both flinched at first when they learned it was a heart dish, but after taking one bite, they had been too busy moving their forks to say much else.

“How strange. It’s an offal dish, yet there isn’t the slightest unpleasant smell.”

“This aroma... Is it butter? Hm? It’s marrow? You know an unusual cooking method.”

They both seemed to enjoy the food.

For the record, Eri had eaten well from the start.

She was a girl who had once plunged her head into a bucket of pooled blood.

A dish made from a heart could never upset her stomach.

“Slurp.”

“Eri. Stop licking the bone.”

“Aw. This is the best part.”

After that satisfying dinner ended, I smiled lightly and wiped my mouth with a napkin.

The servants cleared the dining room after the meal.

I accepted a tray of warm chicken soup and herbal tea, which I had asked the kitchen to prepare in advance.

“We could take it for you...”

“No. I’ll go myself and check on Freya’s condition.”

I also made sure to bring my medical bag, just in case.

“Then I’ll go check on Freya.”

“Yes, please do. If her fever is severe, let us know immediately.”

“Yes, Father.”

Leaving Mother and Father behind, I quietly walked down the silent second-floor corridor with the tray in hand.

Freya’s room was at the far end of the second-floor corridor.

It stood at the opposite end from my room.

Knock, knock.

“Freya. May I come in?”

There was no answer.

Instead, an unfamiliar voice came from inside.

“Please come in, Young Master.”

I immediately knew it was the healer Father had called.

I opened the door and entered.

As I stepped into Freya’s room, I saw the visitor.

Beside the canopy bed where Freya lay.

The healer looking down at Freya wore a stiff expression.

“How is she, Sister?”

“W-Well...”

A lock of brown hair, soaked with sweat, poked out from beneath the female priest’s scarf.

Even her veil was drenched in sweat, making it obvious at a glance how much power this priestess had poured into helping Freya.

The priestess spoke with a troubled expression.

“It’s... strange. I clearly cast healing magic, but her fever isn’t going down.”

“It isn’t going down?”

“No. Rather...”

I stared at the priestess.

Startled, she fell prostrate before me.

“I-I’m sorry! Please, spare my life...!”

“...”

A priest who failed to treat a noble could find their life in danger.

Especially if they did not have a special connection to the family.

That was why people had misunderstood me that way when I wore the crow mask.

“I swear to God, I did my best!”

“...Do you have any divine power left?”

“W-Well... only a little...”

There was no holy symbol in this place, and it was nighttime rather than daytime.

She had probably cast Heal once or twice before running out of divine power.

I met the eyes of the priestess, who was constantly watching my reaction.

Then I said,

“For now, pray and gather divine power. I’ll examine my sister in the meantime.”

“Pardon?”

“Let’s just say I’m an aspiring healer. I know how to examine someone too.”

I took the flustered healer’s place.

Then I leaned over the canopy bed, where shallow breathing could be heard.

Freya lay beneath the blankets, which she had pulled up to her chin.

Her hazy, half-lidded eyes turned toward me.

“...Brother?”

“Freya. Can you talk?”

“...”

There was no answer.

I closely examined Freya’s face.

Beyond her half-lidded eyes, her gaze was unfocused.

“Freya. Open your eyes.”

Her eyes slowly opened.

Eye response: 3 points.

“Where are you right now?”

“...I don’t know.”

She answered, though slowly.

But she was somewhat confused.

Verbal response: 4 points.

“Grip my hand tightly.”

Her slender fingers weakly closed around my hand.

She could follow commands.

Motor response: 6 points.

‘A total of 13 points. Mild impairment of consciousness.’

Thirteen out of fifteen was not yet dangerous.

But a simple cold or influenza would not cause impaired consciousness.

In other words, this was clearly an abnormal situation.

‘Let’s check her fever first.’

I placed the back of my hand against her forehead.

Then I took a mercury thermometer from my house-call bag and placed it under her arm.

‘What the hell?’

The thermometer hovered between 39 and 41 degrees.

“When did you cast healing magic?”

“A-About an hour ago.”

“You said the fever hadn’t gone down since then. Has it gotten worse?”

“...Y-Yes. I think so.”

I examined Freya’s face again.

Her cheeks were flushed red.

They looked feverish from the heat.

Tap.

“Mmm...”

Even when I lightly pressed them with my index finger, the skin did not turn pale.

Normally, the pressed area should turn white before becoming red again.

‘Non-blanching erythema...?’

This was not a simple cold reaction.

As that realization passed through my mind, my gaze turned to Freya’s half-lidded eyes.

“Freya. Let me check your eyes for a moment.”

I carefully lifted Freya’s eyelids.

The whites of her eyes were bloodshot.

Her entire conjunctiva was covered in red veins.

But there was no discharge.

‘Conjunctival injection without discharge.’

It was a physical sign of a systemic infection.

I wondered whether it was vasculitis, or perhaps sepsis.

After that, I examined the rest of her body one by one.

Dry lips. Bluish fingernails. A rapid pulse. A wet sound in her breathing.

And a firm mass was palpable in her left abdomen.

‘Her spleen is enlarged...’

Countless infectious diseases passed through my mind.

Measles? Whooping cough? Smallpox?

Then the priestess, who had been quietly praying in a corner, rose and spoke.

“I-I’ve recovered a little. Now, one more time...!”

The moment I saw that, something my teacher had recently taught me flashed through my mind.

“Julian. Healing magic is not just Heal. Healing magic has its own principles and types...”

Before I could fully recall my teacher’s words, I turned toward the priestess.

As she reached for Freya, I grabbed her wrist.

“Stop here.”

“Pardon?”

“I said stop. Unless you want to kill Freya.”

“What do you mean...?”

Looking down at Freya, who was struggling to breathe, I said,

“It’s demon disease.”

“What?!”

“Freya has demon disease right now.”

Author’s Note

Some of you have figured out what diseases Red Fever, Black Plague, and the Curse of Decay each refer to.

I thought I had altered them enough to make them difficult to identify, but it seems there are many knowledgeable readers on Novelpia.

Footnotes:

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