My Ex-Boyfriend Gave Birth to My Child? What Does That Mean? - Chapter 44

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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My Ex-Boyfriend’s Child Was Born to Me — Episode 44
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“Director Vivian!”
I rushed toward Vivian, who had just emerged from the severe ward with an exhausted expression, pulling on fresh gloves, and held up what I was carrying.
“Did you know about this?”
What I held was a single newspaper.
Its front page bore a headline in enormous letters.
‘The Fall of the Temple — Is This Really Acceptable?’
Below it was an illustration depicting a delicate, pure, and beautiful director cowering weakly, while a seductive temptress radiating sinister energy directed her malice — a mysterious sorcerer, clearly meant to be me, rendered in a distinctly provocative manner.
Vivian Roschel, after casting a brief glance at what I held, opened her mouth without apparent concern.
“They drew it well.”
“Drew it well?”
“Didn’t they?”
I pointed at the villainous sorcerer, drawn with an impossibly large, voluptuous chest and towering frame, and protested.
“I don’t have such a large rear end!”
“Ah. So that was the problem.”
“Everything else is wrong too!”
“Then that must have been the primary concern.”
I snorted silently, my jaw clenched, and shook the newspaper.
“What really infuriates me is this tiny print hidden in the corner.”
“What does it say?”
“It says, ‘This illustration is for clarity purposes and may differ from the facts’!”
I muttered under my breath.
“It’s a newspaper — if it differs from the truth, they shouldn’t print it at all!”
After taking the newspaper from my hands and reading through it quietly for a moment, Vivian spoke in an unbothered tone.
“Despite the illustration, the article is alleging that the Temple accepted donations from sorcerers and conducted treatment using ‘irrational and bizarre’ methods.”
“Irrational and bizarre? I wasn’t reciting incantations or anything!”
“They’re describing the sterilization procedures — boiling water, wearing gloves, and such — as ‘magical rituals’ incorporated into treatment. They’ve written quite extensively, clearly having conducted thorough research.”
“They wrote it like a proper news article while advertising that anyone seeking genuine treatment should come to the Royal Hospital. I wonder whose doing this is.”
The Capital Medical Community had already been watching the Temple’s healers with suspicion. Now that they had ammunition, they would have no reason to hold back their attack.
Yet even after seeing such an article, Vivian remained composed. She smiled gently and spoke.
“So you’re worried?”
I paused to think, then shook my head.
“Now that I think about it, I’m not particularly worried. I’m irritated, certainly.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“Because our treatment is free.”
I tapped my temple while continuing.
“The Royal Hospital is far too expensive to begin with. The sanitation is poor, and screams echo throughout. Anyone who’s ever been near the Royal Hospital would much rather trust our treatment methods.”
“Well, we do have our share of screams here too, but I agree.”
Vivian fell silent for a moment, then spoke again.
“Moreover, as you said, it’s free treatment after all. We are different from the Royal Hospital. The more patients we receive, the greater the strain on our finances. Of course, we received donations for precisely that reason.”
“That’s true. What really matters to us isn’t drawing in larger numbers of patients.”
We locked eyes and grinned widely.
Vivian spoke first.
“All we need to do is spread our ‘method’ far and wide.”
“The fools at the Royal Hospital are advertising for us!”
No matter how negative the newspaper’s tone, we were certain of our current approach.
In time, the results would speak for themselves.
When that happened, people would inevitably begin to reconsider the ‘strange methods of the Temple’ they had read about in the papers.
I nodded.
An excellent idea had just occurred to me!
“Perfect, no problem at all! But we can’t let them have the stage to themselves.”
Vivian’s eyes widened.
“Are you planning to publish a rebuttal?”
“Of course! People love a good fight. They threw a punch, so we need to land a solid kick. Then everyone will scramble for the newspapers and gossip nonstop.”
I examined the newspaper’s masthead, my lips curling into a smile.
“Right now, the more the rumor spreads, the better it serves us.”
That’s right. We didn’t concern ourselves with rumors.
But what about the Royal Hospital?
Those fools, their reputation now precious after losing so many patients to us, would be unable to endure my provocation!
I first investigated the relationships among the Capital Newspaper outlets.
My goal was to place a rebuttal article in a rival paper to counter the critical coverage directed at us.
The headline that emerged was this:
Royal Hospital: Patients Walk In, Leave on a Stretcher?!
Even I, the one who orchestrated this, let out a sigh at the sight of it.
But that alone was not enough.
I spared no expense hiring a renowned illustrator to render a provocative drawing that matched the title perfectly.
A small revenge for being made into such a charming beauty!
Vivian, who had seen the newspaper in advance, nodded in approval.
“The High Priest won’t be pleased, but I must admit it suits my sensibilities perfectly.”
It wasn’t long before the battle of public opinion began in earnest.
The results were extraordinary.
“Now that you mention it, didn’t that family’s daughter die of Childbed Fever after giving birth at the Royal Hospital?”
“People don’t stop dying just because the Temple delivers them either.”
“That’s different—dying from a Difficult Childbirth is one thing. But at the Royal Hospital, they say the baby comes out fine and then the mother dies afterward?”
People’s words began tearing into the Royal Hospital in earnest.
“What good does it do to boil things in water anyway?”
“But listen—when you put instruments in boiling water, grease floats up to the surface, doesn’t it? Who’s to say that isn’t the source of disease?”
“What about the gloves?”
“I couldn’t say for certain, but they claim using them increases people’s chances of survival, so isn’t it odd not to use them?”
“That’s true enough.”
There was much talk too about the elaborate Sterilization process that Vivian, the high priestess with the “Blessing Hand,” had employed when treating expectant mothers. But what of it?
It was enough to plant a seed of doubt in the minds of people who had previously given Sterilization no thought whatsoever.
The Temple’s methods of treatment are proven methods.
Well then, if the Royal Hospital has anything to say, let them do so in the next edition!
“Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“That Noel Erdan, the chief physician at the Royal Hospital, shouted so loudly in the hospital corridor that his voice became hoarse beyond recovery?”
“Ha ha—can’t the Royal Hospital cure a hoarse throat?”
We battled across the front page of the newspapers, every other day. Sometimes with facts. Sometimes with outright slander and innuendo.
We rolled through the mud thoroughly enough that the eyes and ears of people made fearful by the Demon Beast Attacks were fixed upon our struggle.
Of course, the true war was being waged far more fiercely not with paper and pen, but between blood and pus.
With medical knowledge rivaling that of the Royal Hospital doctors, combined with meticulous Sterilization management, the condition of those who visited the Temple Treatment Center improved at a remarkable pace.
Soon, talk began spreading among the people:
‘If you wish to lose your hands or feet, go to the Royal Hospital. If you wish to keep them, the Temple Treatment Center is your better choice.’
There was another remarkable development.
At some point, several students from the Medical Department of Capital University began visiting the Temple Treatment Center for observation. They asked Vivian many things eagerly, and she hid nothing of what she knew.
The students seemed to be planning to write papers comparing the actual practices of the Temple Treatment Center and the Royal Hospital.
“Aren’t you worried the Capital University might lose its reputation?”
To my half-joking question, Vivian answered with characteristic firmness.
“If more people can be saved, then surely that is the will of God in placing me upon this land.”
The contest between the Royal Hospital and the Temple Treatment Center was as good as decided.
Perhaps the accounting department of the Temple, whose ledgers were growing heavier day by day with Donations from the patients who visited the Temple daily, could truly be called the ultimate victor of this crisis.
And soon enough, I no longer had the mind to concern myself with such reputation battles between the Royal Hospital and the Temple Treatment Center.
Cyril, who had been receiving treatment the longest among our household servants, had finally been given a clean bill of health!

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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