The Genius Doctor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 8

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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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Episode 8
Several days slipped past in a blur.
Each morning, Allen woke at the same hour without fail.
Around six in the dawn.
He descended at once to the kitchen, brewed a cup of coffee, and climbed back to his room.
There was something peculiar about watching the sunlight pour through the gaps between Doneford’s low-slung rooftops.
‘Scarcely two weeks ago, I was in Kalden. The empire’s grandest city. And now I’m here, in this small town.’
Compared to Kalden’s brilliance—its endless architecture, its staggering throng—this place felt almost hushed. Remarkable for a town that was anything but small.
By any measure, a dizzying descent.
Yet he felt no regret.
If anything, a faint thrill stirred in him when he wondered what might be accomplished in this modest city.
Once he’d finished his coffee, he washed, brushed his teeth, changed into fresh clothes, and made his way downstairs.
Edward emerged from his room yawning as Allen descended, then started at the sight of him.
“Did you sleep well, Master?”
Allen offered the greeting.
Edward stared at him with the dazed look of someone only half-awake, then sighed.
“I’m not accustomed to sharing a house with another person.”
“Well, you’ll grow used to it soon enough, surely? It’s not as though we’ve only just met.”
Allen’s easy reply made Edward’s eyes narrow slightly.
He glanced around the cluttered parlor and the dust collected in the hallway corners.
He couldn’t remember when the place had last been cleaned.
“Hmm. At any rate, there’s something I meant to say.”
“What might that be?”
“The truth is, I’m in no position to keep a maid, so I wanted to mention that an apprentice is typically expected to—”
“Household duties should be divided evenly for efficiency’s sake, surely? I’ll take the even days, and you’ll take the odd days.”
Edward’s mouth fell open and stopped there.
The words rose to his throat—’It is customary for an apprentice to shoulder such menial work’—but when he met the other man’s dignified gaze, they would not come.
Allen gave him no chance to protest, striding toward the kitchen.
“Well, then. Let’s proceed on that basis.”
Edward conceded in the end.
The two finished a modest meal of hard bread, butter, and a little cheese, then took their places in the clinic.
Of course, a clinic where flies still circled was not about to receive patients.
Silence settled in. An infinite waiting began.
Edward, now growing somewhat more at ease with Allen, made no particular effort to appear attentive and pulled out a book with a dark cover.
He began reading it with small, pleased chuckles.
“You find it that amusing? What book is it, exactly?”
At Allen’s question, Edward started and turned around.
“…It’s nothing.”
“You seem bored. Shall I give a lecture? There’s still a great deal of material to cover today.”
Edward’s face fell.
“I haven’t even finished reviewing yesterday’s lesson yet…”
“Dear me. Don’t we set aside personal study time after dinner? What have you been doing with it?”
“It was too difficult…”
“If this is difficult, how do you intend to manage the next stage?”
Under Allen’s reproach, Edward hung his head.
Allen’s “lectures” amounted to nothing less than a revolution in Edward’s understanding of the world.
Explanations of organ function, of blood, cerebrospinal fluid, lymph—and astonishing accounts of infection itself.
Each concept, contemplated alone, was epoch-making; delivered in succession like hammer-blows to the mind, Edward’s skull could not bear it.
“I spoke yesterday of the heart and lungs, did I not?”
“…Yes, you did. The heart is a pump that circulates blood throughout the body, and the lungs exchange the air taken from outside with the blood. But—blood is a liquid and air is a gas. How in the world are they supposed to exchange at all? I simply cannot fathom it!”
“Simply put: air contains the part we need to breathe, and also waste matter expelled from the body. That…”
Allen himself struggled with complete understanding of what he attempted to explain.
The very concepts of oxygen, carbon dioxide, nitrogen existed nowhere in the world he inhabited.
His chemical knowledge, assimilated through his own mental framework, was strictly limited.
Yet because it had been translated to match Allen’s level of comprehension, the logic was sound.
For Edward, though—forced to memorize what he could not grasp—it was torment.
“The human body is far too complex, isn’t it?”
“…If you find this complex, how do you expect to manage what comes next?”
“I’m no brilliant physician like you. Just a dull surgeon.”
“That false distinction is precisely what’s wrong with you. How do you expect to study without confidence?”
While the two of them bickered, the sun crept slowly across the sky’s zenith and began its gradual descent toward the west.
Then came a knock—tap, tap—at the door.
Edward, brimming with anticipation, called out “Come in!” but his expression hardened slightly the moment he saw who entered.
“Please, sit here.”
It was none other than the Burn Patient.
He’d been coming for his dressing every four days, and this was his third appointment.
Unlike the ferocious demeanor he’d shown at first, the man’s bearing had grown noticeably subdued.
He almost seemed to be watching Edward’s expression carefully.
He extended his arm.
Edward slowly unwound the bandage.
Then, with trembling hands, he peeled away the linen gauze.
‘Please. When I saw it last time, it wasn’t so bad. Don’t get worse.’
Edward’s anxiety was plain enough for Allen to read.
The moment the linen gauze came free—
“……!”
Edward’s eyes widened in shock.
It was nothing like it had been before.
The area of macerated flesh, sticky with seepage and discharge, had noticeably diminished.
New skin had begun rising from the edges—not dry, but glistening with a healthy sheen.
Most of all, there was no smell.
Every burn wound Edward had ever treated had reeked of a pungent stench.
But this wound before him smelled like nothing more than raw flesh.
There was no pus.
“It’s healing,” Edward murmured, glancing up at the patient with cautious wonder.
In truth, he’d harbored doubts himself.
Honey, of all things.
If it truly worked, why hadn’t anyone used it before?
And yet it had worked.
Allen alone stood with an impassive expression.
Then he suddenly clapped his hands together.
“As expected of you, Master!”
Edward turned to stare at Allen, startled by the sudden outburst.
“When you first suggested we try honey, I confess I was skeptical. But it really does work!”
“Ah? Well… yes.”
Edward cleared his throat with an awkward cough.
“Most people don’t use it. I can’t fathom why this good remedy isn’t employed more. They just stick to what they’ve always done.”
As Edward spoke, he discreetly observed the patient’s expression.
The patient himself looked astonished, clearly witnessing the undeniable progress on his own arm.
“…Doctor.”
He parted his trembling lips.
“Thank you.”
“Hmm? What?”
Edward hesitated for a moment, struck by gratitude of a kind he’d heard perhaps only a handful of times in his entire life.
“Actually… years ago, a friend of mine suffered a severe burn. He underwent treatment, but the infection worsened, pus formed, and he had to have his arm amputated.”
“Ah, well. That’s truly a tragedy.”
“I was so afraid the same thing might happen to me that I fear I treated you far too disrespectfully.”
“No, no. It’s fine. Patients are always anxious. Such things happen.”
Watching Edward play the part of a benevolent physician, Allen stifled a laugh.
Once the dressing was complete, the patient rose and drew coins from his pocket, placing them on the desk.
“A token of my gratitude.”
“Hmm? No, no. Payment isn’t necessary. I said I’d treat you free of charge.”
“If you refuse, I’ll feel far too indebted to you.”
The patient bowed his head respectfully.
“Doctor Edward. I’ll return for my next appointment. And I won’t forget this kindness. I’ll tell everyone I know that you truly are a physician worthy of the name.”
With that, he departed.
Edward sat in stunned silence, his head turning toward Allen with the stiffness of a wooden puppet.
“…Did I just hear that correctly?”
“Yes. You heard it clearly.”
A smile played at the corners of Allen’s lips.

‘That’s right. The medicine of Dreamland works here too.’
* * *
The patient’s words had not been a lie.
After that, several people actually came seeking him out.
Since they all said they’d “come by referral,” word-of-mouth had clearly begun to spread.
The ailments were varied.
From cavities to knee pain, abdominal discomfort, and patients burning with fever.
Yet every time Edward reached for some technique, Allen stopped him short.
“Master, didn’t you tell me that Bloodletting is a useless practice?”
“Master, I recall you saying yesterday that Cupping Therapy only invites Infection and provides no benefit whatsoever.”
It was a plain prohibition.
Edward found himself on the verge of tears, forbidden from using every technique in his arsenal.
And all Allen ultimately offered through Edward’s lips was mere ‘management.’
Don’t do this.
Do that instead.
Leave it alone and it will heal naturally.
Try changing your daily habits a little.
As for medicines, he avoided them entirely except for a handful of herbs.
There was no occasion to use any expensive remedies.
Edward stared vacantly at the costly apothecary cabinet and bottles he’d worked so hard to acquire.
“…Couldn’t I just perform Bloodletting once?”
He’d pleaded with Allen in a voice half-choked with tears.
Yet Allen had refused him every time.
“Absolutely not. It would only cause harm. A physician cannot inflict injury upon a patient, can he?”
As a result, the payment he received from most visits amounted merely to a modest consultation fee.
With no expensive medicines and no procedures to perform, he could hardly ask for substantial compensation.
And the patients’ expressions were hardly encouraging either.
Those who’d hoped for ‘some other sort of treatment’ typically left disappointed.
Once, a middle-aged woman came complaining of knee pain.
When Edward finished the examination and said, “Avoid overexertion and reduce how often you climb stairs,” her face hardened.
“That’s all? Isn’t there something else you can do?”
Edward was beginning to say, “Then perhaps Bloodletting…” when Allen immediately cut in.
“My master prefers not to employ techniques such as Bloodletting or Cupping that might harm the body.”
The woman’s expression grew sour.
She set down a few coins on the table with a sharp clink and rose to her feet.
“Other physicians all perform such treatments.”
And with that, she left.
Edward gazed at the door for a long time, then exhaled quietly.
Time continued to pass.
The brief surge of patients had dwindled back to a trickle—now barely three or four a day.
On the fourth week since Allen had arrived.
Edward finally steeled himself and decided to broach the subject.
“At this rate, we’re heading straight toward bankruptcy.”

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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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