The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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When her recollection ended, fragmented images flashed through her mind.

The dripping blood, the writhing intestines and flesh, and the sacrificial animals with their necks ripped open and their blood drained—the nightmarish image was branded into my mind, haunting me.

Elsa knew that her parents were worried about her condition, and she also knew that she had recovered and should now pick up her long-abandoned studies... But at this moment, she was afraid of everything in the outside world, and she couldn't even muster the courage to step out of her room, so how could she continue to study "natural history"?

Amidst her conflicting emotions, she felt only torment.

Before anyone knew it, a few wisps of pale mist quietly filled Elsa's room.

But she was in a daze and didn't notice this rather strange sight.

"Snap-"

Elsa suddenly heard a slight noise and immediately turned her head alertly to look in the direction from which the sound came.

It was a full-length vanity mirror standing upright.

The base is silver-plated, with exquisite and luxurious patterns engraved on the frame. The grayish-white mist that inexplicably rises around it also seems to originate from the mirror.

She swallowed hard and slowly turned her gaze to the mirror.

A beautiful face appeared in the mirror, with fair skin, delicate and well-proportioned features, soft and moist lips, and... a pair of amber eyes that seemed to be able to captivate the soul.

But that wasn't Elsa's face.

Somewhat slow-witted, she blinked her right eye, while the person in the mirror blinked her left eye immediately. Then she raised her left arm and wiggled four fingers in turn, while the person in the mirror raised her right arm and wiggled four fingers in the same way.

There was no mirroring error... even the slightest movements were exactly the same as mine, perfectly synchronized.

Am I hallucinating again?

Elsa slowly got out of bed and walked to the full-length mirror, where she saw the person shrouded in mist. It was a woman wearing a gray gauze robe, slender and well-proportioned, with a black seam visible at her neck.

She reached out to touch the mirror, but found herself touching something soft... it was the face of the person in the mirror.

As the silver mirror rippled, the person actually stepped out of the mirror!

Her steps were light and graceful, yet silent, like a feline moving through the night.

"Well!"

Elsa immediately tried to call for a waiter, but before the syllable could escape her throat, her mouth was sealed by the rapidly shooting tentacles of "Reaching for the Moon".

"Hmm... the exit is a mirror? Coming out of such a weird place will scare the patients. Don't make my job more difficult."

Fran, who stepped out of the mirror, muttered a complaint under his breath, then walked up to Elsa.

“Miss Elsa, I know you are scared, which is a basic symptom of ‘panphobia’ and is perfectly normal. But if you are willing to communicate with me instead of shouting, I can release you from your restraints.”

"Blink your left eye if you agree."

Elsa felt an intense sense of fear engulf her, her mind in such turmoil it felt like it was about to leap out of her chest.

After about several tens of seconds, she slowly blinked her left eye.

Fran glanced at her, then withdrew his outstretched hand and placed it back on his wrist.

"Another one you can communicate with, how strange. Given your phobia of everything, you should be completely shutting yourself off right now."

As she spoke, she deftly opened her small medicine box and precisely took out a bottle of glucose solution from among a bunch of scalpels and circular saws, handing it to Elsa.

"Drink some water; it will make the medicine easier to swallow."

As Fran used his hand and the moon to block Elsa's mouth, he also used his tentacles to pry open her mouth and inserted a fluorescent green capsule called "Cure Your Illness 3000. Type 2".

Before commencing formal treatment, it is still necessary to take some measures to stabilize the patient's condition.

Elsa pressed her lips tightly together, not reaching for the bottle of glucose. But she did feel a foreign object in her throat, shaped like a capsule…

Fran ignored her wary gaze and patiently explained the current situation to her.

"I can put that capsule in your mouth, or I can pour this bottle of glucose solution down your throat. But the method might be a bit rough, so please forgive me if it offends you."

"..."

After a moment's thought, Elsa accepted the bottle of glucose solution and drank half of it in one gulp. It tasted much like ordinary water, but with a slightly sweet and refreshing flavor.

Seeing that she had already taken her medication, Fran casually pulled up a leather square chair next to him, sat down, rested his cheek on one hand, and quietly began to wait.

The capsule dissolves in the stomach, and the liquid contents flow downwards into the intestinal mucosa, and then penetrate deep into the limbs and bones via the bloodstream.

Elsa didn't notice anything unusual at first, but soon her eyes showed a hint of surprise.

The wild, turbulent thoughts that had been dancing wildly seemed to have regained their normal rhythm and began to stabilize...

The darkness of the world also ceased its creeping motion.

A clear and bright feeling welled up in her mind; she seemed... to be normal again?

Seeing Elsa gradually showing joy, Fran, out of professional habit, gave her a word of advice.

"This is only the first course of treatment, so please don't be blindly optimistic about your condition. Just like many patients with depression suddenly feel euphoric, that could be a sign of a shift towards bipolar disorder..."

"Of course, my medicine has no side effects, and at least during the period it is effective, your condition will remain quite stable."

Elsa felt a strange sense of familiarity as she listened to the somewhat obscure words Fran used.

Professor Terence often explained these lengthy and difficult-to-understand theories like this in his natural history theory class... Could this gray-robed girl be the refutationist of the white cup? But her method of traversing the mirrors doesn't seem quite right...

"You know my name is Elsa... May I ask who you are?"

She asked what was probably the first question she'd uttered this month, very cautiously.

“I am the Mirror Wiper of the Lamp Cult, from the Obscure Society. You may call me Flamel.”

Fran gave a false name without any hesitation.

When posing as someone other than a doctor, she doesn't mind using other names... Besides, Flamel was her former name, so strictly speaking, it wasn't a pseudonym.

“Yes, Ms. Flamel.”

Elsa readily agreed and was eager to know what was happening to her body.

"Um... were you sent by my father to treat me?"

"No, but I was indeed commissioned to resolve the remaining issues from the 'birthday banquet hall' incident."

True to the riddle-solving style of the Misty Society, Fran gave an ambiguous answer.

“And your phobia of everything is one of those things. Although it’s just a purely psychological illness, and there’s no pollution involved… I have to prevent it from continuing to evolve.”

"Now that your condition has stabilized, we should move on to the second course of treatment."

As she spoke, she gathered the moth-patterned gray gauze skirt and slowly walked towards the bedroom mirror.

"The second course of treatment... what is that?"

Just as Elsa stepped forward to ask more questions, a hand covered in stitches grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the misty, rippled mirror.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

-

Even without recommendation votes, we'll still drop little pearls...

Chapter Nine: The Extrauterine World

Elsa stepped into the mirror through the fog in the doorway and discovered that this was not a mirror world completely reversed from reality... but a vast and boundless sea of ​​fog.

Pale mist swirled around her, surging as if it were alive.

"Where is this? One/¤〇⌒。〇÷@76ˇ∠91436Search QQ Group:"

She stretched out her palm, looking at the mist swirling above it. She couldn't help but feel a sense of fear, but at the same time, a touch of curiosity.

"Shh...don't ask anything. Because I won't tell you anything."

Fran put his index finger to his lips, stopping the curious child from asking further questions.

After all, Elsa was a student at Norrington Central College, making her practically a disciple of the White Cup. And these White Cup believers were known for their insatiable thirst for knowledge and formidable practical skills... It was best to discourage her from asking questions from the start.

Most importantly, young students who don't know what confidentiality agreements are usually loose-lipped... Fran doesn't want her existence to become widely known; for her, maintaining the current state is quite comfortable.

"Miss Elsa, do you remember where you were kidnapped?"

"In... an alley at the end of Sandrank Street, roughly behind the 'Mandala' tavern."

Elsa frowned, pondered for a moment amidst her jumbled memories, and then spoke with some difficulty.

Even with medication to stabilize her mind, her psychological trauma has not fully healed. Recalling that dark and broken night still makes her breath quicken.

“We’ll go there.”

Having identified their objective, Fran then led Elsa through the fog.

After walking for a short while, the two quickly emerged from the shadows of the back alley of Sandrank Street.

It was early morning, and Norrington typically experiences cloudy skies.

The rising sun was hidden in the gray sky and did not appear. This alley was already deserted, let alone at a time when most people had not yet gotten up.

"The back alley of the 'Mandala' tavern, it seems, is here."

中」』转□⌒群：∞∨珥∽±san≮`糤琳¤wu Fran brushed aside the mist swirling around her and looked around with a rather relaxed expression.

"Yes, it's...it's here...ah..."

Elsa's voice trembled slightly, her face turned ashen, and her condition visibly began to deteriorate. She suddenly raised her hand to cover her mouth, her throat muscles spasming as if she were about to vomit.

"vomit……"

She leaned against the wall and began to dry heave. But because she hadn't eaten much, her stomach was empty... so she could only keep vomiting up acidic water mixed with saliva.

Elsa felt a tremendous chill envelop her, and everything around her seemed unclean and malicious. Instinctively, she wanted to curl up, to cry out loud, and to leave this place.

Her arm, which was supporting her against the wall, suddenly went limp, and just as she was about to collapse to the ground, an unusually warm arm steadied her.

She was a woman dressed in a maid's dress, her hair and eyes the color of molten gold, with a dazzling luster.

What a beautiful maid, like the sun... When did she appear?

Although she had some doubts, Elsa didn't have the energy to think about them at the moment.

She could feel her rationality, which was supported by medication, being gradually eroded, and her phobia of everything was quietly stirring, gradually approaching the critical point of mental breakdown.

"Dr. Fran, what should I do next?"

Sigrid helped Elsa up and turned to Fran to ask.

Although she often served as an assistant at the Foggy Street Clinic, this was her first time officially participating in a house call, so she was understandably a little flustered. Compared to cast objects, the human body was far too fragile and easily damaged…

"The back door of the Mandala Tavern is right here. Let's carry her inside first."

Fran raised his wrist, and the black tentacles of "Reaching for the Moon" immediately burrowed into the keyhole of the door, prying and stirring deep within.

With a crisp click of the spring, the tavern's back door opened.

Sigrid lifted the semi-conscious Elsa and carried her inside effortlessly. Her movements were steady and fluid, as if she were carrying a living person.

Seeing the scene before him, Fran couldn't help but narrow his eyes.

Oh, sometimes she really envied Sigrid and Heda... for being able to do such heavy physical labor without batting an eye.

Composing himself, Fran followed suit and entered through the back door of the Mandala Tavern.

Behind the door was a warehouse filled with dust.

Although there were signs of people entering and leaving to retrieve goods, it seemed like it hadn't been properly cleaned in a long time. There's no need to worry about anyone coming in anytime soon.

As Fran casually closed the door, the entire warehouse was plunged into a dim darkness.

Sigrid found a relatively wide wooden table and placed Elsa down. Then she extended her index finger, and a faint incandescent light shone from its tip, dispelling the gloom in the room.

"Dr. Fran, she clearly took your medicine, so why is she having such a strong reaction?"

Seeing Elsa curled up on the wooden table, trembling, Sigrid couldn't help but feel a little surprised.

She remembered that after taking the green capsule, her mind was in a highly stable state. The effect was potent and long-lasting, and it didn't completely subside even after hiding in Fog Street for several days.

Fran then patiently explained to the maid, just like a tutor instructing a new student.

"Because you took the first type, which incorporates some of the research findings from the previous Medical Secretary, making it more technologically advanced. Of course, the second type is also effective... it's just that your causes of illness are different."

"Also, Sigrid, please call me 'Flameme' from now on."

Although Elsa is currently in a semi-comatose state, since Fran used a pseudonym, I should call her by that name.

Sigrid realized her mistake in addressing someone and instinctively put her hands down in front of her abdomen, lowering her head with a hint of apology.