The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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Davis narrowed his eyes. He thought of Professor Toussaint's phantom in his room.

Every movement of that guy was incredibly realistic: the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his imperious demeanor, his disdainful gaze... even the sound of his boots as he walked.

But he kept vehemently denying that he was still alive, and that guy turned to ashes after his head was crushed by a stomp.

If Father Gorn in this room believes the manservant is real, then... can that manservant touch him?

"We'll only know the outcome once we're inside. Davis, you'll open the door this time."

Without any qualms, Fran handed the task of opening the door over to Davis.

She didn't really care about the potentially explicit scenes, but... it was time to find something for this idle guy next to her to do.

“Okay.” Davis did not refuse.

In the midst of unknown exploration, the most important thing is to "share the risks." Dr. Fran had helped him several times before, and he couldn't possibly be so insincere as to not even open the door for her.

He approached the door of the guest room and carefully turned the handle. The solid feel of the lock engaging followed.

"This door... is locked."

Davis showed no surprise; on the contrary, he seemed to take it for granted.

When doing something shameful, most people will almost instinctively lock the door and draw the curtains to ensure they are in a safe environment where their privacy will not be compromised.

Before Fran could reply, he had already taken out a simple lock-picking tool made of twisted wire from his pocket. After a few careful manipulations, the spring clicked softly.

"solved."

Davis put away his lock-picking tools and then breathed a sigh of relief.

If this door were locked by some inexplicable mysterious force, it wouldn't be able to be opened with just that little gadget in my hand. Fortunately, it's just an ordinary door, nothing special about it.

Hmm...the movements are very skillful. No, I should say they're overly skillful.

Although they are far from being as good as me, they are still good enough to be called "veterans".

Fran looked at Davis, whose face was beaming with joy, and couldn't help but feel a little curious about the nature of this folklorist's profession.

Seemingly noticing Fran's gaze, Davis scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly.

"Although I hate to say it, this skill is indeed very useful for folklorists. Once, I was locked in a house by villagers in a fishing village who were followers of a cult, and it was thanks to this that I was able to escape..."

"Moreover, sometimes the documents of some mystics are locked in boxes in the ruins, and you have to think of a way to open them."

Judging from his description, this guy seems to have encountered quite a few dangerous situations.

From this perspective, Davis certainly has the talent to be a folklorist. He's not stupid, and... he's incredibly resilient.

The fact that he is still alive is enough to prove this point.

The door lock was already open. After a brief moment of mental preparation, he reached out and pushed the door open.

Father Ghosn's room... was a prayer room.

The hall features a gold emblem placed at the highest point in front, wooden benches on either side, and even a confessional room for those seeking solace with clergy. Steps are also provided for the choir's area to give speeches.

Fran wasn't particularly interested in such a conventional religious place. She didn't spend much time observing her surroundings and went straight in after confirming there was no immediate danger.

"Hoo...child, the demon is no longer tormenting your body."

Father Ghosn's voice rang out in the prayer room, but the exact location of the person could not be seen immediately.

However, after those words, wisps of white smoke drifted out of the prayer room and confessional, followed by the pungent smell of tobacco.

"They should be in that penitential chamber."

Davis was unsure whether he should open the confessional, so he looked at Fran with a slightly questioning expression.

3 Meanwhile, the doctor had somehow arrived at the central spot in the prayer room, where the sacred texts were kept. She picked up the text, which was placed on a monopod, and began to read it casually.

The parchment does not contain myths or fables, nor does it contain religious texts or precepts; rather, it is one of the poems in a short poem.

0. Pearls and rubies adorn the church's ornate doors, their interplay creating a dazzling, shimmering effect.

5. [The child's voice echoed, beautiful and flawless, melodious as heavenly music.]

[Sounds of praise, children sing in unison:]

The verses, "Praise be to the wisdom and power of the gods high above," lingered and echoed.

Unaware that the devil of greed is nonetheless His close advisor.

Davis was also intrigued by this poem, which read like a literary work. He quickly went to the one-legged bookshelf and read the short poem.

"Dr. Fran, is this the third poem?"

Davis asked Fran with some confusion.

Although there was no factual basis for this, the folklorist felt that the girl in front of him knew more than he did.

This allowed him to ask questions without feeling guilty, since, based on his qualifications... Dr. Fran was definitely qualified to be his teacher.

"No, this is the fourth one. The third one is with Krull."

Fran's voice was filled with an unwavering certainty.

She had read the original poem "Ghost House," so she was very familiar with its structure and rhythm. While these short poems shared some similarities with the former, they were modified in other ways.

Suddenly, Father Ghosn's cry of pain rang out from the confessional, followed by hysterical screams.

"Ah! What are you doing? Stop it! It hurts!"

"Your face...you, what are you? You are a demon..."

Upon hearing his voice, Fran couldn't help but sigh softly, his amber eyes flickering slightly.

"Although I don't know if this guy is worth saving, let's give it a try anyway. In any case... someone will judge him."

As she spoke, she raised her index finger slightly towards Davis beside her, pointing to the wooden confessional.

"Davis, go open the door."

"it is good."

Having prepared himself mentally beforehand, Davis did not hesitate and quickly opened the door to the confessional.

Davis didn't realize that when he agreed to search for Lan's command, he had barely thought about it; his body simply began to act instinctively...

When this doctor didn't want to do the work herself, she was able to subtly get those around her to act as "laborers."

Of course, the other party will be completely willing to do so throughout the entire process.

Inside the cramped confessional, Father Ghosn lay slumped on the floor, and clinging to him was a mass of rotting, black flesh that barely retained a human form.

Within its "head," one could vaguely discern the melted facial features—the handsome face of the Hanoverian manor servant. Now, however, they were shattered and even wriggling along with the flesh.

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One chapter today, two chapters tomorrow, enough for a peaceful night's sleep, and the readers have arrived again.

Chapter Fifty: Covetousness and Greed [The Ghost Mansion]

"Ahhh! Help me! Get this off quickly, it...it's stuck to me!"

Father Ghosn had lost his former kind and composed demeanor and was now shouting almost frantically.

His incessant chatter made Davis frown.

Damn it, with such a commotion, I hope "corruption" won't be attracted here...

"Don't worry, that guy won't find this place for at least five minutes. I've got a reliable 'friend' keeping it occupied."

Fran easily discerned what he was worried about, and then calmly offered a reassuring remark.

friend?

Davis pondered the specific meaning of the word repeatedly.

He had also heard the metallic sound of the armor rubbing against each other, which meant... Dr. Fran's helper was a knight in armor? But that kind of monster didn't seem like something that could be fought by human strength... How did that guy manage to fight it for so long?

Most importantly, Fran seemed completely unconcerned about the safety of his assistant.

Her expression was quite subtle; it didn't seem like she had already abandoned him, but rather like she had an almost arrogant belief in his strength.

“児^氿△∽lin/￡叁¤◆儛六肆中转≮∥ｑUN：What are you all still standing there for? Help me...No, I can feel it biting me...This devil is covered in 'mouths'!”

Ghosn grew increasingly impatient as he realized the two men seemed unwilling to lend a hand.

He also tried to peel off the rotten flesh from his body himself, but his legs were still a little weak from the intense exercise he had just done.

Moreover, the creature's fangs were deeply embedded in his skin, and every tug was accompanied by excruciating pain... Soon, his attempts to save himself ended in failure. And his anxious cries gradually turned into pleas.

"Please, please help me get him down... I can give you a lot of money, and if you're willing to join the church... I can even offer you power! You don't understand the church's influence; at least in Gulins City, there's nothing we can't obtain..."

Father Ghosn's voice rang out intermittently, each pause accompanied by a sharp cry of pain.

"Well... don't worry, Father Ghosn. Now that I've decided to help you, I won't abandon you halfway. As a doctor, I will fulfill my responsibilities to my patients."

"Of course, this is on the premise that both parties have already established a clear doctor-patient relationship."

Fran's voice slowly rose.

As she spoke, she reached into her medicine box, fumbled around for a moment, and then pulled out a gleaming mechanical circular saw.

"The following process may be a little painful, but it seems too late to administer anesthesia in your condition. So please try your best to bear it... If you accidentally lose control of your bladder, it will be very difficult for me."

"You...what are you going to do?"

As Ghosn heard the mechanical hum of the circular saw starting to turn, a strong sense of fear enveloped him, to the point that he even forgot the pain in his body for a moment.

"What am I to do? Oh... this is to perform the separation surgery as quickly as possible, as requested by Your Excellency."

Fran slowly approached, carrying a circular saw. The steel teeth on the saw blade gleamed brightly under the surrounding lights.

"∠℃＝∨」Extract)○Group∮∑：Well, perhaps there are other ways..."

Ghosn was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

"Davis, hold him down," Fran ordered in a deep voice.

“Okay.” Davis stepped forward and held his body firmly in place.

This young folklorist, having spent years engaged in exploration, was in much better physical condition than the average person. Ghosn, on the other hand, was a pampered, overweight middle-aged man, visibly frail. With this disparity in strength, the latter's resistance ended before it even began.

Although he moved quickly, Davis was still surprised when he saw the steel circular saw.

Would a normal doctor really carry a handgun and a circular saw in their personal belongings? Or do I have some misunderstanding about the medical profession?

Although he thought this to himself, he didn't show any emotion on his face. After all, he had already encountered one surprising thing after another along the way, and frankly, one more wouldn't make a difference...

"It seems like we're missing something in our preparations... What could it be?"

Fran frowned slightly, then a look of realization flashed in his amber eyes, as if he had already figured out the answer.

"I need a towel."

Did he need a towel... to wipe away the bloodstains? Davis wondered with some curiosity.

The next moment, he saw Fran take out a towel and stuff it tightly into Ghosn's mouth.

After completing this action, Fran plunged the saw blade, which was making a constant, screeching sound, into the joint between Ghosn and the rotting flesh. The dull thud of steel tearing through flesh immediately rang out…

Meat scraps and tainted, sticky, putrid blood splattered everywhere, staining her white silk dress crimson.

Although the "medical equipment" she used was somewhat crude, Fran's movements were precise and steady, yet incredibly agile. In the blink of an eye, she had peeled away most of the rotting flesh embedded in Ghosn's body.

As the circular saw cut off the last clump of rotting flesh, the priest's body was no longer visibly filthy. However, the inside of this clump of flesh was filled with human lips and teeth, and the brief contact had already torn and festered most of his skin.

Is it finally... over?

Ghosn breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the biting and wriggling sensation on his skin cease. Although he was in excruciating pain, it was still better than being devoured alive by that thing.

"Okay, the first course of treatment is complete."

"Phew... As expected, the orthopedics department is full of people who do renovations on the side. Not only is the work physically demanding, but the environment is also noisy."

Fran removed the blood plasma from the circular saw, turned it off, and removed the saw blade.

What does the first course of treatment mean? Due to the intense pain, Ghosn's brain is currently in a state of malfunction, and he can only perform very simple thoughts.

"That means your treatment isn't over yet. I've only done a simple dissection; next, I'll remove the contaminated tissue and finish suturing."

Seemingly guessing what the priest was thinking, Fran answered him with a smile.

"Woo!"