The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 301

Upon hearing this, Vivian pursed her lips somewhat reservedly.

“…Then I shall take my leave, Master Zoparos.”

After leaving the document storage room and confirming that the other person's gaze was no longer focused on her, she finally let out a long breath.

Although she did not participate in the battle against Melvis within the Bonestone Sanctuary, Melvis was, after all, a non-human being approaching the rudimentary level, and even Sister Heda could not easily intervene.

When wiping out the remnants of the Listening Tide Clan, Vivian was unusually refrain from taking advantage of the chaos.

Now, she really needs to catch her breath.

After a moment's thought, Vivian realized that the only suitable place to rest seemed to be Dr. Fran's Foggy Street Clinic. She then reached into her coat pocket and gently pulled the sleepy-eyed Mu Ning awake.

Sometimes, she would inexplicably envy her calling bird.

With just a pocket, it could fall asleep anytime, anywhere in a warm embrace; Dr. Fran, out of some kind of favoritism, even gave it the credentials to knock on the fog in the door. Compared to that, I felt more like a replaceable, large birdcage.

Well, what's done is done, there's no use in being jealous, I should just go home.

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soup!

Chapter 204 Shattered Documents

The essence of the "Feast of the Immortals" is a "man-made disaster," and its harmfulness is comparable to that of a natural disaster.

Compared to the protracted plague at Norrington, the Feast of the Undead likely claimed less than a third of its victims. However, sometimes the severity of the impact is not directly related to the number of deaths…

The Curse of the Full Moon of the Deep Sea is an ancient curse that has taken root in Golmouth since the beginning of time.

Although it has become a fable or legend in the mouths of later generations, at least it still has traces to follow, and most people are not completely unaware of it.

What happened in Mordway last night was completely beyond our comprehension and could not be predicted using empiricism or conventional thinking.

Who could have predicted that?

An elderly person in their twilight years, a lover on their pillow, or even an infant in swaddling clothes... could suddenly and without warning transform into a living corpse, a terrifying creature covered in scales, shells, and tentacles.

When faced with immense grief, people often fall silent.

When faced with something intensely absurd, one often finds oneself unable to help but laugh.

When one glimpses the unknown, which cannot be understood by one's established worldview... fear arises silently. It is one of humanity's oldest and deepest emotions, and sometimes the chaos caused by the spread of fear can even surpass the disaster itself.

In order to quickly stabilize the situation and curb the spread of panic, the White Cup's debunkers used the most efficient and also the most brutal solution.

Fuzzy memory.

In Norrington, they could have performed a more thorough memory erasure through a large-scale, pre-arranged ritual. Of course, this is a special procedure only used in extreme circumstances.

Mordway's current condition is clearly not suitable for a slow ritual construction. In this urgent situation, the Exorcist can only try to use methods such as deep hypnosis to dilute the fear caused by the "Feast of the Vanishers".

Right now, this capital city by the abyss is unusually quiet and silent even during the day, and becomes even more desolate after nightfall.

Fran strolled through the dark, narrow alleyways, her amber eyes hidden in the shadows of the dim streetlights, making them difficult to discern. However, judging from the doctor's leisurely and light steps, she was probably in a good mood.

She doesn't dislike the bustling and noisy streets and markets, but she also genuinely enjoys the quiet solitude of the night.

Of course, Fran didn't actually come out specifically for an evening walk.

Although this person is generally quite lazy and undisciplined when she doesn't have a medical goal, it doesn't mean that she can really tolerate being idle for a long time.

Previously, the old self awakened by the Banyan Fruit [Shadow of the Past] brought about some hidden changes that urgently needed to be clarified... If Fran hadn't planned to meet someone, he would probably be holed up in the Fog Street Clinic undergoing a full self-examination right now.

She has a profound understanding of her own strange and inexplicable interests; her "old self" may be harboring mischief, leaving behind some harmless yet ambiguous pitfalls for her to fall into.

Oh, as for why Fran is so certain... it's because he puts himself in her shoes.

If she had a similar opportunity now, she would probably do the same for her future self.

There was no reason, no explanation, and no hidden agenda or vested interest; it was simply because it was fun. People always spontaneously create some enjoyment in life.

"tread."

Without warning, Fran stopped in his tracks.

Just then, she heard a rustling sound behind her, like the sound of snake scales scraping against the bricks on the ground.

"I've been following you for so long but haven't made a move. I thought you weren't planning on showing up."

“Ernie”.

As the doctor finished speaking, "The Viper Who Drinks Candles" Ernie gradually emerged from the shadows.

Compared to his imposing and ferocious appearance at Prince Gunther's hidden residence, his body has shrunk considerably, now almost reaching the size of an ordinary human. However, one can still glimpse the faint gleam of snake scales through his tattered robe.

"Please allow me to express my apologies, Dr. Fran. I do not wish to make excuses for myself, but the reason I did not offer my greetings was that I did not wish to disturb your enjoyment of traveling alone."

Ernie carefully chose his words, maintaining a respectful and fearful tone.

The doctor before him was able to restore him, who was now only a head, to his original form, and even remove the taint buried deep within his soul. Regardless of the doctor's true intentions and purpose, respect was an attitude he had to uphold.

As for fear... it also stems from the above.

Orne had absolutely no idea what Dr. Fran's logic was.

No matter how tolerant one might be, her behavior upon first meeting could hardly be described as friendly; even rudeness and arrogance would be considered positive adjectives. But she seemed unconcerned, curing her chronic ailment almost without any cost to her.

So, will she suddenly take back her "new life" without warning?

In addition to these factors, there were other reasons for Ernie's anxiety.

He had previously sensed the unprecedentedly intense spiritual energy fluctuations from the [Feast of the Vanishers]. Clearly, Melvis had been driven to the brink and was fighting desperately. He was even willing to prematurely activate the first type of ritual for this purpose.

That was a sublime blasphemy, usurping divine authority, and no one knew just how high this academician could rise. However, in a single night, all the suspense was resolved, leaving no room for maneuver.

The defeat of the Listener was inevitable, but the person who orchestrated all of this was right in front of him, unharmed and calm.

"No need to be so formal, Mr. Ernie."

Seemingly sensing the thoughts of the Ant-Scale Saint, Fran softened her tone to offer reassurance. As a highly ethical psychologist, she did not want her patients to be tense during questioning.

“The medical services I provide are always clearly priced, and if I don’t bring up the issue of payment, it means that I’m doing it for free. Often, a sufficiently valuable case is the payment itself.”

"Speaking of which, now is a good time to conduct a follow-up visit on the patient's condition."

"Mr. Ernie, have you recently experienced symptoms such as headaches, vivid dreams, rejection reactions below the neck, or angina? Due to genetic differences, a small number of patients may not be able to adapt to the newly grown flesh."

Her expression was earnest and kind; she even took out a booklet, ready to take notes for future reference.

Upon hearing this, Ernie's gaze narrowed slightly, and after a moment he spoke in response.

"I don't have these symptoms."

"The body you created is perfect, at least from my current experience... It is impeccable. Its strength, spirituality, and vitality all surpass those of the past."

While it may be difficult to understand Freud's six-dimensional thinking model, it is evident that this doctor, who may have transcended the level of an apostle, is quite persistent in her professional positioning.

Orne didn't find this strange at all.

Those high-ranking individuals who survived the cataclysmic changes at the end of the Lost Era often possess some degree of mental instability. Even among the new generation of practitioners of mystical rituals, these eccentric and unpredictable outcasts are more likely to be promoted.

I must specifically mention the guy wearing a tricorn hat and carrying a sickle.

Upon hearing Ornie's reply, Franz nodded and then picked up his pen to record the situation he described.

Fran was quite confident in her skills in shaping bodies, which stemmed from the cultivation and reconstruction of her own original limbs. She wasn't worried that this Ant Scale disciple would be the lucky one to reject the new flesh and blood; her earlier visit was more out of meticulousness and professional habit.

...In fact, if the above situation were to actually occur, she would feel genuinely happy.

The fact that the same patient could be treated twice, and that the subsequent disease developed in an unexpected way, was undoubtedly a "good thing" for Fran. Like a withered tree sprouting new buds, how could one not be delighted?

"Enough of this small talk, Mr. Ornness. I'm leaving Gormouth tomorrow. I imagine you've come to see me for more than just a farewell?"

At this point, Fran glanced at the shadows swirling around him, seemingly casually.

"As you said."

Seeing that she got straight to the point, Ernie readily admitted it and quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

To be honest, since becoming a saint of the Antscale Gate, he has rarely used honorifics so frequently when communicating with others, so much so that he is not used to speaking and often has to pause for a moment to organize his thoughts.

"You were involved in the battle at Oak Shadow Woods, so you must know about another saint of the Antscale Gate, Victor. He is older than me, more resilient, and more deeply corrupted."

"If possible, I hope you can lend a helping hand to the Ant Scale Gate."

He lowered his head, trying his best to make his hoarse voice sound sincere.

Fran's expression remained unchanged, showing no surprise at Orne's request.

If she hadn't remembered that there was still an experimental prototype of the Ant Scale Gate within Mordway, she wouldn't have gone against her recently adjusted biological clock and made a special trip out in the middle of the night...

"I don't mind providing medical support to the best of my ability, but I have to see the patient first."

Before she could finish speaking, Victor, transformed into a serpent, emerged from the cracks in the alleyway and approached her. The elderly Ant-Scale Saint did not revert to human form, but remained in the shape of a giant serpent.

“It is an honor to meet you, Dr. Fran. Perhaps I should call you by the name you used in Oakwood, The Hermit.”

"...Or perhaps 'Vivian'?"

His voice had the roughness characteristic of an old man, accompanied by the hissing sound of a snake flicking its tongue.

"Don't worry about titles, just call me Fran. I'm the doctor, you're the patient, and all we need to do is follow the most basic doctor-patient relationship."

Fran stared directly at the enormous serpent in front of him, his amber eyes remaining completely undisturbed.

"As you wish, Dr. Fran."

Viktor lowered his head, his expression almost submissive.

Those who study the mystical rituals that venerate the Mother of Ants can gain inspiration from any source. Compared to the divination of the Lamp and Luminaries system, their glimpse of the answers comes naturally and effortlessly.

A deep, dark dream, a drifting snowflake, a faint whisper of wind—any of these could give them a glimpse of the "truth." Of course, this is merely a vague and unsubstantiated conjecture.

More often than not, they still need to rely on their own efforts to make discoveries.

The covert war launched by the Star Abyss Society has come to an end, and the person before us is both a performer on the stage and a strategist behind the scenes.

Orne met the noblewoman Sydia of Heil at Prince Günther's residence, and based on this information alone... Victor could almost conclude that Fran was the "Vivian" who stole the underwater prison from the Sleeping Sand Bell Tower.

Even if they aren't, there must be an inseparable connection between them.

"Please do not worry about this. While those who worship snakes and pythons may be interested in secrets, they are also well aware of the consequences and dangers of disseminating others' privacy. We will not disclose your information in any form."

Upon hearing what Victor said, Fran raised his hand to cover his mouth and yawned, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation.

"Reputation, identity, pretense—these things are actually irrelevant. The fact that you know this means I haven't been hiding much at all... Right now, the only thing I care about is the chronic pollution disease you have."

"I am interested in the curse of the Ant Scale Gate for some personal reasons. But I have already provided Orne with a medical service without charging any fees, and I think it is time for your church to show its sincerity."

The snake-like creature that Victor had conjured slowly flicked its forked tongue, and after a moment's hesitation, it presented the price it had already decided on.

“If the Ant Scale Gate were still in an earlier era, the rewards we offer would be far more generous than any existing secret organization… but now the Order is in ruins, the saints are scattered, and we have very little left to offer you.”

"This is a map of the ruins of the deepest secret realm of Philanes, concerning the end of the Pure White Era. If I could, I would never trade it. But for now, it is the only treasure I believe worthy of being called a treasure."

"I believe you are aware of its value, as well as the dangers it contains."

As he spoke, his broad, snake-like throat twitched, and a wooden box was spit out. Ornee opened it with a key and presented the parchment scroll inside to Fran.

“Fragmented collection of documents from the Kingdom of Private… It just so happens that my bookshelf is somewhat lacking in this area.”

Fran examined the slightly yellowed parchment scroll carefully before accepting it with pleasure.

Although both parties would try to exaggerate the true value of what they offered during the transaction, most of the history of Philanes' existence was erased by the White Cup, to the point that every piece of paper document is a unique copy.

Only religious sects that follow enlightenment may have some paper records remaining.

Victor did indeed offer a price that was sufficient for the weight.

After putting the paper roll back into the medicine box, Fran put on white rubber gloves and his expression became slightly serious.

“I have received your consultation fee, and we can begin the first course of treatment. Now I need to empty my mind as much as possible, abandon all subconscious resistance, and suppress the instinctive spiritual backlash.”

"it is good."

As he said this, Viktor instinctively felt a sense of unreality.

Finally, that heart-wrenching, unforgettable curse will be eradicated... How long have I waited for this moment? I can't even remember anymore.

Ever since the image of the Mother of Ants shed black, bloody tears, and ever since the revelation of salvation turned into malevolent babbling, he has been tormented every day. Fear, confusion, and terror have been spreading and deepening without ever ceasing.

Seeing the elderly saint's expression, Orneel, standing to the side, pursed his lips slightly, looking a little guilty.

Dr. Fran's skills and treatment results were indeed genuine, bordering on miraculous. But her treatment process... was probably the kind that would give a child nightmares for the rest of their life if they witnessed it.