The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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When you see a car parked on the side of the road, just pry open the door and forcibly requisition it. Ife might not be able to hold out until reinforcements arrive.

Thinking of this, she glanced almost imperceptibly at Ift beside her.

The young nun's face was completely distorted; her features resembled a jumbled mess of discarded paint, blended together yet completely unrelated. She had already shown symptoms when she left Dwyer's residence, and they had been getting worse ever since.

However, this alarming trend would ease slightly whenever Vivian spoke to her and exerted verbal pressure, such as admonishment.

That's why she maintained a serious and aloof demeanor throughout.

"Instructor Naor must be very strict."

Seeing that Eve was no longer speaking, Vivian had to find a topic to talk about herself.

"As far as I know, he is the instructor who has eliminated the most reserve members. But correspondingly, the survival rate of students who graduate from his class is much higher than that of their peers."

Upon hearing this, the young nun raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of longing appearing in the blurry holes that could hardly be called eyes.

"If I had to describe him, he would be a devil."

“He would attack us at any time without warning, just to ensure that every reservist could respond according to the general guidelines. He also liked to play annoying tricks such as ‘early morning emergency assembly,’ ‘extra training for those who fail the assessment,’ and ‘guessing the number of bullets left by randomly picking up a gun based on its weight.’”

“But Instructor Naor would remember each of our names, would sit at the same table with us for meals, and despite being covered in injuries, he always followed a stricter schedule than the reserves. He never attended the funerals of the previous batches of reserves who died in accidents, but would come to their graves alone after everyone else had left.”

"If there is a devil that suffers the torment of guilt over the death of a student, then it is probably him."

Eve wasn't the talkative type, but Vivian's simultaneous display of indifference and care did give her a strange sense of warmth.

And for some reason... she had a strong urge to confide in someone at that moment.

It was as if if they didn't speak up now, they would never have another chance.

“Agent Vivian, I come from Dowling, a town on the outskirts of Norrington. It’s a desolate and cold town, just a few hills and woodlands away from the Black Wasteland, where evil offspring attacks used to occur frequently in the past.”

"My parents were also victims of a series of incidents where evil offspring randomly preyed on each other."

"Compared to those lucky ones who died on the spot, they survived with injuries and severe disabilities. What should have been a brief moment of suffering was prolonged for years until their bodies could no longer withstand the erosion, and their final rest was delayed."

"Many times I can't help but wonder, is it really a sin for a person to want to live without suffering? It was the Order that taught me that only by firmly grasping the sword can one's destiny be in one's own hands. To be compassionate is to help those who are injustice, to fight against the unfair, and to punish the unjust..."

Ift's voice grew increasingly low and indistinct, like the murmur of a sleepy person who was half-awake.

She began to melt.

Starting from the face, and continuing down the body, it flowed slowly like viscous ink that hadn't fully dried. As a result, the smell of evaporating lipids in the air became increasingly strong and pungent, lingering there.

"Agent Vivian, I can't see you very clearly anymore, my vision is getting blurry."

"Then close your eyes and cheer up!"

Vivian tried to remain stern as much as possible, hoping to bring her back to her senses.

"Trust me, just hang in there a little longer. As soon as the doctor gets here, everything will be alright."

"Doctor? Am I sick? Yes... I can feel my limbs becoming very soft, like a lump of soaked mud. I must look terrible right now. No wonder you've been making that face the whole time."

"Is it a plague or a curse?"

As Eve uttered the word "sick," her previously scattered mind suddenly rallied, barely regaining a sliver of clarity. She raised her hand, as soft as molten wax, and with difficulty pulled a single-barreled shotgun from beneath her nun's coat, then aimed it at her chin.

"Agent...whether it's plague or curse, please turn my remains to ashes after I die."

"Bang!"

With a hiss, the trigger was pulled, and a loud roar immediately followed, accompanied by billowing gray smoke.

The dust and mist smelled slightly different from the usual pungent gunpowder fumes; it seemed to carry a faint, damp coolness. The wisps of smoke drifted and floated in the wind, like a light gauze curtain.

Surprisingly, it seems that Eve didn't manage to blow her head open as she had hoped.

Four... At some point, the single-barreled shotgun was no longer in her hands.

"I told you that the pressure of working in a funeral home is too great and that psychological counseling needs to be strengthened. People are taking their own lives without hesitation."

Wearing a thin nightgown and velvet slippers, Fran folded his shotgun in half to expose the barrel, then skillfully ejected the spent cartridges.

"This is extra work, Vivian. Remember to have the General Affairs Department ready. I will soon send them a medical bill that is three times the usual price."

5 Fran put away his shotgun, then raised his hand and rubbed his eyes.

The monthly patient details arrived along with Mu Ning's tip, catching Fran, who had just finished showering and buried himself in the bed, somewhat off guard. He didn't even have time to put on his doctor's coat before grabbing his medicine kit and heading out the door.

Therefore, the doctor is not in a very good mood right now.

Well... you could say it was extremely, extremely bad.

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soup!

Chapter Twelve: Skin Covering and Painting

[Dear Dr. Fran, the monthly outpatient appointment for August has been triggered. The target is 'Ift Seneta,' the funeral attendant of the 'Hunter's Order.' Please begin treatment as soon as possible—the target's body is nearing pathological death, and her essence will dissolve and be altered within one minute.]

Even just listening to this medical report, one can vaguely sense the severity and rapid onset of Eve's illness.

If that weren't the case, Fran wouldn't have been without even the time to put on a doctor's coat. At this moment, her pale gray hair was simply tied into a ponytail, looking damp and radiating warm steam.

"The response time to treatment was less than sixty seconds. Even platinum members of the trauma team don't get this kind of treatment. Young nun, you should feel fortunate... this time someone will reimburse your medical bills."

Fran, wearing velvet slippers, quickly clasped his hands together, and the clear, bright circular domain of [Dust Removal] immediately spread out, repelling the cold, fine raindrops within a three-meter radius.

Although the doctor maintained that almost unchanging, business-like smile, even Vivian could easily sense that she was probably in a slightly bad mood.

The detective could actually understand this perfectly.

It's like being suddenly recalled during vacation, being assigned fieldwork without warning, having your schedule adjusted in a way that's hardly reasonable, or being forced to work overtime for no reason... One second you're enjoying comfortable and relaxing private time, and the next you're forced to throw yourself into unplanned work.

Vivian lowered her eyes slightly and expressed her apology with a hint of unease.

“I’m so sorry to bother you so late, Dr. Fran… but the nearest branch of our order is at least a ten-minute drive from here, and I can’t just watch my colleague die. You are the only person I can think of to ask for help.”

"Don't blame yourself, this was not your fault in the first place."

Fran raised his hand and stroked Vivian's head, offering a soothing gesture. He then bypassed the agent and went straight to Sister Eve, his target quite clear, without engaging in the usual polite small talk.

This was probably the case with the shortest emergency response time she had encountered in recent years, which is somewhat worthy of commemoration.

"The body is intact, with moderate distortion, and the type is transmutation. There is no observable exogenous contamination; the effect is internal."

"Consciousness is blurred, but the personality structure is complete."

"It can be basically determined that the illness is hidden in the spirit and soul, probably some kind of curse."

Fran lightly touched his lower lip, carefully examining Sister Eve.

At this moment, her facial features were all distorted and deformed, like expired paint mixed together, its colors mottled, chaotic, and bizarre. Her body had been tempered by the spirit of the Blade, and therefore did not immediately disintegrate or collapse.

But this resilience against the disease is being rapidly eroded by some force, ultimately only able to sustain her for a few dozen seconds longer. Without external intervention, Ift's life will end within thirty seconds.

"These are very interesting symptoms. If they weren't my patients, I would love to observe the entire process from the initial stage to the final stage..."

As he spoke, Fran reached out and touched Ift's face, which was now a mess of dissolving flesh.

The moment your palm touches the other person's skin, it sinks in and you can feel a strong attraction, as if you are being swallowed up by a deep swamp.

After a brief period of exploration, she used [Soul Shaping] to pull out Ift's illusory and formless pale soul essence. The nun then collapsed weakly to the ground, and her body, which was constantly dissolving into oily pigment, stopped further twisting and transforming.

"...Dr. Fran, how is she?"

Vivian slowly moved closer, and Mu Ning, who was on her shoulder, also craned her neck, wanting to see the situation more clearly.

"He's not dead yet, but he can't really be considered alive for the time being."

Fran lightly licked the corner of her lips before explaining Eve's current situation.

The young nun's symptoms were so novel that Fran had lost his initial weary and slightly irritable expression and instead became focused and attentive.

"The human soul is not a single entity, but all its parts are indeed harmoniously coupled with each other. The part of this nun's soul that influences her physical body is missing, or rather, it has been taken away."

Eve's physical deterioration has been temporarily halted, giving her time to learn about the events from Vivian and to conduct an impromptu lesson.

"Generally speaking, the absence of such a part can lead to a number of highly recognizable symptoms in an individual. These include prolonged coma, illness, panic and palpitations, damage to personality structure, and rapid aging."

"But this little guy's situation is a bit more special."

"The part of her soul that was taken away was filled with something else. Rather than a curse, it was more like a derivative of some kind of principle... This allowed her to maintain self-awareness for a period of time, but it also caused her body to become oily, like paint."

According to Fran's pathological assessment, Ift's condition is currently in the middle stage of rapid progression to the later stages. If they can wait until the terminal stage arrives, they will be able to glimpse the true nature and full picture of this "curse."

Unfortunately, there's always a slight difference between patients and research subjects. Although a certain doctor is very enthusiastic about collecting this incredibly rare and special disease, the immediate priority is to ensure Eve's survival.

“Let’s save some time, Vivian. Give me the list of mission information issued by the Secret Service this time.”

Relying on Vivian's verbal explanation was clearly too slow, so Fran casually extended his hand to her. Without hesitation, she rummaged through her inner pocket for a moment before handing her the mission letter.

As for the confidentiality agreement of the Confidential Court… well, leaking secrets only counts as having happened if there is concrete evidence to prove it. Besides, Dr. Fran is now a direct participant in this incident and has a certain right to know.

Fran took the task list but didn't look at it immediately; instead, he casually slipped it into the breast pocket of his pajamas. Although the mutation of Ift's body had largely stopped, the entire erosion process hadn't completely ceased and was still slowly progressing.

To further stabilize her condition, several more procedures need to be carried out.

After a moment's thought, Fran took out the Spirit Bone Willow Leaf Blade from his medicine box. As a subspace crystal with a material form, its blade could touch the soul with just a few tricks of manipulating psionic energy.

Under her control, the material form of the Spirit Bone Willow Leaf Blade gradually disintegrated, revealing a hazy, indistinct, illusory blade shape. It resembled a dim, burning flame, or a flowing, colorless liquid.

In the blink of an eye, Fran lightly pressed the hilt of his sword against Ift's soul essence, slicing off the usurped portion. The entire movement was swift and steady, without any hesitation or pause, fluid and natural, completed in one go.

It's like an experienced old doctor giving a child an injection; the entire injection process is completed before the child even starts to cry.

"We can put the soul back in now."

After a brief assessment of Ift's condition, Fran re-implanted the fragmented soul essence into her body. Almost simultaneously, the young nun's distorted features began to gradually return to their original position, and her skin no longer emitted the pungent smell of paint.

Although she has recovered somewhat... her current appearance is still rather indescribable.

Compared to this little girl's current face, Picasso's "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" would be considered a work of realism. The good news is that she is no longer in mortal danger, and other minor issues can be resolved later with facial reconstruction.

After watching the doctor effortlessly pluck and sever the soul, Vivian swallowed nervously and then asked questions.

"Dr. Fran, is the treatment complete?"

"The first course of treatment has been completed."

Fran took out a handkerchief and wiped away the paint stains that had gotten on him while absorbing soul matter. Then he took out the Secret Service's mission letter from the front pocket of his pajamas and quickly flipped through it in the clear, dim light that had cleansed him of all impurities.

“Dwyer, a machine shop worker, Lenormont, a second-rate painter studying at Norrington Central College’s Faculty of Arts… Speaking of which, painting is a risky profession. Too much inspiration can attract the attention of unseen forces, and the job is poorly paid and has no social welfare benefits.”

She pursed her lips, casually lifted a corner of her pajamas, revealing her fair back with its faintly visible bone structure.

The next moment, the chisel-like "Sphinx" emerged from the black stitches, its precise and flexible steel limbs and slender tailbone instantly unfolding. It resembled the terrifying tailbone support of the Bloodthirsty Ones... yet possessed a more complex and majestic mechanical beauty.

The Sphinx extended its tailbone and lifted up Ift, who was lying on the ground.

Fran originally didn't want to show Vivian his medical device, which was easy to frighten, probably so as not to leave a bad impression on the little one that would be detrimental to her growth... However, this Ift's own weight plus her armor and weapons would easily amount to 70 kilograms, and Sister Heda wasn't around, so moving her was quite a hassle.

"Dr. Fran, this is..."

Upon seeing the enormous object unfolding from the stitches in her skin, Vivian narrowed her eyes, and a bead of cold sweat, which seemed to have vanished, slid down her forehead.

"No need to worry about it, it's just a self-developed medical instrument. Look, these twelve pairs of blade-like appendages will be very convenient for performing surgery. After all, for a long time I have been the chief surgeon alone, and I have hardly ever enjoyed the assistance of a first assistant, second assistant, third assistant, and nurse."

"Well, not entirely. I once had a student who wasn't very bright as my assistant."

While offering his explanation, Fran maintained his warm and approachable smile.

Although the self-chistomeric spinal "Sphinx" has never been involved in a single formal surgery from the time it was developed to the time it was put into use, this certainly does not affect its legal status as a medical device.

"...Ah, I see."

Vivian gave a slightly awkward laugh, then withdrew her gaze from the Sphinx.

In addition, she noticed something else.

Well… it might be a little embarrassing to say, but Dr. Fran seemed to be wearing nothing under her thin autumn pajamas. When she lifted her clothes just now, she didn't see any bra at the back of her chest, but her neat and beautiful shoulder blades were faintly visible.

This is not surprising, since most people don't wear a bra when they're getting ready for bed.

In fact, Fran used to be a nudist, preferring to fall asleep completely naked. However, the arrival of a messenger at her clinic who was keen on sneaking into her bedroom in the middle of the night forced her to change her old habit.

Vivian patted her cheeks, trying to dispel her inexplicable wild thoughts.

"Alright, dear Vivian—let's find the culprit. Someone has to pay for the precious sleep I've lost."

Fran's voice remained gentle, but Vivian inexplicably felt a chill.

……