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Chapter 188: The Miracle Healer (2)
Vesalius Silva’s office wasn’t far.
A small three-story building perched along the hilly streets of the capital.
A sign at the entrance read “Clinic of Miracles.”
As Oscar stared at the sign for a moment, Vesalius gave a sheepish smile.
“Ahem. Please don’t stare at it like that. I only put it up because His Majesty gifted it to me. I had no choice.”
“...His Majesty did?”
Oscar looked at him with surprise.
At first glance, Vesalius gave off the vibe of a con artist.
But to think the Emperor himself had gifted him the sign?
“Yes, it’s far too generous a gift for someone like me. Anyway, please come inside.”
Following his lead inside, they found two nurses seated at a desk.
“Good morning, Doctor.”
“Here are the patient reports for today.”
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you.”
Taking the charts, Vesalius quickly flipped through the pages with practiced ease.
His eyes stopped on one particular page, and his expression darkened.
“Is something wrong?”
Fran asked, and Vesalius nodded with a sigh.
“Haa... yes. One of the patients I was hoping Professor Oscar could examine has gotten worse overnight.”
“Which patient is it?”
“Jordin Hyde, a mage. A imperial court mage, to be specific.”
Vesalius replied as he began ascending the stairs naturally.
“When he first came to the clinic, I thought it was just exhaustion. The schedules of court mages are notoriously tight.”
“Isn’t that kind of thing pretty common for them?”
“Yes. That’s why I didn’t think much of it at first. I figured some rest would sort it out in time.”
“Looks like it didn’t.”
“...That’s right.”
Vesalius nodded heavily and continued.
“As time passed, his symptoms began to deviate from mere exhaustion. His magical flow started to become distorted.”
“His magical flow?”
“Yes, even though his mana circuits are perfectly intact.”
That certainly wasn’t normal.
Usually, when the flow of mana is disrupted, the circuits themselves are damaged.
“How long has it been?”
“Three weeks.”
While they exchanged this information, they reached the third floor.
Standing in front of a hospital room, Vesalius exchanged glances with them and knocked on the door.
“Mr. Jordin, we’re coming in.”
After a slight pause, the door opened to reveal a gaunt man struggling to sit up in bed.
“Ah, please, you can remain lying down.”
“Th-thank you...”
He seemed to struggle with every word, his voice barely holding any strength.
Noticing Oscar and Fran behind Vesalius, he asked:
“Doctor, who are these people...?”
“This is Professor Oscar Crucian, someone I brought in specially because I believe he might be able to help with your condition.”
“I think I’ve heard the name. But... wasn’t his field alchemy?”
“I dabble in a bit of everything.”
Oscar introduced himself and walked closer to the patient.
“May I examine you briefly?”
“Yes... please...”
Sitting on a chair beside the bed, Oscar cast a scan spell.
Moments later, the results appeared, and his eyes narrowed.
‘...His condition really is bad.’
His health was practically at rock bottom.
Yet, there was nothing visibly wrong.
Oscar could now understand why Vesalius had originally diagnosed simple exhaustion.
He nodded and began questioning more seriously.
“Was there any particular event that triggered your decline?”
“You’re asking the same thing the doctor did.”
Jordin looked at Vesalius, then shook his head.
“So I spent some time thinking about it while bedridden... but I honestly can’t think of anything. In fact, I was at the happiest point in my life.”
“Could you elaborate on that?”
“Hmm, right before I started getting sick, I broke through the barrier to Level 6, and I was about to marry my longtime partner. Even when I came here for treatment, I figured it was just exhaustion. I had been working a bit more than usual.”
“......”
If a Level 6 mage had spent weeks reflecting and still found nothing suspicious, that likely meant there was truly nothing.
Oscar shifted his line of questioning.
“It doesn’t have to be something bad. Any change in your daily life before your health declined — please share, no matter how small.”
“Changes...”
After a brief moment of thought, Jordin seemed to recall something but laughed awkwardly.
“Ah, but this probably isn’t it.”
“Go ahead. Even minor details could help.”
“Well... about a month ago? I changed my bedding — the blanket and pillow. I’m using them now.”
Jordin lifted the blanket covering him.
It looked like an ordinary, thick, fluffy blanket — nothing unusual.
Oscar glanced back to see Vesalius shrug.
“I even used scan magic just in case. They’re ordinary bedding. That’s why I allowed them here at the clinic.”
It was true that changing bedding probably had nothing to do with his condition.
Oscar, with no real expectations, asked:
“Why did you change it? Was the old set worn out?”
“No, an acquaintance from the social circle recommended it. They said it would improve my condition.”
“Hmm. And did it?”
“Yes, actually. I woke up refreshed, my body felt light all day, and even my mana circulation was smoother.”
“...You’re talking about the bedding, right?”
“Yes. I know it sounds strange, but it’s true.”
Of course, good bedding could improve sleep.
But to affect mana flow?
That bordered on artifact territory.
Oscar stared at the blanket and asked:
“What’s the brand name?”
“NOCTE. The slogan was quite memorable too — ‘We wrap your night.’”
At that, Vesalius let out a soft exclamation.
“Ah! I think I saw that ad in the paper too.”
“Lately, they say it’s impossible to find — even with a premium. I was lucky to get one through my friend before it got popular.”
Oscar, still staring at the blanket, asked:
“Who was this acquaintance?”
* * *
Jordin revealed that the person who recommended the bedding was the second son of the Hamilton Viscount family.
They had been close since their days at the Imperial Academy.
But Oscar and Fran were unable to meet him.
“Young master passed away a few days ago.”
The Hamilton viscount’s mansion was filled with sorrow, mourning a lost family member.
The butler met Oscar and Fran in a separate parlor.
“...What was the cause of death?”
“The healers said it was due to overwork.”
He added quietly:
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“Of course, the viscount didn’t accept that and requested multiple autopsies from different institutions.”
“Why?”
“...Because the young master didn’t have a job.”
A jobless man dying of overwork?
Oscar and Fran exchanged glances mid-air.
“Would it be possible for us to take a look at his room?”
“Of course, Professor.”
The room they were guided into by the butler was spacious and luxurious.
However, what caught Oscar’s eyes wasn’t the grandeur, but the bed—more precisely, the blanket and pillow on it.
He strode forward and read the letters engraved on the corner.
‘NOCTE.’
It was the same brand Jordin had mentioned.
“Please, take your time looking around.”
Once the butler left, Fran stepped closer and asked,
“This is… that brand, right? The one Jordin used?”
“Yeah.”
Oscar nodded and immediately began drawing in his mana.
He cast a scanning spell.
But just as Vesalius had said, there was no sign of anything wrong with the blanket or pillow.
‘There’s definitely a commonality between the two.’
They both showed symptoms similar to overwork and had used the same bedding.
And yet, there were no detectable issues with the bedding?
Oscar’s gaze narrowed.
“Maybe we’ve been barking up the wrong tree?”
Fran cautiously suggested.
“I even scanned the pillow separately, but nothing came up.”
“What if it was hidden in a way regular scan magic couldn’t detect?”
“Uh… in that case, isn’t it beyond our level anyway?”
Fair point.
Ordinary level-4 mages wouldn’t have been able to detect it.
But Oscar was no longer just a level-4 mage.
“Shh.”
Oscar raised his index finger to his lips.
“Don’t go blabbing about what you’re about to see.”
“Who’s more tight-lipped than me…? But what are you trying to do?”
“If scan magic won’t work, we’ll have to use something more advanced.”
His dormant mana began to stir.
Beyond the four usual circuits, his fifth and sixth circuits—which were in the stabilization phase—began to heat up.
“Wait, what? You, you—?!”
The moment Fran sensed the two hidden circuits, his eyes widened.
A violent wind surged into Oscar’s open palm.
Whoosh!
As the wind quickly took on the shape of a sphere, a look of joy flashed in Oscar’s eyes.
This was the very magic that had made him the greatest mage in human history.
‘Wind Archive.’
Watching the smile on Oscar’s lips, Fran asked,
“You—wait, when did you reach level 6… no, even level 5?”
“A few days ago. Hit both in one go.”
“…”
Fran opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words, then sighed deeply.
“You know what? I give up. You’ve always been like this anyway.”
He then stared at the wind sphere in Oscar’s palm with a look of resignation.
“So what kind of spell is that, that you’re staring at it like it’s your lover?”
“It’s wind.”
“…I have eyes, okay? I can see that. I meant what does it do?”
“It’s a spell that allows you to read everything the wind has recorded.”
As he’d often said, the wind really did know everything.
“To explain in more detail—this lets me read, in words or visual replay, everything the wind spirits have seen, heard, or felt.”
“That’s… even possible?”
“It is.”
Of course, no one else in human history had ever been able to use it.
Oscar gently brushed the wind sphere with his other hand.
“Replay the recorded images—specifically, scenes of the room’s owner sleeping after the bedding was changed.”
With those words—whoooosh!
The wind scattered like threads and re-created a moment from the past before their eyes.
“Holy…”
“Shh.”
Oscar shushed Fran as he folded his arms and observed.
The owner of the room falling asleep after changing the bedding.
Up to that point, it was a perfectly ordinary scene.
But as time passed and the man slipped into a deep sleep in the dead of night—
“……!”
Squirm…
A black aura seeped out from the blanket and pillow, creeping into every orifice of the man's body.
There was no mistaking what the black energy was.
‘Demonic energy.’
That process repeated itself for weeks.
And when the man finally died, the demonic energy within the bedding simply vanished.
“Just as I thought.”
The blanket and pillow had been designed so that the demonic energy would naturally dissipate over time.
In other words, by the time anyone investigated after the user’s death, there would be no evidence left behind.
“Those damn Black Fingers! Always making such twisted stuff!”
Oscar turned to the fuming Fran and nodded.
“It’s tragic for the owner of this room, but at least we discovered it in time.”
Because they could still prevent a nationwide tragedy.
From the time the viscount's second son started using the bedding to the time he died, it had taken about a month.
Which meant Jordin had less than a week left.
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