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[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 189: The Miracle Healer (3)
Fwoosh.
First, after returning to the clinic, the two of them burned all of Jordin’s bedding.
There was some resistance at first, but once they explained that their friend had died, there were no further objections.
“I never imagined the bedding would be the problem…”
Vesalius shook his head after hearing the full story in his room.
“What kind of poison was it?”
“Uh…”
Oscar was at a loss for words.
He wasn’t sure if it was okay to reveal the existence of demonic energy to a regular person.
Thankfully, Vesalius was very perceptive.
“If you're hesitating to speak, then… it wasn't poison, was it? Could it have been demonic energy?”
“Hm? You know about that?”
“Of course. I get quite a few patients affected by it.”
No wonder the Emperor personally gifted him a signboard.
Oscar nodded, impressed.
“Explaining it would’ve been a pain, so that’s a relief.”
“Yes, but from what I’ve heard, this isn’t just Jordin’s problem.”
The two of them nodded grimly at those words.
Unless every piece of bedding sold by NOCTE was destroyed and recalled, the deaths would continue.
Fran’s expression tightened.
“We’re not too late, are we?”
“I don’t think so. Fortunately, that bedding only recently became popular in the capital, and Jordin said he got it even earlier.”
“Ah, so he was something of an early adopter.”
“What’s that?”
Oscar, who only knew the term early bird, asked, and Fran explained willingly.
“It’s a slang term for people who use new products before everyone else. In other words, Jordin was one of the first to use NOCTE’s bedding.”
“I see.”
If an early adopter had about a week left, that meant others would have even more time.
Not much, of course.
No one could estimate just how many sets of that bedding had been sold across the capital.
“This problem is a bit too big for us to handle alone. I know the number for the Imperial Health Bureau. It’d be best to contact them and request assistance from the Imperial family.”
If the Imperial family stepped in, that would be ideal.
Oscar nodded in agreement—
—just as Vesalius picked up the receiver of the magical communicator.
Click, click.
“Hm?”
Click, click, click.
As Vesalius kept pressing buttons on the communicator, Fran approached him.
“Is something wrong?”
“When I pick up the receiver, there should be a tone… but it’s dead.”
“Hmm, there should be a few magical relay towers set up by the Imperial Tower in the capital. Let me give it a try.”
While the two of them fiddled with the magical communicator—
Oscar, with nothing else to do, suddenly began to walk.
Why, he didn’t know.
Like a magnet pulling him in the opposite direction, he found himself drifting toward the window.
And the moment he finally pulled open the curtains and looked outside, his brows furrowed.
‘…A person?’
There was nothing strange about someone being on the street.
But in broad daylight, someone standing on the rooftop of a building across the way?
That was odd.
Even more so if that person had something long slung over their shoulder and was staring straight at them.
Thoom!
A heavy sound followed as something shot out from the long object.
What was that?
A bullet?
No—it was far larger than that.
Sensing danger instinctively, Oscar reacted immediately by drawing upon his magic.
『Wind Shield』
BOOOOM!
A deafening blast rang out, followed by a powerful shockwave that slammed into the three of them.
For a moment, Oscar felt himself floating—weightless, as if suspended in air.
“Gah!”
After that zero-gravity experience and the explosion, Oscar hit the floor, coughing up blood.
‘Even with a shield up, this much damage…’
Staggering to his feet, he first checked on the other two.
“W-What the…?”
Fran, wincing in pain and dizziness, managed to stand.
But Vesalius hadn’t moved.
Knocked out cold by the shockwave, he lay there, completely still.
“Dammit. Fran! Stay here and protect Vesalius and the clinic!”
“What? What about you?”
Ignoring Fran’s question, Oscar leapt toward the broken window.
The moment he felt the tug of gravity—
Whoosh!
He stepped on condensed wind, and like lightning, his body shot toward the rooftop of the building opposite.
“……!”
The culprit, clearly not expecting Oscar to survive a missile hit, finally lowered the weapon and drew a sword.
But he was too slow.
Oscar once again stepped on air, propelled by wind, and launched himself at the attacker even faster.
“D-Don’t come any closer!”
The man flailed wildly with his sword, but—
BOOM!
Oscar’s magically reinforced knee snapped the sword in two and slammed into the man’s chest.
“Gahk!”
With a strangled cry, the man crashed into the rooftop floor, coughing up blood and pieces of his innards.
Oscar didn’t care. He grabbed the attacker by the collar and growled low.
“Who sent you?”
“G-Khh…”
“……”
A little earlier, the sloppy swordsmanship had seemed strange too—something was definitely off.
Oscar furrowed his brow as he scanned his opponent’s body lightly.
"An ordinary person?"
The man didn’t even have a single proper magic circuit embedded in him.
A complete non-magic civilian.
Which only made Oscar’s mind spiral further.
He took out his frustration on the man in front of him.
“Talk! Who sent you?”
“S-sorry…”
The man wept, snot and tears running down his face as he begged.
“My wife and child… they're hostages… I had no choice… they made me…”
His words came out in broken chunks due to his uneven breathing, but they were still comprehensible.
Realizing the man was telling the truth, Oscar loosened his grip on the man’s collar.
Flash!
The man’s body lit up like a lightbulb—and then exploded!
“Tch!”
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[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Oscar barely managed to shield himself with magic and came out unscathed, but he had to bite his lip.
There was nothing left—no flesh, no remains—except the blood spattered across the rooftop.
It was far too hollow an end for a human life.
‘They took his family hostage, forced him into terrorism, and then put a bomb inside his body?’
Absolute maniacs.
And Oscar knew only one group that insane.
‘Black Fingers… those bastards again?’
The timing couldn’t have been more ironic.
Just when he was digging into NOCTE and planning to ask the imperial family for help, they struck.
But what truly shocked Oscar the most was something else entirely:
‘…It’s only been a few hours since Fran and I left Viscount Hamilton.’
In the time it took for him to return to the clinic and speak with Vesalius,
the enemy had learned everything and already launched an attack.
That meant their intelligence network was not only effective—but blazingly fast.
‘And a terror attack… in the heart of the capital, no less?’
The enraged imperial family would undoubtedly launch a full-scale investigation.
To Oscar, it could only mean one thing:
Their message was clear—"Even if we do this here, you can’t stop us."
Unshakable confidence.
“Hah.”
Oscar let out a cold laugh and began condensing his magic.
“Wind Archive.”
He addressed the glowing orb of wind that had risen again.
“Mark the locations of everyone who spoke with the owner of this blood in the past few hours.”
* * *
In the capital city of Caldium, countless wealthy merchants and nobles reside.
Why would they insist on living in a city with sky-high prices and real estate?
The answer was simple—absolute safety.
They believed that because the Emperor resided here, they, too, were safe.
And they weren’t entirely wrong.
Even back when the country was still a kingdom, the capital had never once fallen to enemy hands.
“Welcome.”
Because it was such a haven for the elite, the city had an overabundance of tailors selling expensive clothes.
The boutique “Edge of Night” was no different.
It specialized in slightly old-fashioned styles, which only made it more beloved by certain enthusiasts.
“…It's you.”
The tailor’s face, previously lit with a salesman's smile, quickly went cold.
He spoke to the colleague who had just entered the shop.
“What happened with the job I gave you?”
“The fire's mostly out. Probably.”
The man shrugged, prompting the tailor to narrow his eyes.
“‘Probably’? You didn’t handle it personally?”
“You think I’m crazy? Move around the capital myself? I had one of my underlings take care of it.”
Underling.
The tailor clicked his tongue, visibly unimpressed.
“Tch. Vesalius Silva, of all people… we ran into a bigger name than expected.”
“Big name? Isn’t he just a healer?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
The tailor looked at the clueless man with pity.
“His magic is the direct antithesis of our demonic energy. Why do you think the imperial family sends all those tainted by it to him?”
“…Seriously?”
The man blinked in surprise, unfamiliar with this intel.
“Then didn’t we just stir up a hornet’s nest? The Emperor might go berserk over this.”
“…Can’t be helped.”
The Black Fingers.
Those who followed the Fourth Finger, in particular, had a clear mission—
to infiltrate everyday human society and spread demonic energy.
Their pet project, NOCTE, was part of that plan.
“To die from NOCTE's effects, one must use it for at least a month. The demonic energy seeps slowly into their magic, so it’s unnoticeable but guaranteed.”
And it had been almost exactly a month since the first batch of NOCTE sold like wildfire.
Just a few more days, and the capital’s upper class would start dropping dead without anyone lifting a finger.
Jordin had no idea, but thanks to Vesalius’s healing, he was in relatively good shape.
“The Sage of Healing saving one man is fine, but if he starts interfering with the rest of our stock, that’s a problem.”
“But if they already know the truth, won’t word get to the imperial family soon?”
“Doesn’t matter. We just need to make it through today.”
Over 300 units of NOCTE-infused bedding had already been distributed throughout the capital.
Even for the imperial family, narrowing down the buyer list and recovering them would take three to four days at best.
By then, the number of deaths would be catastrophic.
“Hmm. Fair point.”
The man nodded.
Unless they handed over the buyer list themselves, there was no way for the enemy to find out.
“So then, this operation's already a success, right?”
“…I don’t want to jinx it, but yeah, pretty much.”
Just then, the door to the shop creaked open.
With a faint sigh, the tailor put on a perfect business smile.
“Sorry, we’re closed for the day.”
Click.
The man who entered locked the door behind him.
His face was almost blindingly beautiful.
He flipped the CLOSED sign to face outward, then looked at them.
“It’s fine. I didn’t come to leave clothes.”
A gaze filled with open hostility—he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
The two men swallowed hard as they stared at Oscar Crucian.
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[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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