*
"Umm..."
Hannah, a graduate of the Hero Department.
She slowly blinked her eyelids.
As her focus slowly returned, the white ceiling began to come into view.
Blink.
...Blink.
One more time, blink.
It was a somewhat unfamiliar sensation.
However, perhaps because she had just woken up from anesthesia, she couldn't quite figure out what was strange with her hazy mind.
She felt like she could remember what was wrong if she thought about it just a little bit more...
"Oh, Hannah?"
At the nostalgic voice, she couldn't continue her train of thought.
Her head turned to the right side.
"Are you awake?"
"...M-Mom?"
With a cracked voice, Hannah called for her mother.
Her mother let out a sigh of relief at Hannah's response.
Teardrops formed around the wrinkled eye area of the middle-aged woman.
Beside her, an old woman could be seen covering her mouth with her hand, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion.
It was Hannah's grandmother.
"Hannah...!"
"?"
The reactions of her grandmother and mother were strange.
Just why were they acting like this?
At that moment, a wrinkled hand holding a small hand mirror appeared before her eyes.
It was handed to her by her grandmother.
In the mirror, a woman was looking at Hannah with hazy eyes.
Neither the distorted skin, nor the dark red, hardened burn scars, nor the prominent scars could be seen.
One thin suture line running below the cheekbone.
Another line running from the corner of the mouth towards the jaw.
It took a little time to realize that the woman looked exactly like herself before the accident occurred.
'...This is... me?'
Slowly, Hannah's hand emerged from under the blanket.
Without realizing it, she brought her hand to her cheek.
The smooth skin felt at her fingertips.
The terrible ridges that had caught on her fingertips for nearly half a year were no longer felt.
"..."
Blink.
Eyes blinking in disbelief.
Only then did she realize the true nature of the sense of unease she had felt right after waking up.
"My eyes... they close..."
That wasn't all.
The mouth that wouldn't open was opening.
She was using precise pronunciation instead of her slurred pronunciation.
"I... I..."
A faintly trembling voice flowed out.
"I..."
Tears streamed down from the one eye that hadn't been burned.
"Oh my goodness..."
On the opposite side of the bed.
The strength slowly drained from the hand of the grandmother who had been holding up the mirror.
Clatter.
The hand mirror fell onto the blanket.
Where the mirror had fallen, the rough hand of the old woman was placed on the back of Hannah's hand instead.
"Our Hannah... our Hannah..."
"...Grandmother. Don't cry."
"I'm not crying. Why would I cry on such a happy day?"
Sniffle.
The sound of clumsily blowing a nose followed awkwardly.
*
After a little bit of time passed.
With the anesthesia wearing off, Hannah could finally check her surroundings.
A long hospital room with a high ceiling.
Beds with white sheets lined up facing each other on both sides.
At the end wall, a small cast iron boiler was making steam sounds, warming up the room.
"You're hungry, right? Mom will go ask the priest if you can eat anything."
Her mother had stepped away.
Hannah's grandmother was leaning against the chair next to the bed, already dozing off.
Hannah slowly turned her head so as not to wake her grandmother.
The first thing to catch her eye was the bed across the hospital room.
A young man had placed a box on top of the nightstand and was killing time by quietly peering into it.
Hannah knew that young man.
Krat.
He was a peer from the Hero Department.
A friend who considered a smile his virtue, always throwing sly jokes at his friends.
The young man who lost his left arm below the elbow to a demonic beast during last year's incident.
After that, Krat changed.
That sly smile disappeared, replaced by an irritable person who easily got angry at the smallest stimulus.
He would often scream in the middle of the night.
— "Aaaagh! Painkillers! Are there no painkillers?! Please!"
The reason being that he felt pain in his missing hand.
Such a Krat was unable to take his eyes off the box, his hand inserted inside it.
When Hannah slightly lifted her head, the top part of the box became visible.
Inside the box lay a single mirror.
As Krat wiggled his right hand inside that box, his missing left hand wiggled in the mirror.
Krat let out a long breath.
"Huu..."
"Are you alright, student Krat?"
An apprentice priest on ward rounds asked him.
Krat slowly raised his head.
"...It doesn't hurt."
"Pardon?"
"Really... it doesn't hurt."
A small smile appeared around Krat's mouth.
The apprentice priest flusteredly congratulated him, saying it was truly great news.
It seemed the apprentice priest didn't understand how this had happened either.
Hannah's gaze then moved to the bed next to him.
A young man was leaning diagonally against the headboard of the bed, reading a book.
...At first, she didn't recognize who he was.
The hairstyle that looked like he should sue the hairdresser was a problem, but the center of his face was even weirder.
A thick lump of flesh hung like a curtain extending from his forehead to the bridge of his nose.
That lump of flesh, tightly wrapped in bandages, was slightly swollen and had a pale pink tint.
It was living flesh.
Living flesh was flowing down from his forehead to the bridge of his nose.
"...Hannah?"
The young man, who noticed her gaze while turning the page, raised his head.
Beyond that bridge of flesh connecting his forehead and nose, a familiar set of eyes was looking at Hannah.
Only then was she able to recognize that the young man was Ren.
"Ren..."
Hannah called his name after a long while.
Ren slightly raised one hand and waved awkwardly.
And pointing to the lump of flesh connecting his forehead and nose, he spoke.
"Looks a bit funny, right? Still, the Lord Saint said that once the swelling goes down, only a slight scar will be visible."
Ren was a peer who had his nose bitten off by a small rat demonic beast.
Because having his nose bitten off was not a fatal injury, he was pushed back in the treatment priority at the time, and when the wound healed, it was no longer in a state that could be fixed with Heal.
That young man was now brightly smiling and waving his hand.
"How's my hair?"
"...It's a bit strange."
"They said they had to pull flesh from my forehead, so they shaved my head a bit. Well, hair grows back."
Ren's appearance was ridiculous in many ways.
To the point where it was hard to believe he was once the most popular handsome guy among the female students in their cohort.
No matter how handsome his original face was before losing his nose, that beauty wasn't enough to cover up the ridiculous hairstyle and severely swollen face.
Because of that, Hannah silently showed Ren his reflection with the hand mirror.
"Huh? Why... Pfft!"
Ren laughed as soon as he saw his own face.
But only for a moment; he put on a straight face and pointed at Hannah.
"You're ugly right now too, you know?"
"Once the swelling goes down and I put on makeup, I'll look much better than you."
"Whatever. You look like a goblin subspecies right now."
"And you look like a spriggan right now, okay?"
A conversation that would have only hurt each other's feelings in the past went back and forth.
However, neither of the two felt offended by it.
Because they could feel the comfort towards each other hidden within those harsh words.
Just as they were congratulating each other while raising their middle fingers.
Click, clack.
The entrance of the hospital room.
A woman carefully entered the hospital room.
Click, clack. Click, clack.
Her right foot followed a beat slower than her left foot, ringing out with a metallic sound.
Hannah could recognize that girl at a glance.
"...Isolde?"
Isolde.
A peer from the Hero Department.
The third daughter of a baronial family.
She was the one known as the fastest hero among her peers until last year.
At Isolde's appearance, Krat pulled his hand out of his mirror box and looked towards the entrance.
"Isolde... you..."
Ren also placed his book down on his lap.
The gazes of the three people gathered simultaneously on her right leg.
Below the hem of her gray pants, the outline of the trouser leg extending from her black boots to her knee was subtly too thin to be a human's calf.
The first one to realize its meaning was Krat.
"...Did you cut it off?"
Because Krat had already replaced his arm with a prosthetic hand, he could realize faster than anyone else that she was wearing a prosthetic leg.
Isolde silently nodded her head.
"...Why?"
This time, it was Ren.
During the graduation exam, Isolde experienced a slightly different tragedy from the other students.
On the day that incident occurred last year.
Isolde had her right knee bitten and torn by a demonic beast's fangs.
As long as hemostasis was successful, it was an injury that could be fully sutured with the priests' Heal.
In fact, the healing priests present that day cast Heal on her knee several times, and her shredded knee healed perfectly fine.
...Or so it should have been.
The anomaly began one day, several months after the wound had healed.
Isolde started frequenting the infirmary, complaining of an aching knee.
Thinking it was muscle pain after rehabilitation, everyone assumed as much.
Even Isolde herself.
However, that pain didn't show signs of subsiding even after several months passed.
The pain gradually worsened, and a small lump began to grow in the area where the pain originated.
The lump grew progressively larger the more Heal was cast, causing her even more suffering.
— "It is the Demon Disease."
In the end, only after the lump below her knee became the size of a fist could she hear that shocking diagnosis name.
Demon Disease.
Beyond simply not being cured by divine magic, it was the worst incurable disease that worsened as it devoured divine power.
The healer suggested amputation of the part where the Demon Disease had developed.
However,
— "I'd rather die than cut it off."
However, Isolde ultimately refused that prescription.
The secret technique of Isolde's family was engraved on her ankle.
Even if it meant throwing away her life, she could never amputate her foot until she passed down this magic to the future generation.
Isolde, who had chosen to instead wither away in a bed for the sake of her family, was...
"Isolde, why are you wearing a prosthetic leg...?"
"The Lord Saint said there was a treatment method that would allow me to be cured without losing my secret technique magic."
What did that mean?
While her peers harbored such doubts, Isolde rolled up her right trouser leg to above her knee.
A smooth prosthetic leg wrapped in black leather was revealed.
The area around the knee of the prosthetic leg was surrounded by a solid gold ring and a brass lock.
Isolde leaned slightly against the wall and unlocked the lock.
Click.
Along with a light metallic sound, the entire prosthetic leg detached from her leg.
She slowly lifted the prosthetic leg equipped with a brass knee joint with both hands.
"...Good heavens."
In the spot where the prosthetic leg detached, where her knee should have been, her foot was located.
And rotated 180 degrees at that.
They could immediately realize what that intention was.
"...You're substituting the knee with the ankle?"
Hannah murmured blankly.
Although she didn't know much about the healing arts, she could recognize the greatness of that idea at a glance.
Instead of giving up the knee, she had the ankle perform the exact same function as the knee.
Of course, the sensation of handling the right ankle like a knee wouldn't be familiar.
However, if sufficient training was added, she would be able to handle the prosthetic leg much more freely.
Along with that, Isolde proudly showed the inside of the prosthetic leg to her peers.
"They said that once I get used to manipulating magical power, I'll be able to walk or run naturally like before."
As Isolde said that, dense runic formulas were engraved on the inside of her prosthetic leg.
Isolde showed it once, then grunted slightly as she put the prosthetic leg back on.
After finishing putting it on, she stretched out her foot toward her peers.
The toes of the prosthetic leg, made of steel, wiggled unnaturally.
"How is it? They even said this is just a rehabilitation training prosthetic leg to get used to the sensation. The Lord Saint said that if I use a better prosthetic leg, using my secret technique magic won't be a problem."
Isolde smiled brightly.
Hannah spoke towards such an Isolde.
"Then you have to show us you running too, okay?"
"After I show it to my parents first."
That day,
the lights in the hospital room of the aspiring heroes who had once given up on their dreams did not turn off until late at night.
***
After the major surgery that spanned a week ended.
Yawn.
I barely held back a yawn rising from the depths of my danjeon and blinked my eyes.
"Lord Saint. Aren't you tired?"
Matching that, the warm energy of divine power was felt on my back.
It was Ayla's Refresh.
Feeling my fatigue slowly melting away due to the divine magic, I gave her a polite nod.
"Thank you, Ayla."
"You've worked hard, Director Schun."
"Ayla, you should go in and rest as well. Tomorrow is the opening ceremony day for the Department of Healing Arts, so you should sleep early."
"Yes. Director, please get a good rest too."
After finishing casting Refresh on me, Ayla left the infirmary with quick steps alongside her escort holy knights.
If my memory is correct, her dormitory would be located in the residential district with the strictest security even within the Academy.
I know that she is living there with her older sister, who was already attending the Hero Department, and her mother, who moved to the Academy Territory for her two daughters.
Only after seeing off Ayla boarding her carriage did I return to my office.
There was an earlier guest in the office.
"Lord Saint."
Cardinal Wendras stood up from his seat and bowed to me.
"The knowledge I have accumulated over the past 50 years does not even reach the toes of the miracle you have shown over the past week, Lord Saint. I sincerely express my gratitude for giving me the opportunity to tour this miracle in person."
Cardinal Wendras praised me, politely clasping his hands together as if in prayer.
I waved my hands and had him straighten his back.
"Opportunity, you say? Didn't I tell you the conditions when I established the Meyer Infirmary?"
"Conditions... you say?"
"Yes. I established this infirmary to tear down the walls between the sects."
The sects called their healing magic a secret technique and ostracized each other.
Even if one graduated from the Department of Healing, what they learned there was nothing but the basics among basics of divine magic.
The structure was such that the knowledge required for a secret technique could only be learned by training at the infirmary belonging to each respective sect.
Because of that, the exchange of knowledge stagnated, and the development of the healing arts slowed down.
I established this infirmary to break that bad habit.
"In any case, these are the treatment methods that all healers graduating from this Academy from now on, as well as all healers sent from each sect, will see like daily life here."
If they were forced to open their doors, they would just lock them even more firmly.
Even more so if it was directly connected to their vested interests.
But what if it became a structure where all healers commonly underwent training at this infirmary before being dispatched to other infirmaries?
Would the other infirmaries truly be able to keep their doors locked then?
They are already individuals who have undergone training at the Meyer Infirmary, making it hard to use arcane magic as a hostage,
And won't those with the best skill want to continue staying at this infirmary?
If they keep locking their doors, wouldn't they just be left behind?
"I decided to teach this treatment method to all of you regardless of your sect. I am merely keeping my promise."
And taking on a plastic surgery case as the first patient after opening a clinic was also because of this.
Establishing Dominance.
And the rush.
It was to make the healers lose their minds and want to learn from me through this.
"I will not stop any of you from learning this technique. If you belong to this infirmary, I will pass down this knowledge without any price."
"B-But..."
However, Cardinal Wendras seemed to find those words hard to believe.
"Can... we really learn that? It's not something like a secret technique?"
"This technique does not require any special talent."
Of course, one must have at least minimal hand dexterity, sense, and intelligence.
For people who cast divine magic while mentally calculating the blood flow volume, it shouldn't be that big of a problem.
In fact, to me, surgery, which could be followed with effort, seemed much easier than the minimal talent conditions of having to feel the energy of 'divinity' and the pulse of 'life force'.
"And these techniques become familiar as you keep doing them."
It's not like I was good at handling these techniques from the start either.
In the first place, I am from trauma surgery.
Even if I observed plastic surgery and orthopedics techniques over someone's shoulder, reproducing them is another story.
That's why when I first started surgery in the Limbus Pit, there were many failures in various ways.
I accidentally severed nerves, completely ruined blood vessels...
I only ended up tormenting innocent patients.
Whenever that happened, I steadily built up my skills while receiving backup from the healing priests.
'I didn't charge low surgery fees for no reason.'
I felt sorry for the patients, but it was because I had to use them as my teaching materials.
Since even I couldn't be good at something I hadn't tried from the beginning.
That's why I accumulated my proficiency while discounting the treatment fee close to free.
Of course, the individuals concerned were under anesthesia so they didn't know that I had failed.
Anyway, the plastic surgery techniques and orthopedics techniques were skills accumulated not in my previous life, but in my current life.
And one lesson I gained in this process.
"It works if you just do it."
People can somehow get it done if you make them do it.
Since there is divine magic anyway, isn't it a forgiving world where a slight mistake can be covered up?
If it were my previous life, severing a nerve or urinary tract during the training course would have meant getting immediately hit with a lawsuit and facing imprisonment.
"Therefore, Cardinal Wendras, you will also be able to master the techniques I showed you this time. You already know this seeing how Archbishop Erpen has also gotten used to antibiotics."
I plan to pass down these plastic surgery and reconstruction techniques to Cardinal Wendras.
Phantom pain, and the reconstruction of amputation patients.
These are the problems commonly experienced after sepsis by patients who had to have their limbs amputated by him.
"Among the patients you have treated, Cardinal, there must have been some who complained of pain in their severed body parts."
"I too was surprised after finding out that it could be treated with just a mirror."
"Besides that, there are many other treatment methods. I will teach you all of them."
The condition instead is just one.
"Instead, as the director of this infirmary, Cardinal, please always maintain neutrality among the sects."
Wouldn't it be wrong for this infirmary, the symbol of neutrality, to discriminate between patients based on their sects?
Therefore, the role of Cardinal Wendras as the director was important.
"Please ensure there are no factional conflicts, promotion, or power struggles within this space. Will that be possible?"
The Cardinal looked at me wordlessly, and then,
"...I understand. No matter what happens, I will ensure there are no ugly power struggles under this sacred infirmary."