A Hospital in Another World?

A silent commotion stirred in the meeting hall.

Several dwarf elders stroked their beards. From their perspective, if Garrett wished to prove something, that was for the best; if not, they could not say much.

After all, the affairs of the dwarves were their own and should not burden their friends or brothers.

Archmage Serrano and Mage Simond exchanged glances. As mages, they could imagine the numerous flaws in such a proof; however, considering the council’s relationship with the dwarves, they could not openly object.

Whether to agree or not was solely up to Garrett.

And on the other side...

Opposite the mages, Bishop Klind, guarded by two knights of the Radiant Order, tried his best to hide the hatred in his eyes. Damn it, that little mage again!

Healing barbarians, little boys, dwarves—wherever he went, he healed! And always coming up with new tricks!

If it weren’t for him, Lord Jeroni wouldn’t have forced me to study some lung cleansing divine technique!

Bishop Klind’s right hand stealthily reached into his robe. Next to Garrett, the silver-haired elven ranger flared her nostrils and silently stepped forward.

Garrett paid no attention to the undercurrents in the hall. In fact, he didn’t look at anyone there but stared deeply and quietly at the dwarf who had made the request.

Observing his unshed tears, his wet beard, the corpses at his feet, until the redness in his eyes faded away, from arrogance to shrinking, from head-held-high to bowing, he slowly and firmly shook his head:

"Sorry. I will not treat you for such reasons."

"You...?"

"Treatment is just that, treatment," Garrett stated firmly. He wiped his hand over his bag of holding and grasped the oak staff in his hand. The staff’s end touched the ground, and its four green leaves rustled as if stirred by an unseen wind:

"Treatment is to help those in need. It’s not a force for attack, nor should it be used to prove malice in others’ treatments."

Even medical examinations aren’t conducted this way. It’s not that if one doctor’s treatment fails, and another succeeds with the same treatment on a different patient, it can prove the former had malicious intent.

Medical malpractice requires a more cautious and professional proof process. As for intentional murder, that falls under criminal law, even unrelated to medicine.

His demeanor gentle, his tone firm. With the oak staff in hand, he indeed had a bit of a profound and compassionate priest’s air. Beckett stared at him for a while, then lowered his head:

"I understand..."

The two mages exchanged glances and nodded to each other. The dwarf elders slightly bowed their heads, also helpless. But Serrano, looking at Garrett’s rare seriousness and then at the oak staff in his hand, chuckled out loud.

The dwarf elder coughed. Since the elven ranger was a distant guest and a young lady, he could not reprimand her for breaking the mood, pretending not to hear or see her laughter. He glared at Bishop Klind, majestically stroked his beard:

"Then, we shall assume your intentions are good. However, it’s a fact that people have died under your priests’ care. We respect the Radiant Lord, but from now on, please refrain from preaching your deity outside your dwellings!"

His last words carried significant weight. Bishop Klind, with a solemn face, neither nodded in agreement nor objected. The following matters did not involve Garrett anymore, seeing the elders and Bishop Klind discussing compensation, he found an excuse and slipped away.

"Ah! You looked so funny just now!" Once outside, Serrano couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing Garrett look at her helplessly made her laugh even more:

"I was hoping to see you beat those bastards up! You actually let them go!—By the way, do you think they killed on purpose or by accident?"

"…Probably by accident," Garrett sighed:

"Even with utmost care, lung cleansing is very difficult to perform. Slightly unfavorable patient conditions can easily lead to death. These people weren’t trained by me, so I guess they didn’t know what conditions were suitable or not."

"Then they acted on their own initiative! Hmph! Serves them right! And those dwarves, why didn’t they ask you instead?—Hey, next time you do it, remember to call me to watch!"

"Soon, soon… I had over twenty people waiting in line before I left for the mountains…"

Garrett, who promised the silver dragon girl "soon," encountered unexpected trouble. He went to visit Weitman to check on his post-treatment condition and heard a loud dwarf voice arguing

just outside the door:

"What’s there to be afraid of! Look at me, I’m fine!"

"But… it’s really dangerous… Look, two have already died from it over there. What if I die too?"

"Those people are clueless! The lung cleansing method was invented by Garrett. He knows what to do; how would they know without asking? Just blindly using magic to fill lungs with water, of course, it’s fatal!"

"…Honestly, using divine magic to fill lungs seems safer… Tubes in, tubes out, it feels more terrifying…"

"Coward! Never mind, I’ll find someone else!"

Weitman stormed out, bumping right into Garrett. Seeing Garrett’s awkward position of not being able to move forward or back, he scratched his graying beard, feeling even more embarrassed than Garrett:

"Uh… that guy… I…"

"You’re quite loud!" Garrett quickly diverted the topic in desperation:

"And your voice is strong. Have you recovered well? Any discomfort these past few days?"

"None at all!" Weitman immediately perked up, slapping his chest:

"Much better! Thanks to your treatment, come, let’s find a place and chat!"

According to Weitman’s character, or any dwarf’s character for that matter, encountering such good fortune meant going to a tavern. Not stopping until drunk, and even then, inviting the whole tavern for a few rounds, could not express their joy and gratitude.

Garrett dragged, or pretended to drag, himself away, but the silver dragon girl, with a smile, pulled him back to sit down in her house. Garrett took out a stethoscope, listened to the heart and lung sounds from the front and back, and measured the lung capacity:

"Emmmm… The recovery is quite good. Increased by more than 15% from before the surgery, and there’s also a noticeable improvement from the last measurement."

Garrett gave his assessment with a smile and quickly wrote down the records. As he wrote, from the side, pffft pffft pffft...

"Serrano! Why are you blowing this?!"

"It’s fun! I want to see how much I can blow!"

"…" How exactly does your transformation spell work on your internal organs? Looking at a slim person, you managed to empty a 20-liter can, enough for a barbarian!

Regardless, Weitman’s one-second forced exhalation volume, lung capacity, and maximum ventilation capacity, the three major lung function indices, all showed a pleasing improvement.

It means that on top of the rapid recovery from the treatment spell, there was further improvement—

Weitman brought another patient for the same tests, and the results were similar. The two dwarves, getting into the spirit of it, even donned armor, picked up their war hammers, and engaged in a bit of sparring—

Great, now that I know you’ve recovered well enough for intense exercise!

"Now no one’s willing to do it," Weitman sighed:

"A bunch of cowards. I’ve told them there’s no problem with Garrett’s intervention, but they still back out!"

How can we promote the lung cleansing technique like this! So many people could potentially benefit from treatment, not to say fully cured, but at least improve!

Garrett remained silent. The spread of a technique relies on the doctor and the patient’s cooperation. If no dwarves are willing to undergo treatment—

Medically and ethically, everyone has the right to decide what happens to their body. Any treatment by a doctor must have the patient’s informed consent. If they don’t want to be treated, then so be it.

—Moreover, whether to treat or not, patients and families often have many factors to consider beyond medical ones. Some things are known only to those directly involved, not something a doctor can comment on.

Having seen too much in his previous life as an emergency room doctor, Garrett knew all too well.

"Then we won’t treat," he said matter-of-factly. Seeing Weitman’s surprised look, Garrett shrugged and smiled:

"What else can we do? We can’t just tie them down and treat them! What would that make me?"

One step forward, and he’s the mad scientist from Plants vs. Zombies; two steps, and he’s part of that infamous numbered squad…

The boundaries of medical ethics protect both patients and doctors; they are not to be crossed!n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"But what do we do?" Weitman pressed. Seeing Garrett smiling silently, he stamped his foot:

"Don’t be mad at them, I… I’ll find someone! Don’t worry, there should be hundreds willing to be treated! Before you leave, I must learn this technique!"

If only it were that easy.

Good news travels slow, bad news fast. To counteract the impact of death during treatment, Weitman and his folks might need to work hundreds of times harder.

Garrett had other plans but chose not to share them, merely smiling slightly:

"Yeah, keep it

up."

"No need to look any further!"

The door swung open with a creak. A heavy set of footsteps entered:

"Would it be possible to do it on me?"

"Prince Rothgar…"

Garrett almost sighed.

This choice couldn’t be better: young, with mild symptoms, strong recovery capabilities, meeting all the conditions for a patient;

High status, significant influence, if he could win the selection battle, it would undoubtedly be a live advertisement for lung cleansing treatment…

Moreover, improving lung function is also an effective way to enhance his combat capabilities, ensuring he can win the selection battle.

"There are seven days until the full moon. Look at Weitman; he’s recovered very well in seven days." Prince Rothgar smiled confidently at Garrett:

"If you agree, I’ll go to my father immediately and sign another agreement with the council. Don’t worry, even if the treatment goes wrong, or if I lose the selection battle, I will never blame you."

Serrano blinked, looking from one to the other. She wanted to pull Garrett away but knew the matter was significant, repeatedly raising her hand only to lower it. Garrett sighed and smiled:

"How can I refuse?"

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