Hearing James’s words, Gregor’s heart sank slightly, and he continued to ask with some concern.
“Then… do those children still have a chance to recover?”
Having worked at the Serenity Bureau for two years, Gregor had seen many ordinary people affected by mystical incidents. Some were controlled by cults using drugs, others were eroded by cognitive poison, possessed by evil spirits, or attacked by mystical creatures.
Ordinary people who had experienced mystical events often suffered from lingering aftereffects, some mild and some severe. Some conditions were untreatable or required an exorbitant cost to cure, remaining with the victims for life. Others, due to the dangerous nature of their afflictions, were forcibly “dealt with.”
Gregor was the one who had discovered those seven children in the villa, and he could still recall the scene vividly. He hoped they would be safe and unharmed.
“The mystical knowledge they were forced to practice isn’t particularly deep, and the level of cognitive poison they ingested hasn’t reached the point of causing permanent mental damage. As long as they receive comprehensive, long-term treatment, it’s not impossible for them to recover. The Chalice poison in their bodies is deeply ingrained, but if they are given high-grade Stone medicine in sufficient amounts, combined with the Church’s recuperative methods, they can be restored. However…”
As he spoke, James’ expression darkened before continuing.
“But such a prolonged treatment requires an enormous amount of rare medicines. The cost is astronomical, far beyond what we can provide through our insurance fund. They’re orphans, with no family to continue paying for their treatment. Soon, they’ll run out of medicine and be sent to the asylum, where they’ll spend the rest of their lives.”
The Serenity Bureau had a special medical fund for non-ordinary injuries to provide treatment for victims of mystical incidents. However, this fund had a strict limit. Once exceeded, patients had to cover the remaining costs themselves—but these orphans had no family.
Hearing James’s words, Gregor grew anxious. Then, as if remembering something, he quickly spoke up.“But… but weren’t they adopted by Viscount Field? What about Viscount Field’s properties?”
“It’s useless. All seven of those children, even the one with the mildest symptoms, are still legally classified as mentally incompetent due to their current condition. This means they have no claim to the inheritance. Several distant relatives of the Field family have already caught wind of the situation and have brought in teams of lawyers to Igwynt to fight over the properties. I’ve spoken with them—those people only care about the inheritance. Not a single one is willing to cover the children’s medical expenses.”
“So… their fate is essentially sealed…”
James spoke with a solemn expression, recalling the sneering faces of those noble relatives. His heart burned with anger. Gregor, listening to his words, clenched his fists tightly.
“This is… how it is, then…”
…
Saint Tenet Hospital, located in the upper city near the Radiance Church, was the only public hospital in Igwynt County. The few doctors there were constantly treating an overwhelming number of patients.
Due to its public status, the hospital also had certain obligations. The county’s only department for treating non-ordinary injuries was located here, jointly run by the Church and the hospital to care for ordinary people wounded in mystical incidents.
On a dedicated floor of the hospital building, heavy iron doors and barred windows lined the hallway, giving the place the appearance of a prison. Inside these rooms, several children, dressed in hospital gowns, were confined.
Some curled up in bed, trembling uncontrollably. Others, restrained by their limbs, struggled madly and screamed incessantly. Some were held down by doctors and nuns, force-fed medicine against their will. Others sat motionless, murmuring incomprehensible words.
Despite the rooms being tightly sealed, scattered voices still escaped.
“Let me go! Let me go! I need to find Father! I must go to Father!”
“I want tea… Father’s red tea… Bring me red tea…”
“The lamb… the lamb… I am the lamb… The wolf’s lamb… Wolf, where are you…”
A scene of madness unfolded within the ward. After Luer’s death, the children he had raised through drugging and indoctrination had completely lost control.
At the end of the hallway, a partially open room held a single white hospital bed. Sitting on the bed was a frail, yellow-haired girl, around ten years old, dressed in a hospital gown. Her gaze was vacant.
Beside her stood a doctor and a nun. The doctor held up a card with a picture of a rabbit and showed it to the girl.
“What animal is this, Anna?”
“It’s a sheep…”
Anna answered in a wooden, monotonous voice. The doctor’s expression stiffened. He put away the rabbit card and took out another one, this time showing a horse.
“And this? Anna, take your time. Think before you answer.”
“It’s a wolf…”
Anna continued to answer with the same hollow, wooden tone. The doctor and the nun exchanged glances, then the doctor retrieved another card. This one depicted a group of children joyfully playing together. He showed it to Anna and asked, “Look at this, Anna. What are they doing?”
“The wolves are hunting the sheep. The sheep should be eaten…”
Anna murmured her response. Seeing this, both the doctor and the nun shook their heads, disappointment written on their faces.
“Alright, Anna. You did very well today. Rest well. See you later.”
Waving slightly, the doctor and the nun left the room and shut the heavy iron door behind them. They walked side by side down the corridor.
“It seems that even the child with the mildest symptoms is still far from recovery.”
The doctor sighed as they walked.
The nun nodded and replied, “The mystical knowledge they were forced to learn was brief, but the concentration of cognitive poison was incredibly high. Although we managed to purge most of the poison from Anna in time, the remaining traces aren’t so easily removed. For a full recovery, she’ll need at least four or five months of treatment.”
“Three or four months… I wonder if her insurance will last that long. But at least she still has a chance. The others, though… I don’t think they have any hope at all.”
As he spoke, the doctor glanced toward the other rooms, where the remaining children were still struggling violently. Having been subjected to Luer’s conditioning for years, their conditions were several times worse than Anna’s. It wasn’t something that could be reversed in just a few months.
Without additional financial support, Anna might still have a slim chance, but for the other six severe cases, their only fate was the asylum.
The doctors and nuns at this hospital had seen too many such tragedies. In the extraordinary injury ward, where even the most basic medicines were prohibitively expensive, such cases were even more common.
“It’s hard to believe that not a single one of Viscount Field’s relatives is willing to cover the children’s medical expenses. Weren’t they officially adopted?”
“Perhaps this is just the true nature of nobles. And to think Viscount Field only did good deeds because he was under control… Holy Mother above, is there truly no such thing as a selfless benefactor in this world?”
As they continued their conversation, walking down the hallway, a small gecko clung to the ceiling above them, flicking its tongue.