Double the Treatment Fee, Double the Happiness

A huge pile of goods sat before him. The square table in Gret's home was packed full, with barely any space left.

Two reams of writing paper—or official paper. Without a sample to compare them against, Gret couldn't tell which was which. He could only judge that this paper was quite a bit better than the hemp paper he'd taken with him that day.

Two reams of magic scroll paper. Soft, white, and smooth. It still didn't look as good as the A4 paper from his previous life, but compared to the pages he'd seen during the day, it was already quite decent.

Ten Feather Pens, their nibs finely sharpened and the slits down the center of their shafts long and straight. They'd also thrown in a small penknife. Gret tested its edge; it seemed quite sharp.

Two bottles of ink. The large bottles held five ounces, about three times the size of the Hero brand ink bottles from his previous life. They looked like they'd last a good half a year.

Gret counted up what he'd received. If the cheaper paper was official paper, at one Gold Coin per ream, that came to 20 Gold Coins. Two reams of magic paper, 20 quires per ream, 25 sheets per quire, and four Silver Coins per sheet... Tsk. 400 Gold Coins.

The refined Goose Quill Pens were four Silver Coins each, and the large bottles of ink were eight Silver Coins apiece. Together, that came to another five Gold Coins and six Silver Coins. All told, this treatment had cost... 425 Gold Coins.

He had no idea what the stationery shop's profit margin was. Even if they'd only charged him cost, the old man had just spent over 200 Gold Coins on him.

...But now that he thought about it, how much did a life—or a Divine Art like "heal critical wounds"—cost in this world?

Gret scratched his head, then scratched it again. He wasn't sure of the answer, but in the online novels he'd read, "heal critical wounds" seemed to be a fourth-, fifth-, or maybe sixth-level Divine Art. In any case, it definitely started at over a thousand Gold Coins. Ordinary people, and even the average middle-class family, couldn't afford it...

Thinking it over, it was the same in his previous life. It was only human nature: if throwing money at a problem could save someone's life, most people would do everything they could. When a serious, life-threatening illness struck, it wasn't unusual for a family to spend hundreds of thousands in the ICU—

If someone choked on a Gold Coin, they might get lucky and swallow it; if not, it could lodge in their esophagus and kill them on the spot. Gret had given immediate treatment, and even if he hadn't saved the man's whole life, he'd saved at least half of it.

So, for a shopkeeper to thank him with a few items from his own store was... well, fair enough, wasn't it?

After a long stretch of mental preparation, Gret finally felt at peace with it. He gazed at the tall stacks of white paper on the table, his smile spreading little by little. Then he suddenly clenched both fists and thrust them into the air.

"Yes!"

He had money!

No, he had paper and pens!

He wouldn't have to worry about running out of paper for copying books!

Forget copying books—he wouldn't have to worry about paper for copying scrolls, either!

"Gret! Gret!"

Someone knocked rapidly on the door outside. The voice sounded familiar. Gret got up and opened it, and sure enough, two familiar faces stood outside: Knight Flynn, the commander of his commander, and Knight Xiluo, whose life he'd saved on the training grounds at the barracks yesterday afternoon.

Gret invited them in. Knight Flynn looked over the table and couldn't help clicking his tongue.

"Little Grete, you've come into money! All that paper and those pens?"

Gret had no choice but to tell them about his unexpected stroke of luck. Before he'd even finished, he saw Knight Flynn and Knight Xiluo exchange a look, their expressions turning rather strange. A moment later, Knight Flynn forced a smile and handed him a small coin purse.

"Your wages for this month. Count them. The battalion commander said you'd be paid at the squad leader rate for now. Once your rank went up, they'd apply for a raise for you. You don't have to stand duty; just come by the barracks when you have time."

Gret nodded vigorously.

Not having to stand duty was what Knight Nolan had promised him yesterday. The raise was an unexpected bonus~~~

Gret glanced at the tabletop and thought he ought to hurry up and write that battlefield first-aid manual. Once it was widely used in the barracks, it could save a lot of people—

He took the coin purse. Knight Flynn stepped back, and Knight Xiluo came forward. His embarrassment was plain to see. He scratched his head and struggled for several seconds before taking out a silk purse.

"Um, thanks for yesterday. I should've given this to you then, but it was too late, and you left early today..."

"You don't have to!" Gret instinctively jumped back. He turned around and looked left and right.

Getting a few things—and things he needed, at that—was one thing. Being given money outright was alarming! Especially when he'd treated the man yesterday and he'd come back today to press money into his hands!

It gave him the uneasy feeling that he was accepting a patient's bribe...

Would the medical department give him trouble?!

Gret's heart pounded. It took him a while to remember that he was in another world now, with no hospitals and no medical department. The realization left him feeling a little sad. Seeing his unhappy expression, Knight Flynn took the purse and pushed it into his hand.

"Don't think it's too little. Xiluo's family has a lot of responsibilities. They married off two daughters this year, and they couldn't exactly skip their donations to the temple. These 10 Gold Coins are all he could manage. He can only pay the rest bit by bit later..."

10 Gold Coins?!

That much?!

It seemed like that was about how much his predecessor's father had left in savings... Had his predecessor's father been a company commander, too?

Gret's mouth slowly fell open, but he quickly shut it again. From what he remembered, his predecessor's father had come from somewhere else and had no roots in Hartland City. A house, armor, weapons—none of them came cheap. Even that box of books had cost a fortune, enough to drain several years' savings...

Anyway, 10 Gold Coins was no small amount!

It was a lot!

He waved his hands over and over, stubbornly trying to push the purse away. "Of course I should treat the sick and save lives! Besides, when the temple questioned me yesterday, Uncle Xiluo, you went with me, didn't you? Having you step in on my behalf was worth more than any amount of money!"

The two knights exchanged smiles. In the end, Knight Flynn stepped forward, pressed the purse into Gret's hand, and closed his fist around it. As he did, he said:

"Take it when I tell you to. If you refuse this money, we won't dare come to you for treatment next time something happens."

"A patient?"

Gret perked up. Knight Flynn pondered for a moment.

"You said yesterday that Roman Knight's wrist shouldn't have been treated that way... Could it be treated using your method?"

Gret's face fell at once. Knight Flynn hurriedly shook his hands. "Not him, not him. It's... do you remember Knight Balen? The best archer in the city. Three years ago, he was cut here on the wrist..."

Knight Flynn gestured over the pulse in his wrist. "The battle was raging then, so he could only bandage it and pick up his sword to fight. When they treated him the next day, he couldn't put any strength into it or draw his bow. Something like that—could you treat it?"

It sounded like a tendon injury... though not necessarily. It could have been damage to the nerves or blood vessels. Gret thought it over.

"I'd have to examine him. If it's what I think it is, I might need a bunch of instruments, too."

"No problem! I'll have him come see you tomorrow!"

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