Don't Say It's Nothing When It's Nothing

In the morning mist of Wenden Port, Kraft finished his morning exercise and breakfast as usual, tucking his books and lesson plans under his arm as he headed toward the school.

"Good morning, Lecturer Kraft."

As his courses grew increasingly popular at the school, he always encountered black-robed students greeting him along the way. Most were students he had grown familiar with, though some were ones he had never even seen in his lectures.

"Good morning, Charlie, and Green," Kraft nodded in response.

Thanks to his excellent memory, he had noted the names of all the students who had come to him with questions during their interactions. Of these two, one had asked him about skull structures, while the other had inquired three days ago about the anatomical explanations for various types of abdominal pain.

Hearing their names called out, they wore expressions of surprise. Although they had heard that this new lecturer had a remarkably good memory, it was still unbelievable that he could remember and identify them among the vast sea of students who asked him questions.

Responding to the students' greetings all the way, Kraft hummed a tune to himself, walking through this stretch of the road in a wonderful mood.

The feeling of having his work recognized made him very happy, and waking up early for work didn't seem so painful or torturous at this moment.

Facing eager students, the teaching experience was indeed much better than facing drowsy ones.

Make no mistake, this "drowsy student" referred to his own past self; during his university years, he would stay up late and refuse to get up early, and as soon as the teacher started class, they would face a room of lethargic students while reading from a PowerPoint. It was hard to say whether the students slumped over their desks were naturally sleepy or if they had been hypnotized.

And today, the fact that he could have such high-quality students was truly something to be happy about. Of course, there was also the reason that the cost of learning here was too high—whether in terms of time or money, it didn't allow the students to waste it.

Kraft's good mood came to an abrupt halt at the school gate.

As everyone knows, there is a very important law for those on duty, especially those on the night shift. That is, don't say it out loud when things are quiet.

Even if you are bored to tears at your post and your phone has run out of battery, don't keep words like "quiet" or "nothing going on" on your lips.

Those who violate this iron rule are usually met with sanctions—the life that was calm and peaceful a second ago suddenly changes, and all sorts of unreasonable things are shoved right in front of you.

This fit Kraft's current experience perfectly. One second he was lamenting how peaceful the days were, and the next he was jolted awake by the commotion coming from the school gate.

From far away, he could see a group of people gathered in a circle, the noisy arguing audible from half a street away.

The worst part was that most of the people surrounding them were medical students in black robes, with a small portion being law students in brown robes, theology students in white robes, and a few literature students in blue robes watching the spectacle from the periphery.

Such a large crowd blocked half of the school's main gate; to get inside, one had to walk right past them.

As he got closer, Kraft heard the content of their argument.

"We can't pray for her; we have to find someone at the church for that."

"Then what do we do?"

"Does the Medical School not even have a single bed left?"

"We can't just take her back like this!"

"There's no harm in trying..."

"That makes no sense! Is this how you spokespeople for the gods act?"

"We don't have the qualifications before graduation!"

"Is this something I can just try?"

The crowd was so dense that Kraft couldn't see what was happening in the center from the outside. He could only rely on his height advantage to see several colors arguing intensely, unable to tell who was talking to whom, while the onlookers nearby were at a complete loss.

Keyword extraction: "Medical School," "bed," "prayer."

This scene immediately activated Kraft's PTSD regarding troublesome matters. It couldn't be a medical dispute, could it? Is the history of this industry that long? Why are you gatekeepers just watching? Why aren't you calling the security department?

Several thoughts flashed through his mind in turn, and Kraft realized that he was not in a hospital now, nor was he at his old university; there probably wasn't a specialized department to handle such troublesome matters.

The person in charge of the school gate had no security function; they were just there to open and close the door. To solve this, he could only wait for someone with real power in the school to arrive. He didn't know who in the school could handle this, nor did he know how to resolve it.

Kraft frowned, intending to learn from a certain Mr. Han and "retreat behind the crowd when things look bad," bypassing the crowd to go to the classroom to prepare for his lecture.

But he greatly underestimated his popularity in the Medical School. Before he could take a few steps, he heard someone calling his name from behind.

"Lecturer Kraft? Good morning!" A sharp-eyed black-robed student on the periphery easily recognized this popular new lecturer. His mouth was two steps faster than his brain, and he greeted him directly, "Could I take a moment of your time?"

This shout attracted the attention of all the students present, including the few who were arguing fiercely in the center. Everyone turned their heads toward him in unison.

"Lecturer Kraft?"

"Ah, Kraft, you've come just in time."

Among the heads that turned was one he was very familiar with, sporting a head of brown hair—it was Lucius. He was in the very center of the crowd, accompanied by a theology student in white robes. His originally pale complexion was flushed red; it seemed things were indeed quite intense.

He reached out to part the crowd, trying to clear a path for Kraft. "Make way, this is a lecturer from our Medical School."

Needless to say, most of the medical students present knew Kraft. The crowd parted quickly, clearing a path to the center of the trouble for him.

This was truly incredible, Kraft thought; the sucker turned out to be me. It seemed that was indeed the logic; he was already a lecturer at the Medical School, and the only person present who wasn't a student—at least for the moment, it was his turn to take over.

Moreover, with everyone watching, his plan to slip past had failed. Kraft could only walk over, unwillingly, under the gaze of the crowd.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Kraft walked to the center of the crowd, and the situation was indeed similar to what he had imagined.

An anxious middle-aged man was holding a child with a tear-stained face, looking at a loss. The theology student was holding a book nearby, Lucius was looking at the child, wanting to reach out but not knowing how to take over, and the law students were standing to the side, not knowing what to do.

Good grief, a standard medical dispute brought to the front door, right? Based on past experience, the subsequent plot would change depending on the specific circumstances, presenting a complex development, but he could definitely forget about today's class.

Seeing Kraft approach, the middle-aged man knelt down while holding the child. Lucius hurriedly reached out to stop him, fearing he would hurt the child. The theology student was bumped and stumbled backward, and the scene was in chaos for a moment.

Kraft was quick-eyed and nimble; he rushed up, grabbed the man's shoulder with one hand, and reached out to support the child in his arms with the other. The child was at least of a certain age, and the weight made his shoulder sink; he almost failed to hold them up.

"Gris, why is it you?" He looked up at the man with some annoyance, only to discover that it was actually the owner of the tavern next to the school. His current appearance was a bit of a mess, and Kraft hadn't recognized him at first glance.

"Please, I beg you, help my daughter. I truly have no other options left." Boss Gris's voice was slurred, his hoarse, sorrowful vocal cords vibrating in the air with a sense of exhaustion and helplessness.

He must have run quite a distance; his face was covered in sweat, his hair was disheveled, and his throat was dry and raspy from a lack of water.

Kraft didn't quite understand what was going on. Logically speaking, although the academy had a Medical School, it generally did not provide medical treatment.

Unless there was a specific demonstration to be performed, they would only temporarily bring in a cash-strapped patient; fundamentally, it was still a school.

When people fell ill in their daily lives, even the students at the academy would go to outside clinics for treatment, or more often, go to the Church to pray. If they were lucky, a priest might provide holy water or a blessing.

Saint Simon Church was quite well-developed in this regard. After all, there were no professional licenses in this day and age, and the environment and standards of small clinics were far from ideal; it was arguably cleaner to go to the Church.

And then... well, there was no "and then." Those two places were your only two options. Surely no one would actually want to seek help from the Medical School, which was filled with eerie rumors, right? Even the other students at the academy wouldn't step foot in their buildings.

A puzzled Kraft looked at Lucius, hoping he could explain how the situation had developed into this.

"He's already been to the Church and several clinics; it didn't work." Lucius summarized the situation concisely in one sentence, and it was clear he was also very anxious. As an outgoing and warm-hearted person, it was impossible for him not to be familiar with the owner of the tavern he frequented. "Boss Gris is quite familiar with us, so he had no choice but to come here and see if there was any way to help, even if it was just a prayer."

"It's not that I don't want to help, it's just that we aren't qualified to take on the duties of a priest yet, and the Church already said it's up to God's will." The student from the Theology School patted his white robe helplessly.

Only after he graduated would he have the chance to change this robe into the official priest's robe bearing the Winged Ring holy emblem. Practicing medicine without a license might not get you arrested here, but performing the work of a priest without authorization was a very serious matter.

"Trying wouldn't hurt, would it? It's just saying a prayer for the patient, and you know Boss Gris, don't you?"

"That really won't work." A student from the Law School interjected, lowering his voice. "It would be fine in private, but this is truly meaningless, and the Theology School is very strict about it."

Kraft understood now. The Church's placebo had been ineffective, and the clinics were helpless; this was a case of a desperate person clutching at straws.

"Sigh." Kraft let out a sigh. The patient had come to their door with nowhere else to turn, and there was no higher-level hospital to transfer them to. "So, Lucius, what are you waiting for?"

"Such a serious illness requires the consent of a lecturer." Lucius looked at Kraft expectantly, staring at him until he felt a bit uneasy. "It's different from that student from the Law School last time."

This rule was not unexpected. To admit a patient with a critical illness, one had to consider the negative impact if something went wrong, so there always had to be someone with enough weight to take the blame—in any case, it couldn't be a student.

Kraft was very clear on this point, but it didn't affect his choice, or rather, he never felt this was a multiple-choice question to begin with.

"We're going in." Kraft handed the books and lesson plans in his hands to Lucius and took the child from the arms of the trembling Gris. "Leave her to me first. Go get a drink of water; I'll have many questions to ask you later."