Neighbors and the Plague Doctor

Leaving the "Hairy Bear" tavern with several baguettes wrapped in cloth and two portions of cleaned raw chicken, Victor walked back home. Angoulême was probably already waiting for him to cook.

There had not been many customers in the tavern that morning. Claiming to be a rookie mercenary who did not want trouble, the youth had sat down for two drinks and an extra five Orens, earning himself a pleasant chat with the owner, "Griffin."

Apparently, the gang boss in this area was called "Lansmit," and he had recently had quite a few clashes with the newly risen Fire Lizard Gang.

Meanwhile, the girls offering street trade in the Temple District all belonged to Madam Carmen of the "Yearning Thighs" technical academy. She had gathered together vulnerable women who were easily bullied when scattered apart, then reached an agreement with Lansmit for him to send his men to protect the girls' personal safety.

In addition, the youth had spotted Jethro in uniform, presumably skipping work. He was the guard under Captain Vincent who had issued passes to the troupe, and he was buying weed powder from a supplier in the corner of the tavern.

His demand seemed intense. Restlessly finishing his purchase, he left in a hurry without noticing Victor. This was worth making a note of as well.

Some information might seem worthless at first glance, but it could prove highly useful at the right moment. Like a sheet of paper—when the critical moment came, it could become toilet paper!

After avoiding several lunges from beggars and temptations from streetwalkers along the way, Victor unknowingly passed Saint Lebioda's Hospital again. "Victor? Is that you?" A muffled, strange voice called out to him.

Turning around, he saw a proper medieval plague doctor. No matter how he looked at that outfit, it did not seem like the attire of a good person. Hearing it described before had merely seemed novel, but seeing it in person was far more striking.

The person who had called Victor over wore a wide-brimmed black leather hat that completely covered her hair, shielding it from infectious sources clinging to surfaces or dripping down from above.

Her face was covered by a bird-beak gas mask, its pointed beak stuffed with medicinal aromatic plants and special spices to filter out harmful miasma and lessen the stench of corpses. Her eyes were covered by red glass lenses.

She wore a black overcoat that extended to her feet, coated in tallow, wax, and camphor oil to minimize exposed skin. Beneath it were leather breeches protecting her legs and groin from infection.

Finally, she wore waxed brown leather gloves and carried a long wooden cane.

At that sight, Victor suddenly understood that the villagers at the suburban tavern did not merely respect doctors. Any ordinary person who had seen that outfit would not want to sit near her while eating, no matter how beautiful she was.

"Hi! Shani." Victor answered with certainty. He did not know anyone else who would wear an outfit like that.

The length of the wooden cane kept them apart to prevent infection. "Mm! It's me. Good thing you made it into the city safely, Victor. Sorry, it only occurred to me afterward that you might have needed my help that day..."

Victor smiled brightly. "It's fine. I got a pass quickly enough. Is everything all right at the hospital?"

"It was fortunate that we quarantined people in time, so the number of infections did not grow. But those who have already fallen ill..."

Watching the strange bird beak sway from side to side, the youth felt it was rather comical despite knowing that was inappropriate. If he got any closer, he would be poked by it.

Apparently not wanting to discuss the plague further, Shani changed the subject on her own initiative. "Are you taking all that somewhere to eat?" She casually asked, pointing at the bread protruding from Victor's bundle.

"I just bought a house. It's in the Temple District, very close to here." Victor lifted the bundle and gave it a shake. "I'm planning to make herb-roasted chicken for lunch. Would you like to come to my place and eat with us?"

Hearing Victor's invitation, Shani thrust her beak forward and pointed at herself with her left hand. "You're inviting a plague doctor to your home for a meal? Are you sure?" Though the mask heavily distorted her voice, the teasing was unmistakable.

"Heh, I'm not joking. I really am inviting you. I trust you'll take care of the disinfection," the youth said with a smile. "Of course, I will too."

"Ho ho ho ho..." The doctor's strange laughter came through the mask. "That is truly rare. Thank you very much for the invitation, Victor. But I should get back to work now. Let's make plans another time."

Not minding the doctor's subtle refusal, the youth pulled out a slip of paper, wrote down his address, and placed it on the ground. "No problem. This is where I live. Come by whenever you have time!

There's always someone home in the mornings and evenings. Only in the afternoon does everyone go out. If I'm not there, the one opening the door might be a girl named Angoulême. I've told her about you."

With that, Victor waved goodbye to Doctor Shani.

Herb-roasted chicken, sliced baguette, and borscht vegetable soup.

After the Phantom Troupe's cheerful lunchtime meal, the young captain cruelly announced their new lifestyle plan, declaring an end to the female member's life of unrestrained freedom and sending her back into days of "learning makes me happy."

From now on, the two of them would run together every morning and conduct practical swordsmanship training. After that, she would read at home, with Common Herbs and Practical Ointments assigned as her reference book, while the captain gathered information and made purchases in the city.

Their afternoon explorations outside the city would be conducted together, with herb-gathering practice, monster hunting, or occasional special swimming training depending on the circumstances.

In short, while completing Kalkstein's collection task, they would also devote themselves to cultivating a high-quality all-round, multifunctional fighter.

After making the announcement, Victor left Angoulême behind to spend her final day of leisure with a miserable face, then went down to the underground alchemy room himself and began studying the advance payment Kalkstein had given him: <Analysis of the Effects of Purifier, Decomposer, and Binder>.

This advance payment alone proved that the alchemist's professional knowledge was worth learning. Spending so long traveling such a great distance to do his task had not been a loss.

At night, with one leg crossed over the other, the youth poured bottle after bottle of cheap, inferior liquor into a large cauldron. He was about to do something every transmigrator did—make alcohol.

His conversation with Doctor Shani at noon had reminded him that it was time to prepare some disinfectant. Given his special ability, seventy-five-percent alcohol immediately stood out as the balance between bactericidal effect and ease of acquisition.

People in the witcher world knew strong liquor could kill germs, but they could not produce the optimal ratio. Naturally, that was no problem for Victor. He only needed to stir out alcohol close to one hundred percent concentration, then add water according to the proper proportions.

In the blink of an eye, the disinfectant was ready. Products whose manufacturing process he could clearly define in his mind did not consume much mental energy.

Feeling that he still had strength to spare, the youth thought of an earlier idea. He hesitated briefly. Though reason told him the chance of failure was extremely high, he had to try for humanitarian reasons.

So Victor put on gloves, covered his mouth and nose, took a tube of blood from the herb pouch, and poured it into the cauldron.

This was the blood of someone cured of Catriona Plague. Theoretically, it should contain antibody serum. Perhaps he could try purifying it...

Gripping the long stirring rod, he began to stir. In an instant—the youth, his mental energy drained dry, collapsed unconscious.