Once the thick wooden door to the master bedroom closed, Lin Ruoyu got straight to the point with Chris.
"Do you know Connie?"
"Connie who?"
"The daughter of Isaac, the outlaw hero of District 21 in Inyama."
Realization dawned on Chris.
"Oh, her.
I know Isaac. I know his daughter's name is Connie, but I've never met her.
So, what happened?"
Lin Ruoyu told Chris everything that had happened to him in the Nameless Tavern, from beginning to end. Chris sank into thought. After a while, he raised his head and looked at Lin Ruoyu.
"I don't know Connie, but I know her father, Isaac the outlaw hero. He's kindhearted, but he's also one ruthless bastard. He's the most wanted man and the biggest smuggler in Inyama."
"Oh? Tell me more."
Lin Ruoyu's interest was piqued, and he eagerly waited to hear the story behind it. Chris, however, had no intention of satisfying his curiosity and waved a hand.
"I know Isaac. If his daughter Connie said she wanted to work with you, she probably meant it. She wasn't trying to screw you over... provided she really is who she says she is, of course."
"Got it... Who's Isaac?"
Lin Ruoyu persisted.
Players were intensely curious creatures, but Chris genuinely had no intention of satisfying his curiosity.
"That's not something you need to know right now."
Chris was adamant and refused to say another word about it. Lin Ruoyu could only change the subject reluctantly.
"How should I go about working with Connie?"
"However you like. Do whatever you want. Whether you want to sell alcohol or buy weapons, you can come to me. After all..."
Chris was noncommittal, his manner utterly casual.
"Nothing is true; everything is permitted."
After dropping that reference, Chris pointed to the door, signaling for Lin Ruoyu to leave. He would be heading out soon and had things to do. He had no time to keep going back and forth with him.
Lin Ruoyu could only leave reluctantly. Before he went, though, he committed Chris's words to memory and decided to ask the other players what they meant later.
Once Lin Ruoyu left, Chris began gathering his things in the room.
He changed into another set of clothes, slung a single-strapped wooden case lined and covered with cowhide over his shoulder, then opened the door and headed out.
The players lying around in the living room noticed what Chris was doing, and he waved to them.
"I put ten sets of bedding in the basement. Remember to bring them up when you go to sleep (log out). It's cold at night, and catching a cold is no small matter."
With that, Chris headed outside.
Lin Ruoyu exchanged a look with the other players, then stood to follow him. The others followed suit.
In a flash, all six of them went after him, apart from the two who had died and the two who had logged out.
Everyone had curiosity. In a game, no player would deliberately suppress it. If they had to be timid even while playing, where was the fun in that?
Chris wasn't walking fast. After leaving the apartment, the six players easily spotted his slightly tilted figure at the end of the street, a leather case slung over his shoulder beneath the dim yellow glow of the kerosene streetlamps.
The players hurried after him.
Chris walked slowly, and his destination wasn't far away either: a single-story wooden house beside the cobblestone carriage road on the next street.
The six players watched from outside as Chris went in. Then a faint light appeared inside, visible through the thin glass window.
"This wooden house has a bit of a dark wizard vibe."
"Ooh, this is so exciting! I'm about to uncover an NPC's secret! Hehehe..."
As luck would have it, shortly after Chris went inside, the players spotted a man in a black cloak on the otherwise deserted street. His face was hidden, and he hunched over as he slipped along the wall and into the little wooden house.
There's a secret here!
The thought sprang into all six players' minds at once. They exchanged glances, then rushed toward the little house with quick, light steps. Each used their own approach, peering sideways through the glass window or crouching beside the crack in the door to listen and watch what was happening inside.
"What's wrong?"
"My forehead's burning, my whole body aches, and I'm cold."
"Does your head hurt?"
"My head hurts too, and I feel like throwing up... Doctor, what's wrong with me?"
"Hmm... You have a fever. A fairly high one."
Wearing a white mask and sitting behind a small wooden desk, Chris withdrew his hand from the patient's wrist and delivered that diagnosis.
Chris knew medicine. It was a legacy left to him by his body's previous owner.
The former Chris had studied at the Seminary of the God of Light for several years, and medicine had interested him most.
Was it strange for a seminary to teach medicine?
Not at all. In fact, it made perfect sense.
The students trained at the Inyama Seminary of the God of Light belonged to two departments. One was the divine arts department, whose students would become wealthy and powerful Church leaders.
However poor their people skills might be, as long as they graduated, they were guaranteed at least a position as head pastor of a city church, making them middle-ranking Church leaders.
The second was the missionary department. Its students went to places untouched by the light to spread the radiance of the God of Light... In other words, a missionary's basic job was to preach in remote mountain regions.
The brightest future a missionary could hope for was to preach successfully in the countryside or some border region, have local believers donate enough money to build a church, and then become its head pastor.
Yes, the latter's finish line was the former's starting line.
Since missionaries needed to preach, what should they learn?
The answer was everything that could help with missionary work, in addition to the contents of the Bible of Light.
Herbal medicine, blacksmithing, farming, sewing clothes, brewing alcohol, and all manner of practical everyday skills.
With those skills, even if the ignorant locals refused to accept a missionary's preaching, they at least wouldn't beat the missionary to death.
Chris's predecessor had chosen herbal medicine and blacksmithing. He enjoyed both and earned excellent grades.
While studying, Chris had often gone to the slums to provide free medical care. When he could no longer afford tuition, he opened an unlicensed clinic, continuing to charge the poor very little or even nothing at all.
Then he had starved to death in his rented room.
For a stubborn fool like him, that ending was deserved, yet it was also an ending he should never have suffered.
After coming to life, Chris inherited his predecessor's unlicensed clinic and continued running it the same way.
Free medical care brought in no money, and other hospitals would report the clinic and have it shut down, so Chris could only see patients at night. Still, he was willing to do it... if only to fulfill his predecessor's dying wish.
"Here, three packets of herbs. Take one a day. Boil them as soon as you get home. Reduce three bowls of water to one, then drink it while it's hot and go to sleep."
"Doctor, when will I get better? I have to haul sacks at the docks tomorrow."
At that, Chris's hands paused as he wrapped the herbs. Then he opened the cowhide case beside the desk, took out a few white pills, pounded them into powder with a few clunks in a solid copper mortar, and poured the powder into a cup of hot water.
"Drink this, then go home and sleep. Don't take the herbs tonight. Tomorrow, after you come back from hauling sacks, have your wife boil them for you."
These pills came from the twenty-first century and were particularly effective against high fevers, but Chris's method of crushing them and having someone drink them was inadvisable.
Medicine was made into tablets so that it would release its active ingredients slowly after being swallowed, rather than letting the body absorb the entire dose at once... If it took effect too quickly, it could cause unnecessary side effects.
But from experience, Chris knew that if he gave the patient whole pills to take home instead of crushing them and making him drink them on the spot, one of three things could happen.
One: he would follow the doctor's instructions and take them when he got home.
Two: he would be reluctant to take them and save them for when a family member fell ill.
Three: he would sell the medicine for money.
That was why Chris had to crush the pills, pour them into hot water, and make the patient drink them.
Even if he handed over whole pills and had the patient swallow them, the man might hide them under his tongue, spit them out once he left, and take them home.
This strange behavior wasn't the fault of the impoverished patients. Their harsh, destitute lives simply forced them to become cunning and crafty, learning little survival tricks that saved money rather than lives.
"All right, all right... How much?"
"Five copper coins will do."
"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you..."
The hunched man in the ragged black cloak drained the hot water from the wooden cup, laid five copper coins in varying conditions on the desk, and picked up the three packets of herbs wrapped in oiled paper before shuffling toward the door.
As the cloaked man opened the door, Chris noticed the dark figures outside and beside the window, along with the glaringly bright lettering.
Chris immediately let out a helpless sigh.
"Come in. It's cold outside."
Lin Ruoyu and Little Ghost rubbed their hands as they stepped inside, looking rather sheepish. The other four players followed closely behind. Soon, the six of them had packed the cramped wooden house, and the ice-cold clinic suddenly grew warm.
"Mr. Chris, what are you doing here?"
Little Ghost stood beside Chris, looking around the rudimentary, dimly lit clinic as he asked curiously.
"I work as a doctor here. I treat patients."
"Then why do you work at night instead of during the day?"
"Because I don't have a license to operate a clinic. The police would arrest me if I opened during the day, so I can only open at night."
"Can you make money charging five copper coins for a consultation?"
"Not really. A loaf of black bread here in Yanema costs two copper coins, and forty copper coins make one silver coin, so do the math...
All right, stop making trouble here. I still have work to do. Off you go."
Before you continue