Stas's hands were almost shaking, such was his desire to start training right away, but before that, he still went to the servants and got his portion of food.
It's worth pausing on what the menu for the well-off, by the standards of this world, servants consisted of.
The meal was hearty even for Ordyntsev, who was large by local standards. The reason was that, unlike the locals, Stas wasn't doing much, while the servants spent the entire day washing and cleaning the huge palace, carrying water, preparing food, and doing many other equally heavy tasks.
Naturally, everything was also prepared deliciously, although simple. The first course was miso soup, followed by rice with stewed vegetables and oshinko marinade. The latter was just ordinary pickles, albeit with an unusual taste. The locals clearly used something other than vinegar.
And for dessert, there was unsweetened green tea accompanied by a warm rice cake.
The lack of sugar was another irritating factor in being transported to another world. Ordyntsev, being a doctor, was well aware of all the harm that the "white death" inflicted on the body.
But the man genuinely loved to treat himself to something sweet. What more is there to say when he would put as much as three full spoons of sugar in his lemon tea?
Various kinds of chocolates also held his great appreciation. He was particularly fond of brands that contained whole, large hazelnuts. And if the chocolate itself was of good quality, then the day definitely became better.
And all this splendor provided by the modern world was suddenly lost to Stas!
In the first days, when it was unclear whether he would be alive tomorrow or not, such mundane issues didn't bother him much, but now he craved sweets to the point of teeth grinding.
However, as expected, sugar was a luxury item accessible only starting from the samurai level.
Of course, thanks to sugar cane, the situation was better than in medieval Europe, where sugar once cost almost its weight in gold, as it was brought from very distant places, but still, the situation was far from pleasant.
The same problem existed with salt, although not as catastrophic. The locals used salt in their dishes, but again, in the humble opinion of the earthling, not enough.
Such minor nuances noticeably spoiled the man's mood, prompting him to finish his meal as quickly as possible.
Usually, Stas preferred to eat leisurely, tasting and savoring every bite. Perhaps that's why, when he dined out with relatives at a restaurant, they always ended up waiting for him.
In any case, having dealt with his meal, Ordyntsev headed to a small separate chamber, which Roku had "hooked him up with."
Stanislav was used to filling his schedule very tightly. This didn't mean he was a workaholic who toiled to the detriment of his rest. Nevertheless, Stas always clearly scheduled time for any activity. And any empty spots in his schedule were immediately filled with something useful.
That's why Ordyntsev asked his new "friend" Roku to try to convince one of the palace healers' assistants to discuss exchanging experiences with Shiro.
Aiming for one of the full-fledged court medics was risky. There was a risk of attracting unwanted attention.
But one of the assistants, of which there were a couple of dozen, was just right.
From his side, Stas promised to teach several special wound suturing techniques, while from the assistant, he expected as good a knowledge as possible of local herbs, tinctures, and medicines.
The earthling was greatly irritated by his deficiency due to the lack of medicines and a completely new flora of the new world. He decisively lacked the multitude of drugs commonly used by medics, from pre-surgery preparation to post-operative care.
It felt as if, at some point in life, he had been given a third arm, taught to use it for years, and then had it abruptly chopped off.
And this initiative was supposed to solve such an issue.
There was just one big downside. Stas had not considered the social subtext.
The lad named Shuji, who came the next day, looked at the earthling as a passerby might look at a pile of dung lying in the middle of a busy street. A mix of contempt, disgust, and slight curiosity – who was so callous as to dump right here?
Needless to say, Ordyntsev didn't appreciate such an attitude. But there was nothing he could do.
More precisely, he could have, in theory, but the risks were not worth it. Right now, their plan was approaching an important stage, and the man didn't want to create sudden problems out of nothing.
Therefore, having sworn to himself to pay a personal visit to this semblance of a person one day, he had to grit his teeth, put on a polite smile, and try diligently to extract knowledge.
The process was strained, but it was still going, as the healer's assistant indeed knew something. So, Stas had to push his brain to its limit, memorizing the appearance, properties, and where each plant grew.
Since no one was going to bring Stas scrolls, he had to remember everything from verbal descriptions.
Sometimes, the assistant did bring one or another ingredient for potions, albeit in processed form. But at least that was something.
The local medicine producers pleasantly surprised Stas with their reasonable approach to classifying various herbs for usefulness in different situations.
For example, the medics of this world quite understood the influence of various herbs on the heart, even if they didn't know what blood pressure was and how to determine it.
There were also cholagogues, healing, laxative, and even sedative herbs.
All this variety of flora the healers diligently tried to mix with each other, stuffing the poor patients with the results and observing them. Some of their experiments were recognized as successful and were already prescribed to wealthy masters.
The healer's assistant flatly refused to reveal the secret of the medicinal mixtures. Stas immediately understood that it was pointless to pressure him.
At this point, the world was at the stage of so-called guilds and other professional associations, which very carefully and reverently treated knowledge. For disclosing information, a guild could even kill.
As for the assistant, having eventually realized that Stas did not want to pry anything secret from him, but only common knowledge, he became noticeably calmer and more genial.
Stas was bombarded with the full splendor of leaves, herbs, flowers, fruits, seeds, bark, roots, and buds.
And this was not the entire list, as there were also mushrooms, which this world was very rich in, and they were divided into groups like woody, litter, and others.
His head was swelling with such an amount of information, but Stas didn't complain.
Stolen novel; please report.
It was all about perspective and motivation.
While still studying at medical school, the attention of the then-young Stas was drawn to one guy. As it turned out later, this person was three or four years older than others in their class.
The thing was that Alexey, as he was called, had worked for some time as an ordinary nurse. He didn't particularly like this hard and thankless job, but unlike most, he didn't throw in the towel on his life, but set a goal to get a higher education.
And most notably, he managed to retake the Unified State Exam and get admitted along with Stas.
That's when Ordyntsev truly saw what a "serious attitude to business" meant. Alexey studied and did so seriously. He wasn't a swot who pored over textbooks and lecture notes every free minute. The guy found time to have fun with friends and go somewhere.
But when it came time for an exam or test, Alexey, regardless of circumstances, was always prepared. And he passed all the exams absolutely honestly.
The reason for such an attitude to study was the understanding that if he didn't cope, he would return to being a nurse again. And this knowledge best motivated Alexey to be at the very top of their cohort.
Only he and one other guy graduated with honors, and Stas was not at all surprised by such an outcome.
Perhaps it was Alexey's example that so significantly influenced Stas Ordyntsev's worldview, making him who he is now.
Stas, for his part, though he tried to give the healer's assistant knowledge gradually so that he would teach him longer, didn't hide anything special. Ordyntsev doubted that anything he taught the native would go beyond this city.
The medieval attitude to knowledge equated it with material values, which should not be given away for nothing and to just anyone.
This world would not soon reach the concept of spreading medical knowledge to everyone, even if for a fee.
But let's get back to Stas and his meal. The next session with Shuji was not to happen until tomorrow, so the earthling decided to dedicate the rest of the day to prana training.
Moreover, as Jishin said, a full stomach only contributed to this endeavor.
Prana, as it turned out, was closely related to the biological processes occurring inside the body. Thus, a hearty breakfast or lunch had a very positive effect on the production of this very prana.
Sumada shared such interesting details as the fact that all warmasters inevitably ate much more than ordinary people. Only in this way could they replenish the calorie deficit that went into the production of new prana by the core.
As a result, the time one or two hours after eating, when food begins to be actively absorbed by the body, was the most suitable for training to control this very life energy.
Stas sat down on a cushion, tucking his legs and leaning against the wall. A deep breath, and the man plunged inside himself, leisurely examining the force running through his channels, which he had yet to master.
The prana core pulsed with a cold, piercing light, habitually creating the bare minimum of new prana. Apparently, prana was very slowly expended in passive mode. That's why the cores of ordinary people were almost undeveloped.
Unlike them, warmasters, constantly using their energy, forced the core to develop, producing more and more.
In the end, if the core of a peasant could be compared to a burning candle, then the cores of strong warmasters were more like the reactors of nuclear power plants.
'Well, let's get started,' Ordyntsev encouraged himself with these words, wishing with all his might for the prana flowing in him to speed up, and…
Nothing happened. No changes occurred.
'I would have been surprised if it had worked the first time,' Ordyntsev thought to himself, not the least bit disheartened. 'Let's continue.'
However, even further attempts were just as futile. Stas strained, eventually getting angry. He tried to breathe deeply and examine the prana more closely.
He even tried to move just one little "snake," although he perfectly understood they were not real.
To no avail.
The prana mockingly ignored all the efforts of its so-called owner.
Each subsequent failure only raised a wave of anger in the man, though he tried to hold back. There was no sense in getting mad when a cool head was required.
'Let's try to think, what am I doing wrong?' Stas pondered, irritably drumming his fingers on the floor: 'What am I missing…'
The earthling's thoughts suddenly froze when he remembered one of the moments from the prince's lecture.
'Weak warmasters can't do without gestures and vocal activation. It helps them better concentrate on what they want to achieve. And who's stopping me from trying the same thing, but with just a simple speed-up of my own prana? Not to try to stand up right away, but to try to use crutches at first.'
After some deliberation, Ordyntsev chose a simple punch forward as the motor activator. This gesture embodied both the intention to strike and to push something heavy.
As for the word activator, Stas thought longer. He needed something that his consciousness and subconscious would interpret in the only possible way.
After eliminating a couple of words, only one option remained: "faster."
It was a short, sharp word, perfectly describing what he wanted to achieve.
Ordyntsev didn't forget about the last part, the stance. Sumada had mentioned it briefly, but he wouldn't have said it for no reason.
The earthling stood up and spread his legs shoulder-width apart. A deep breath and a sharp punch forward.
"Faster," Stas said firmly, forming the necessary image in his head. For now, he wasn't even trying to reach for the prana. At the moment, he was trying to realize his idea about deeply connecting words and gestures. To tie them together with a mental thread. "Faster," this time, the left hand flew forward.
Strike, another strike, and the subsequent exhale with the special word.
'Time!'
The prana channels once again blossomed before Stas with their cold light.
"Faster," the punch was simultaneously a strike on the flowing energy. "Come on!"
Ordyntsev thought he felt something twitch, and, encouraged, he punched forward with all his might, unleashing all his anger, hope, and thirst to break through.
This movement concentrated all his essence and striving for victory. Victory or... only victory, Stas did not consider other options.
"Faster!" Ordyntsev cried out emotionally and immediately regretted it, as he might draw unnecessary attention from the guard passing by. However, all these thoughts were immediately washed away by a warm wave that swept over all his muscles, making them shudder.
Stas watched with delight as the prana inside him did indeed speed up for a couple of seconds, causing the channels to pulse slightly, shimmering.
The sensations were incredible. As if his body had been lowered into a vat of warm water, after which it was suddenly pulled out.
"Exhilarating," the man muttered quietly, savoring this feeling.
It was a deserved triumph of reason and spirit. A small step on the path to mastering immortality and the secrets of local magic.
Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the prana after this little burst seemed to be felt just a tiny bit, the slightest drop, but better.
Yet even such a small change was sweeter than many of life's joys.
"What's exhilarating?" A stranger's voice seemingly poured a cold shower down Stas's back. The worst part of this situation was that he recognized the voice.
"Lady Kuchisake-onna, what an honor to meet you today," Ordyntsev's face, as he turned and looked behind him, was practically a perfect example of joy. "What brings you here to... humble me?" Stas tangled in the excessively florid local speech out of nerves.
"Just idle curiosity, Shiro-san," smiled the terrible demonic spirit, which loves to tear apart and devour people. And she stood just a pitiful few meters from the disheartened earthling, meaningfully adjusting her scarf.
'How fun it is to feel like one of the heroes in horror films, where the main characters are hunted not by some flesh-and-blood maniac but by some damned paranormal crap that can kill you at any moment and is just stretching out the pleasure. And you can't even run away. I doubt she would have trouble finding me anywhere in the palace.'
"Lady. Don't take this as impertinence, but could you answer a few questions about... yourself?" Stas decided that if he had to die, he might as well understand how this walking horror works. How many people could boast of a conversation with a real, rational ghost?
In a way, his desire was akin to a scientist's wish to see up close how an atomic bomb detonates or to learn how long a head can remain conscious if cut off from the body.
Judging by the puzzled look of the evil spirit, she was also surprised by such abnormal behavior.
"Of course, Shiro-san. And don't address me so formally. After all, few have interacted with me in such an," she looked around the room, "intimate setting."
"Alright," Ordyntsev nodded toward the cushion lying next to Kuchisake-onna, "Shall we sit down?"
The girl looked at it thoughtfully for a few seconds, then nodded in agreement and, pulling the cushion closer, softly sat down on it.
'Able to interact with inanimate physical objects,' Stas noted coldly, logging one of the facts about spirits in his mental register.
"I would be glad to address you less formally, but unfortunately, we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm called Shiro," Stas inquired, looking questioningly at the spirit.
"Pleased to meet you," nodded Kuchisake-onna. "My name is..." she paused, thoughtfully looking at something just above the man's head.
When this lifeless immobility began to become awkward, Stas coughed carefully to attract attention.
"Do you not remember your name?" he asked cautiously.
"It's strange," the thoughtful girl murmured. "I'm sure I have a name, but I can't remember it. Or maybe I had a name?" she corrected herself, lost in thought, twirling a black curl around her finger.
"Excuse me," Stas again drew her attention. "It seems I understand the problem."
"Do you, really?" the spirit frowned.
"In a way," nodded Ordyntsev, realizing there was no turning back. Since he had gotten into the wheel, he had to run. "First of all, I simply have to ask you. Please don't take this as an insult, but you do realize that you... are dead?"
"Of course," laughed Kuchisake-onna. Stas noted that her laugh was surprisingly pleasant. "I've been living in this place for many decades, occasionally snacking on various kinds of liars, and could a human do that?" Her right hand blurred into the air like a gray mist, then transformed into a slightly cuter version of Freddy Krueger's claws.
"I'm glad to hear that," Stas put on his best friendly smile, fervently wishing to be somewhere far, far away from this cursed place.