I know I mentioned this before, but it bears repeating.

You are very dangerous girl, Lapis.

Eyes fluttering in a dream, a loose strand of hair crossing over her lovely face, snuggled on my shoulder, half-covered in my blanket, with a hand drooped over my chest almost possessively. So dangerous. I swallow and look away.

It seems I ended up sleeping away the afternoon and its dark outside. About four hours? I shouldn’t be surprised. So much has happened. And just in case I needed confirmation that it wasn’t all a fever dream, I couldn’t ask for a better one than this limpet mine, which has similar explosive properties.

She is a curious specimen, the product of an even more curious society, where medieval-era marriage for offspring and bloodlines still somehow manages to interact with the post-modern era.

When I did my research before, it seemed that feminism never took root here, because women have, for a very long time, had a powerful place in mage society; and typically, in deadlock votes in various arch-mage councils, the head speaker is female and has the deciding vote, and sometimes even veto rights.

And there is no apparent discontent from the woman’s side of things about her duty to bear children. It seems that as a woman uses more and more magic, she can sustain her youth, but the more it suffuses the body, the harder it is for her to bear children, as it gets in the way of natural processes, which themselves also decline with age, as is the norm, to the point where a 32-year-old female mage is statistically infertile.

So, it became the law, passed by a female magister in the 1700’s, for girls to marry by 15, bear her children early, then spend her extended youth and middle age increasing her magical skill and helping with wars, administration, and governmental duties along with her husband. It all makes sense in context, but I’m sure some women from my world would disagree with vitriol.

One couldn’t call it a matriarchy, though, as it also quite apparent from their genetic studies, that given two equally powerful mages, the male line seems to take precedence.

I manage to untangle myself from the dangerous girl, and she rolls onto the sofa, snoozing away, muttering something under her breath that I don’t catch.

I’ve unfortunately got an even greater worry right now; the fact that I’ve got to be at work in just an hour. And in this case, people will expect me to be able to do magic. That’s my main concern now. I wonder how much I can cover for it?

Can I even practice my magic? Did I get the power from the other me? How do I even do it? I could do with a system window telling me what to do right now! Status? About me?

The fact that no ominous blue boxes appear means that I’m not in such an Isekai. How frustrating.

I go and take another quick shower; but showing some sense, I take my change of clothes into the bathroom with me. My doctors lab-coats stay at work in my locker to keep them sterile.

When I come out, I see that Lapis has woken up, and is peeking out of my blanket like she might have to duck under it at any second. Looks like I made the right choice to change in the bathroom. I still notice that her brow furrows for a second, though.

“Lapis, I’m off to work now.” I tell her. “You still need to unpack, don’t you?”

The blanket nods at me. I walk over towards her. The fact that it doesn’t retreat is a good sign that at least she is not too afraid of me now.

“I… work from 7pm until 7am; but today is the last ongoing shift in the pattern. I’ve got three days off after that unless a big call goes out. You’ve already got my wi-fi password, and use the PC if you like.”

I’ve already cleared it of potentially problematic material. A bit of a cut and paste job, but it’ll do.

“Oh right; here’s the spare key.” I say, handing it towards her.

“Um… I don’t need a key.” She looks confused. She still absorbs the key into the blanket, however.

“Ah, right; you can just zap open the lock with your magic.” Of course. I go towards the door.

“No? I’m your wife, the magic sensor lets me in?”

I stop. What? Well shit; that’s a thing. Again, I was assuming I had a mag-lock like I had before. But why would I in this world, eh?

“R-Right, of course. How silly of me.”

“You are pretty silly sometimes. But I like that about you.” She giggles.

I’m really starting to think that its intentional flirting at this point. I turn to leave, but there is a rustle, and something grabs my sleeve. I turn to see she has suddenly covered the five-foot distance.

“Uh… have a good day.” I hear her say. Without warning, she pecks my cheek; and then dashes off into the bedroom so fast I think I saw an after-image.

Dangerous.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I gulp, shake my head, and then quickly go off, closing the door behind, and heading towards the bus stop before I can think about it too hard.

. . .

I’m fortunate to find I do in fact still work at the hospital; and that the hospital is mostly unchanged, except the fact it is now no longer named after a Queen, the standard of hospitals in the UK, but rather, as might be expected, an Arch-Magister.

I am now doing my old boss, Dr. Shepherd’s job. The salary increase wasn’t apparently just because of my magical power. Perhaps she retired earlier in this version of the world, or something else happened? Not a problem as such, I covered it more often than you would think as her deputy. In an ideal world, there would always be a Consultant on call, but more often than not it’s a coin flip, with a good chance for Deputies like myself, or even Junior Doctors to be making decisions. I probably would have been next for her position in any case; or at least I like to think so.

The early evening shift passes without much of interest. I check in without any apparent incident, and as I look over the cases that were admitted during the day, it is a relief to see from the reports that mundane admissions to the A&E are much as always. A splint here, bandaging there, a few IV’s and drips, one case of pneumonia. A dozen packs of painkillers, some antibiotics out by the pharmacy. A whole bunch of false alarms by people claiming they’re dying when it’s something they could self-treat is hardly new. Boring is good when you do my job. Boring means less people getting hurt, so boring is best. And it also means we get to clear beds.

I approve a transfer for a few patients to other, more fitting departments to monitor them, and discharge others no longer in any danger. I speak to a few kids and worried adults, and put on my best kind face to assure them that everything will be okay. Two go up to get surgeries. After then they’re out of our hands.

But then, during my break, we get the heads-up that a few ambulances are on their way with six serious assault cases following a robbery, and sigh. I make my way to the intake. It’s all hands-on deck for these kinds of things. I sterilise, and change to a gown and mask and gloves, as is procedure. The Nurse Matron, Rishya, who is on main this evening, does the same and joins me, along with a convoy of two juniors and six nurses.

The ambulance crews bring them in, and the first guy is not good. I spot him straight away and run to him as soon as the stretcher comes in. The foot is gone, stump just below the knee, and a large curling gash is all the way up the chest. Shrapnel? What kind of robbery would cause something like this?

I check him over. The damage is fatal. The brunette female paramedic following is desperately already trying to revive him. She can’t tell? Is she new? I look to the pusher, Kev, he’s a veteran. He shakes his head and gives me three fingers. I check my watch.

“Right. DoA. Time of Death: 22:35.”

“No! He was just talking to me! Heal him, Doctor! He’s not.” The new young Paramedic panics, giving me pleading eyes. “There’s nothing I can do.” I shake my head.

“No! He! Magic!” She starts.

“Ellen! He was already dead coming up the ramp! Listen to Doctor Corwin. Triage! Let it go. LET IT GO.” Kev takes her shoulder. She starts sobbing as she is lead away. I nod to him, and pull the sheet over the guy and sign his papers with my official signature.

“Tough first night for hazing the new paramedic girl.” Nurse Rishya comments, shaking her head and sighing as she also signs off on it.

I sigh as well. Next up is… another poor girl… she is restrained and knocked out, her clothes and the right side of her body blackened with soot.

“Burns, second degree, lacerations and...” I massage her swollen leg “possible bone fracture in the thigh.” I state. Another old veteran, Terry, nods, and hands me a form on a clipboard already detailing this. I always wondered why he wasn’t a doctor himself. Good man.

“She got lucky, boss, the robbers fire-blast detonated right next to her, but she leapt behind a fridge. Good call. Saved her life.” Terry nods and comments.

I pause for a moment. Right, of course; why wouldn’t robbers be throwing fireballs? But no time for that.

“Indeed, it did, Terry.” I turn to the nurses. “Get her cleaned, give her some burn relief and pain killers then send her to X-Ray. She might need surgery on the leg. With luck, she’ll even walk again.”

“I concur. You don’t want to regenerate her whilst there could be bone shards in the muscle tissue, right, Dr. Corwin?” Rishya queries, looking at the patient.

I clear my throat. “Yes, that’s right, I could cripple her in the long run. Either way, she’ll be in agony.”

“Right you are.” She nods. “We’ll sort it. Oscar, Cath, get on that.” She beckons to two of the nurses, and also signs off the papers, and hooks them on the bed.

Shit. Expectations… this could really become a problem.

I hear the next man before I see him. His squealing is pretty crazy. He seems to have taken a ballistic injury of some description. I didn’t see those often, as guns are not too common in crimes in most in Britain. He’s lashing against his restraints. He’s his own worst enemy right now, causing blood loss with his panic.

“Sir! I’m a doctor. You need to calm down if you want us to help you!” I call upon my strongest voice. Fortunately, it seems to work. He relents his struggle as he looks at me.

“Has the bullet been removed?” I ask the paramedics.

They look at each other. “Force Missile, doc.”

“Yes, of course.” Crap. I furrow my brow. “It was quite a weak one, I assume? I was just concerned that there was no exit wound.” I immediately cover over my error.

“Right! Yes, doc, quite a low impact, didn’t penetrate. Should be safe for you to heal, no organs hit.”

Oh no.

I nod, trying not to sweat. I already jinxed myself.

Well, here goes nothing. I pop my hand onto the entry wound, pinching it closed as if I were about to sew it shut normally, though I’m no surgeon.

Regenerate. I imagine all sorts of feelings; healing, fixing. But it’s when I imagine the wound no longer there, imagine how all should be, it happens. I nearly startle myself when I spontaneously gain glowing tattoos along my arm.

And like a miracle, the hole begins to close.

I didn’t notice when they did it, but the nurses seem to have given the man a sterile bit to bite down on. And biting down he truly does. He screams to himself from behind the gag as everything mends.

“Good job Doctor.” Rishya says.

“No problem, give him a transfusion, bandage him up… and send him on his way.” I manage to say, trying not to sound impressed with myself as I stare at my own hand whilst I sign off his papers.

Incredible. Though this man would have been fine anyway… just think of the edge cases that could have been saved if I had this before…