Another hailstorm started and kept us indoors. This time, the hail was smaller—only marble-sized, not like the ping-pong balls from before. But it was so dense that its smaller size made no actual difference. I had no intention of going out and getting pelted.
I used the opportunity to prepare the medical knowledge for Cloud. I went to my spell room and activated the dead zone. The experience was awful. Every cell in my body screamed that it was wrong, wrong, wrong, with the loudest protests coming from my mind and power orbs. The absence of mana was almost unbearable.
I had a computer with Word installed, so I tried searching for an alphabet similar to what they used here, but without success. Their alphabet was very looping and swirly. I found a few letters that looked somewhat similar in the Cambodian, Thai, Burmese, and Arabic alphabets, but only a handful—and they weren’t exactly the same, just close.
I sighed, resigning myself to writing it all by hand. With a notebook in hand, I planned what to write. I had no intention of giving her the full depth of knowledge that took me years to learn—just an overview.
I started with the basics of human anatomy, sketching out the major systems in a way that was simple enough to be useful. The circulatory system came first, with rough diagrams of the heart and the arteries branching out like rivers. I explained that blood carried life—delivering strength, warmth, and energy throughout the body. I kept the details lean, focusing on recognizable signs, like a pulse reflecting the heartbeat or veins revealing a slowdown in blood flow if something went wrong. Each note aimed to give her a foundation, a sense of where things might go wrong if something in the body felt off.
Then, I moved to the respiratory system, describing it as the body’s internal wind. I sketched the lungs as two large leaves, drawing lines to represent the airways. I explained how breath was life itself, filling us with vitality and emptying the bad. It was like a rhythm that every living thing danced to, one breath in, one breath out. I mentioned how rapid breathing or struggle to catch air could mean more than just fatigue—it could be a sign of illness or even fear. Again, just enough to plant seeds of awareness.
Next was the muscular system. I kept it simple, drawing an arm with some basic muscles to show how they connected to the bones and moved together. Muscles were the body’s ropes and pulleys, essential for every step, every grip, every fight. I explained that rest or massage can soothe muscles after they strain under effort. If someone had pain in these areas, it wasn’t just soreness—it was the body’s way of asking for relief or healing. I didn’t go into fine detail—just enough for her to understand the signs and listen to what a body might tell her.
With these core systems down, I shifted to the basics of observation and vital signs. I jotted notes on the pulse, the rhythm and strength of it, how it sped up or slowed based on the state of the person. I noted down that heat in the body—fever—could signal infection or distress, a sign that things were out of balance. Each sign was like a small flag, a hint that a healer could use to understand what lay beneath the surface.
When I came to wounds, I paused, considering the simplest way to explain. I wrote about cleaning, emphasizing how the dirt could poison a wound if left unchecked. Noted the signs of infection—redness, heat, pain—and stressed the importance of keeping it clean and wrapped. I gave some tips for stitching, but only enough to handle minor cuts; no advanced techniques here. My goal was to give her confidence in the basics, not overwhelm her with procedures she couldn’t master yet.
I covered bones and joints next, keeping to the essentials. Described the feel of a broken bone, how it shifted under the skin, and the shock that often came with it. Outlined a few quick ways to stabilize a limb, like using branches or sticks for support. If she could just remember the signs of a fracture and the importance of keeping it steady, it might save someone’s life.
By then, the notebook was filling up, page by page, with the most practical bits I could offer. I wrote about common illnesses and symptoms, things she’d recognize—a cough, fever, aches—and how to respond. A fever was the body’s warning signal, and if left unchecked, could take someone down faster than any visible wound.
In the end, I added a short section on natural remedies, pulling from my own basic knowledge and making adjustments to suit this world. I suggested simple teas to ease pain or soothe an upset stomach, compresses for swelling, and rest to aid recovery. It wasn’t much, but if she could recognize symptoms and apply a few basic remedies, it might be enough.
The last part was a strange experience. My knowledge of herbs was limited—and, of course, only covered Earth’s plants. But whenever I thought about how to translate this to native plants, the name of a local herb floated to my mind. It was unsettling, to say the least.
I took a last look at the notebook. It was far from a full education, just glimpses into the essentials. But it would give her the start she needed.
While I was writing, Maya and Al divided all the food we collected from the palace into packages. I had to donate all my cardboard boxes to the effort. I’d bought a ton of boxes before we left China—visited over ten cardboard box factories and bought all their stock—and even with all that, I still wished I’d bought more. To store everything before dividing it, my house created two extra storage halls, now filled floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. In each box, we placed one gold coin and two silver coins.
Initially, when I handed the coins to add to the boxes, Maya’s brows pulled together as she folded her arms, her voice tight. “Why are we giving away coins? The food should be more than enough.” She glanced at the stack of boxes, her gaze hardening.
Without a word, I opened my inventory screen, tilting it her way to show her the amount of the gold I had—over eight hundred thousand coins. Her eyes flickered as she took it in, and a deep sigh escaped her, shoulders slumping.
“Alright, fine,” she muttered, glancing away, though a hint of reluctance still lingered in her tone.
Al stood nearby, his gaze flicking between us. His jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, giving a slight nod with a resigned look. He didn’t seem thrilled, but at least he wasn’t putting up a fight.
“Besides,” I added, shrugging, “we’re keeping the gems and cores. That’s decent loot, don’t you think?”
They exchanged glances, then nodded reluctantly. Agreement was agreement, however grudgingly given.
“We still have the gold and silver bars from Vegas, and the silver bars from the dungeon in Lumis," I said, hoping to lighten the mood. "I can always feed it to the core and ask for coins. We’re stinking rich, and those people need the money more.”
That lifted their spirits. A bit.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Al was a better man than he pretended to be. More than once, I caught him discreetly slipping vials into the boxes. When I checked one box in my Storage, I found he’d added two clearly labeled health potions to each one.
It took me three days to finish writing all the medical information for Cloud. Then I joined them in packing the food boxes, which took another two days to finish.
We stood surrounded by stacks of boxes, each tower seeming taller than the last. Maya glanced around, frowning slightly. "I think we’ve got more boxes here than houses."
I nodded, tapping my chin. “Probably. So, here’s the plan—let’s do one round to every house first. After that, we’ll use these lists I found in the ring to give the extras to women without husbands.”
Al looked at the lists. “No addresses?”
“Just names,” I said. “But I think we can track them down.”
Maya’s expression softened as she looked at the lists. “Alright,” she said, a brief nod of agreement passing between us.
Finally, finally, the storm ended after seven days. By now, the piles of hail had reached over a meter high. I had no idea what the slums looked like, but I could only imagine it wasn’t good. The temperature climbed back above thirty degrees Celsius, and the hail began melting fast. My house, set near the wall outside the city in the forest, was surrounded by a thick, slushy mud once the hail melted. Walking through it was nearly impossible. We had to wait another whole day for the ground to harden a little.
On the night of the ninth day since the storm began, we finally set out to distribute the boxes. Rue insisted on helping, so I loaded his Storage to the brim and assigned him an area close to mine. Since his Storage was smaller, he kept returning to me for more supplies. It didn’t dampen his spirit one bit. Each time he came back, he’d exclaim with enthusiasm, “Rue give food to children!” holding his head high with his nose in the air. He was too cute for words.
The slums lay eerily deserted under the cover of night. Not a single soul stirred. The streets were a mess of thick, sticky mud from the melted hail, and the darkness settled like a blanket over everything. An almost-full moon hung in the sky, but the towering, tightly packed houses blocked its light, casting deep shadows that swallowed the alleys and doorways. It felt like a ghost town, abandoned, with not even a flicker of light from the windows.
The silence was deafening, an emptiness that pressed in from all sides. I wondered if the men had returned to work in the fields, but there was no way to confirm it. The entire night passed without a glimpse of life—just me, alone in the oppressive stillness, feeling like the only one left in this empty world.
The next morning, after I woke up, I wanted to satisfy my curiosity and took a flight over the slums. From above, I saw only women and children—no men in sight. But there was a clear change. The streets, usually quiet and empty, were now dotted with people. Women and children strolled along the muddy paths, gathered near doorways, or stood in small groups, talking and laughing softly. Previously, nearly everyone hid from the enforcers, leaving the streets almost deserted even in daylight. Now, the place felt almost alive.
I flew over the eastern half of the slums, where we’d distributed food the previous night, and the difference was unmistakable. The air carried the faint aroma of food, a welcome change from the usual stench of refuse and sewage. It appeared our efforts had breathed a bit of life back into this forgotten part of the city. The women and children looked visibly happier, their faces brighter and their steps lighter. Several times, I spotted women hugging each other, some with tears streaming down their faces, clinging to each other in silent gratitude.
Seeing this stirred something in me, offering a slight relief from the weight of guilt that had settled over me following our actions.
It took us two more nights to finish distributing all the food. After placing a box at each doorstep, we found ourselves with just over two hundred boxes left. Now we faced a conundrum: how to locate the women without husbands. I wasn’t keen on chatting too much with the people in the slums—or, more accurately, I didn’t want to tangle with The Mothers again.
I hovered over the slums, searching for a solution, when I spotted Flower talking to another boy. I waited for their conversation to end and watched him head toward an alley. Quietly, I landed in a hidden corner, letting myself become visible.
He turned, spotting me, and trotted over, his eyes already wide with curiosity. “Were you the ones giving out all the food and coins?” he asked, not bothering with greetings.
I nodded. “Yeah, that was us. But we want to do more. We’ve got extra food, and we’d like to give it to the women without husbands. Think you could help us find them?”
Flower scratched his head, looking thoughtful. “Most of them live close together, over by the separation wall. They help each other out,” he said, glancing around as if making sure no one overheard. “But… I don’t wanna show you. The Mothers would get mad if they knew I talked to you.”
“That’s alright,” I assured him. “If you can just tell me where.”
He nodded, then quickly explained the path to the area, giving me every twist and turn as if he’d walked it a thousand times.
I kept my voice low as I asked, “Have the men gone back to the fields?”
Flower nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, they’re back working the fields.”
“Is there a new ruler?”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “The rich folks are all fighting over that. No one knows who’s gonna end up in charge.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then how are the men working without a leader?”
Flower shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing. “There’s this council of nobles in the city. They don’t want to lose all the grain before winter, so they ordered the men back to work. They’re in charge for now, until they stop fighting and pick a new ruler.”
He looked up at me, a mix of curiosity and frustration in his eyes, as if this chaotic tug-of-war among the nobles was just a part of life he’d long since learned to expect.
That night, we moved quietly through the area Flower had pointed out, distributing food to each doorstep. The houses here were in far worse shape—walls cracked, roofs sagging, windows broken and patched up with scraps. It felt like even the people in the slums had forgotten this place. Seeing the state of things, an idea started forming in my mind.
When I returned home, I found Maya and Al in the main room and shared my plan without delay.
“I want to give some of the furniture, cushions, and carpets we took from the palace to the single mothers’ area,” I said.
Maya gave me a sharp look. “That’s a bad idea,” she warned. “If anyone spots palace items in their homes, it could get those women killed.”
Al nodded, his expression serious. “She has a point. Such things do not go unnoticed.”
I held up a hand to reassure them. “Remember what happened when I used that new cleaning spell on my clothes? How all the color faded?” They nodded, and both got a thoughtful expression. “If I cast it on the furniture and fabrics, they’ll look old and worn. No one would recognize them.”
They exchanged a quick look. Maya hesitated, then nodded. Al gave a nod, the faintest hint of a smile. “Yes, I believe that could be effective.”
After a few hours of sleep, I got to work on the pieces we’d collected from the palace. With a clear goal in mind, I cast Aggressive Clean on the first item—a plush pillow. I watched as the magic seeped in, stripping away everything that didn’t belong, right down to the dye. The once-bright fabric dulled, fading to a washed-out gray as if years of use had worn it down.
As always, my spell marble was expensive, mana-wise. The smaller pieces like cushions drained a manageable 70 to 100 mana, but when I reached the carpets, Aggressive Clean gulped down almost 400 mana in a single go. I had to figure out how to make spell marbles less expensive. Oh, well. Another item to the to-do list.
Finally, after two full days, the last item—a formerly vibrant sofa now reduced to a pale, worn-out husk—sat before me. The entire collection looked faded and old, stripped of any hint of luxury, ready for delivery.
Once again, we packed our Storage full and prepared to head out for distribution. This time, though, Rue stayed behind. "Giving pillows not fun like food!" he declared with a huff, trotting off with his nose in the air.
We finally finished the distribution, leaving just one task: buying the spell for Cloud in Lumis. After two days of high temperatures and clear skies, the clouds started gathering again. So I’d have to wait for yet another storm to pass before I could fly toward the gate. Al, naturally, used the opportunity to expand the list of herbs he wanted me to buy.
I could only hope the storm would come and go quickly. I wanted to buy the spell, deliver everything to Cloud, and get out of this city before real winter set in. The thought of spending winter here didn’t appeal to me at all. If these dangerous hailstorms would continue, we needed a safe place to park before the weather turned serious.