Chapter 81

A certain room. It was a quiet room surrounded by stone walls. On the desk, numerous records were lined up.

A man in black clothing pressed down on a single piece of paper with his finger.

“…Regarding the matter of the skin disease being cured.”

A low voice. Those sitting opposite him nodded silently.

“We acknowledge the facts. However—the reason is ambiguous.”

Another man opened his mouth.

“That kind of change from just a hot spring is too fast. There are also variations in the records.”

The sound of flipping paper.

“The initial observation is lenient. The severity of the symptoms is not unified either.”

Eventually, one of them said.

“…If so, we should align them from the beginning.”

Gazes gather.

“Unify the conditions and follow the progress. We should monitor it in a form that no one can deny.”

Slowly, nods spread.

A new piece of paper is placed on the desk. Written there was a different illness. An emaciated body, long-lasting diarrhea, abdominal pain, loss of appetite.

“It is not acute. It is the sort that slowly whittles away.”

Someone muttered.

“The ‘difference’ in healing is easy to see.”

“Deception will not work either.”

One person nodded deeply.

“…Send this.”

I placed the sent paper on the desk. I quietly run my eyes through it.

…It is not a sudden illness.

Is their appetite small? No, even if they eat, it is not nourishing their body. Rotten food? But if so, the same symptoms should spread to their surroundings.

I closed my eyes once. If something remains.

“…It’s water, huh.”

I mutter softly. Probably something rotten, or dirty water. Or perhaps, both of them. Their stomach is upset, they cannot absorb anything, and they weaken. Even if they eat, it does not nourish them.

The waiting doctor furrowed his brow.

“…Your Highness, this is not the skin, but an internal illness.”

His words were polite. But his gaze drifted not to me, but behind me for just an instant.

I looked that way. Beside the door, a man in black clothing stood quietly. Saying nothing, merely watching.

“I know. That is exactly why.”

I said shortly.

“…If it is these symptoms, it should be effective.”

The doctor swallowed his words. However, he nodded.

“…Understood.”

After the doctor and the man in black left, I let out a breath.

“…I am being tested, huh.”

Doctor’s Record (Patient with Chronic Diarrhea)

Day 1

Admitted the patient. An elderly man. Suffering from long-lasting diarrhea, his debilitation is striking. First, stopped his meals. Instead, following His Highness’s instructions, I give him hot spring water mixed with salt and honey.

The amount is small, but the frequency is increased. Furthermore, not only having him drink the hot water, but keeping his abdomen warmed with it so as not to let it chill.

The patient made a dubious face.

“…Is it not, medicine?”

“Drink it.”

I only tell him that. No major changes. However, no vomiting is observed.

Day 3

The frequency of diarrhea has decreased. It has not stopped completely, but the intervals are extending. The patient’s complexion has slightly improved. I continue to give the same water. In addition, by His Highness’s instructions, I give him softly boiled grains. Close to porridge. Something with little stimulation.

The patient said.

“…My stomach, is not heavy.”

I record it. I am not using medicine. Even so, changes are appearing.

Day 5

Diarrhea has further decreased. Settled down to a few times a day.

This is the most incomprehensible thing. Until now, similar patients weakened if given water, and worsened if given food. But this time it is the reverse. Even though I continue to give him water, he does not weaken.

Day 7

The patient stands under his own power. His walking is unstable, but he advances a few steps if supported. Those around stirred.

“…Can he move already?”

The patient himself is also bewildered.

“…My stomach, does not hurt.”

I write down those words.

Day 10

Diarrhea has almost completely subsided. Meal intake increased. Meals are porridge, eggs, and warm water. Spicy or strongly salted foods are completely withheld. The patient’s physical strength has clearly recovered.

Color returns to his face.

Day 14

The patient can walk under his own power. It is a short distance, but he moves without support. The evaluation of those around him changes.

“He was supposed to be bedridden.”

“He looks like a different person.”

Voices rise.

Notes

His Highness appears to have foreseen this result. Water, salt, and sweetness, with just that alone, he stopped the debilitation. Furthermore, he restricted the food. Is there some logic in this as well? I must continue to accumulate more records.

A certain room.

In the room surrounded by stone walls, several men were gathered. On the desk, records were lined up. Skin diseases, abdominal diseases, the progress of both.

One of them closed the paper.

“…Why can we not find anything.”

It was a low voice. Another man immediately returned words.

“The treatment is simple. Hot water, washing, and—water with salt and sweetness added.”

“Is that all?”

Without pause, questions overlap.

“What else, medicine?”

“We are not using any.”

A short silence.

Only the sound of flipping paper echoes.

“…Is this truly everything?”

The doubt has not disappeared. Gazes gather on one person. The man who compiled the report quietly opened his mouth.

“That is correct.”

That was all. No one continued words immediately. They cannot deny what they cannot understand. But, they lack the materials to accept it either. Eventually, someone mutters low.

“…If so,”

Gazes move.

“There is still something else.”

It is not a conclusion.

But there was no other answer.

“We are just overlooking it. …Without prayer, there is no way such results could appear.”

After those words, the silence did not last long.

“We should investigate once more.”

A low, but clear voice.

“Align the conditions, and start from the beginning once more. Observation is lacking. There are oversights.”

Immediately, another voice overlaps.

“That’s right. There is no way such a thing could be.”

It was a strong tone.

It was close to rejection, rather than doubt. Several nods returned.

“Something is mixed in.”

“It is just not recorded.”

“Or perhaps, intentionally—”

The words were cut off midway, but the meaning is fully conveyed. On the other hand, another man let out a small breath.

“…Is there a need to pursue it that far?”

A voice directed at no one in particular.

“The results are out. People are beginning to gather. If so, that is sufficient.”

Several people direct their gazes that way.

“It is not something that cannot be handled unless all of its logic is exposed.”

It was a quiet voice.

But its echo was cold.

“…It’s a troublesome matter.”

Someone muttered softly.

That was not a denial. Just a sound avoiding getting involved too deeply.

Silence. While facing the same records, what they are looking at is different. Those who search, those who doubt, those who discard. Eventually, one of them said.

“…In any case, we cannot leave it be.”

To those words, no one voiced an objection.