Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 52

Surgeons were a highly respected profession on any continent and in any country, and if skilled enough, they could even be appointed as royal doctors to serve the royal family directly.

In Pennigra, there were many nobles who had risen by serving the empire—of course, after receiving a title, they no longer needed to carry a medicine box to visit the palace, but this way of becoming wealthy was as respectable as the guard knight corps.

However, rumors suggested that Dr. Salman wasn’t interested in such ambitions. He not only stayed contentedly in this remote town but also didn’t flatter the nobility and was highly regarded among the common folk.

Perhaps because of this, the news of his departure from Bonan had been deliberately suppressed, and only his old partner, who took over some of the medical supplies and equipment he couldn’t take with him, knew about it.

People like Dabik wouldn’t throw a farewell party for Salman after a deal. It was uncertain if he was still in the town.

But Erica’s generosity made his mouth like a leaking kettle, allowing them to easily find Dr. Salman’s residence.

He lived in a neighborhood a notch higher than Grille Street that was mostly single-family homes, complete with a small front garden and a private mailbox.

The address given by the apothecary was a narrow two-and-a-half-story building with an empty iron balcony railing. There wasn’t even a clothesline, the porch door was closed, and the mailbox was locked—people usually living in this neighborhood were financially well-off and customarily had a doorman or a part-time maid in the foyer, but it seemed quiet and empty now.

“It seems the doctor is no longer here?” Erica stood in front of the porch, thoughtfully looking at the door lock.

“It appears so,” Charlie agreed.

“What should we do then?” Erica asked.

“Ladies’ wishes first,” Charlie tipped his hat to her.

Erica smiled. “I think even if the doctor left town, he might have left some clues in the house.”

Charlie agreed. “Strictly speaking, if the tenant has left and the next one hasn’t yet signed, entering isn’t really breaking in.”

Both had no intention of letting the door lock stop them—only then did Charlie realize that Erica, like him, was an unregistered mage.

According to regulations, all students studying magic should apply after completing their studies, and after passing a centralized examination, they were officially registered in the continental mage directory, thus having the “legal” right to use magic.

Those not listed weren’t allowed to profit as mages, and even displaying magic in public was illegal.

However, Erica’s situation was different from Charlie’s.

Erica was a servant of the Dwight family, and her education and use of skills were ultimately for serving her master—since ancient times, most servants never left their master’s lands, let alone profited from it, so there was no need for registration.

Moreover, the line between magic and sleight of hand was sometimes blurred, and many unregistered mages took advantage of this, acting under the guise of illusionists. There were also illusionists who used tricks to impersonate mages, along with openly nefarious black mages and witches, making the monitoring of mages identities a significant loophole, with unregistered individuals rampant and the Mage Association amounting to little more than a gentleman’s agreement.

Erica’s education system also differed from school-educated Charlie, as the Lemena weren’t keen on magic, so she only specialized in some basic elemental magic based on her innate talent.

She grabbed the door lock with her hand, which gradually turned red from her palm. A shallow layer of flames appeared on her skin’s surface, like a translucent red glove. Soon, the iron door lock visibly melted and deformed—passersby would think she merely pushed on the door for a while before it opened.

“Beautiful fire magic,” Charlie praised as he followed her into the foyer.

“My talent is limited. No matter how hard I try, this is as far as I can go,” Erica modestly said. “I’m not really a mage.”

Charlie smiled and didn’t continue the topic. His attention was already on the house.

The house was as quiet inside as it was outside, with small items like books, teapots, and pipes gone and immovable items like the piano and bookshelves covered with dust cloths. Even the air was dry, as if the kitchen tap hadn’t been opened for a long time.

Anyone entering would think the house’s owner had gone on a long trip.

Both instinctively slowed their breathing and steps, quietly checking the first-floor smoking room, washroom, and kitchen, then stepped upstairs.

The second floor had two bedrooms, a study, and a storage room converted into a lab, still with some glassware not packed away.

There was no trace of Dr. Salman in any room.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper stood in the middle of a bedroom, pondering the covered bed and single sofa.

“The house is well prepared. He didn’t leave in a hurry,” Erica whispered. “Do you think he has left town?”

“Not necessarily,” Charlie whispered back. “If I were in trouble, my first reaction would also be to tidy up the house, but not necessarily to run away right away. If the other party is alert enough, they might block me at the city gate or road, and I wouldn’t want to walk into a trap—but I definitely couldn’t just wait at home.”

He paced on the floor, slowly saying, “After setting up the scene, I would probably hide and observe the situation before acting. Maybe disguise myself and go to an inconspicuous bar, or temporarily stay with a trusted friend…”

He pondered.

Erica looked at him as if measuring something interesting, and after a while, she asked, “So what are you thinking about now?”

“I’m thinking, if someone blocked me at home, where would I instinctively hide.” He slowly spoke, suddenly lifting the cloth covering the large bed.

With the dust cloth gone and the neatly arranged pillows and blankets exposed, Charlie knelt down, pushing aside a wicker box under the bed.

“Good morning, Dr. Salman. My name is Charlie,” he said to the man lying under the bed.

Dr. Salman took some effort to crawl out from under the bed, clearly unaccustomed to such activities, and his posture was somewhat awkward.

“I thought I hid quite well,” he said, wiping his crystal glasses. His face carried a slightly embarrassed expression. “How did you—”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper tactfully continued the conversation, “Actually, you did well. The first floor was very tidy. I really thought you had left.”

“But then I saw that your lab wasn’t completely cleared out. Leaving the most frequently used items for packing last is something everyone does,” Charlie said as he lifted the cloth from the single sofa. “I’m sorry for intruding into your house so abruptly, but I assure you, we mean no harm.”

This statement wasn’t very convincing, as their act of breaking in was already quite bad. It was quite remarkable that Dr. Salman was still able to maintain his composure and talk to them, but this gentlemanly man had a better temper than they expected.

“It’s alright,” Salman said softly. “I assume you are not here on behalf of Mr. Foley…”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper immediately raised one hand, making a gesture of oath.

“We’d better sit down. Ah…” He looked around and realized there were no spare chairs in the room. Erica and Charlie quickly gave up the single sofa to the host and sat down on the edge of the bed, now re-covered with a cloth.

The young surgeon put his crystal glasses back on his face. His black hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of his neck, giving him a profound and elegant demeanor with his deep-set eyes and high nose bridge.

To alleviate his concerns, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, quite experienced in packing and fleeing, voluntarily explained the reason for their search.

Mistress Daisy’s list included four people living in Ropappas and two from Bonan Town, including well-off merchants and a highly positioned Baron.

It was difficult for outsiders like them to access a noble like the Baron, and the only common person with connections to the nobility was the surgeon. Dr. Salman’s medical skills were so esteemed that even though he didn’t live in the city, the Baron would still invite him over for medical visits—if it weren’t for the pudgy apothecary carelessly boasting about landing a big client in a bar, they wouldn’t have had to corner this cultured doctor under his own bed.

After hearing their explanation, Dr. Salman forgot the burglary-like behavior of the two, and his expression became serious.

“There really is such a matter.” He frowned deeply, looking hesitantly at the two sitting opposite him.

Charlie and Erica quietly waited in agreement.

Salman was silent for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Commoners have no right to discuss the private lives of nobility. My contract with the Baron is limited to helping him regain some health and vigor as he ages. Neither the Baron himself nor his family have ever mentioned anything about the ball outside the city in my presence. However, I have heard about that girls’ school, said to be founded by a lifelong unmarried lady due to her noble character, using her own assets to shelter girls with nowhere else to go—this isn’t a secret. Two years ago, she received a grant from the city hall and, in return, donated a month’s worth of vegetable soup to the charity hospital, which was even reported in the newspapers.”

Erica and Charlie looked troubled.

If all of this were true, it was ironic that a devil who preyed on young girls could transform into a philanthropist in the city.

It was obvious that she could use the excuse that the “school” was filled with young girls who needed strict protection to refuse external visits and could restrict the girls’ movements under the guise of protection without raising too much suspicion, making it seem like the school was just being discreet.

“Only those with an invitation can attend the ball,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said. “Now that we have the time and guest list for the dance…”

“We just need to get the invitation.” Erica understood, nodding at Dr. Salman. “Since you know nothing about this, we won’t bother you any further. I’m really sorry about the lock. I’ll compensate you with a new one.”

“You’re leaving already?” Dr. Salman was somewhat surprised.

“Time waits for no one,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper replied. “I promised Miss Alice I would go back to help her. If we want things to progress smoothly, we need to prepare in advance.”

“Like the Baron’s coachman’s appearance and the usual routes of his carriage?” Dr. Salman said.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper tilted his head at him.

“We do not intend to involve you in this trouble,” Erica said tactfully, clearly seeing that Dr. Salman had his own issues to handle. Asking for his help at a time when he was already overwhelmed seemed harsh, so they didn’t make any further requests after he indicated that his private dealings with the Baron weren’t as deep as they had assumed.

Unexpectedly, the doctor stood up from the single sofa.

“Assuming what you said is true, no one can remain indifferent upon hearing such things. I can’t claim to be very noble, but I can’t just politely see you out, close the door, and pretend I heard nothing. That would be shameless behavior.” The tall, thin doctor asked calmly, “What can I do to help you?”

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