A Hospital in Another World?

Emerging from the Temple of the Spring Goddess, it was already deep into the night. The group gradually dispersed, each heading home. Sir Nolan purposely took a longer route, walking Garrett Nordmark to a street not far from his own home before parting ways.

Garrett walked alone down the small street. He glanced around, the houses on both sides were pitch black, devoid of any light. It seemed like everyone inside had already retired for the night. Occasionally, a dog’s bark would break the silence, sporadic and dreamlike.

In this sea of darkness, Garrett tried to match his memories, struggling to recognize his own house. Unfortunately, the surroundings were too dark, and the houses all seemed similar—low, narrow, with eaves almost within arm's reach. Glancing around, he hadn't spotted a house resembling his own after a while, and a sense of impatience crept over him:

"How reliable are my past memories, really?"

To add to his troubles, his stomach chose that moment to loudly grumble.

Garrett: "…"

He had dinner earlier, but clearly, it wasn't enough. At this hour, where could he find something to eat?

Did the previous owner store any dry food before going on patrol?

Even if there was, after a couple of days, would the black bread still be edible?

Maybe he should have stayed at the barracks tonight? Could he still make it back and knock on the door?

Garrett’s mind swirled with various thoughts as he turned a corner, suddenly met with brightness. Thirty or so steps away, light seeped out of a window, not bright but quite noticeable in the pitch-black night.

Instinctively, Garrett walked toward that house. After a few steps, the door creaked open, and a slender woman holding an oil lamp cautiously stepped out. Spotting Garrett not far away, she brightened up, vigorously waving at him:

"Little Garrett! You're back! Had dinner?—Karen! Edward! Little Garrett's back!"

Rushing out of the house led by Uncle Karen, a group of people surged forward.

Garrett stood rooted to the spot. For some reason, his heart felt a pang, his eyes already welling up.

Since childhood, his parents had divorced, and his mother had worked tirelessly, selling noodles in the morning and thin porridge at night, struggling to raise him. Studying medicine, practicing it, every end of semester during school felt like taking entrance exams. After starting to work, it was continuous overtime, never enough time with his mother. Just as he was promoted to deputy director, hoping for some ease, life took a turn, leaving him yearning but unattended in the sea of lights.

Until today.

"Aunt Irene…"

He murmured. The woman had already rushed over, grabbing him and looking around:

"Little Garrett, you're back! Are you okay? I knew that… it wasn't a good thing! This time, thanks to you, even Uncle Karen mentioned it, fortunately, you saved him…"

As she spoke, she pulled him into the house, leading him to a table. With a thud, a bowl of hearty meat soup landed in front of him, the bone sticking out, aroma wafting, tantalizing.

"Aunt Irene, I've already had dinner!"

Garrett attempted to decline. Before he finished speaking, his stomach grumbled again. Embarrassment flushed his face; Aunt Irene chuckled, ruffling his hair:

"Don't be polite with Aunt. You've had so many meals at Aunt's place since you were little, never seen you shy away.—Besides, you saved Uncle Karen's life. If you're polite to Aunt, should Aunt pay you for treatment?"

As she spoke, she busied herself around the house. Slicing a few pieces of bread, she then took down some cured meat hanging from the roof, cutting two slices. Swiftly placing them by Garrett’s right hand:

"Young lad, being able to eat is a blessing. Eat!"

Garrett grinned awkwardly. He stopped declining, grabbing bread in one hand, soup in the other, and eating with gusto. Aunt Irene watched him eat with a smile, then turned around, shooing her sons like chicks:

"Go, go, go, go! What are you looking at, go to bed! Kids won’t grow if they don’t sleep!"

Uncle Karen's two sons were younger than Garrett, Edward was thirteen, and David was ten. The two boys eyed Garrett longingly, wanting a bite but not daring to struggle against their mother, as she grabbed them and tossed them into their bedroom.

Garrett felt a bit embarrassed. Just as he was about to speak, he felt someone tugging at his clothes:

"Big brother Garrett…"

Garrett turned. Standing beside him was a five or six-year-old girl, dressed lightly, looking frail. Under the lamplight, she gazed up at Garrett shyly, her face somewhat pale, extending something toward his mouth:

"Brother, eat—"

Garrett searched his memories and remembered her as Uncle Karen's younger daughter, Avi, six and a half years old. Garrett gently lifted her up, letting her sit on a nearby stool:

"Little Avi, why did you come down? It’s cold at night…"

As he spoke, he held her raised arm gently, trying to lower it. But the little girl twisted, unwilling:

"Brother, eat!"

"If brother doesn't eat, you eat—"

"Brother saved Dad! Brother eat!"

Avi persisted with her raised arm. Despite his attempts to avoid it, Garrett always lost against the determination of the little girl. He remembered the girl being fragile, her face turning pale at the slightest exertion. Garrett didn’t want Avi to strain herself. Helplessly, he turned to Aunt Irene, complaining:

"Aunt, why tell Avi these things?"

"Of course, I'll tell her." Aunt Irene stood by, smilingly observing, even raising her chin, signaling Garrett not to refuse. Garrett had no choice but to open his mouth, letting Avi feed him.

As soon as the tip touched his tongue, a faint sweetness spread. It was a malt candy. In his previous life, such a trivial sweet, but here, a rare treat for children, often treasured for a month or two.

"Thank you…"

Garrett gently patted Avi's hair. The little girl responded with a smile but suddenly burst into a fit of coughing, pressing her chest, her face turning crimson. Garrett hesitated, reaching out to pat her back, halfway through, his heart skipped a beat.

Early summer, the weather was warming up. The girl had dashed out in slippers. Her tiny toes peeked out, and her toenails, supposed to be a light pink, seemed to darken under the lamplight.

Cyanosis?!

Alarm bells rang in Garrett's mind. He rubbed his eyes, not daring to believe, afraid he had seen wrong. He reached out, moving the oil lamp closer to illuminate Avi's feet, scrutinizing—

No mistake, Avi's toenails indeed had a hint of purple, cyanosis!

Aunt Irene rushed over by then, embracing her daughter, gently patting her back. As she comforted Avi, she responded to Garrett's query:

"It's alright. Avi just doesn't like

 to move, weak in health, prone to coughs during seasonal changes."

Garrett shuddered. Fragments of memories resurfaced; Avi had always been frail since childhood, prone to fatigue, coughing during changes of season, smaller than her peers...

For a while, Avi's cough subsided, her flushed face gradually fading. Garrett took the chance to observe closely. Her lips were rosy, slightly pale, but no signs of cyanosis. He took her hand, checking her fingernails, which showed a delicate pink color.

Lower body more affected than upper. Differential cyanosis.

Garrett’s heart sank uncontrollably. All signs pointed to an illness he hesitated to suspect but had to consider.

"Don't rush, don't rush, it might not be." Garrett desperately reassured himself, forcing a smile, "Aunt Irene, as you know, I've recently become a healer. Avi's cough sounds severe. Could you get me a tube, let me listen to her breath?"

---------------

• Your invaluable feedback and ratings mean the world to me. Please take a moment to rate this novel at NovelNext.
• If you come across any mistakes within this chapter, kindly notify me in the comments below, so that I can make the necessary corrections.