A Hospital in Another World?

Garrett Nordmark presented his research with a heart full of apprehension. Fortunately, the legendary mages listened intently without mocking or nitpicking. Even the slightly displeased Immortal merely clicked his jaw without grumbling:

"Are we just going to end up cutting people open anyway?"

Ms. Almeida of the Enchantment Control faction raised several pointed questions about Garrett’s understanding of the "Mechanized Mind" spell. Garrett responded earnestly:

"Although it’s not mentioned in the spell’s description, I know more than one mage who has used this spell on themselves in battle to prevent pain from interrupting their casting," like Brother Andrew Lynn, like Minister Johnny Colin from the Emergency Management Department.

"So, I want to know if this spell can allow one to ignore pain on a psychological rather than sensory level, and what exactly is its mechanism of action?"

Garrett was especially curious about which part of the brain the spell affects. Perhaps it overly stimulates or suppresses the frontal cortex’s response to the emotion of pain?

The notoriously problematic frontal lobotomy surgeries of the past indeed caused significant issues, but perhaps a temporary, reversible suppression using magic could be a viable therapeutic approach.

"So, how do you plan to use it?" Ms. Almeida asked with a smile. Even without intending to unleash her charm, her charisma naturally soared above 20 whenever she raised an eyebrow or tilted her head. Garrett, however, seemed oblivious and continued ponderously:

"For example, during esophagus, stomach, or intestinal examinations, or during brain surgery. If the patient is conscious, they can immediately inform the doctor if they feel pain or if something seems about to go wrong..."

Ms. Almeida fell silent. High-ranking members of the Enchantment Control faction, while possessing spells like "True Word of Death" that cause instant death, generally dislike bloody affairs.

Meanwhile, the Immortal, his eyes flashing red, clacked his jaw as if he were laughing...

Garrett sighed inwardly. My lord, is it because people don’t usually notice your expression—or rather, a skeleton doesn’t have an expression—that you always have to make a scene?

The legendary mages nearby watched the drama unfold without minding the stir. They whispered not so quietly:

"It’s over."

"He can’t be taught anymore."

"Such a good spell for accelerating research, and he thinks about using it for brain surgery."

"Even using it in combat would be better."

"He should be sent to the Curse Department, let the medical branch take him... Hey, Helena, do you want him?"

Garrett pretended not to hear, the Thunder Lord and the Immortal both looked straight ahead, also pretending not to hear. The legendary mage of the "Temporal Barrier," Steiner, grinned and beckoned Garrett:

"Master Nordmark, I’m old enough to give advice. It’s good that you want to open a clinic to treat the poor, but you shouldn’t advertise low-cost or free treatments."

The wealthy won’t be exempt from treatment fees. But if it’s not free, the poor can’t afford it. Garrett wanted to explain, but the "Temporal Barrier" continued:

"Temples of the War God, the Spring Goddess, and the medical branches of the councils charge for healing. Even followers of the God of Nature ask for donations in one way or another. The port’s clinic offers some free treatments daily, but the quota is very limited."

The implication was, if you offer free treatment, where does that leave other healers?

In the face of great disasters, alternative payment methods can be used, but free treatment can’t be the norm.

The white-haired legendary mage smiled warmly, his gaze passing over Garrett and becoming sharp as he looked into the distance:

"Besides... many people are insatiable. When you set conditions, they know that treatment opportunities are rare and will restrain themselves. You offer free treatment out of kindness, and they might feel, ’Why treat others and not me? You’re cold, greedy, morally corrupt...’"

Several legendary mages nodded gently. Ms. Almeida’s smile faded to indifference, and the "Philosopher’s Rose" seemed suddenly to bristle with thorns:

"The more you deal with the poor, the more likely you are to encounter such issues. It’s not that the poor have lower morals, but... often, just surviving takes all their effort, and they will take everything they can from anyone who shows a bit of kindness..."

Garrett felt a pang of recognition. Isn’t this just like "Doctor, I know you saved me, but I’m still going to sue you for money"? How many times had he seen such scenarios?

"So, what do you plan to do?" the Thunder Lord suddenly asked. His monocle was spotless, no sparks flashed, no text appeared, only his deep black pupils stared unblinkingly through the glass.

Silently, massively.

"I plan to operate under the name of a research institute

," Garrett responded without hesitation:

"I’ll submit a topic to the council, apply for a research grant, and then announce that every instance of cheap—or free—treatment is for the purpose of conducting magical research, collecting patient data. The compensation for the healers will be paid from the research funds..."

Of course, how much research funding there was, whether it was enough to pay, that was another matter. After all, the institute didn’t have to report to the patients treated; how much to waive in treatment fees was still up to him...

Moreover, collecting patient data and testing new treatment methods were indeed his goals, weren’t they?

Before he finished speaking, the legendary mages exchanged amused glances. The legendary mage of the "Jade Crown," Lord Ripleigh, laughed while shaking his finger at the "Temporal Barrier":

"See, you don’t need to worry about him! Isn’t he quite adept?—Ah, but any mage from the medical branch who thinks of waiving treatment fees uses this excuse. Helena, are you sure you haven’t secretly taught him?"

He received a roll of the eyes in response.

Having had their fill of entertainment and gossip, the legendary mages finally took their leave. The Thunder Lord then had time to inquire in detail about Garrett’s research plans. After going over them once, he detailed further instructions:

"You’ve been on the Black Gate Peninsula too long. In the coming days, catch up on ’Arcane,’ ’Magic,’ and if you have time, ’The Common Arcanist’s Monthly,’ ’Thunderclap,’ and other journals that match your field of study."

"Starting next week, every Monday at 9 AM, attend the meeting in my study to hear about your fellow disciples’ research directions. Initially, just listen. After two weeks, prepare to speak and participate in the discussions."

Feeling overwhelmed... Garrett grimaced.

The Thunder Lord’s disciples, like Archmage Carlisle, are high-level mages, sometimes even legendary figures of level 15 or higher.

Their research directions, could he even understand them just by listening?

"Also, help me review some submitted papers..."

"Teacher!"

"Hmm?"

"Can I even understand the papers submitted to you?"

"You don’t need to understand them." The Thunder Lord looked obviously impatient:

"Just check for any obvious nonsense or inconsistencies. If there are any, send them back; if not, attach your comments and send them to me. Don’t worry, although I’m a special reviewer for ’Arcane’ and ’Thunderclap,’ I can’t get through more than 20 papers a month. It’ll be quick."

"..." It turns out, in this world as in others, graduate and even undergraduate students first review papers for a professor...

Garrett received a slew of instructions and returned to his mage tower in a daze. Before leaving, Archmage Carlisle helped him refresh all the necessary permissions:

The Thunder Lord’s study, the waiting area of the Thunder Lord’s guest room, the Thunder Lord’s laboratory...

Most importantly, the laboratory. In theory, Garrett could use his teacher’s high-end laboratory, facilities, materials, and funding for his own research, making whatever he wanted.

According to Archmage Carlisle, this was a privilege every new disciple enjoyed, generally lasting from three to ten years, or until the next disciple joined. After that, only projects designated by the teacher would be permitted.

Garrett silently recalled when he had used a lab for electrolyzing saltwater...

Ah, that tall column that attracted lightning was indeed thrilling, and importantly, the power was truly high.

"But surely, I won’t fail to understand all their research topics?"

"So you better start researching too!" This time, it was Archmage Carlisle urging him:

"As long as you start getting involved, they also won’t understand your topics, and then there’s no problem!"

It made so much sense...

And starting the hospital—or rather, the medical research institute—wasn’t difficult at all. Garrett hurried back to the mage tower, where Mage Norwood was already waiting at the door, bringing a map as soon as he entered the study:

"We’ve found four possible locations for the hospital. One is owned by the city hall, one by the Temple of the Spring Goddess, one by the Temple of the War God, and one is privately owned.—Boss, which one shall we negotiate with?"

Garrett carefully examined the red circles on the map. The one owned by the city hall was the most remote, farthest from the mage tower, with the advantage of being near the wilderness, offering a large area;

The one owned by the Temple of the Spring Goddess was originally an inn, with big courtyards enclosing smaller ones, but it had been abandoned after some incident;

The one owned by the Temple of the War God had the best location, close to the main road, within a kilometer of a large slum area, apparently not lacking in patients. The only problem was the nearby slaughterhouse and coal warehouse

, creating significant environmental pollution;

As for the privately owned one, Garrett looked and wanted to cover his eyes:

What had he done wrong to consider opening a hospital next to a cemetery?

Even if he didn’t mind, shouldn’t he consider the psychological tolerance of the patients?

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