Shadow Rogue - Chapter 72 – To Apologize

The story of an emergency room doctor dying from overwork and crossing into another world.

…

The sails of the great voyage have been unfurled.

The steam engine has yet to roar to life.

The glory of the Radiant Lord illuminates the continent, while across the sea, the churches of the gods and mages support the monarchy.

Dwarves freely roam the cities of the kingdom, and the legends of werewolves, vampires, elves, and dragons never fade.

In such an era, Wu Zhou, an emergency department doctor who died from working overtime, transmigrates into the body of Garrett, a young city guard.

Teammate: Oh no! The Captain is seriously injured, his intestines are spilling out!

Garrett: Help me up; I can still stitch!

Teammate: …What?

Garrett: …Apply a healing spell to where I stitched, let it grow… no, first apply it to the stitched layer, then the muscle layer, and so on.

Teammate: …What?

Garrett: Uh-oh, the healing spell is too fast, the stitches grew inside the wound!!!

When modern medicine meets magic and divine arts, what brilliant sparks will it ignite in this New world?

Garrett: Learning magic, mastering divine arts, expanding territories, and clashing with the church… whether you believe it or not, I just wanted to open a hospital.

"I love you, despite the danger signs."

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”