A Hospital in Another World?-Chapter 601: The Dagger Thrust into the Eye Socket

In the room, the family turned their eyes toward Garrett Nordmark at the sound.

The child’s mother was crouched in a corner. Her face, which looked merely thin and distressed during the day but still clean, was now patchy and shadowed under the dim light.

The child’s father squatted on the other side, in what looked vaguely like a bed, his eyes shining in the darkness. He leaned forward with his arms on the ground, like a wild beast ready to pounce.

The children, several young ones, buried their heads in their mother’s apron, showing at most half a small face. They occasionally let out a half-sob, then immediately stifled it, as if there was some great terror in the room.

Garrett "…"

He casually cast a spell for light. The narrow, stench-filled room brightened instantly, and he immediately wished he had seen nothing.

The woman’s face, those areas that seemed like shadows, were all bruises and swellings. Under her nostrils hung two lines of dried blood scabs, and her cheekbone was broken open, clearly having been severely beaten.

The man also had several scratch marks on his face and chest. Long ones, ending with a bit of blood, buried under his chest hair. However, compared to the woman’s injuries, they were almost negligible.

He hung his head slightly, his muscles tensed. His expression was frozen at the intersection of fear and fierceness, his gaze shot from under his messy hair toward Garrett, then quickly shifted away, and he stared at the children on the ground:

That child, the little girl Garrett had just cured the day before, now three or four years old, was lying on the ground, her body damp, her face flushed, breathing weak.

"What are you doing?" Garrett’s voice unconsciously grew louder:

"What are you trying to do?!"

He crouched down to check on the child. The mother’s throat made a rattling sound, trying to speak, but in the end, she just held the toddler in her arms a bit tighter; while the child’s father gasped a few breaths, then suddenly roared:

"You killed her! You killed my Jenny! She started getting sick as soon as she came back! Turned sick like this!"

His roar echoed in the small room less than 10 square meters. Squeaking, the surrounding doors cracked open, as if countless people were peering through the gaps. Garrett silently placed his hand on the child’s forehead:

Burning hot.

Along with the child’s rapid breathing and heartbeat, soaked through and never changed clothes, considering the parents’ reaction…

Garrett’s expression slowly darkened:

"It was you who made her sick, wasn’t it? You wanted her to die and then get money?!"

His fingertips emitted a white light, sweeping from head to toe over the little girl. 【Remove Disease】, a third-tier divine magic, took effect immediately. The girl groaned a few times, the flush on her face faded, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Garrett had never been so thankful for magic. He flicked his finger slightly, and a faint light flew out:

Darkness magic, Animated Rope, Sound Cancellation. The trio hit, and silent darkness immediately enveloped half the room, firmly controlling the couple. Then, Garrett knelt on the ground and gently asked:

"Little Jenny? Do you recognize me?"

"…Yes. You are the Reverend." The little girl blinked and answered timidly. Garrett smiled at her, continuing to inquire:

"What’s wrong? How did you suddenly get a fever?"

The little girl reflexively shrank back, looking around. After a while, not seeing anything that scared her, she whispered:

"Daddy made me soak in cold water… with clothes on, not allowed to take them off."

"Your mother?"

"Daddy hit Mom."

Garrett clenched his fist tightly, his fingers creaking, knuckles whitening. For money, for money, to let their own child die…

He clenched and unclenched his fists until he could control himself not to swing a punch, then picked up the little girl and dispelled:

"…Do you have anything else to say?!"

The child’s mother collapsed on the ground, crying non-stop. The man, bound by the Animated Rope, lay on the ground struggling, suddenly raised his head and roared loudly:

"What do you know! …What do you know! That’s ten gold coins! Ten gold coins! Do you know what ten gold coins can do! They can feed our whole family meat, let us move out of this hellhole, let my son go to school!!!"

His neck veins bulged, his face flushed red:

"…You high and mighty lords, eat when you want, drink when you want, practice on the poor, insert vines into people’s hearts—this child is mine! I birthed her, I raised her, a money-losing girl, letting her die, so what?!"

"…It doesn’t matter." Garrett sighed softly. He hugged the girl, gently patting her, and quietly cast a Calming Spell, soothing the terrified child:

In this impoverished, miserable world, talking about morality to those struggling to survive, what can it really achieve?

He took one step back, then another, steadily moving backwards. By the third step, he was already backing out of the room, calmly saying through the door:

"But it was you who harmed the child, not me who killed her. I have seen everything, even if she dies now, the viscount won’t pay. And—"

He tightened his grip on the girl in his arms. With a flick of his fingertips toward the man, the Animated Rope shot out, unraveling at the doorframe and weaving into an "X" shape mesh, blocking between them:

"I’m taking this child with me. In a month, when my paper is ready to be published, I’ll send her back to you. If anyone disagrees, if anyone dares, come find me at the Mage Tower."

With that, he turned and left. Behind him, the woman’s sharp cries, the man’s suppressed roars, and the fearful wailing of several young children, became a cacophony. Soon, neighbors’ shouts and the banging on the walls boiled up behind him.

Garrett walked faster. Reaching the end of the corridor, he recalled the Animated Rope, looked up the stairs, and into the bright moonlight shining in his eyes—this moment, like looking up from hell to the world above.

This basement level, the air polluted, cluttered with trash and debris, saw no sunlight. Those who lived here, each with less than two square meters of living space, perpetually half-starved.

Even if he took the girl back to the hospital, let her eat well and rest for a month, after sending her back, how long could she survive?

Garrett shook his head, no longer wanting to think about it. He briskly walked up the stairs, back to the street, puckered his lips, and whistled. Shortly after, Appa appeared at the alley’s entrance, briskly trotting towards him, lowering his head and licking his face vigorously.

"Appa!—Appa, let go of me! You’ve made my neck all wet!"

Two days later, Garrett sat in front of Mrs. Alva, discussing his recent experiences and venting his frustrations:

"I gathered all ten patients back to the hospital, planning to nurse them for a month, and half of the returned children are sick! Although poor children are prone to illness—still, what am I really doing this for?"

It’s obviously for the research paper—Mrs. Alva wanted to say this. But seeing Garrett’s dejected look, she could only push a cup of hot red tea towards him, with half a cup of milk added, and replace the incense with a variety meant to relax nerves:

"There’s no helping it, taking care of the poor is just like this. Anyway, those who could have lived to 10 years old, having been treated by you, might now live to 20, or even 30 years, right?"

Garrett shook his head silently. Mrs. Alva flipped through his research paper, consoling him:

"Poor people have their troubles, rich people have their troubles too. Like here, isn’t it also an endless headache? Since collaborating with the Black Crow Swamp, my kids, they could quarrel with a necromancer twice a day—"

She rambled on, suddenly interrupted by a commotion outside, sounding like five or six men and women arguing. Mrs. Alva put down the paper, hurriedly stood up, and after a while, she returned, shaking her head:

"It’s those kids again. Ah, enchantment mages always attract too much unwanted attention and affection, and necromancers’ social skills are… well…"

She paused, not sure of the right word. Garrett mentally filled in for her: freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Homebodies?

At least, the necromancers he had seen, especially the higher-ranked ones, were mostly homebodies. Not necessarily overweight, mainly because necromancy deals with negative energy and they tend to be gaunt, but they were definitely homebodies...

Loving skeletons, loving skinning, loving figurines. They lack the capability to interact with the living, babbling endlessly about their favorite subjects without considering if others can accept it.

Of course, as far as Garrett knew from his previous life, those homebodies also loved girls… but with homebody social faces, poor social skills, often they could only admire from afar. Here, though, the charm and appeal of enchantment mages...

It always seemed like it would cause trouble.

He and Mrs. Alva chatted for over half an hour, exchanging recent research

findings, and he received enough mental comfort. Hearing that others were also troubled, he seemed a bit happier…

One had to admit, successful enchantment mages were like high-level psychologists. Satisfied, Garrett bid farewell and left, Mrs. Alva standing to see him off. Just as they reached the end of the hallway to wait for the elevator, suddenly, a terrible scream rang out:

"Ah—"

Mrs. Alva turned and ran back. Garrett hurried to follow, but even a 13th-level grand mage, if an enchanter, has more acceleration skills than a 6th-level mage. In a flash, she left Garrett a few dozen steps behind.

When Garrett, panting, caught up, the mages had already slightly dispersed, forming a circle several meters in diameter. Mrs. Alva stood in the center, her face ashen, with a victim lying in front of her:

A very narrow, very thin dagger, thrust downward from his left eye, disappearing up to the hilt. The victim’s chest was covered in blood, breathing difficult, and he was nearly unconscious.

Garrett: !!!

He almost snatched the pendant from Mrs. Alva’s hands, raising his hand quickly to cast a 【Detect Magic】. An X-ray appeared in his meditative vision, and Garrett’s head buzzed, feeling his blood pressure instantly shoot to 200:

The tip of the dagger, having entered through the victim’s left eye, had penetrated deep into the skull base!

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This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦