The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 35: Trade Spirit

In the treatment room of Shattered Lake Prison.

Ashe opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the healer fiddling with his face. "Are you just going to pretend I'm asleep if I stay quiet?"

The healer wore an ID badge marked 222. It was clearly the same one from last time.

"If you don't want a ruined face, keep your eyes shut!"

"Got it."

After a few more minutes of poking and prodding, the healer finally released him. "All done. You can get up now. Here, you asked for an apple last time."

Ashe quickly sat up, touched his face, and let out a sigh of relief. On the table beside the bed was a plate of apples, each cut into little rabbit shapes and speared with a toothpick. He picked one up and popped it into his mouth.

"Good, good... my eyes, my nose, and my mouth... nothing's missing. I was starting to worry I'd have to contribute to species diversity today."

The healer crossed her arms and pretended to be angry. "I was performing surgery on you. How could you doubt me?"

With the crow mask covering her face and distorting her voice, Ashe didn't feel any fear. In fact, he even reached out a hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You said you would pay me to perform cosmetic surgery on me, right?"

"Oh," The healer obediently pulled out her wallet, then hesitated. "I did say that yesterday, but you never agreed!"

"So... did you actually perform the surgery or not?"

"Cosmetic surgery is complicated. It's not as simple as you imagine—"

"So you did it?"

"Just a little. Really just a tiny procedure... how much do you want?"

"Give me a Silver Coin."

The healer visibly relaxed and rifled through her wallet. "Will a gold coin do? I don't have smaller change."

Having been living off the kingdom's dime since he got here, Ashe had no concept of how this world's economy worked and was momentarily surprised. So Silver Coins are considered pocket change for beggars here?

One was generous enough to give, while the other was bold enough to take. Ashe accepted the Gold Coin and felt a wave of joy from the spirit deep in his mind. His palm grew warm as he imagined a small child in pajamas, patting its round belly and lying back to sleep peacefully.

He glanced at the Gold Coin and noticed it had shrunk slightly. Feeding a spirit is much simpler than I imagined! At this rate, this coin should last me a year.

Ashe was normally the type to squeeze benefits out of people whenever he could, but this time, he had a good reason for asking for money. The Swordswoman had told him spirits needed to be fed with coins. Since he had none of his own, he had to think of ways to get them from others.

Ashe happily pocketed the Gold Coin and casually asked, "So... what exactly did you do in that cosmetic surgery?"

"Dru's Forehead Skin Stretch and Wrinkle Removal Technique," the healer replied. "To put it simply, I removed your forehead wrinkles."

She paused, straightened slowly, and peered at him through the crow mask. "You should owe me a bow for this. Forehead wrinkles can ruin a person's appearance. In the outside world, a Dru technique like this costs a fortune—"

"What? You actually removed my most handsome, manly forehead wrinkles?" Ashe erupted in anger. "An unscrupulous healer, taking advantage of a sleeping patient to destroy their appearance and rob them of their most brilliant looks? Is there no law or justice? This is medical malpractice! Criminal!"

The healer was stunned by his outburst and froze. Then, she reopened her wallet.

"How much do you want?"

Ashe said righteously, "Hey, don't misunderstand me. I'm not the type to blackmail someone..."

The healer thought for a moment. "Sit here for a while. I'll look up news reports about you..."

"In! Sum! Mary!" Ashe quickly grabbed her. "I just want to ask a few questions."

The healer was taken aback. She quickly swatted Ashe's hand away. "Don't ask my name! Don't remove my mask! And don't touch my skin!"

She crossed her arms and defended herself, letting Ashe briefly feel the dignity of being a death row prisoner.

"Why not?" Ashe asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's prison rules," the healer said. "Healers aren't allowed to interact privately with inmates. If caught, they'll be dismissed, and in severe cases, even imprisoned!"

"So... that means we're going to be cellmates soon?"

The healer replied, "Ask your questions quickly, then leave."

Despite her words, she didn't seem genuinely worried about breaking the rules. Ashe couldn't help but wonder if she'd already given up on her job.[1]

"Is the elf I dueled still alive?"

"He's fine. He sustained lighter injuries than you and left long ago."

"Lighter injuries?"

The healer spread her hands in earnest. "His was just a cut throat, and he recovered in minutes. As for you, I spent over an hour on you to make sure your flesh regrew properly."

Ashe glanced at his intact thighs and shoulders, thinking wryly. Do they measure treatment difficulty by weight here? Lose a chunk of flesh, and that's hard to heal, but slit a throat or blow off a head, no problem? So... does that make the butt a high-risk organ? Even more important than the brain?"

"Any more questions? Ask them fast."

"I want to know... is there a place in the prison to trade spirits? I get lonely sometimes, and I want a pet."

The healer stared intently at Ashe. "I'm going to report you for conspiring to escape."

"I'm already a death row inmate. Even if you report me, can they really increase my sentence?"

"They can kill you once, resurrect you, and kill you again."

"What? Is that even a thing!?"

"Of course not. That would be inhumane and waste taxpayer money. Repeated executions were banned a hundred years ago."

"So a century ago, death row inmates might have died multiple times..."

"Anyway, I won't answer that," the healer said, crossing her arms. "Death row prisoners like you exist to be medical subjects. Once you're no longer useful, you go quietly to die."

"You've got surprisingly solid morals," Ashe noted.

"And what makes you think that I don't?"

"After talking to a death row inmate like me for this long, I assumed you'd be the rebellious type, curious about criminals."

"I—I'm not curious! If I were, I'd just read the reports," the healer stammered while packing up her instruments.

Ashe jumped off the bed and flexed his thighs and shoulders. The surgery had been successful. Except for a patch of slightly paler skin on his thigh and shoulder, everything else was fine.

"If I said I'm innocent, would you believe me?"

The healer scoffed. "Don't think I'm that easy to fool. Since the memory-evidence system was introduced, there haven't been wrongful convictions. The Heresy Court must have accessed your memories to convict you—"

"Nope, they didn't take my memories."

"How is that possible—"

Ashe said confidently, "Check the reports. The court didn't access my memories. I'm genuinely innocent."

The real criminal was Heath, and Ashe didn't even possess Heath's memories. He felt no mental burden in stating the truth.

The healer eyed him suspiciously. "Are you telling the truth?"

"If I lied, I'd never get overtime pay in my life."

"If you dare lie, you're dead. You'd better hope you don't get hurt again, or the next time you end up in my hands, I'll change your species and gender!"

The healer's words hit Ashe hard. He had wanted to explore this world's multi-racial healthcare, but hadn't expected medical tech advanced enough to alter species and gender. Can I still trust any pretty girls on the streets? Is there any trust left between people?

The healer shrugged. "Even so, I can't answer your question."

"Your mana is restricted. To trade spirits, the seller must release theirs with mana, and the buyer must reactivate it with mana. Without mana, nothing can be released or activated."

Mana acted as authentication. Ashe grew increasingly convinced it was an all-purpose energy. If someone claimed it had Bluetooth functionality, he wouldn't be surprised. No wonder the prison didn't restrict the spirits. Maybe they couldn't be restrained at all, but as long as the prison made sure the prisoners couldn't access their mana, they wouldn't be able to cause any trouble."

"Is there no hope? No place like the Death Match Club where mana restrictions are lifted?"

Having explored the Virtual World, Ashe knew finding all the spirits he needed there would be like searching for a needle in the ocean. With enough time, perhaps he could gather them, but time wasn't on his side. Ashe didn't mind taking on risks, but he always planned for a fallback, like a company that made employees work 996 hours while providing health insurance. The company always won, and Ashe had internalized this mindset.

A spirit trading platform would be ideal. Even if the spirits he gathered were junk, he could sell them for profit.

"Of course. You didn't know?"

The healer's answer caught him off guard. "Why would I know?"

"Every death row inmate goes through this at least once... Oh, right, you just arrived, so you haven't had the chance yet."

Ashe immediately understood her implications. "The Blood Moon Tribunal?"

1. The original text implied Ashe suspected she was angling for a long, unpaid break, but a literal translation wouldn't make sense and might confuse readers, so I've slightly rephrased it to make more sense in English. ☜