Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Cleric Baba Wen Bababib seemed to have had a terrible day.

Separated by a thin plank of wood, the sound of the cleric tapping his foot and his increasingly heavy breathing seemed to echo directly in Lyle's ears.

The vampire could even hear the frustrated *tsk* noises as the cleric repeatedly pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

Could it be related to the missing Corruption Water? But Lyle didn't think Dawson, whose combat prowess was about on par with a rooster's, could have such a significant influence.

She put it out of her mind and focused on the road ahead.

Baba Wen Bababib lived in a very quiet neighborhood. Based on the carriage's route and the duration of the journey, Lyle easily pinpointed the location on her mental map.

This was Red Maple Leaf Street. Like Gray Pigeon Street, it belonged to the more affluent and cleaner districts of the Central City.

Just by looking at the spotless blue bricks on the street and the spacious, well-spaced houses on either side, one could tell that Red Maple Leaf Street was even a notch above Black Pigeon Street.

The carriage soon entered a beautiful garden, and the bricks on the ground changed from blue to a somewhat dull white.

Lyle was very familiar with this white. She had seen it outside the Preparatory Monastery and outside the Minor Monastery.

Even the square where she had witnessed the trial of the Vampire Clan when she first crossed over was paved with the same color.

A terrible sense of foreboding shot through her.

But at that moment, the cleric above her pushed open the carriage door and jumped out before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop.

"Sir!" the coachman cried out in alarm. As the carriage jerked to a halt, a string of script that made the vampire's eyes widen in shock instantly appeared above her forehead.

Sacred Utterance! It was Sacred Utterance carved all over the white marble bricks!

The vampire didn't have time to think and immediately closed her eyes. The dense text vanished, replaced by boundless darkness.

A chill ran through her body. Just a little more, just a tiny bit more, and her face would have been exposed and completely defenseless to the dense Sacred Utterance due to the carriage's movement.

This damned cleric had actually carved scripture all over his own doorstep! What kind of pervert was he?

Given the rudimentary manpower available, carving dense Sacred Utterance onto hard marble bricks was no simple task.

It required high skill from the artisans and equally high quality from the bricks themselves. Otherwise, the monasteries wouldn't look so holy and noble.

But who would spend so many gold coins to turn their own home into another monastery?

Actually, as long as she didn't touch it directly, the vampire wouldn't be harmed. But it was a matter of instinct.

Once the text appeared before her eyes, she would instinctively read it, recognizing the corresponding sounds in her mind.

However, the moment she deciphered the first symbol, she would form a "link" with the entire string of utterances, and the power of light would instantly sear through her face.

This was information she had gleaned while studying the three books of utterances Anthony had left behind.

Words held power, but this power was not invincible.

Fortunately, the cleric, impatient for some reason, hadn't even waited to arrive before jumping out and rushing into the villa's main door. This spared her the gruesome fate of her eyeballs and flesh melting onto the ground.

From upstairs came the sounds of servants greeting him, and an elderly voice called out, ordering the coachman to take the carriage to the stables.

No matter how wealthy the cleric was, he wouldn't build his stables into another monastery.

So when the pungent smell of horse manure assailed her nostrils, Lyle slowly opened her eyes.

The coachman was stretching. Under the cover of night, the vampire silently crawled out from the other side of the carriage and slipped away like a ghost.

In the darkness, the cleric's home was nothing short of luxurious. The pristine white villa resembled a scaled-down monastery, with black script carved on every window frame and door lintel. Light spilled from every window, and wreaths made of vervain hung high overhead.

There were patrols both inside and outside the garden.

Though not as solemn and formal as the Crusaders, the longswords at their waists also gave off a distinct scent of silver.

The vampire stood in the shadows of a corner in the back garden, her fingers stroking the ribbon of the Deception Hat before placing it on her head.

The reward bestowed by the Progenitor not only fooled sunlight but also the eyes of all Clergy, making them subconsciously overlook the possibility that she was a vampire.

The only problem was the dress was terribly inconvenient, and Lyle herself wasn't very skilled at needlework. If possible, she really wanted to buy a few pairs of trousers to wear.

Night owls and doves flew past in turns through the dark sky.

The vampire avoided the patrolling guards and quickly made her way to the back of the small villa.

She clung to the wall like a spider, positioned precisely in the dimness between candlelit windows, carefully listening to the sounds inside.

Male servants were setting up dinner, while female servants were washing clothes. The fireplace was burning brightly. Faint, familiar sounds drifted down from the very top floor.

The vampire's gaze sharpened. With one hand gripping a narrow window ledge, she hoisted herself up to the highest point.

"It hurts... it hurts so much... it hurts so much...."

This seemed to be the cleric's bedroom. Thick copies of the Sacred Scripture lay on the soft bed. An elegant, exquisite carpet covered every inch of the hard floor comfortably. A small fireplace burned with warm flames. Crosses and angel figurines made of gemstones were displayed on pure gold stands, an entire row of them. Bright candlelight illuminated the entire room. A pale-faced woman lay flat on the four-poster bed, her face deathly white, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

Barbavin stood beside her in a panic, one hand holding the woman's arm, the other gently resting on her waist. "Tracy! Oh no, my dear, don't worry, Afra will begin treatment soon! Afra! Afra!"

Treatment? Wait... Lyle squinted, peering inside.

Was her luck this good? Arriving just as the cleric's wife fell ill?

But Afra... Lyle pondered the name and suddenly remembered. Afra Panglie—the noble doctor Meimei had once mentioned, whose elder brother was the famous Viscount Penggeli.

She herself was highly renowned, said to be one of the finest doctors in the Central City, specializing in treating nobles. She even had numerous experiences entering and leaving the Holy Monastery.

"I'm here." At that moment, another voice approached from a distance. Soon, a stern-looking middle-aged woman pushed open the door and entered the bedroom.

She wore an expensive velvet corseted gown. The corners of her eyes slanted sharply upward, and her lips, from being habitually pressed together, showed cold, fine lines, as if the words "stiff" and "harsh" were sewn onto her face.

However, Lyle noticed the long chain around her neck first. It was a cross carved from white jade, inlaid at the bottom with exceptionally ornate amethysts and emeralds. At the intersection of the two lines was a diamond about the size of a little fingernail.

She was clearly a woman molded by countless gold coins and a long-standing position of authority.

"Afra," Bababib said, his face full of impatience. "For the sake of the Holy Father, please be quicker! Tracy's back is hurting so much it feels like it's about to break!"

"Merely missing a step while going upstairs is hardly a life-or-death situation," Afra retorted coldly, ignoring the implied accusation in the cleric's words. "If she were to break in two from such a minor misstep, it would only indicate that Miss Tracy's faith in the Holy Father is not devout enough, leading to this predicament. Perhaps instead of treatment, you should ponder more seriously why your mistress has been cursed by darkness."

"Cursed by darkness?" Bababib's face stiffened, and he immediately stood up with a *whoosh*. "How is that possible?! I am a cleric! Tracy's devotion to the Holy Father is utterly sincere! How could she be cursed? Moreover, the entire area around my house is covered in sacred words I carved myself! It's absolutely impossible for any darkness to penetrate here!"

Although he spoke righteously, Lyle still detected a flash of guilt in his eyes.

"Hmph." Afra glanced at the cleric with disdain—these so-called hubs of the Holy Court, the administrative officials of the Central City, were in reality just greedy cockroaches riding on the Holy Father's radiance. Just look at the furnishings and decorations in this room; how could they possibly be afforded on the salary issued by the Minor Monastery?

Especially since she had been summoned in the dead of night and rudely demanded to treat a mistress.

Dr. Afra recognized Tracy's delicate, charming face. She used to be just a maid scrubbing the white stone floors of the small monastery, but now she was dressed like a noblewoman, lying here brazenly for Dr. Afra to treat her.

From birth, Dr. Afra had been instilled with the belief that quality and elegance were traits a noble must embody until death. She found it hard to understand how someone could so brazenly install a mistress of such low standing in his home.

Seeing a woman of this status lying before her, the veins on Dr. Afra's forehead were already about to burst.

If it weren't for the fact that Bababib happened to be in charge of the physicians and apothecaries, Dr. Afra would have burned the letter the moment she received it.

But now... The doctor glanced down at Tracy, whose pretty face was twisted in pain, snorted, and waved a dismissive hand.

"Then you, Monk, should thoroughly inspect your own home. If it's not a curse, how could Miss Tracy's waist hurt so severely without any visible wounds? Only the Holy Father can see into the hearts of you two."

The maids waiting outside brought in the prepared items one by one, placing small jars on the table.

"You!" Bababib was so angry he nearly spat blood. This damned woman still had that foul mouth!

If it weren't for the protection afforded by the name of Panglie, she would have long been dragged back to the abyss by ghosts crawling out of hell!

But reason forcibly reined in his anger, preventing him from saying anything more irreparable.

For no other reason than that in the entire Central City, Dr. Afra was the only female physician!

Tracy had injured her waist; she absolutely could not undress for other men to see! He'd rather die than allow that!

Bababib looked at his wife, who was lying on the bed moaning incessantly, and his eyes immediately filled with genuine distress. "Tracy, my dear, my treasure, bear with it a little longer. Dr. Afra will heal you soon."

"But... but I can't even move..." Tracy's eyes were tearful, her delicate, boneless hands trembling like a lamb being dragged to the guillotine. "I won't... I won't be unable to stand forever, will I?... Oh, my Holy Father... why are You punishing me like this..."

Waist?

Outside the window, the vampire, her dark eyes watching, saw Dr. Afra instruct her personal maid to place several jars that gave off a strange smell on the table. She herself then reached out to pull aside the light gauze covering Tracy.

"No wounds, no bruises," Lyle stared intently at everything happening inside the room. She scoffed at the talk of a dark curse, but Tracy's waist was indeed unmarked, and the overwhelming pain was unmistakably real.

She said the pain started after missing a step on the stairs... Hmm? Wait. The vampire's expression turned odd. Could it be that Tracy... threw out her back?

Inside the bedroom, Dr. Afra had already begun her treatment.

She sat near the door, directing the maids to feed the liquid from the jars into Tracy's mouth.

"Feed her a large amount. A devil has taken residence in Madam Tracy's body. We must expel it as quickly as possible to save this poor woman. And her legs—if you don't want this bed inlaid with gold and diamond chips to become the filthy, sewage-filled River Sanaya, move her lower body out. As for you."

The haughty doctor coldly tilted her chin toward Bababib. "If you lack confidence in your love, please leave. Otherwise, the scenes that follow will become the spark that utterly shatters your relationship."

This was getting stranger and stranger. Even Lyle didn't understand what she meant.

It was just a thrown back. Why was Dr. Afra acting as if she were performing some grand treatment?

But she wasn't anxious. On the contrary, she even hoped Dr. Afra would make the situation worse.

In the room, Bababib declared righteously his refusal to leave.

"No matter what happens, I will stay here!" Bababib tightly held Tracy's soft, pale, trembling hand. "She is the love of my life. I will always be by her side!"

"Oh, no!" These words did not elicit gratitude from Tracy; instead, they made her cover her mouth in horror.

"No, you mustn't! My lord!" she said with difficulty but quickly. "You are so noble, a servant chosen by the Holy Father. How... how could I allow you to be tainted by such a smell even for a moment?!"

"Please... I beg you, you can wait in the next room... no, no, you can wait for me downstairs. Dr. Afra will surely heal me. We must both believe in her."

"Oh, my love..." Bababib tightly embraced Tracy. "If that is your wish, then very well, I will wait for you next door. Promise me you will recover quickly, alright?"

"Hmph." Dr. Afra stood behind them, rolling her eyes dramatically, silently mouthing a few words.

Lyle guessed they were probably some kind of swear word. She shared a similar sentiment with this stern doctor because after Bababib reluctantly left, he ran headlong toward the second floor without looking back.

As he ran, he ordered the butler under his breath, "Go, close all the windows on the second floor, tightly! Send the dessert to my bedroom, then use cloth strips to seal all the door cracks! Dr. Afra brought so much laxative; I don't want to smell even a hint of it! Hurry up!"

The sound traveled through the brick wall to the vampire's ears. The vampire shifted her weight, gaining a new understanding of this monk's hypocrisy.

But she was a bit confused. Why use laxatives for a thrown back?

Inside the room, Dr. Afra commanded like an emperor. "Alright, feed our esteemed 'Monk's Lady' three jars of the purgative, then help her apply holy water and honey to her waist. These will force the curse to flow out faster."

Then, after a dozen or so Holy Minutes, the whole affair began in this bizarre manner.

First, Tracy, the blonde, blue-eyed beauty, curled up in pain, her lower body bare, suspended over the edge with only her feet resting on a cushioned chair.

Next, she suddenly let out a low whimper, then her full buttocks contracted violently, and a jet of incredibly foul-smelling waste sprayed from between her legs into the large wooden bucket prepared earlier.

It truly was a "spray," erupting as wildly as a hippopotamus relieving itself.

Outside the window, the vampire's keen senses were instantly assaulted by a chaotic wave of stench.

She abruptly let go, falling to the ground like a leaf.

Darkness shrouded her form like a tide, but it could not hide the confusion in her eyes.

...Wait, hold on a second. Are the laxatives in this backward era a bit too effective? Or... did Dr. Afra administer too much?

Judging by the pressure of the spray... it was hard to imagine whether Dr. Afra was treating a delicate, helpless beauty or a robust cow.

The vampire stared silently at the grass on the ground, seriously considering simply turning around and going home, cutting her losses for the day.

Even though she had worked in the emergency room for five years, even though she had seen human backsides countless times, she was no longer human now! Her sense of smell and vision were many times more sensitive than before!

If she walked through that door, she would undoubtedly face a tsunami-like assault!

The last vampire in the world dying from being stunk to death... If the game system found out, it would probably bash its head against the ground in despair!

But no.

Lyle wearily rubbed her brow. Yes, no, she absolutely could not give up this perfect opportunity today.

She had to live, desperately live.

Her pitch-black eyes gradually grew resolute. Once she made up her mind, she realized she couldn't wait any longer. Otherwise, by the time Tracy filled the entire bedroom, the vampire wouldn't even want to enter, let alone perform a heroic rescue or offer timely help.

Yes, this was the vampire's plan.

Nothing moved humans more than saving a life. When Bababib was at his happiest, she could smoothly propose taking away a signed license to open a clinic. Then she wouldn't need to enter the small monastery, right?

A simple, logical plan. But now she had to hurry.

Lyle hid in the darkness, swiftly scaled the garden wall, and stood cat-like in the moonlight's shadow, adjusting her hat.

Moments later, the elegant black dress silently swept across the polished floor tiles, arriving before the vigilant patrol team.

"Greetings," beneath the black top hat that almost merged with the darkness, crimson lips parted. "I am Lyle Thomas, a physician, and the wife of Paladin Commander Vig Thomas's brother. I have taken the liberty of coming to discuss the matter of a clinic license with Monk."

Typically, guests who arrived without a carriage would be labeled as "commoners not permitted entry" and turned away without hesitation by the patrol.

But even a blind man could see, under the dim glow of the torches, just how costly the material of this lady's gown was. The silk gloves she wore were worth almost three Holy Months' salary for the patrolmen.

Not to mention the name and relationship she dropped—that of the Paladin Commander.

The patrol captain immediately bowed to her and quickly notified the butler.

The silver-haired butler also realized the visitor was of high status and hurriedly ushered her into the drawing room.

Beside the fully open windows, the watery moonlight mingled with candlelight. Even though Barbavin had generously placed candlesticks in every corner, a deep gloom still shrouded the opulent building.

Busy, hurried servants scurried about, whispering among themselves like phantoms weaving between darkness and light, exchanging clean cloth strips for soiled ones and delivering them upstairs.

"My apologies, Mrs. Thomas," the old butler wiped sweat from his brow, "our esteemed lady is in the midst of a distressing treatment, and the entire household is in some disarray. But rest assured, I will inform the Monk of your arrival. I'm afraid you may have to wait just a little while."

"Oh my," Lyle exclaimed, covering her mouth in surprise. "This is truly... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude at such a time. However, as I am also a doctor and have, alongside my husband, provided satisfactory treatments for many people, if the mistress of the house has any needs, I am ready to assist at any moment."

A flicker of doubt and barely noticeable hope sparked in the old butler's eyes.

Another doctor! Could she perhaps rescue the lady who was still continuously producing... filth?

The third floor now smelled worse than a pigsty. According to the green-faced maids, it seemed Dr. Afra had miscalculated the amount of laxative needed. Miss Tracy's... discharge alone had already filled three large buckets.

So far, the luxurious mahogany floor had completely transformed into a swamp of yellow and green liquid. The pungent odor had even attracted mongooses, and the patrol had to divert men to help the gardeners drive them away.

If this continued, the entire courtyard would become a veritable hell!

But he didn't know this Mrs. Thomas, so he instinctively doubted whether her skills could compare to the renowned Dr. Afra.

Still, anything would do, anyone would do, as long as they could help them escape this situation quickly!

Thus, the old butler hurried up to the third floor.

Before he even set foot on the final step, he was nearly knocked backward by the overwhelming stench.

If not for an alert footman who grabbed him, he might have tumbled down the spiral staircase.

"Th-thank you..." the butler said, dizzy. "Is... is the lady still..."

"Yes," the footman replied woodenly, thick wool gloves stuffed into both nostrils. "But it's gotten a bit better now. The medicine's effect is wearing off, and we've switched from large buckets to basins. The lady doesn't dare drink or eat anything and is utterly exhausted now."

The old butler glanced fearfully at the tightly closed bedroom door, then at Dr. Afra sitting composedly by the open window at the end of the corridor. He whispered, "And... and has the lady's back improved at all?"

"No, not only has it not improved, it seems to hurt even more," the footman answered mechanically, his eyes devoid of all color. "Dr. Afra says that once the room is cleaned, she will perform a bloodletting treatment on the lady and use holy water and mercury to cleanse and suppress the evil spirits."

The old butler wiped his brow again before turning to go downstairs, heading to the room where Barbavin had secluded himself.

"Sir, we have a visitor," he said, moving his lips while trying to minimize his inhalations. "The lady claims to be the wife of Paladin Commander Vig's older brother, and she also says she is a doctor..."

Lyle sat comfortably on the bench, her fingers lightly tapping her knee. A maid had brought her hot tea and candied apple slices before withdrawing, leaving only three silver candelabras illuminating the spacious drawing room.

She listened intently to the sounds from upstairs, quietly awaiting the old butler's invitation.

Soon, hurried footsteps approached from afar.

The butler, wearing a monocle, politely knocked and entered. But unexpectedly, seeing Lyle rise, he bowed apologetically. "My sincerest apologies, Mrs. Thomas. The master currently does not require a second doctor to intervene in the treatment. If you have a request regarding the clinic license, you may personally go to the small monastery for review tomorrow morning."

Lyle looked with surprise toward the dark, shadowy corridor outside the door. "You mean the ill young lady doesn't need another doctor now?"

"Yes, I'm very sorry," the butler said courteously, his demeanor completely different from his earlier hopeful attitude. "I will have a maid escort you out immediately. If you require it, there is a carriage in the courtyard that can take you back."

Was it a matter of reputation? Lyle lowered her eyes in thought. Afra was well-known and a noble, so naturally, Barbavin would value her more highly.

Moreover, using laxatives for treatment was quite normal for this era; all doctors did it. Compared to those minor doctors who supplemented their income with amputations and trepanning, this method was even considered gentle.

Given Barbavin's current mindset, he probably assumed she would use the same treatment methods.

Hmm... her initial assumptions had been too narrow and presumptuous.

Lyle quickly reflected and adjusted her understanding of this world's humans to be more feudal and conservative.

But still, as she had thought, she wouldn't give up such a golden opportunity.

Barbavin was refusing her now simply because he still had another option.

Well then, she just needed to eliminate that other option for him.

If there was one, eliminate one; if there were two, eliminate two.

Once Barbavin had only her as the sole choice left, then the Monk's decision would be completely without suspense.

Night brought irreversible darkness. Even with candles, their faint, feeble light could not illuminate every area.

Especially in a large, complex standalone villa like this, the possibilities for a vampire who thrived in darkness were simply too great.

Lyle looked past the butler at the narrow, dimly lit corridor outside the door and smiled faintly. "You are too kind, sir. Today, I truly did not consider things properly. Visiting so late at night is itself very impolite. I hope the Monk will not hold it against me. Tomorrow, I will personally bring gifts to the small monastery to offer my apologies. For tonight, I'll trouble you—if a carriage is available, I would be most grateful."

The old butler's shoulders relaxed. "Very well, then please wait a moment. I'll have a maid come right away. Preparing the carriage may take a little time; please feel free to enjoy the sweets on the table."

Soon, following the butler's summons, a young maid with apple-like cheeks hurried into the room.

"Mrs. Thomas, please follow me. I'll show you out."

Author's Note: The incident of throwing out one's back so badly one can't even crawl—that's my personal experience [cracked].

Using laxatives (senna leaves) to treat back injuries in the Middle Ages—that's also true.