Infirmary

“It hurts, it hurts, don’t press so hard!”

Bruised and swollen, Collins coughed up blood while pushing away the elven school doctor’s hand.

The elven doctor was oddly stroking Collins’ chest.

“You’ve got signs of a cracked rib, and there’s slight internal bleeding too. Only your face…”

The school doctor touched Collins’ swollen face. Although it looked like a pig’s head now, the actual injuries were just hematomas. With time, they’d naturally go away.

To hit someone’s face and not leave any lasting wounds—the one who did this clearly had serious skill.

“Should… should I go to the hospital and get checked?”

Collins coughed up another large mouthful of blood.

He was seriously injured.

The furious Ileana had practically used every combat skill she’d ever learned on him.

By the end, if her bodyguards hadn’t heard Collins screaming for help and burst into the lab to pull her off, Collins might have literally been beaten to death.

That damned violent woman—no wonder she’ll never find a man in her life.

Curled up on the bed, Collins cursed Ileana with all his hate.

But before he could even dwell on it for more than a few seconds, another mouthful of blood came up.

The elven school doctor couldn’t take it anymore.

He placed his hand on Collins’ back, and a warm, gentle energy spread from his palm.

That unique life force of the elves began to flow down Collins’ spine, clearing out the clotted blood in his veins and mending his wounds.

“No need to go to the hospital. These aren’t injuries from strange magic.”

“Your internal organs are slightly damaged, but with proper rest and my healing methods, you’ll recover quickly.”

“Really?”

“I’m an elf. I don’t lie.”

The cute school doctor pouted his lips.

Though he was over ninety years old—old enough to be Collins’ grandfather—he had the baby face of a young boy.

Combined with the natural beauty of elves, he ranked near the top of the school’s dream lover list—regardless of gender.

The doctor turned to his locker.

After some rustling sounds, he brought over a few mixed herbal remedies.

“Here, take these herbs half an hour before and after meals. Then meditate to absorb the effects. You’ll be fine in about three days.”

Collins took the bag of herbs and sniffed them.

A strange, pungent smell hit his nose.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not a criminal. Take the meds or don’t.”

Collins shrugged.

“Can I still come to school these next few days?”

“Better not.”

“With your condition, overexertion or doing intense magic experiments could really push your body over the edge.”

“Alright, then I’ll take a leave from school.”

“Sure. I’ll inform your homeroom teacher later.”

“Okay, I’ll head home now.”

“Mm-hmm. Bye-bye.”

The school doctor waved at Collins from behind, smiling adorably.

Even though he was a guy, his charm was enough to make even Collins a little tempted.

No wonder elven slaves were so popular three hundred years ago—too cute to resist.

Shaking his head, Collins boarded the nearest bus and went home.

“I’m back.”

Collins opened the front door and changed into slippers at the entrance.

In the living room, there was a fridge right beside the sofa.

Both Collins and his dad were incredibly lazy.

Sometimes, once they laid on the couch, they wouldn’t get up for the entire day.

But they still needed to grab snacks and drinks from the fridge for a bit of mouth-happiness.

As Collins’ dad once put it: if everything you want is within arm’s reach, that’s the definition of paradise.

“Eh? No classes today? How come you’re home so early?”

John was lying on the living room sofa.

Though this high-level magician talked about happiness being within arm’s reach, he didn’t even bother reaching out.

He used his psychic power to open the fridge and floated a tub of ice cream into his hand.

Collins glanced at the room temperature.

“It’s 22°C in here. You’re eating ice cream in this weather? Don’t blame me if you end up in the hospital tonight.”

“What do you know? Your dad’s a high-tier magician. I’ve got so many protection spells on me, something like this won’t do a thing.”

Collins shrugged.

Just then, sounds came from the kitchen.

The door opened, and a graceful, slightly seductive woman appeared with a delighted smile on her beautiful face.

Her name was Mevril.

Collins’ stepmother.

She wasn’t human.

Her race was quite awkward to talk about.

A few centuries ago, her kind was considered low-class—looked down upon even by brainless goblins and instinct-driven, ugly fishmen.

She was… a slime.