The Almighty Doctor

Chapter 3 The Unconventional Treatment

"Well..."

It wasn't that Thorne refused to answer Lirael's question—he simply didn't know how to explain.

"Could this be because of the inheritance?" The thought flashed through his mind.

When he remained silent, Lirael said dismissively, "Never mind. If you won't explain, don't. I was merely curious."

Thorne quickly shook his head. "Lirael, it's not that I'm keeping secrets. I truly don't understand what's happening myself. And... thank you for saving me and bringing me here."

"Think nothing of it," she replied.

The door burst open with a clatter as her assistant rushed in.

Nechemya went straight to her side. "Ms. Veyra, we're due to meet the governor of Herbshire for dinner."

She gave a curt nod. "Very well. Let's go."

As she turned to Thorne, her face suddenly contorted in pain. Her brows knitted together sharply as both hands clutched her stomach. All color drained from her face as she doubled over, every muscle in her body tensed in agony.

The sudden attack startled Thorne. Nechemya's face went pale.

"Your stomach condition again, Ms. Veyra? I'll get a doctor!"

Before she could respond, he sprinted from the room.

Fortunately, they were already in the hospital—help would come quickly.

From Nechemya's words, Thorne understood: chronic stomach issues. Immediately, his mind flooded with treatment methods—part of the healing wisdom from his mysterious inheritance.

A pang of guilt stabbed through him as he watched her writhe in torment. She'd just saved his life, and now he possessed knowledge that could ease her suffering.

"Lirael," he said urgently, "I know special healing techniques. I can cure this. Will you let me try?"

Clutching her abdomen, she seized his offer like a drowning woman grabbing a rope. "Then help me already!"

Thorne hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind raced—how to explain this bizarre method? "The thing is... I can heal you, but... my approach is highly unusual..."

Thorne stumbled over his words, his face burning with embarrassment. The radical cure for gastritis recorded in his ancestral inheritance was simply too awkward to explain.

"What kind of weird treatment? I'm about to pass out from pain here! Out with it already!" Lirael snapped, her patience worn thin by the agony.

Cornered, the words tumbled out reluctantly: "I... need to place my hand on your abdomen for five minutes. It should completely cure your gastritis."

He braced himself. The technique sounded like some mystical hocus-pocus—even he doubted its credibility. How could anyone believe this?

Lirael's face morphed into a mix of shock and suspicion. "Are you actually using my pain to cop a feel?" she hissed, eyes flashing with anger.

Thorne flailed his hands like a startled bird. "No! You saved my life—I'd never disrespect you! The technique's bizarre, I know, but I swear it'll cure you permanently!"

Lirael studied his earnest expression. Maybe... this was her chance to test both his skill and character. If he failed—or dared overstep—she'd have the perfect excuse to reject her grandfather's marriage schemes. She'd sooner die than marry some creep.

The fire raging in her gut made the decision easier. Though her chronic gastritis ambushed her without warning, a small part of her hoped—against reason—that he could actually heal her.

"Fine," she gritted out. "But if this is a trick, I'll have you thrown in jail before you can blink. My guards will hear me scream." Her glare could've melted steel.

"On my honor as a healer," Thorne vowed, helping her onto the bed. With trembling fingers, Lirael rolled up the hem of her designer blouse, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach.

Lirael's figure and skin were exceptionally beautiful, but Eldric kept his focus strictly clinical.

He carefully positioned his right hand flat against her abdomen, channeling the medical energy from his Dantian core.

Within moments, a current of energy flowed through his meridians to his palm, then seeped into Lirael's body.

As the energy entered, Lirael let out a soft sigh—her stomach bloomed with warmth, like being wrapped in a comforting blanket.

The heat traveled straight to the source of her pain. To her relief, the gastritis discomfort began steadily diminishing.

Not only did the pain fade, but the affected area now felt embraced by a steady, soothing warmth—bringing utter comfort.