The Doctor Cured The Villainess And Ran Away-Chapter 70: The Princess’s Meal (1)

“Come now, have a seat. I truly don’t know how to express my thanks to you, Doctor Gotberg.”

Falkenhayn greeted me warmly and offered a cup of tea.

Hmm, lemon.

I never really liked it before. But lately, I’ve been eating so many sweets that my taste buds must be changing.

And to think, I used to be something of a gourmet.

“It’s nothing. The hair loss treatment was just fair payment for your help during the last hearing.”

“Haha, I never thought I could get something worth a fortune with a few words.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased, but...”

“Mmm.”

Falkenhayn nodded with a kindly smile, as if he understood what I was implying.

“Not many healers showed up for work today. Forgive me, but may I ask how the faction situation stands?”

Falkenhayn gave a bitter smile, then answered flatly.

“Just as you predicted. Ever since His Highness was exiled from the palace, many switched sides. The second prince’s greatest strength was supplementary pay. But with no prince left to approve the budget, all that’s left is base salary—so the incentive’s gone.”

Well, one thing’s for sure—Georg was good at gathering money.

He even demonstrated considerable wealth during the duel trial.

Judging by the number of nobles coming and going from Tojin Palace, he must’ve always been setting up new ventures.

“And you, Sir Falkenhayn—wasn’t it an option for you to follow him?”

“An imperial exile is a strict affair. Only three guards may accompany the prince, and he may carry no more than ten gold coins.”

“Three years without a personal physician, living like a vagabond. That’s pretty brutal.”

“Well, it’s Georg we’re talking about. He won’t drop dead somewhere. But with things as they are, I no longer have any duties.”

Then, I noticed a single envelope partially hidden under a stack of documents on Falkenhayn’s desk.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of retiring?”

“Haha. Truth be told, I passed retirement age long ago. But I got too used to playing king of the clinic, so I kept putting it off.”

Falkenhayn looked around his office with a gentle sweep, as if recalling old memories.

“If I was ever going to get stabbed on the way out, I always figured it’d be by Alberich.”

“My apologies. That wasn’t my intention.”

Falkenhayn blinked wide-eyed and waved his hand at my apology.

“No, I wasn’t blaming you. Seems there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“The Second Prince’s faction didn’t fall because of you. Even without His Highness, I had assistants and disciples who would’ve remained loyal for ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) at least three more years. It wasn’t you who snatched away those key healers—it was someone else.”

So behind the scenes, my actions had already triggered countless unseen power struggles.

Was there another cunning healer in the clinic I didn’t know about?

“Who was it?”

“Simon the Inquisitor—personal physician to the First Prince and current Crown Prince, Gunther.”

Simon. I remembered seeing him during the hearing.

He had that ominous air, draped in a pitch-black hood, hardly healer-like.

The title “Inquisitor” was apparently earned back when he served as a famed heretic hunter before joining the clinic.

“You mean the First Prince’s faction made a move against the Second’s?”

“At least within the clinic, yes. He stole away most of my healers. Those who remained were caught up in strange incidents and became paralyzed with fear.”

“Hard to believe Crown Prince Gunther would stoop to such schemes within the clinic.”

“It seems Simon acted on his own. He was always frustrated by the First Prince’s lukewarm attitude toward expanding their faction. I suppose he saw this as a golden opportunity to gain influence within the clinic.”

Seriously—do these personal physicians ever bother healing patients?

“If this continues, he’ll suck the marrow out of everything. Better to retire now with some dignity. Perhaps I should’ve been spending time with my grandchildren all along.”

Falkenhayn said bitterly.

“Are you truly satisfied with that, Sir Falkenhayn?”

“Life is a process of slowly settling into compromises.”

He was already like an eagle with a broken beak.

Still skilled and experienced—but without drive, just waiting to be pecked to death by younger birds.

As his weary words hung in the air, silence briefly settled in the room.

—Thud.

The silence shattered without warning as the office door swung open.

From the hallway, a healer wearing a pitch-black hood stared at us with only his eyes.

Step. Step. His high heels made a deep, heavy sound as he walked.

Simon the Inquisitor stood before us.

“Have you prepared to follow your master into exile, Sir Falkenhayn?”

At his voice—like an earthquake in a frozen cave—Falkenhayn bowed his head.

“I’ve given you ample time. If you want to retain any honor as the clinic’s longest-serving physician, I suggest you remove yourself from that chair now.”

“Ugh, mm.”

His wrinkled hand, holding the letter opener, trembled.

“This office will now be used by healers of Ilseong Palace, for the greater cause—on behalf of Prince Gunther.”

Excuse me?

“Now that,” I said, rising to my feet, “I can’t just let slide.”

Simon’s murky, lifeless eyes shifted to me.

“This office is being reassigned to Wolgwang Palace. I’ve already received approval from Sister Ambrosia.”

“Gotberg. You’d do well to learn where to involve yourself—and where to stay out.”

“Appreciate the advice, but this happens to be exactly where I belong. I need this office, starting immediately.”

“And why is that?”

To avoid taking the stairs when I come to work tomorrow, obviously.

“To prepare medicine for His Majesty. You’re not about to entertain disloyal thoughts that defy an imperial command, are you?”

Step.

Simon took one step forward, the scar on his eye casting a menacing shadow.

“There’s been no imperial order to relocate the office, I presume.”

Sharp bastard.

No wonder he used to be an inquisitor—his rhetoric was sharp.

“Gotberg, this is between Ilseong and Tojin Palaces. You have no place here.”

“Are you sure about that? I’m not so convinced myself.”

I immediately picked up a quill and scribbled a message on a nearby sheet.

It requested a fair judgment regarding a dispute at the clinic.

Then I tied it to the leg of the messenger pigeon in Falkenhayn’s office, showing Simon the contents.

“Shall we ask directly?”

That pigeon flies straight to the Emperor.

Simon fell silent, watching my outrageous act.

Even over something as petty as clinic faction drama, disturbing the Emperor would hurt everyone involved.

Both Simon and I would probably be punished by our respective patrons.

Yep—this is a power trip, but I’m fine with blowing myself up to take you with me.

“...If Sir Falkenhayn accepts the offer, the matter is settled. Even if that pigeon flies, it’ll have no effect.”

Simon hit the nail on the head.

Even if I blew this up, Gunther would just scold Simon, and the office would still be his.

Still, the fact that he said it aloud meant he was nervous.

I turned to Falkenhayn and said,

“Sir Falkenhayn, are you really planning to retire like this?”

“...Mmm.”

His gaze fell on the resignation letter.

“What will you do about the hair loss medication without me?”

“That... I suppose I’ll have to give it up.”

“Your retirement would be a great loss to the clinic. If a healer as skilled as you or Seongho leaves, countless patients will suffer longer from their illnesses.”

Life returned to Falkenhayn’s eyes at my words.

“The junior healers who could’ve learned from you will lose that chance as well.”

I offered him a metaphor.

“A field just beginning to sprout still needs water to grow, doesn’t it?”

Falkenhayn’s lips tightened. He seemed to recall a long-lost sense of purpose.

There must’ve been a time when, as a young healer, he saved his first patient.

And that memory surely held more meaning than any of these endless factional battles.

What I’d really just done was offer him a recruitment deal: to join Wolgwang Palace as a senior healer.

Basically, a headhunting move for an executive-level position.

If the Second Prince’s faction was gone, it was better for me to absorb it.

With someone of Falkenhayn’s caliber training junior healers, the system would fall into place instantly.

And yes, I was also referring to his hair.

I used the hair loss meds as leverage.

After some hesitation, Falkenhayn finally closed the folder over his resignation letter and declared to Simon:

“There will be no retirement.”

“What?”

“I won’t hand over a single resource of the Second Prince’s faction in this clinic to the First. Get out, now!”

Simon’s face twisted into a demonic scowl—but only for a moment. Then, he returned to his usual blank expression and, without warning, let out a shout.

“Demons!!”

“Jesus Christ, that scared me.”

Why the hell are you suddenly screaming?

Startled, I dropped what I was holding.

—Flap flap

...Oh no. The pigeon.

I turned and saw the pigeon flying out the window, then looked back at Simon.

“Dude, that was your fault, wasn’t it?”

“Wha—no! Damn it!!”

Simon scrambled to the window, but the messenger bird was already soaring toward the Celestial Palace.

“You demon! You really had it rigged to fly to His Majesty?! Are you insane?!”

“Who are you calling a demon? You’re the one looking like Satan with your head all twisted.”

“I won’t forgive this! I’ll purge the demon!!”

Furious, Simon stomped off in rage.

I turned back to Falkenhayn and extended a hand.

“I look forward to working with you, Sir Falkenhayn.”

“I’m not giving my office to that lunatic. I’ll fight to the end, Doctor Gotberg.”

We shook hands.

And the next day.

“So, you’re asking me to decide which of my two personal physicians is superior?”

I was kneeling before the Emperor—beside Simon.

Simon was muttering “demon, demon” under his breath, his hostility clearly directed at me.

“It was merely a minor incident in the clinic, Your Majesty. There’s no need to pay it any mind...”

“It’s simple, is it not?”

The Emperor cut Ambrosia off and issued a command to Simon and me.

“A personal physician safeguards their master’s health. Each of you—using methods outside your specialty—shall attempt to improve my current condition.”

“Your Majesty, when you say ‘outside our specialty’...?”

Ambrosia asked. The Emperor smiled faintly and replied:

“Simon shall develop something beyond healing magic. Gotberg shall devise something outside medicine.”

“Something new...”

Simon looked troubled.

Well, that’s natural. Healing spells are the most straightforward method of improving health.

“One more thing: whichever method proves superior—I shall adopt it personally.”

The Emperor spoke as if enjoying a performance.

His unexpected declaration caused a stir among the retainers and physicians.

He was quite impulsive, this Emperor.

‘Sounds like fun.’

This whole situation, though explosive, had just become a golden opportunity for me.

“I shall obey the Imperial Command.”

“I shall obey.”

Simon and I replied in unison.

Now, my task was clear: using something other than medicine—no drugs, no prescriptions—I had to improve Acela’s health even more than before.

And I already had the perfect idea.

“It’s time to cook.”