A few years had passed since my arrival in this world.
Years of quiet influence. Of controlled growth. Of lives saved that should have been lost.
And now, I stood within the court of the royal family.
The chamber was vast, elegant in that austere way only old power could manage—polished wood, silk banners, incense heavy in the air. Courtiers lined the walls, whispering behind sleeves, their eyes fixed on me with a mixture of hope, fear, and reverence.
I was no longer a wandering doctor.
I was the physician.
The emperor's wife lay behind a silk screen, her breathing shallow, skin damp with fever. The illness itself was unimpressive—an infection that, in my previous world, would have been treated routinely.
Antibiotics. Fluids. Rest.
Here?
It was a death sentence.
I had reviewed her symptoms the moment I arrived. Fever pattern. Swelling. Discoloration. Internal inflammation. Everything matched exactly what I expected.
Simple.
I prepared the treatment calmly—an alchemical compound refined from local herbs, enhanced subtly with magic to accelerate recovery without drawing attention. Sterilized instruments. Clean bandages. Proper dosage.
No theatrics.
No prayers.
Just competence.
Hours later, the fever broke.
By the next morning, she was sitting upright.
By the third day, she was laughing.
The court erupted into controlled chaos.
Doctors who had already prepared funeral rites stared at me as if I were an apparition. Nobles bowed deeper than protocol required. Messengers were dispatched before I even left the chamber.
The emperor himself thanked me.
Personally.
The reward was… substantial.
Gold. Land rights. Permanent court access. Protection. Influence.
More importantly, my reputation crystallized.
I wasn't just skilled.
I was reliable.
A physician whose patients did not die.
Word spread faster than any demon rumor ever had. Across provinces. Across clans. Even into the Demon Slayer Corps, though they would never admit it openly.
I accepted the praise politely.
Modestly.
Inside, I was already thinking three steps ahead.
With this level of access came resources—archives, bodies, rare ingredients, information networks. Nobles died quietly all the time. Autopsies became "necessary inquiries." Research material came to me without effort.
And the money…
The money funded everything.
Laboratories. Storage. Preservation magic. Discretion.
As I departed the court, robes immaculate, expression calm, I caught my reflection briefly in polished stone.
Still young.
Still sharp.
Still very much alive.
Good.
The longer I remained useful to the powerful, the longer I could operate without interference.
And while they praised me as a miracle doctor…
They had no idea they were sheltering something far more dangerous than any demon.