More than ten minutes later.
[Ding! Quest completed. Rewards obtained: 50 Skull Coins, 50 Surgery XP, 1 Special Reward.]
[Ding! Due to uncontrollable special circumstances, Pig-Headed Fiend's Affinity has converted to Fear. Pig-Headed Fiend's Fear: +50.]
The Pig-Headed Fiend sat there trembling uncontrollably, his expression vacant and dull. Across the counter, Lynn sat calmly in a white coat, holding a quill and scribbling his medical report at a leisurely pace. He slid a small stack of potions across the counter.
"Take half of these orally and apply the other half topically—twice a day, on schedule. Your vision should partially recover in about two days. Of course, if you want a faster-acting potion, the price will be ten times higher."
"Time to settle the bill. It includes the surgery fee, potion cost, and nursing fee—you've already paid for the eye. Total is 546 Skull Coins. If that's okay, sign here." Lynn looked up, his dull, lifeless eyes softening into a fake friendly gaze. "Or a thumbprint works too."
The Pig-Headed Fiend held out a trembling hand and pressed his thumbprint on the report. He fumbled in his arms for a large coin pouch, dumped over five hundred Skull Coins onto the counter, and whispered, "C-Can I leave now…?"
Lynn counted the coins, his gaze drifting first to the still-bulging pouch at the fiend's waist, then lingering on its round, protruding belly.
[Ding! Hidden Quest Triggered: The Strange Belly. Reward: +50 Skull Coins, +50 Surgery XP, Unlocks Eye Diagnosis Skill.]
The Pig-Headed Fiend turned to leave, but Lynn suddenly reached out to stop him. "Wait a minute!"
The fiend's body twitched involuntarily. "W-What now?! " He spun around, only to see Lynn adjust his monocle—his eyeball plopped onto the counter, then was casually picked up and pressed back into its socket.
[Sanity: -1]
Lynn shook his head. "I noticed some new issues with your body. If left undiagnosed, they could cause unknown harm."
The Pig-Headed Fiend bared his fangs. "Don't lie to me! I hate being lied to more than anything!"
Lynn's tone turned serious. "I'm a doctor—I don't lie. Anyone who steps into this shop is my patient, and I must take responsibility for their health. If I saw a problem and said nothing, that would be a failure of my medical ethics."
Staring into Lynn's earnest, serious eyes, the Pig-Headed Fiend reluctantly dragged himself back to the stool, sitting down with obvious resistance. "W-What's wrong? I feel fine."
Lynn pulled on his mask. "Extend your hand. I'll check your pulse."
Hesitantly, the Pig-Headed Fiend placed his bristly arm on the counter, deciding to trust him just one more time.
Lynn rested his hand on the fiend's pulse, his expression calm as he focused intently.
[Ding! +1 Diagnosis XP.]
[Ding! +1 Diagnosis XP.]
[Ding! +1 Diagnosis XP.]
Gradually, the Pig-Headed Fiend watched Lynn's brows furrow—and his heart instantly jumped into his throat. "I-Is it really that bad?" he asked nervously. Nothing terrified him more than a doctor frowning in front of him—it never meant anything good.
Lynn pulled his hand back, looked at the fiend solemnly, and said, "It's neither trivial nor severe—it all depends on how we handle it."
The Pig-Headed Fiend tensed up. "What's the problem?!"
Lynn spoke gravely: "Ectopic pregnancy."
...
...
A tense silence fell. Cold wind howled through the door.
In the next second, the Pig-Headed Fiend roared like a wild beast, snatched Lynn by the collar, and hoisted him off the ground, his single eye blazing with fury. "Ectopic pregnancy?! Are you out of your goddamned mind?! I'm a MALE!! One chance—rephrase that, or I'll tear you apart!!"
Lynn stayed perfectly calm, pressing his eyeball back into place with a faint squelch before fixing the fiend with a solemn gaze. "That's what your pulse dictates. My diagnosis is definitive—you must trust my medical judgment."
The Pig-Headed Fiend screamed at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his fangs. "FUCK YOUR GODDAMN PULSE!! I'M A MALE, YOU BRAINDEAD FREAK!! I DON'T HAVE A UTERUS—GET THAT THROUGH YOUR SKULL!!"
Lynn nodded solemnly. "That's why it's ectopic. If you did have a uterus, it would be even more troublesome—we'd need to perform a more in-depth gender correction surgery, and the burden on you would be heavier."
...
...
The Pig-Headed Fiend's grip on Lynn's collar loosened tremblingly. He collapsed back onto the stool.
"What are you thinking about?" Lynn asked.
"I'm thinking about how to chop you into pieces!" The Pig-Headed Fiend's eyes bulged with rage, his teeth grinding furiously.
"Let's focus on the issue at hand first," Lynn said, straightening his collar and sitting back down. He pulled out a medical record and said quietly, "Have you been experiencing abdominal distension, nausea, loss of appetite, or bleeding from below lately?"
The Pig-Headed Fiend slammed his fist on the counter, barely containing his trembling and humiliation. "Explain to me—bleeding from where?! Tell me exactly where you mean!" he snarled through gritted teeth.
Lynn kept writing, adjusting his eyeball as he spoke. "Please calm down, patient. This is just a routine question. Setting aside the bleeding—have you had any of the other symptoms?"
The Pig-Headed Fiend ground his teeth, his eyes blazing. "So what if I have?! Can't I have eaten something bad?!"
Lynn glanced at him, adjusting his eyeball again. "How long have you had them?"
"A month!" the fiend growled.
Lynn continued taking notes, his tone flat. "When was your last mating session? Do you have any bad habits—like group mating or using certain inappropriate toys?"
The Pig-Headed Fiend froze, his arms trembling violently. "Dare you ask that again?" His voice dripped with rage—this question had crossed the line.
Lynn held up a hand to stop him. "Very well, I'll drop that question. Next one: during your last mating session, did you feel any… " He frowned, making a tearing gesture. "... tearing pain down there?"
This time, the Pig-Headed Fiend snapped. He grabbed Lynn by the collar again, screaming in fury. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!"
"Explain it to me! What the FUCK is tearing pain?! Spell it out—WHAT. THE. FUCK. Is. Tearing. Pain?! " He shook Lynn violently, his voice cracking with rage.
Lynn placed a firm hand on the fiend's heaving chest, not patting gently but pressing down slightly to steady him, his tone unwavering. "Calm yourself. A conclusive diagnosis requires professional tools. This is standard protocol—I act solely in your best interest, for your long-term health."
"I'm sure you don't want to be stuck with a chronic condition, do you?"
The Pig-Headed Fiend huffed and puffed, his chest heaving with rage. But eventually, he reluctantly set Lynn down, soothed by his words.
[Ding! +1 Comfort XP.]
[Ding! +1 Comfort XP.]
[Ding! +1 Comfort XP.]
Lynn straightened his collar again, set down his quill, and glanced at the fiend, shaking his head. "I know—males are highly unlikely to get pregnant. But your pulse clearly indicates pregnancy symptoms. So I suspect… if you didn't conceive through normal mating…"
Seeing the Pig-Headed Fiend's anger flaring up again, Lynn quickened his pace. "Then there's another possibility: you might have ingested something with strange powers, causing a mutation inside your body that indirectly led to this 'pregnancy'."