Although Fors said not to bother with Ashes, Dr. Allen and his wife were still quite impressed with the polite and well-mannered young man. Unfortunately, today was not the weekend. Both Dr. Allen and his wife had to hurry to work and didn't have time to entertain Ashes. Dr. Allen had to rush to the hospital to perform surgery on a patient, and his wife, a high school teacher, had to rush to teach her students.
As a respectable middle-class individual, Dr. Allen owned his own private carriage. This meant he didn't need to squeeze into the crowded and sweaty public trams like others. Naturally, as his newly recruited "intern," Fors had to accompany him to the hospital.
"Well then, Ash, may I call you that?" Dr. Allen suddenly stopped as they were about to leave, turned back, and asked Ashes, "Would you like to come to the hospital with us?"
Fors's expression changed slightly, and she desperately signaled Ashes with her eyes.
"Wouldn't that be inappropriate?" Ashes hesitated for a couple of seconds, giving Fors a sigh of relief with his polite refusal.
"There's nothing inappropriate about it," Mrs. Wilma smiled, "The carriage is large enough to fit four people comfortably, and don't you want to see Fors's working environment at the hospital?"
"Well, in that case, excuse me," Ashes nodded slightly in agreement, despite Fors's increasingly stiff expression.
"Let's go then," Dr. Allen nodded slightly and was the first to step out the door and board the carriage. Ashes followed closely behind, even extending a gentlemanly hand to help Fors onto the carriage.
"Thanks a lot!" Fors gritted her teeth, leaning close to Ashes's neck.
"You're welcome," Ashes smiled as he helped her onto the carriage.
Once everyone was seated, the coachman cracked his whip, urging the horses to start. Fors, sitting next to Mrs. Wilma, stared sullenly out the window, watching the pedestrians with a sense of boredom. Ashes, on the other hand, seemed lost in thought, watching the passing carriages outside.
"What are you thinking about?" Dr. Allen asked after observing Ashes for a while.
"I'm pondering a question," Ashes replied thoughtfully, "Backlund has trams, horse-drawn carriages, and steam trains, but why haven't I seen steam carriages?"
"They actually exist," Wilma's lips curled into a smile, "In fact, steam carriages were invented several years ago and are much faster than horse-drawn carriages. However, the nobility found the noise and pollution from steam carriages too disruptive and didn't want to see them all over Backlund."
"That's just part of the reason," Dr. Allen disagreed with his wife's view, his face serious, "The main reason is that traditional carriage operators feared steam carriages would put them out of business. They banded together to resist the promotion of steam carriages, even pushing through a 'Locomotive Act' in Parliament, limiting the speed of steam carriages to no more than 3 kilometers per hour."
Dr. Allen shook his head and sneered, "Three kilometers per hour, I can walk faster than that."
"I see," Ashes nodded in understanding.
"Moreover, the invention of the steam carriage isn't recent," Dr. Allen continued, "It was a genius idea proposed by Emperor Roselle over a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, the high cost of steam carriages and the lack of profit compared to steam trains, combined with the suppression by carriage operators, prevented the widespread adoption of steam carriages."
"In fact, due to these restrictions, most people aren't even aware of the existence of steam carriages."
Despite his seemingly cold demeanor, Dr. Allen was quite talkative, clearly enjoying the opportunity to showcase his knowledge.
"Emperor Roselle, huh?" Hearing the familiar name again, Ashes fell into contemplation. He had some impression of this name, knowing that Roselle was an important figure in the world of "Lord of the Mysteries." The sayings of wisdom frequently mentioned around him originated from Emperor Roselle. Moreover, Emperor Roselle's diaries were written in Chinese, a language no one else in this world could understand.
Putting these clues together, it was easy to deduce that Emperor Roselle was a transmigrator, and those wise sayings were the result of his literary plagiarism.
So...
"Is Roselle the 'protagonist' of this world?"
"However, the 'Fool' also knows Chinese."
"Although it's not surprising for a deity to understand a language, it doesn't rule out the possibility that he is also a transmigrator."
"So, the 'Fool' could also be the 'protagonist.'"
Ashes rubbed his temples and quickly gave up on the thought. Regardless of who the protagonist was, they were ultimately destined to be burned. For now, the primary goal was still the Black Emperor, and there was no need to worry about other matters.
After all—
If you can't even beat Gundyr, why worry about how to defeat the Soul of Cinder?
Seeing Ashes deep in thought, the others tactfully didn't disturb him. Dr. Allen remained silent, and Wilma whispered to Fors. The carriage eventually stopped at the entrance of a middle school.
Mrs. Wilma said goodbye to her husband with a smile before stepping out of the carriage and heading into the school. Five minutes later, the carriage stopped at the entrance of a hospital.
Ashes looked at the plaque at the gate.
Backlund Central Hospital.
"This is the best private hospital in the Hillsdon District," Fors, a graduate of the Medical Academy, took the initiative to introduce, "Located at the border of Hillsdon and North District, it's where most middle-class people come for treatment. In terms of ranking Backlund's hospitals, this would be just below the Royal Brownfield Hospital in the North District and the Royal Presbyterian Hospital in the Queen's District."
Though young, Dr. Allen was a chief surgeon at Backlund Central Hospital, renowned for his medical skills. Familiar with the layout, he greeted the doctors and nurses they met, eventually entering a ward on the third floor.
In the ward, a boy of about ten years lay in bed, his face full of youthful innocence. Beside the bed sat a worried middle-aged man.
"Mr. Onsetin," Dr. Allen approached the middle-aged man, engaging in conversation, "The surgery will begin in twenty minutes. I assume Nurse Janet has already informed you of the precautions?"
"Poor thing," Fors whispered sympathetically, looking at the boy in the bed.
Ashes didn't reply, merely glancing at the name on the bed.
Will Onsetin.
"Fors," Dr. Allen's demeanor shifted to a more serious one as he addressed Fors, "Go change your clothes. You'll assist me in the surgery in twenty minutes."
"Yes!" Fors immediately grew nervous. It had been two years since she had acted as a doctor or nurse. Starting with a surgery was intimidating; any mistake could be fatal!
(End of the chapter)