"Even Deadly Poison Can Be Medicine (1)"
A life with a deadline is a sorrowful one.
The feeling of having to steadily walk toward a predetermined death. The feeling of being unable to resist or postpone it. No one can understand it unless they've experienced it themselves.
It's a common trope in dramas and movies.
Something portrayed countless times in various media.
But Rakiel believed that only those who had cared for and watched over a terminally ill patient could even begin to grasp what it truly felt like.
Because he had once gone through it himself—sending his father off in Korea. He had fought that bleak and unwinnable battle as a family member.
'But this…'
[Your expected lifespan has increased by (+)1 day.]
[Expected lifespan: 92 days]
Gulp.
Rakiel unconsciously swallowed dryly. Even as he looked at the notification before him, he couldn't believe it. Because something utterly impossible had just come true.
'Is this for real?'
Even seeing it with his own eyes, he couldn't believe it.
He was, after all, a terminal patient. The result from his diagnostic skill had said as much—he had only 91 days left to live. His remaining life was shorter than a standard phone contract.
That was the reality.
'And yet, my lifespan increased because of acupuncture?'
Had his acupuncture skills always been this remarkable?
Rakiel didn't think so.
'I just performed the usual acupuncture done in clinics—just a little more precisely and carefully.'
And yet, he could feel the undeniable effect of the treatment. His breathing had become noticeably easier. The wheezing sound that had been like a broken flute had diminished.
'Then let's try it again!'
Like striking an oil well in the depths of a mountain spring, a surge of determination flooded through him.
"Are the needles all sterilized?"
"Yes, Your Highness. But… are you really going to do it again?"
"Of course. Hand them over. Quickly."
He urged Sir Gardin.
Receiving 11 fresh needles, he lay back down again.
This time, he held the needle in his left hand. He targeted the Lung Meridian of Hand-Taiyin on the right side of his body.
Tok! Todok! Tok!
In the same sequence and depth as before.
Steady and swift.
Starting from Zhongfu.
Then Yunmen, Tianfu, and Xiaobai.
Continuing through the meridian points.
Stimulating them precisely.
Finally, he reached Shaoshang, ensuring he didn't miss a single point.
And then, a message popped up before his eyes.
Ding-dong!
[You have completed acupuncture on the Lung Meridian of Hand-Taiyin on your right side.]
[However, your body is currently struggling with excessive acupuncture treatment.]
[With your current stamina, it is recommended to perform acupuncture only once every three days.]
[Your internal organs are expressing distress due to excessive stimulation.]
[Your alveoli are flinching from overstimulation.]
[Your lungs' mental fortitude is evaporating like mist.]
[Your colon's villi are performing a seven-star lamprey ascension dance.]
'…Crap.'
He had forgotten.
Acupuncture was not omnipotent. Stimulating nerves and meridians required a patient's stamina. There was a reason people spoke of getting "acupuncture fatigue."
And this body?
It had no stamina to speak of.
The amount of energy left in his body was probably less than the fleeting joy of eating sweet-and-sour pork with the sauce already poured on top.
"…Huff, huff."
A slight dizziness washed over him. The message had been right—his body was struggling.
Rakiel caught his breath and carefully removed the needles.
At the same time, he began calculating.
'Let's organize my thoughts. If these messages are real, then acupuncture works. My lifespan increased by a day. But there's a downside—I can only use it once every three days.'
If he performed acupuncture once every three days and gained one extra day each time, he could push back his death by roughly a month.
But that wasn't enough. Simply delaying death wasn't satisfying. He needed a more definitive method.
'Or, I could build up my stamina so I can endure daily acupuncture.'
That way, he could extend his lifespan every single day.
If he could do that—
'Tonic herbs are the answer!'
The conclusion was clear.
For restoring energy and revitalizing the body, nothing beat tonic herbs.
'I need to eat properly. Take herbal medicine. Eat anything that's good for the body while gradually exercising.'
That way, he could escape this state of utter physical weakness.
Rakiel immersed himself in deep contemplation.
What kind of herbal decoction should he prepare?
How would he procure the ingredients?
As he pondered, organizing the early developments of this novel-like situation, he spent the night searching and strategizing.
♣
Dawn broke.
The first thing Rakiel did upon waking was raise his hand.
"…"
In the dim morning light streaming through the window, he quietly observed the back of his hand.
But something was missing.
The scar that had been in the middle of his hand was gone.
'That was from walking Jin-dol…'
A large dog who had gotten too excited on a walk.
His sharp claws had left a deep scratch that had never fully faded, even after years.
And yet, now?
His hand was smooth.
There wasn't even a trace of a scar.
It was a delicate, unblemished hand—one that had never known hardship.
'So, it's real.'
For a moment, he had hoped that when he woke up, he would be back in his room in Korea. In his drowsiness, he had let himself wish for it.
But no.
'Tch.'
It was now undeniable.
This wasn't a dream or a mistake.
This was reality.
He was now living as Crown Prince Rakiel Adrian Magentano.
With exactly 91 days left to live.
'Sigh, what a life.'
Rakiel sighed in frustration and reached out. Beside the bed, within arm's reach, was a small golden bell.
Ding-ling-ling.
As soon as the bell rang, movement stirred across the room. A brief rustling, followed by a sleepy groan.
"…Your Highness? Did you call for me?"
From the adjacent chamber, Sir Gardin's voice emerged. He sounded groggy—he must have been in deep sleep.
Rakiel smirked and spoke.
"You're just waking up? For someone who's supposed to be my physician, you sure lack discipline."
"…Excuse me?"
Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Gardin blinked in confusion.
Rakiel continued, his voice laced with playful grumbling.
"You have a handsome face. You're tall. You look flawless in every way."
"Th-Thank you…?"
"No, I'm criticizing you."
"…What?"
"You're my personal physician. Your job is to take care of my health. Yet you wake up later than your patient?"
"…That is…."
Gardin's face stiffened.
He had been caught off guard.
Rakiel delivered the final blow.
"A true physician, especially for a critically ill patient, should be awake by now to check on their condition."
"…You are absolutely right. I apologize, Your Highness."
Gardin's handsome face clouded with guilt.
Rakiel felt a slight twinge of remorse.
'Sorry for the early morning scolding, Sir Gardin.'
But he had no choice.
Because if he wanted to survive—
He needed loyal people like Gardin by his side.
And he was about to give him a rather interesting task.
"By the way, Sir Gardin?"
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"I need you to retrieve something for me."
"…What would that be?"
"Don't look so worried. It's nothing crazy."
"…I'm not so sure about that, Your Highness."
"Just bring me some aconite root."
"…Excuse me?"
Rakiel flashed a bright, reassuring smile.
"I'm going to eat it."