The Doctor of Monster Town - Chapter 3

Just as I privately labeled Parsifal a “sickly ornament with nothing but his looks,” he actually did me an enormous favor.

My potions were selling better and better. A little too well, in fact.

I couldn’t understand why everyone drank healing potions as if they were beverages. What good could they do if you weren’t sick or injured?

“You’re not a monster, Doctor, so you wouldn’t understand.” All thousand pairs of the insect man’s compound eyes winked at me at once. “Drinking one of your potions gives us a very strange feeling… It makes me feel happy.”

I immediately flipped through the potion tome to make sure I hadn’t added any addictive ingredients.

Could this really be the God of Wealth’s blessing?

Whatever the cause, that mysterious “happiness” made my potions ever more sought after.

Within days, the moment the clinic opened, every healing potion on the shelves sold out.

Earning more money was wonderful, of course, but it also brought a problem.

The potions sold so quickly that I was about to run out of ingredients.

I could manage the others, but I couldn’t find a supplier anywhere in town for the magical spring water that formed the potions’ base.

The clinic had only just found its footing. It was a promising start.

If I suddenly ran out of stock now…

While I was at my wits’ end, my delicate ornamental assistant unexpectedly took a day off, saying he had business to handle.

I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t as though he could help by staying, so I waved him off.

That evening, our delicate Mr. Assistant returned carrying an enormous blue blob of jelly in one hand.

“If it’s magical spring water you need, Doctor, she should be able to provide it.”

Parsifal casually tossed the thing in his hand onto the table.

I peered at it in confusion and discovered that the jelly was alive.

The “jelly” bounced once, then turned its front (?) toward me.

Jelly: “0_0”

Me: “???”

“H-hello, Doctor. My name is Bran.” Her voice was scarcely louder than a mosquito’s, and she resembled a painfully shy little fancy rat. “I heard you were short-handed. I’d like to apply…”

As she spoke, the creature—whom I could probably call a slime—puffed herself up. A blue hose suddenly formed from her side.

She aimed its opening at an empty cup on the table, and magical spring water poured out as if it cost nothing.

She hastened to explain, “My body is only the conduit. You can rest assured that the spring water is clean.”

I asked approximately how much water she could provide.

Miss Bran rippled her body and, in all sincerity, gave me an astronomical figure.

“As long as magical spring water still exists anywhere in the world, I can draw on it… It’s an ability I was born with.”

She had been born to work for me!

I seized Miss Bran’s hand (?) and pumped it up and down in excitement.

“You passed the interview. Welcome aboard!”

I asked what salary she wanted.

Overwhelmed by the honor, Miss Bran sprang into the air. Her round body nearly stretched into an exclamation mark.

“You really don’t need to pay me. It’s an honor just to be of service to you.”

She didn’t even want a salary. Had she been to university or something?

At my insistence, Miss Bran finally asked in a tiny voice,

“Then instead of gold coins… could I have your healing potions?”

“…Whatever makes you happy,” I said.

What on earth was in those potions?!

…

Once she became familiar with me, Miss Bran grew a little braver.

When she first came to the clinic, she hid whenever she saw anyone. Now she was accustomed to wrapping herself around my finger and acting spoiled.

Strangely, however, she was still terrified of Parsifal.

Even one cough from him made her tremble.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Parsifal seemed to enjoy being watched by me. Whenever my gaze fell on him, he caught it at once and looked back.

His eyes curved in a smile. “Do you like my face that much, Doctor? You’re staring.”

No. I was thinking.

It wasn’t particularly cold outside, yet Parsifal was so chilled that he not only sat close to the hearth but kept a thin woolen blanket around his shoulders.

Together with that beautiful, almost androgynous face, it made every inch of him radiate the air of a delicate little housewife.

Looking as fragile as a tender blossom, what could Miss Bran possibly find frightening about him?