With some form of trust established between me and Zela, I chose to let her eat.
"If you need anything, let me know. I'll be back in a little bit." She gave a light nod. Some people don't like others around when they eat, so I didn't even ask and left the room.
I took this time to return downstairs, my trusty straw broom in hand. With the minimal airflow in the basement, cleaning would be a challenge, but for now, I focused on the bathroom. Since moving here, I'd had to walk around back to the outhouse.
I deemed it best to get the downstairs bathroom looking presentable and in working condition instead of having to walk outside every day. This way, running water would be just downstairs. I still wanted to get a plumber here as soon as possible, but money was starting to get tight.
Thankfully, in Ultsar, when you owned property and a building or house on it, no one could take it away from you unless you had other outstanding debts. Amenities like water were also free, with magical spells being used to create practically unlimited water. My only expenses were food, but I'd come to Ultsar with a few gold coins.
Food for two people a day ranged from one silver to ten silver. I'm a frugal person, so I tried to spend only a few silver on food per day. The kebabs I'd bought had been a hit to my savings.
Money was starting to rear its ugly head. However, I was sitting on a gold mine of information. If I ever needed, I could sell off my grandfather's research. I'd studied some of his work while at medical school in Grinwe, but there were hundreds of research documents downstairs that had never seen the light of day.
Another way I could get money was to open the doors of this doctor's office. I was happy with the state of the waiting room, reception desk, and both operating rooms. The only thing they were missing were lanterns, though they couldn't be that expensive.
I felt confident I could open and get a few customers, even though the exterior still looked like a sore thumb.
I made quick work of the downstairs bathroom; it only took me about half an hour to get it to a point where I was satisfied.
Setting the broom in the corner of the room, I returned upstairs. Standing before the bedroom door, I softly knocked.
"…" Absolute silence. Did she disappear? I hadn't heard anything while I was downstairs.
I knocked slightly louder and said, "Zela, can I come in?" Nothing.
I pursed my lips, deciding what to do. The most likely scenario was that she was asleep and couldn't respond. I inched the door open to peek inside and saw that the tonic I'd given her was drained, the kebab was down to the skewer, and some of the bread and fruit were missing.
From where I stood, I couldn't make out her expression, but I hoped the pain was a little more bearable.
Since being brought here, Zela had worn a painful wince while she slept—it was probably how she truly felt. While awake, she wore a confident, strong expression, but in the peace of sleep, her true emotions slipped out: pain and sadness.
I closed the door and let her continue her deep sleep. As for me, I went to my usual chair in the waiting room and passed out.
Unlike the first night with Zela, I didn't wake up to check on her until morning. The morning sun's golden-orange rays shone into the freshly cleaned waiting room. I stood and stretched, wearing a proud look.
"Some cleaning can do so much." The finished product looked unrecognizable. Everything had been caked in dust, but now, with the sun's rays, a sense of professionalism blossomed in the waiting room.
I stood there admiring it once more, knowing it wouldn't be the last time. Before making my way to the back bedroom, I knocked to see if I heard any response.
After no response, I pushed open the door to see Zela lying in the same position. She must be a heavy sleeper. I usually tossed and turned in my sleep, but with the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, there was no room to do so.
The sun's rays didn't reach the hall, but I closed the door anyway. Some people feel safe in private, enclosed spaces, and I had a feeling Zela was one of them.
Moving closer, I saw something I'd only dreamed of: Zela's face was at ease, a peaceful expression resting on her features. I glanced at the empty tonic on the dresser and returned the glass to my sack. Along with the plate and skewer, my magical sack also doubled as a waste bin.
I checked her vitals, careful not to wake her. Temperature: normal. Breathing: normal. Pain: minimal.
After checking her vitals, I lifted and shook the canteen of water I'd set on the nightstand. From the sloshing, I assumed it was half empty and replaced it with a full one from my sack.
I took this time to continue cleaning downstairs. The bottom of the stairs opened into a large room that led to two other rooms. Currently, I was sweeping up the cold stone floor of the main room.
Though my eyes were on the broom, the titles of the books caught my attention. When I first came down here, I'd discovered that my grandfather had written works like The Brain's Response to Psychological Torture. I was sure it wasn't his, but lo and behold, his name was on the spine.
My mind raced through explanations of how he'd attained such information. Unconsciously, I looked to the door across the room. I shook my head; I didn't want to believe it. My grandfather probably owned slaves to use as subjects for his research.
Deep down, I knew this was true—there was no other explanation. But I kept telling myself there was another possibility. Soon enough, I would read one of his works and have all the answers, but for now, there was no time.
The last places left to clean were the bookcases and the bedroom. Nonessential to the office's functionality, I wanted to open soon. Realistically, I didn't have a choice. Even if I didn't want to open, money would run short, and to make the repairs and renovations I wanted, I was sure it would cost a small fortune.
All the new medical equipment, modernizing the operating tables, acquiring lanterns for every room, and an exterior touch-up were the main things. Depending on how big the shop got, I would need a secretary to handle paperwork and patient relations.
And now, it all looked within reach. Soon enough, I would have made my grandfather proud… but that was tainted now. The revelation that my grandfather had owned and experimented on slaves left me conflicted.
The Minev Heath I knew was a smart, caring doctor who put his patients before everything. But behind the scenes, he had tortured and killed slaves in the name of medicine. Slaves. I squinted, making a realization.
The man at the slave house—he could have been in dealings with my grandfather. I would need to visit the slave house again soon, not only to ask him more about Zela but also to ask about my grandfather. The man was old; I was sure they'd crossed paths at least once.
The deep thoughts about my grandfather made my stomach growl. I took a deep breath and sighed. Break time.
I was starting to grow tired of the usual kebabs. I still had half a dozen or so, but I would have to change it up soon. I ate sitting at the bottom step of the stairs, looking out at the sea of books.
Is the killing of a few to help the masses morally justifiable? I started asking philosophical questions, trying to reason and cope with what my grandfather had done. I shook my head. If I started placing value on others' lives, I was no better than Zela's past owners.
"Dobin!" Just as I was thinking about Zela, I heard her scream my name. I jerked upright and started up the stairs. "Help!" What was wrong?
My breathing grew ragged, and my pupils widened. I ran up the stairs with all my strength, shoving the bedroom door open to see a frantic, teary-eyed Zela.
"What?!" I asked frantically, running toward the bed.
Her breathing was uneven, and she choked on her words. "My leg—something is there." I stood stunned. My first patient as a certified doctor—what was the next step?
Seeing I was frozen, Zela yelled, "Dobin! Please! Hurry!" At those three words, I came back to my senses. I reached into my sack and grabbed a small knife, cutting the pant leg open on the side of her amputated leg.
My heart stopped.
Maggots.