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Chapter 9 - Chapter 9: Time Passes

It's been one week since I bought Zela from the slave house, and in that time, a lot has been accomplished.

Zela has developed a newfound trust in me after I cleaned and sutured the wound on the stump of her thigh. I've kept a close eye on the injury, ensuring no further infections arise. The wound has been healing better than I hoped, and soon, the stitches will be ready to be removed.

After her first bath, Zela has begun to accept her situation for the foreseeable future. What used to be an awkward ordeal every time she bathed or used the restroom has now become a routine procedure—a matter of business between patient and caregiver.

Aside from Zela's progress, the Heath Clinic has undergone an interior transformation. Every room is now equipped with artificial light sources. I took a day to visit the city and purchased everything needed to get the clinic back up and running.

During my errands, I learned that the blacksmith I spoke to on my first day is named Gola. I approached him to request a few items: knives, scalpels of varying sizes, and a sign. However, he had an idea of his own.

"A sign, eh?" Gola stood with his hand on his chin, deep in thought. "How about you go to Will's Woodworking? He can set you up with the best quality signs for a good price."

I nodded. "Where is that?" Having only been in Ultsar for a week, I still struggled to navigate the city. I pulled out my map, and Gola pointed out the location, mentioning a few landmarks to guide me.

"Thank you, Gola," I said. He gave me a wide smile.

"Anytime! Come back in a day or two, and I'll have what you need ready!" Gola exclaimed. On the outside, he might seem like a scary, brash man, but inside, he was all cheer.

We exchanged quick goodbyes, and I made my way through the maze of Ultsar, eventually finding myself outside Will's Woodworking.

I gently pushed open the front door, a bell ringing above as I stepped inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the hundreds of wooden carvings of various animals scattered across shelves on one side of the shop. The other side was cluttered with more traditional items—chairs, tables, and doors—arranged in what seemed like chaos, though I was sure there was a method to the madness.

"Hello?" a man's voice called from behind me. Turning around, I was struck by the man behind the wooden counter. The first thing I noticed was his luscious green hair. If I hadn't heard his voice, I might have mistaken him for a woman. His dark skin gave him the appearance of an oak tree—his body the bark, and his hair the leaves.

"Hello, are you Will?" I asked, extending my hand for a handshake. He shook it firmly.

"Yep, the one and only."

"Gola, the blacksmith, said you could help me with a sign." Will nodded, his expression softening as if remembering Gola.

"Gola, that old brute," Will chuckled. "Yep, I can help you with that. What were you thinking?"

"I need a sign to put outside my doctor's office."

"So, you want it painted with your name or the business name?" I nodded.

"Yes, that's exactly what I had in mind." It was as if Will had read my thoughts. I had been pondering what to name the clinic and settled on "Heath Health Clinic."

"Alright, something like this size," Will said, moving away from the counter and pulling out a board with two posts on either side. It was about three feet long—perfect for what I needed.

"What do you want written on it?" he asked.

"Heath Health Clinic."

At the mention of the name, Will's eyes widened. "Heath?" he muttered. "Like Minev? The old clinic down the dirt path?" My heart began to race. Did he know my grandfather?

"Yes, Minev was my grandfather. He passed away a while ago and left me his clinic to help me fulfill my dream of becoming a doctor." I shared a bit of my story, and Will nodded slowly.

"Understood. I'll get started on your sign. I'll be back in a moment," Will said, carrying the sign to a back room. I couldn't help but wonder what had caused his reaction at the mention of Minev.

Will returned surprisingly quickly, the sign in hand. The letters were perfectly painted and already dried. He placed the sign on the counter for me to inspect.

"Everything in order?" Will asked, looking me in the eyes.

"It's perfect," I said, glancing over the sign to confirm the spelling. "So, how much do I owe you?" Knowing Will's craftsmanship, I expected a premium price.

"You can take it for free," Will said with a smile.

"Why?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"I owe Minev a deep debt. He saved my life. This is the least I can do." I was stunned. That explained his reaction earlier.

"A-Are you sure?"

Will nodded. "Yes, but I do have one condition." My heartbeat quickened. A condition? I nodded, signaling him to continue.

"You see, I am a dryad. I just ask that you care for the sign." A dryad—a nature spirit who protects trees—working as a woodworker. It was ironic, yet fitting.

"Of course, I'll take care of the sign. But don't dryads protect trees?" Will nodded.

"Yes, all of my pieces are made from trees that have already passed away. I would never harm a tree for economic gain."

"I understand. I promise to care for the sign, but are you sure you want to give it to me for free?" I asked again, feeling guilty about accepting such fine work without payment. Still, my wallet was grateful—I was running low on funds.

"Of course… Ah, I didn't get your name."

"Dobin Heath," I replied. Will smiled.

"The Heath blood runs through you. I'm sure you'll be a fabulous doctor. Please, take the sign free of charge, and come back if you need anything else." Will bowed slightly, and I agreed to his conditions before leaving the shop, sign in hand.

I made my way back to the clinic and spent the rest of the day placing lanterns throughout the building. I hung two outside and made a mental note to light them at night.

The following day, I returned to the city to visit Gola. I exchanged the remainder of my money for a few essential tools.

That night, I placed the sign in the front yard. Will had added a red cross in the corner to clearly indicate that the building was a medical facility—a helpful touch for those in Ultsar who couldn't read.

With the sign in place, Heath Health Clinic was officially open. However, I knew patients wouldn't flood in immediately, so I took the rest of the evening to chat with Zela.

"Zela," I said, peeking into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, reading. Boredom had begun to overtake her, and she desperately needed something to occupy her time. I kept the books I came across over my lifetime in my bag, her new pastime was reading. Despite having only one eye, Zela had quickly finished the first book and was already onto her second.

During this time, I also crafted an eyepatch for her using leftover leather from my sack. I offered her the choice to go without it, but she accepted it graciously and wore it with pride.

"Yes, Dobin?" she replied, sliding a piece of paper into her book and closing it.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course. What's up?" I moved to the chair in the corner of the room and sat down, meeting her gaze.

"Tomorrow, a patient might come here needing help. If you need anything, call for me. Even if I'm with a patient, I'll politely excuse myself and come to you." My words caused Zela's face to flush.

"Okay, I will," she said, turning away to avoid eye contact.

"Aside from that, I haven't made much progress in finding ways to heal your injuries," I admitted. During the rare moments of free time, I either spent them with Zela or downstairs researching. My grandfather's hundreds of research documents held the key, I was sure of it. I just needed to find the answers to two questions: how to heal amputated limbs and how to restore vision in the absence of an eyeball.

The basement held the answers—I just hadn't uncovered them yet.

"I know you can do it, Dobin," Zela said, offering words of encouragement.

I sighed. "I hope so." I stood up, stretching as I removed my shirt. "I'm going to bed early." I glanced at Zela, whose ears had turned red as she looked away. Just yesterday, I had started sleeping on the floor in the bedroom—I couldn't risk being caught sleeping in the waiting room.

I knew Zela secretly disliked the arrangement, though she never voiced her opinion. "Goodnight, Zela," I said, settling into the makeshift bed I had assembled on the floor.

"Goodnight, Dobin," she replied.

Tomorrow would be the clinic's first official day open. In just one week, I had accomplished so much.

I hoped life would continue this way. The only hiccup so far had been the infection in Zela's wound, but aside from that, everything had been moving smoothly. That night, I prayed for things to stay the same.

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