"It's surprising—the endurance, healing ability, willpower, and survival instinct of assassins." Elion was surprised to see the desperate attempts of the woman in the bed to get a weapon into her hands in the face of his presence at the back of the room.
Looking at himself in the mirror, Elion—dressed in a black suit, a long trench coat, and a rather aggressive hairstyle, with blood on his clothes—thought that perhaps this woman was mistaking him for someone else.
"Don't move, you'll die if the wound on your shoulder opens again!" Elion's cold voice showed no sympathy for this woman; after all, he wasn't treating someone who would necessarily bring good things into this world.
He was even surprised to receive a reward, but that didn't change the fact that he was interested in his patients' recovery after saving them from certain death.
"Who the hell are you?" The woman didn't recognize Elion as one of the hotel's doctors; after all, she clearly remembered that someone else had been treating her a moment ago.
"I administered general anesthesia to your body—not much, since I'm not a specialist, but enough so you wouldn't make such sudden movements. Still, I'm surprised you can move at all; that shows you have a strong will."
The assassin was left breathless and looked at Elion in a state of alert.
"Stay here without moving too much for at least a few days. If the wound opens, you'll die." For a moment, Elion thought he didn't care what happened to this woman, but her death would certainly bring him trouble, since this was his test.
That was why he stayed. He waited for the woman to wake up and took it upon himself to observe her recovery for a while.
But this woman was far too alert. After all, she was used to the fact that after being treated by a doctor, he wouldn't stay in the room long before leaving.
Why would this unknown doctor remain in the room? Was he expecting to witness an assassin's instinctive reaction?
Looking into the assassin's surprised and angry eyes, Elion smiled timidly.
"Well, don't bother thanking me for saving your life from almost certain death." Elion walked toward her, glanced briefly at the IV solution, and said, "I don't need anything more than knowing you'll live. That's what they pay me for."
"Why do you care?"
Elion raised his gaze, thought for a few seconds, and said, "You're a test of my abilities. I hope to impress my new boss."
"And was there any need to undress me?" the woman asked with a cold expression. She wasn't an idiot—why wasn't there a single piece of clothing on her body?
"I was looking for hidden injuries. Fortunately, there were only bruises that will disappear with a bit of rest."
"Well, I should thank you properly when I recover." The woman, now a bit more conscious, looked Elion up and down seriously and smiled.
That abnormal smile put Elion on alert. He quickly gathered his things and said, "The caretakers will come to check your medication. Take these pills if the pain becomes unbearable."
"Are you leaving already?"
"Well, I have more patients." Elion, feeling a chill run down his spine, quickly moved away from this woman, who was obviously acting strangely.
At that moment, from the bathroom, a man with an appearance similar to hers asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, little brother. How did the job go?" the woman asked without showing any emotion.
"A complete disaster, but we finished the job."
"That's what matters."
"Don't waste time on him, Gretel. Focus on recovering."
Gretel, the woman Elion had treated, looked at her twin brother Hansel and said, "Of course not."
…
Once outside the room, Elion did not realize that during all this time he had been observed by a man in the bathroom.
He had been so focused on saving Gretel that he hadn't considered there might be someone else nearby, which showed that he cared about only one thing—his work.
Charon, in the hallway, looked at Elion and nodded slightly in respect, then gestured for him to follow so he could hand him a wooden box.
"Welcome to our hotel staff. We are now one. As the night-shift doctor, you will have permanent access to room 345 at all times." Charon showed him the key and said, "Of course, this is based on the premise that you must treat at least ten patients each month, not counting emergencies."
"I understand." Elion thought it would be more demanding, but it wasn't surprising.
"This wooden box contains everything you need: a false identity, forged documents, rules, an address book, and more. At the same time, all services within the industry will be available to you."
After saying that, Charon added, "Also, as a doctor, you will enjoy our protection as long as you do not violate the rules of the Continental."
"Thank you for your guidance."
Charon nodded and said, "Well then, have a good night."
Elion took the wooden box without asking what would happen if he failed to meet the conditions of the contract, because he didn't care. He would be here all night, every day of the week, until his symptoms reversed.
For an assassin, the only consequence of a failed mission is death.
The same applies to doctors, and Elion was aware of it.
Elion took the wooden box and, amid the scrutinizing looks of the crowd, took the elevator to the second floor.
After Elion left, the lobby immediately became lively.
"Charon, is that guy the new doctor?"
"Yes."
"He looks very young. Is he really capable? I really don't feel comfortable trusting my life to a guy who hasn't even grown up yet."
Charon looked at the twins exiting the elevator and said, "Well, to put your minds at ease, you can ask the twins about the new doctor's performance."
"The twins? No way I'm talking to them. I guess I'll find out later when I get a bullet wound."
…
Naturally, Elion was unaware of the small incident that had occurred.
He found his room by following the door number. After entering, Elion tossed the wooden box he was holding aside.
Then he swallowed an entire bottle of painkillers, along with some kind of psychotropic drug.
After that, he lay down on the soft bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The arterial suture surgery had drained his energy, and he had no strength to worry about anything else at that moment.
The next day, a headache woke Elion from his deep sleep. With a soft sigh, he swallowed a handful of pills, ignoring the recommended dosage.
He no longer wanted to suffer.
After straightening his clothes, he walked out the door.
Upon reaching the lobby, Charon suddenly spoke: "Mr. Whitmore, would you like us to take you, or should we take you?"
Elion raised an eyebrow and approached Charon, then asked, "Free of charge?"
Charon smiled faintly. "It seems you didn't read the materials in the box yesterday. The chauffeur service is just one of the privileges doctors enjoy. You can absolutely treat the Continental Hotel as if it were your own home."
Elion smiled but remained silent.
A home? Anyone foolish enough to consider the Continental Hotel their home was probably already buried under a mountain of trouble.
Still, Elion would not refuse this free taxi service.
…
Soon, Elion, who arrived punctually for work, appeared in the conference room of the diagnostics department.
Today was different from yesterday, when he had nothing to do.
None of the four doctors who carried out diagnostics, including House, were here.
After asking a passing nurse, Elion learned that a new patient had arrived at the emergency room the previous night whose blood pressure did not respond at all to intravenous injections.
This symptom immediately piqued House's interest. So, even though it was not yet official working hours, he went to the ward with his three assistants to find out what was going on.
Before Elion could go to the ward to see the patient, House had already returned with the three of them. House was seen frowning, lost in thought.
He ignored Elion and walked straight past him toward the diagnostics department office. However, Foreman, who had spoken more with Elion, asked him, "Are you lost?"