TFSG 74

Chapter 74

The Terminally Ill Baby Physician Doesn’t Hide His Genius

“Go with Biwon, Bihu, and Birang as your guardians. That should be sufficient support, right? For anything else you need, speak to the steward in charge of supplies.”

Even without my uncle’s request, I had already planned to wait until the matter was proven.

The road to Cheimik wasn’t safe.

“There’s no harm in having more capable warriors around.”

Though the empire boasted relatively good public order compared to the rest of the Western Continent, the moment you left the Black Clan’s territory—

—it became a battlefield.

“It can’t be helped. It’s like an instinct carved into the people of this land.”

I shook my head, recalling my third lifetime when I wandered as a roaming physician.

To put it crudely, I survived that “hard mode” life by running my mouth and bluffing my way through.

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave anything behind. Just come back after swapping your examination.”

The clan head, who had asked for a private meeting, said we would speak again after I cured the epidemic.

In other words, if I couldn’t cure it, then he wouldn’t recognize that I had treated both my uncle and my great-uncle—nor that I had the skill worthy of a private audience.

“Not really a threat.”

I knew this illness in Cheimik well.

Though only a small village, it was a commercial hub, treated as neutral ground by the surrounding territories.

In my third life, that disease wiped out the village, and later, people began calling it the Cheimik Disease, after the village itself.

“And the one who developed the cure that ended the Cheimik Disease when it spread across the empire was…”

…me, at eighteen.

Epidemics mutated often, so it might not be exactly as I remembered.

But it wouldn’t be difficult.

“Hey, before you go… there’s something I want to ask.”

My uncle hesitated. It was unlike him to fall into silence, so I waited quietly.

“It’s about my daughter… she’s far away right now.”

As if to block any sound from leaking out, a thin water barrier spread around us.

“I couldn’t trust anyone… so I entrusted her to someone reliable and sent her far away.”

I knew.

The one he entrusted his daughter to was connected to the Black Clan.

That person took her in out of gratitude for the great help they’d once received from Uncle Birang.

“And I also know… that in a few years, that same person will betray him, turn traitor, and begin tormenting the child.”

I was already planning to bring the heroine to me before that happened.

“I just… want to see my daughter at least free of her sleepwalking. Even if she’s not fully cured… at least well enough that I can rest assured.”

So he couldn’t bring her back with peace of mind, not in his current condition.

“A patient showing greed is a good sign.”

It hadn’t been long since he started taking the medicine. His unease was understandable.

There was no reason to refuse.

“How long do you think until her sleepwalking is completely under control?”

“Mm… that depends on you, Uncle.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Then… two years.”

I gave him a more generous estimate than my true lower bound.

“If I cure the epidemic and claim the eastern branch as payment, I could call her back even earlier.”

Originally, I had planned to bring the heroine next year. But it seemed Uncle wanted to meet her again as a more complete father.

Either way, I was planning to ask Jeok Yunha for news soon.

Our adorable little munchkin heroine—I’d even take care of her early education myself.

“Good.”

My uncle, relieved, turned away.

We returned home. Still being in a child’s body, even this much left me feeling drained and sluggish.

“Biyu.”

As we neared the house, a soft voice called my name.

It was my cousin, Gye-won.

His small hand—smaller than I expected—reached out from where he was being carried by Father, and lightly grasped my foot.

“…Thank you.”

He must have been holding back tears all the way. His nose was red.

“Well, the atmosphere earlier was pretty terrifying.”

I’d thought he’d be fine, since he acted so much more mature than his age.

But why had I thought that?

“He was threatened with a real blade—of course he wouldn’t be fine.”

And then I realized.

Because in my third life, the image of Gye-won as a shadowy mastermind had left too strong an impression on me.

“…Gye-won?”

In my third life, when I was nearly grown, I had faced my now-fully-grown cousin.

Gye-won had become a vessel of fury and resentment, a living embodiment of vengeance.

A handsome face, yet devoid of life. I still remembered the chilling, almost demonic aura he carried.

“Biyu. Go that way. After this, the clan will vanish from the world.”

“And what about you? How will you live?”

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“How could it not? You’re saying only you and I will be left of the Black Clan.”

“…”

That was the last conversation I had with Gye-won in my third life.

He really did destroy the clan after that, and I never heard from him again.

Sometimes, I wondered how he had lived afterward.

I pushed the memories aside and looked at my cousin.

This life—this young boy—I would never let him become that cold, hollow-eyed man.

My eyes went to the wound still on his neck.

“That needs treatment first. It could scar.”

Before I could say anything, a large hand dropped onto my head.

It was my great-uncle.

“Thank you as well.”

Just one sentence, but his voice carried a great deal.

His expression resembled the desperate patients who had once come running to the Black Biyu Clinic—then, after being cured, had looked at me with the same face.

“Truly. For anything, you have only to ask.”

So much sincerity was packed into those short words.

I smiled brightly.

“Don’t be silly. We’re family.”

Then I looked at my cousin.

“Cousin, let’s treat your neck first!”

The Black Clan’s head, Black Moran, loved playing baduk and janggi.

In the Western Continent, chess was more popular, so only a few enjoyed these board games.

But what happened on the small board often resembled the affairs of the world.

There were winners and losers, and among the losers were those who longed to become winners again.

Tak.

At that moment, in the clan head’s chamber, she was playing janggi with someone.

Only the sound of pieces being placed echoed in the quiet room.

Though her eyes were blind, it was not difficult for her to play the game she loved.

“It seems Bihu has begun to regain his memories.”

Tak.

Another piece was captured. Without lifting her gaze from the board, the clan head spoke.

“Though it’s uncertain if he’s remembered that event.”

“…”

“What will you do?”

The opponent’s hand paused for a moment.

The clan head, knowing this, continued to stare at the janggi board. With her new move, her opponent was cornered.

“You desire that child, don’t you?”

The opponent spoke calmly, showing no sign of being pressured.

“You offered quite a price. To propose such a weighty commission immediately—unusual. And Cheimik… isn’t that connected to the message we received recently?”

“…”

“It involves the imperial family.”

The clan head did not reply. She only smiled faintly.

“In comparison to what that child has accomplished, the reward is trifling.”

Black Biyu—at only three years old, he had achieved what no one in the empire had managed: improving the conditions of her sons.

If he were deliberately raised and nurtured… what would he become? What benefits would he bring to the Black Clan?

And yet… there was still something troubling her.