"You stink. Take a bath outside and come back out."
"Hey, young sensei, I'm sorry."
Without even knowing the offensive look on the part of the young aristocratic man sitting in the office, the middle-aged man left the office with his legs drawn together when he showed his yellow teeth and laughed joyfully. Go straight to the clinic receptionist and tell him to "take a bath." The lady at the reception gives the bathroom ticket to the man. When a man receives a voucher with his uncapped hand, he screws a bath voucher into his dirty jacket pocket.
Those cuffs are rubbed off, and my clothes are quite dirty because I haven't washed them in a while, and they stink enough to tell for myself.
(and washing clothes)
Nostalgia is a little warm these days because the labyrinth city has a good economy and constant day jobs.
The bathroom also has a washroom. I can borrow the laundry tools and wash them myself, but there is also a service that will do the laundry while I am in the bath if I pay for a few copper coins.
With a refreshing body in the bath, wearing washed-up, well-folded clothes is something that feels good even when it's your own.
For a man who has lived alone for a long time, putting sleeves through clothes washed and tidied with someone's hands seems terribly legitimate and superior.
The cost of the bath is about a few pieces of copper coin, but if it overlaps with the cost of laundry for the bath and the cost of accommodation for the meal, it will be a good amount. So I appreciate you getting a bath ticket here.
The young man who is treating him at the clinic has such an appearance as nobility to see. Instead of appearance, transgressive words and deeds, our eyes seeing ourselves like filthy things, were the envisioned aristocracy itself. It was the first man who was angry at that attitude, but the soldiers of the escort were holding him back behind him, and in fact, when he was reopening his clothes and body were dirty, he said, "You didn't take a bath, you actually came." When was the last time a bath shop was built near the clinic to give me a bath ticket?
Apparently, this young nobleman is not as bad as his attitude and character.
Now, when I go to the clinic, I try to dress as dirty as possible so that I can get a bath ticket. I thought this was a man's only backhand, but he doesn't seem to be the only one who thinks the same way, and other slum residents attending the clinic are getting bath tickets in the same way.
Pass me a bath ticket at the bathroom entrance and I'll give you a little soap and hand tufted in exchange.
Soap, I also have two cheap tickets for copper coins without hand plush, but that's noble. It's generous and gives me a good bath ticket. Neither soap nor hand plush is used up in a single bath, so I can take it home and use it normally.
I don't know if it's because I'm starting to live cleaner than before, or because I'm able to eat decently, but lately I'm feeling better than before.
"You've grown a lot of legs."
"Ooh, you know what? As you can see."
Someone spoke to the man who was going to the hot tub as he removed the dirt and pulled his legs together. That's the face I saw in the slam.
"I didn't think I could pull it off before."
"How have you been?"
"Ooh. You're doing great. Totally back to normal."
"I like it," the man thinks, as he spreads his fingers to show that he has all five of them.
Surely this hand should have been devoured by demons and had no pharmacopoeia and pinky fingers. I remember that the remaining three fingers didn't hold the sword well and didn't eat it with loading or something.
The man had lost one leg from about in his thigh, so it took him a while to heal this far, but this guy was only two fingers, so he's healing quickly and diving into the labyrinth.
I'm so proud of you.
I felt very honest, and those words came out.
"What are you talking about? Wouldn't you be right now? You can use magic, and you're stronger than me if your legs heal. Yeah, when your legs heal, let's dive into the labyrinth together."
"Oh, thank you."
I'm jealous. It seems that way because I think if I reach out, it's going to reach me. I think I'm jealous because it's something I can see nearby that I'm going to get if I do something a little impossible or put up with something.
Dream stories that don't involve any real feelings, such as getting rich and living in a mansion, or becoming an S-ranker and making a name for themselves, don't feel flattered even when you think of it as a pleasant imagination.
Like this man who regained his hand, the man vaguely thought that he was so honestly “flattered” because he could feel that the day would soon come when he could walk on both his feet and dive into the labyrinth, too.
"Dive into the labyrinth before winter arrives."
The puffy and the man snap. In the slums there was also a cookout of food, so the winter cold was hard, although I never starved to death. If it's going to snow or something, it hurts like cold water creeping in from holed shoes and my feet freezing and cutting. Even the legs you've lost are painfully stained on your bones as if you were complaining about the cold.
"You're gonna be okay. But don't act alone as soon as it's healed. I hope you'll use it to gather the likes of us at the Adventurer Guild and escort the staff to dive in the labyrinth."
"Heh, that's good. Not even."
The man who answered said so leaves the hot tub. Once this leg has healed, you will be able to take a bath every day to get a better meal and bed than you do now.
Until now, I had nothing but hope that the winter would end soon, and although all the anxiety ahead was such a life that I could gather garbage scum that I could use for something through my back of my brain, now I feel that even the way my heart is rooted has changed. I can only remember a little bit of how I felt before I lost my leg, when I wanted that, when I was hopeful that this would happen.
Food, clothes, home. The man who spent the winter with his lost legs thinks that he also needs such things, but also wants them and wants them to come true.
"It's not like you're dead or alive."
"Oh. No. Don't forget this one."
The man who had lost his finger agrees with the man who had lost his leg.
They're not smart, but I think they realize something important.
Robert Agwinas, a young nobleman in the clinic, was quietly sighing without knowing that he was giving the inhabitants of the slum the hope or willingness to live.
Built on the southwest side of the labyrinth, this clinic was created with potion sales profits from labyrinth cities. A clinic built to treat residents who can no longer fight due to injuries and live in Slam Street, but also come those who have suffered injuries in the labyrinth. Among these, Robert is in charge of the severely ill who have lost their hands and feet.
The superior potion is indispensable to the crusade of the hierarchical owners. The ingredients "ground pulse shards" are rarely picked from demons, so even though the Agwinas have spent about 100 years saving them, they can't be used to treat people who can go to hospital.
So we're using advanced class potions and the "black new drug" technology that he used to manufacture to treat the missing areas to regenerate little by little.
When Robert had just begun his treatment here, it was a pioneer in the human contamination of the slums. To much unhygiene, spilling stupidity on my sister Caroline at dinner,
"Well, an unhygienic environment can cause a plague! Speaking of which, I heard that there are public baths in the capital."
I said it out and quickly built a bathing area.
I thought it was the philanthropy preferred by noble women, and they make a lot of money from the extensive expansion of related work by purchasing cheap hand tufts from villages in the outer periphery of the Devil's Forest, using the know-how of a pest control dough factory to build a soap factory for sale in the bathroom, and starting a laundry service that also removes the terrible dirt from the labyrinth.
(The human smell is unsettling)
What calms Robert's mind is the smell of a library lined with plenty of books or a damp, slightly stinking basement.
Even when he was manufacturing new drugs, he had come into contact with many 'ingredients', but what irritated his nostrils was not the smell of backward blood or unique irritating chemicals that drifted from the slums and adventurers who visited his clinic.
Is that smell like sweat?
No, no, no, no, no, no. Their bodies are hot and pulsating.
Many patients, at the end of the treatment, make Robert listen to stories that have nothing to do with treatment.
What did you knock down today, where the food is delicious, and you have a cute daughter in some store?
As the injuries get better, they all get rapped.
He said if the injury healed, he would dive into the labyrinth and make a lot of money.
You make a lot of money, you eat something delicious, you give a voice to that cute girl, you save a lot of money, you put up a spot someday? I want a house, I want to do business, I want to call my parents to make it easier. You make them repeat similar stories.
All of this is really crap, Robert thinks.
All this is a common, everywhere whispering wish.
Two hundred years after the demon forest flood (Stampede), the Agwinas family and the alchemists have been wishing and connecting, a whispering wish that is everywhere.
All the wounded dive into the labyrinth.
Because 20% of my earnings are paid via Adventurer Alliance as a treatment cost, I don't need to pay the clinic individually, but I bring some of my prey and sampling as a thank you for getting healed. You think it's a demonic meat that Robert, the nobleman, doesn't speak of, or a fruit that you don't get, or a medicinal herb that Robert, the alchemist, can't use?
(Though I'm saying it's unnecessary. Still good for those who show their faces with five satisfied bodies)
Some of them, even though they healed the corner, came back with major injuries, and even some did not return.
"Are you diving into the labyrinth again?
Ask that to the adventurer who healed his injuries again and he will say, "Whoa."
"Don't worry, you won't die until you pay for your treatment."
"That's not what I'm saying."
No matter how expensive the treatment at this clinic was, you're going to pay until you pay 20% of your money back. I mean, if you die, you can step down. Since the cost of running the clinic is covered by the profits of commercially available potions, there is no difficulty for Robert personally to be trampled down.
Robert scratches his thin lower lip wondering why he had to be so annoyed.
These guys get hurt and fall to the slam, but they always head to the labyrinth.
Relative to the demon is horrible, it would hurt to suffer an injury, but still dive into the labyrinth.
"Because there's nothing else. I'm not smart, I'm clumsy."
Saying that.
(I know...)
Two hundred years after the demon forest flood (stampede), the alchemists spoke and conveyed a whispering wish. Robert and the historic Agwinas family owners wanted to make it happen. That's no different from that of the people Robert treats.
(I knew...)
Those whom Robert had made 'material' and killed, even on sinners, were the same people as them.
One day today, the human smell of the people who hit the treatment stained Robert's body and couldn't take it off.
For years, the smell of blood and medicine stained Robert's body from people who kept killing him.
People healed by Robert continue to challenge the labyrinth.
Those eyes are full of hope and shine at the chance to live up to the lost dreams. With the strength of what we have regained our lives, we continue to challenge wealth, from the labyrinth that once took everything from us, to win happiness.
Robert keeps healing them like that.
The surroundings are full of human smells and his heart is constantly quenched by the hustle and bustle. I will not allow you to look back on the past, and I will not give you the chance to come back to the future.
It's like a sandy cabinet. Build it to collapse.
High, high, high. There is no way to reach heaven, but when it is built, it is lost from beneath him exposed to the collapse waves.
(You don't have to be satisfied with the five bodies. Be sure to cure it and show it to me, will you come back alive?)
If you don't come to the clinic (here), you can't put your hands on Robert. When Robert mourned his powerlessness, when he began to feel that way, the number of adventurers diving into the labyrinth was much greater than the number of Labyrinth Crusaders, and had tried to reach its maximum since the flooding of the Devil's Forest (Stampede).
Surviving many injuries and looking at their painful eyes, they learned that they were all uniformly cautious and equipped to defeat demons according to their abilities and gain wealth.