“That’s it, drink it all! Not a single drop left! I’m going to check if it’s really finished.”
Watching Jin obediently swallow the medicine I’d handed him, I felt like humming a little tune. Time really flew—nearly two full months had passed since I’d arrived here.
In that time, Jin had put on a bit of weight. Without a scale, I couldn’t be exact, but it felt like at least three kilograms. He was still so thin that a light tap might knock him over, yet he no longer looked quite so skeletal. A small mercy.
Because of it, though, I could no longer stand in front of him without my mask. As the flesh returned, so did his beauty—radiant, almost unfair. Every inhale was *Jin*, every exhale *so damn handsome*. If I ever said it out loud, I’d never hear the end of it.
“You’re keeping up with the exercise, right?”
I asked him. “Exercise” in his case meant clinging to Richard while being half-carried around the room once before returning to bed, but I’d prescribed it three weeks ago.
Thanks to that, he could now sit up on his own without leaning. He couldn’t hold the position long, but still.
“Of course, Doctor-nim. Doing exactly what I’m told. Taking my medicine like a good boy too, aren’t I?”
Jin puffed out his chest a little, smug.
*No, that’s only because I made the medicine taste like fruit, you big baby.* The retort nearly slipped out, but I swallowed it down.
“I’ll listen to your lungs now.”
I fitted the stethoscope into my ears and sat in front of him. Without a word, Jin unbuttoned his loose shirt. It had already been over a month since I’d last seen a shirtless man up close like this, so the sight stirred nothing. Just the quiet observation: *He’s still so thin.*
I pressed the chest piece against his skin. Two months of doing this, and something astonishing had happened—I’d actually started to distinguish his breath sounds a little.
The bubbling, crackling noise meant a lot of phlegm. Lots of wheezing meant he was struggling to breathe.
“…Oh no.”
A small groan escaped me. The problem was that his condition seemed to be worsening day by day. The bubbling had decreased somewhat thanks to the expectorant, but his breathing grew rougher, more labored with every passing day.
Even as his strength slowly returned, his shortness of breath only increased. If this was improvement, then…
I let out a long sigh.
“Guess I’m getting a lot worse, huh.”
Jin spoke in that self-deprecating tone. My heart sank like a stone. For a moment I’d forgotten the fragile sea-squish right in front of me.
“…No. It’s about the same.”
In the end I told the lie that wouldn’t fool anyone. He was the kind of man who could read the truth in my eyes anyway.
After jotting the results onto the chart, another sigh escaped. For respiratory illness, oxygen was the best treatment—but how was I supposed to produce oxygen in this world?
No matter how brilliant Louis and Rick were, telling people who didn’t even have the concept of elements to “make me some oxygen” would only earn blank stares.
It was so strange. Ice attribute, fire, water, lightning, light, darkness—every kind of mana stone existed, yet no air attribute? Even if there were, it would probably be regular air—eighty percent nitrogen, not pure oxygen.
*Should I try electrolyzing water or something?*
Pour lightning mana stone onto a water-attribute one? Even a liberal-arts brain like mine knew electrolysis split water into oxygen and hydrogen. But I had no idea how to actually do it. So all I could do was entertain ridiculous fantasies.
Then—suddenly, as if someone had smacked the back of my head—an idea struck.
Ah, you idiot! How had I not thought of this until now?
There were things in nature that produced oxygen constantly.
Plants.
Photosynthesis!
I felt like slapping myself for only remembering it now.
“Rick! Louis!”
I bolted toward their laboratory.
Lately I’d been spending almost all my free time there anyway.
Starting with medicines for Jin, the humidifier, stethoscope, penlight—and then one by one, things I could never have made alone: powdered laundry detergent, mint-flavored toothpaste with a soft-bristled brush, lavender-scented body wash. Especially the lavender body wash—that one had been pure personal indulgence.
Medical tools too: forceps, alcohol-soaked cotton pads, latex gloves. The gloves, honestly, had also been mostly for my own satisfaction.
“Doctor Ober! Another idea?”
Louis greeted me brightly. Rick didn’t seem to be in the lab.
“You said there’s a greenhouse here? Where is it?”
I asked urgently. Louis gave a slightly deflated smile at the non-sequitur.
“Right next to the lab. Why?”
“Can I go take a look?”
I pressed immediately. Louis looked puzzled.
“Uh, sure. Of course. Rick’s actually there right—”
I didn’t even let him finish. I grabbed his wrist and tugged.
“Come on, quick!”
Louis looked utterly bewildered but still laughed cheerfully and led me to the greenhouse.
And what I saw inside was… perfection.
This air. This smell! It smelled like oxygen! (Of course I couldn’t actually smell oxygen, but still.)
Rick, startled by my sudden entrance, exchanged a matching baffled look with Louis.
“Is this the only greenhouse? Or are there others?”
I asked Rick, who was staring at me like I’d grown a second head. He nodded.
“Yes. There’s a separate one for poisonous herbs, and a few empty ones too.”
Ah, they grow poison plants separately… I was briefly curious what Rick did with them, but I pushed the question aside and looked around with deep satisfaction.
My plan was simple: move a bed into one of the empty greenhouses and have Jin spend his days lying there. Plant all the herbs listed in the *Great Dictionary of Medicinal Herbs* as beneficial for the respiratory system around him.
Plants performing photosynthesis would release oxygen constantly, so the greenhouse should have a noticeably higher oxygen concentration than anywhere else.
At night, move him back to his bedroom. Plants respire and release carbon dioxide at night… right? It had been too long since biology class; the details were fuzzy.
There was one worry, though: pollen. Pollen could be deadly for someone with respiratory issues. So I decided to make an outrageous request of Louis.
“Louis… is it possible to make some kind of air-purifying device? Something that filters dust and particles out of the air…?”
Even I thought it sounded ridiculous as I said it, but Louis’s face lit up.
“Doctor, what do you think that sound is that you’ve been hearing all this time?”
He countered with a question. Sound? I glanced around. I didn’t hear anything unusual. Was he talking about the ventilation fans I’d gotten so used to I tuned them out? I looked back at him, confused.
“The dwarves installed air filtration systems throughout the entire city. If we make a smaller version, it won’t take long at all.”
I was speechless.
They already had air purifiers?
Of course. How else could the underground air be this clean?
I didn’t know exactly how effective the dwarven models were, but given the astonishing level of their craftsmanship I’d witnessed so far, their air filters were probably excellent.
Pollen problem solved, then…
Whether this absurd theory would actually help was anyone’s guess, but I looked around the greenhouse with a desperate hope that this wild armchair idea might—just might—give Jin even a little relief.
★
