So I'm a Snake, Who Cares?

From my perspective as a modern person.

The culture of kingdoms and empires is certainly different.

Perhaps it's a given, since the scope of what the word "culture" encompasses is so vast.

But I'm not talking about such deep meanings, just what's visible to the eye.

First of all, the kingdom was like the typical fantasy world I had in mind.

You know, like something that could appear in Lord of the X, that kind of medieval Western feeling.

There are knights, kings, and nobles.

Of course, I can't say it's exactly like medieval France or medieval England.

Like most fantasy settings, it feels like a mixture of various Western civilizations.

The empire, on the other hand, was a bit different.

You could call it an odd mishmash.

Eastern and Western elements were mixed together.

It might have been just like the Arajit Empire, but it's slightly different.

It's like martial arts and fantasy mixed together.

'That's martial arts.'

I thought so when I saw the old man that Dana and Rahan brought in taking out several golden needles.

'Rahan, does acupuncture exist in this world too?'

'Ah, yes, Elder Duiman's acupuncture is famous in the lower district.'

The old man's name was Duiman.

Apparently, he's known as the eccentric of golden needles in the lower district.

By the way, the lower district isn't a place name, but rather what you might call the underworld. It refers to the darkness that naturally exists in any developed city.

"It seems there's blood stasis in the brain."

"Blood stasis, you say?"

"Would you understand if I called it turbid energy? Hmm, there's trauma to the head. Must have hit something?"

For reference, we hadn't mentioned that the Margrave had hit his head on the table when he fell.

What amazing insight.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

This person must be a skilled physician indeed.

"I thought it was just because of the poison. But there might also be cerebral hemorrhage from the trauma."

I take that back. He's a quack.

The old man examined the Margrave from various angles.

He brought a candle close to check his pupil movement.

He checked his pulse and even gave the back of his head a sharp slap.

"There are two options: a long-term rehabilitation method, or a quick treatment method with some risks. Which would you prefer?"

The answer to that question was decided from the start.

"Let's go with the quick one."

After all, we need to enter the Imperial Palace to have an audience with the Emperor in two days.

We need to fix the Margrave before then.

"I thought you'd say that. You roughly know the risks?"

"Could he die?"

"Of course, but that's not all. You know, right? If his memories remain..."

"We know."

We were well aware of the risks.

"First, let's tie him to the chair."

The Margrave sat in the chair.

Or more accurately, was made to sit.

"Aaah, no, I don't want to sit!"

"Margrave, you need to stay still."

Surprisingly, Obern handled the Margrave quite well.

So well that he naturally picked me up and handed me to the Margrave like giving him a doll.

The Margrave became docile once I was placed on his lap.

This bastard Obern.

"Tie his hands and feet to the chair, we can't use anesthesia for this procedure."

They firmly secured the Margrave's limbs to the heavy oak chair, rough hemp rope biting into his fine silk robes. The guards worked methodically, checking each knot with practiced efficiency.

Margrave Sareb whimpered uncomfortably, his carefully maintained dignity crumbling as the reality of his situation sank in. Beads of sweat formed on his high forehead, catching the torchlight.

Though he quickly became quiet when I took Isil out of my spatial storage, the familiar metallic ring echoing off the stone walls as I drew the blade. His eyes widened at the sight of the legendary sword, its edge gleaming with an inner light that seemed to hunger for truth.

"Phew, I need to concentrate, so everyone shut up."

The old man said this and took out his golden needles.

It was the longest needle among those he had.

It was as long as a hand span.

He carefully examined the Margrave's crown.

That must smell like scalp...

Then he cleaned the Margrave's crown with an alcohol swab.

"Hehe, that's cool."

The Margrave giggled.

This isn't a situation to laugh at, but I feel a bit sorry for him.

I couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the Margrave.

"Now, I'm starting."

The old man carefully brought the golden needle to the Margrave's crown.

People don't have very sensitive sensation in their crown.

Actually, it's an area that doesn't hurt much even when getting acupuncture.

Stab.

Of course.

That only applies when the needle is inserted shallowly.

Even though there should be skull bone there, the needle went in smoothly.

"Urgggh"

The Margrave's eyes rolled back.

But the old man's hand movements didn't stop.

Very slowly, bit by bit, the needle was entering the Baihui acupoint on the crown.

"Ubabababababa I have been appointed by His Majesty the Emperor as an Imperial ambassador and faithfully..."

Yikes, the Margrave is malfunctioning!

Nevertheless, the old man maintained the same speed in inserting the needle, his weathered hands steady as a mountain despite the chaos unfolding before him. Decades of experience had taught him that panic would only make things worse.

Soul-entering needle, as if breathing a soul into the acupuncture. The ancient bronze implement glowed with a faint blue light as it pierced the skin, carrying with it centuries of healing wisdom passed down through generations of practitioners.

"As the glorious firstborn of the Sareb family I will surely become a minister and serve His Majesty the Emperor and as he commanded the shame of the zoo..."

Then thud. His head drooped.

The old man's hand stopped right at that moment.

An eerie silence fell in an instant.

Is he cured?

We were all ready.

As soon as the Margrave regained consciousness, we were prepared to start acting.

'You're awake, Margrave!', 'We were worried you might have had a stroke when you suddenly collapsed!'

We were planning to pretend to be close with tearful concern.