Chapter 84

Chapter 84. The Curse of the House of Serulice (1)

****

“So, when I graduate, let’s go back to the Imperial Palace together, alright? Just like we promised. You’ll do that, right?”

The doll didn’t reply, but Mint hugged it from the side and nodded its head for her.

“That’s right, good girl.”

Mint thought about it for a moment. Asterix had mentioned he’d retire from his professorship in a few years—was that really with her in mind?

Nah, probably not. Knowing him, he might’ve just said it to get me off his back.

Still… did Mint herself influence his decision somehow?! Even if it was just empty words, he must’ve thought about it and answered after weighing things.

Mint decided to leave it at that.

****

It’s outpatient clinic time again today.

I wonder what weirdos will show up this time? Haven’t seen anyone yet who could top the guy who ate mushrooms on the street and collapsed.

At the Academy Hospital, the most frequent visitors are definitely Academy students. Partly because it’s close, but…

Maybe it’s because there are too many dumb ones around.

Stuffing power and authority into young noble kids barely out of high school or college—it’s bound to cause chaos.

Of course it ends in disaster. Like those deadly swordsmanship tournaments or the extreme monster-hunting events. Stuff like that.

Knock knock. Someone knocked on the clinic door, and a patient walked in. This one looked like a relatively normal Academy student.

Take a closer look.

Female. Messy hair, decent complexion, but dark circles under her eyes. No visible signs of pain, abnormal posture, or mobility issues. Her Academy uniform was neatly pressed but not overly well-maintained. All in all…

“What’s your name?”

“Ertta.”

“How did you get here?”

“By walking.”

Ah, got it.

Looks like another quirky one. Whether she came by walking or flying doesn’t matter—I meant why she decided to come.

“Why are you here?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep lately.”

A common complaint.

Sure, it seems trivial to come to the hospital over something like this, but most patients visit because they’re truly suffering.

“How many hours of sleep do you get per day?”

“About five.”

“Hmm…”

Can’t sleep? Prescription: sleeping pills!

—Well, not so fast. Jumping straight into medication isn’t wise. Sleeping pills come with risks and should only be used as a last resort.

Ideally, lifestyle adjustments would help, but I can’t exactly preach that when I struggle with my own habits.

Let’s talk more and maybe give her some vitamins.

Oh yeah, gotta check this.

One hallmark symptom of manic episodes is insomnia. Though this student doesn’t seem manic, still worth double-checking since psychiatry isn’t my specialty.

“When did this start?”

“Around two weeks ago.”

“Have you noticed feeling unusually happy, speaking faster, or being more goal-oriented recently?”

“Not at all.”

“Any feelings of sadness?”

“Nope.”

I noted this down in Ertta’s medical record. Checked for signs of mania or depression, but nothing stood out.

Time to suggest a solution. What should I recommend? Telling someone to change their lifestyle or reduce stress sounds ridiculous coming from me.

Remembering past encounters with psychiatrists, how did they handle insomnia cases?

“I won’t prescribe sleeping pills.”

“Oh, okay.”

“They’re addictive, and relying on them long-term isn’t ideal. They’re risky overall.”

Ertta nodded.

“So… is there anything else I can try?”

There is. Let me think for a second…

“Have you ever tried *not* trying to sleep?”

“Huh?”

“Just stay up and do whatever you want at night.”

“But won’t that make it worse?”

This is called paradoxical intention.

When people create rituals before bed, like changing sheets or exercising, and worry excessively about falling asleep, it can worsen insomnia.

It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you fear not sleeping, you end up staying awake.

Humans naturally sleep—we die without it. Stressing about sleep ironically creates the problem.

“For a week, if you can’t fall asleep, get up and do something instead. Don’t obsess over it.”

“Will that work?”

“It might. Anxiety about not sleeping can ironically cause insomnia.”

Ertta scratched her head, clearly skeptical. Unfortunately, lifestyle-related illnesses aren’t easily fixed.

They don’t resolve with a pill or surgery.

“If this doesn’t work, when should I come back?”

“Try it for a week.”

Longer than that is dangerous. In the unlikely case Ertta pushes through several sleepless nights with sheer willpower, it could harm her health.

“Alright.”

“Even if that fails, lying down and closing your eyes still helps.”

I grabbed a few vitamin pills, put them in a glass bottle, and handed it to Ertta. She took it carefully with both hands.

“You said no sleeping pills though?”

“These are vitamins. Might help if you’re deficient in something. Take one daily.”

“Okay, thank you!”

Ertta bowed slightly, then stood up with the bottle. People love leaving with something tangible, even if they don’t strictly need it.

****

Who’s coming next? While flipping through patient records, Istina entered the clinic.

“Professor, someone came by. Not a direct patient, but their guardian wants to speak with you.”

“Huh? What’s this about?”

“They want to see you personally.”

You can’t diagnose without seeing the patient directly. If I were busy, I’d have turned them away.

“So… they’re here asking for my help despite not being sick themselves?”

Istina nodded.

“Tell them to come in. I’ll hear them out.”

“Professor, they want you to step outside.”

“Nope.”

“Ah, understood.”

Istina left, closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later, an elegantly dressed woman entered with Istina. She wore an expensive-looking dress, hat, and carried a fan. Every step and gesture exuded aristocratic refinement. Much older-looking than usual patients.

More mature grace than age, but likely a parent of some sort.

“Hello, how may I assist you?”

“You’re quite elusive, Professor.”

“Me?”

If you come to the hospital, we’ll meet. Wait times vary daily, but it’s usually quick.

“I tried pulling strings to secure an appointment, but apparently you’re highly sought-after. I don’t even know any nobles personally who could help.”

What does that mean?

“There seems to be some misunderstanding. You can see me anytime at the hospital. Today’s waitlist only has a couple names.”

“To see you, I had to reach out to His Imperial Highness himself. And here you are saying such things. You’re neither obliging nor obedient.”

What is she talking about? If you’re sick, come to the hospital. Doctors—anyone really—don’t meet privately for convenience. That’s obvious…

Try approaching a convenience store clerk and inviting them to dinner. Would that work?

Anyway, moving past noble games…

“I’m unclear on the specifics, but let’s get to the point. Who’s ill?”

The woman sighed deeply the moment I spoke. Closed her eyes tightly, seemingly recalling unpleasant memories.

“A calamity has befallen our house. I’ve heard you’re the finest physician in the Empire, so I’ve come seeking your aid.”

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, forgive me. I’m Duchess Cecilia of the House of Serulice. Call me Cecilia.”

“Understood. Could you elaborate on who’s unwell, Ms. Cecilia?”

“Sigh… The Serulice family currently has three children, and all three are sick.”

Oh ho.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“The eldest has gone mad, the second suffers seizures, and the youngest is simply frail.”

“My goodness. That must be very difficult for you.”

I adjusted my posture.

Initially, I thought she was just another wealthy hypochondriac—but this seems genuinely serious.