Crown Prince Sells Medicine

“So, if you prepare ‘Uruus Coffee’ using dried cattle dung, that should be effective, correct?”

Silence followed.

Raciel displayed a broad smile.

Sylvia erupted in hearty laughter.

Internally, she pondered,

‘…Is this guy for real?’

She nearly let slip a curse inadvertently. She had no other recourse. Her situation was dire and serious. Horrific parasites were infesting her lungs, with the prospect of fatal diseases looming.

She felt anxious. She was afraid. She didn’t want to meet a meaningless end. Hence, she resolved to entertain this man’s suggestion and undergo treatment. She had inquired about the treatment approach, which purportedly posed no harm to plants.

‘But seriously? Uruus? Dried dung? So, I’m supposed to ingest boiled cow dung water?’

The more she ruminated on it, the more difficult it became to digest.

She chuckled incredulously.

“Are you mocking me now?”

Her expression hardened, her eyes penetrating Raciel with intensity. She was desperate and earnest, and the notion that this was all a jest sent a shiver of icy rage through her.

However, in the next moment,

“Do I appear to be joking with you?”

The crown prince’s response was stern. This compelled Sylvia to involuntarily furrow her brow.

“……What?”

“In other words, do you think I’m treating you lightly and without purpose?”

“……”

Of course.

She wanted to retort in that manner. Yet, for some reason, she couldn’t voice it. The explanation was simple. The crown prince’s gaze and demeanor unexpectedly conveyed utmost seriousness.

“This is no jest. You genuinely need to consume Uruus Coffee.”

“……”

“I don’t have the luxury of playing pranks on you. You may not be aware, but I’m someone who values time greatly. Even a day, which might seem embarrassingly brief to you, is exceedingly precious to me. So, do you believe I’d waste time teasing you?”

“No, it’s not…”

“I understand. It must be challenging to accept that boiling and consuming cow dung can heal you. It must sound ludicrous. You likely regard it as some form of quackery, correct?”

Sylvia nodded.

Raciel spoke as though comprehending it all.

“However, it’s an effective treatment method. It’s not just any cow dung—it’s from a minotaur that has ingested poison oak.”

“……”

Dung…

Sylvia suddenly had the urge to cry. She couldn’t quite grasp why tears were welling up, but the more this man explained with sincerity, the more it affected her.

However, Raciel was dead serious.

He held unwavering confidence in the ‘Uruus Coffee’ he had suggested.

‘Certainly. This isn’t just a prescription thrown together on a whim. It’s the result of high-quality information obtained through a pulse-diagnosis process, where the lungs directly consulted with the lung fluke infesting the elf’s lungs after a fishing expedition.’

This was a fact.

In fact, there had been a previous case of a lung fluke patient visiting the Korean Oriental Medicine clinic. At that time, there was no mention of poison oak or cow dung. The advice given then was straightforward: ‘Go to a general hospital and get tested.’

It was the logical course of action. The simplest and most effective way to treat lung flukes wasn’t at a clinic but at a hospital. You get tested at the hospital, receive a diagnosis, and head to the pharmacy.

‘Then they’ll prescribe lung fluke treatment medication. Some of these medications contain an ingredient called Praziquantel.’

You follow the doctor and pharmacist’s instructions, taking the medicine as prescribed. There’s nothing more to it. That’s truly the end of the story.

‘But Koreans have a peculiar habit, especially among the older generation. When something in their body aches or feels uncomfortable? They first seek out something to eat. They look for foods that are good for various ailments like enteritis or joint pain. They keep trying to heal themselves through diet.’

It was a problematic habit. Particularly for charlatans targeting such individuals, it was a habit ripe for exploitation.

‘Tsk.’

The lung fluke patient who had approached him had been just like that. They had sought treatment for their ‘qi’ and blood from another reputable healer, believing in natural healing methods that supposedly purify their vessels and eliminate the parasites, and treatments that purportedly boost their vitality. They received baseless prescriptions and missed the crucial timing for proper treatment.

That should never happen.

It’s a lesson one should remember.

If someone claims they can treat lung flukes, liver flukes, in other words, distomas, with qi therapy or constitutional therapy, that person is a fraud. You should dismiss such enticements and promptly head to a major hospital. He emphasized once more: you must do so.

‘In any case, the poison oak Uruus coffee I just mentioned would have been an unimaginable treatment method if this were in Korea.’

Raciel couldn’t help but grimace.

If someone in Korea had proposed such a treatment method to him? He would have promptly inserted an acupuncture needle into their scalp. No, perhaps he would have called the police first. “There’s a con artist here. Take them away in handcuffs immediately.”

But now, he hadn’t anticipated that he would be the one prescribing such a treatment. Yet, he had no other choice. Last night, the result of his pulse-diagnosis skill indicated that this was the correct solution.

‘Right?’

He silently questioned himself.

The response arrived promptly.

Ding-dong!

[Your five viscera and six bowels commend the lungs’ merits.]

[Heart: Remarkable, really. Who knew our lungs had such a skill?]

[Lungs: Heh… Haha… Ke.]

[Large Intestine: I never would have imagined Lung-bro could fish out a lung fluke from there.]

[Liver: Seriously, how did you even think of consulting with a lung fluke?]

[Stomach: I seriously never thought lung flukes had such tastes, keke.]

[Kidneys: Who would have predicted that, ahaha.]

[The lungs, basking in everyone’s admiration, blushed with pride. Praise can make even a whale dance. So when you want to turn someone into a breakdancer, forget the ointment and slather on the praise instead.]

“……”

A bitter laugh naturally escaped him.

Suddenly, he recalled the moment when he was conducting a pulse diagnosis on Sylvia the previous night. During that session, the lungs made an unexpectedly intriguing move.

First, the lungs attempted to hold an interview with Sylvia’s own lungs. Up to that point, it followed the usual procedure when utilizing the pulse diagnosis skill. But then came an unexpected twist.

‘The lung guy, out of nowhere, just started doing a courtship dance.’

The bronchi were sensually swaying.

The lung lobes were gently undulating.

It looked absurd, but since he had no idea what it was trying to accomplish, he allowed it to continue. To his astonishment, that courtship dance worked like a charm!

‘The lung fluke that had taken refuge in the elf’s lungs became completely infatuated, all thanks to the lung’s courtship dance. Utterly head over heels.’

That’s when the real consultation (?) began between the lungs and the lung fluke.

The lung fluke, having already reached the pinnacle of fondness for the lungs, eagerly participated in the consultation.

Thanks to this, the lung fluke spilled its guts, revealing everything from its favorite color, zodiac sign, preferred genre, future aspirations, and even its MBTI and Four Pillars of Destiny. Amongst that wealth of information? It also disclosed its most despised thing in the world.

‘It despises the smell of poison oak, particularly loathing urushiol, the primary component in poison oak, above all else.’

It was its most detested scent in existence, especially when urushiol had been ingested and broken down by herbivores with robust digestive systems. It would rather prefer a serial killer. It declared that it would rather flee to the frigid outside world and meet its doom than endure the refined scent of urushiol.

Thanks to the high-quality information provided by the lungs, he had devised a treatment method to evict the lung flukes nestled within Sylvia’s lungs.

‘The plant with the highest urushiol content is… poison oak, naturally. And if we’re talking about an herbivore with a robust digestive system… could there be a more suitable creature than an Uruus?’

Raciel shifted his gaze to the side.

There, Uruus was rolling about, contentedly chewing its cud, its belly exposed to the sky, likely digesting the poison oak it had consumed earlier that morning.

“Anyway, if you brew the dung produced by that creature and consume it, that should do the trick. Admittedly, it won’t be a delightful taste, but well, they say good medicine tastes bitter, don’t they?”

“……”

Raciel offered a faint smile, while Sylvia’s wrinkled expression showed no sign of smoothing out.

Cow dung, no matter if it was from a minotaur. The thought of brewing and ingesting that made her stomach churn. It was revolting. With the desperation of someone clinging to a precipice, she inquired,

“Pardon me, I might be willing to entertain the idea that you have a method to treat this lung fluke, but…”

“But?”

“What if, just what if, there’s another way?”

“Another way?”

“An alternative method to brewing and consuming cow dung.”

“Ah, I see.”

Sylvia nodded vigorously. Raciel offered a kind smile, as if he fully comprehended her concerns.

“Of course. I wouldn’t easily drink boiled cow dung water either. It would be quite repulsive. That’s why I’d like to share something with you.”

“What is it?”

“I hesitated to mention it earlier, fearing it might shock you, but there’s another potential risk associated with lung flukes.”

“Another… risk?”

“Yes. Have you ever heard of ectopic paragonimiasis?”

“……”

As if she ever would have.

Sylvia shook her head, a slight unease creeping over her. Raciel’s smile took on an even more benevolent tone. However, the words he uttered were far from gentle.

“Ectopic paragonimiasis occurs when the fluke, which is supposed to settle in the lungs, takes residence in an entirely different, unrelated part of the body. For instance, right here.”

Raciel pointed to Sylvia’s abdomen.

“Abdominal paragonimiasis occurs when the fluke haphazardly infiltrates organs within the abdominal cavity. It can cause havoc in the intestines or latch onto the liver, forming pus-filled cysts. But occasionally, you know, the fluke doesn’t head into the abdomen; it goes somewhere else.”

“……Where would that be?”

“The head.”

“……!”

Astonishment!

Raciel’s finger directed toward the center of Sylvia’s forehead, causing her shoulders to involuntarily twitch.

“The worst-case scenario is cerebral paragonimiasis. Literally, the fluke enters the head. Now, what’s in the head? The brain, right? So, what do you think happens if a worm decides to tap dance in your brain?”

“What does happen then?”

“What happens? It’s not good.”

“……”

“Seizures, headaches—those are just the warm-up acts. More seriously, it can lead to hemiplegia, partial paralysis, vision problems, and even meningitis. But you know what’s even worse than that?”

“There’s… something worse?”

“The fluke journeys from the brain through the optic nerve and into the eyeball. That’s where the lung fluke ends up.”

“……”

Aaaaahhhhh!

Internally, Sylvia screamed without realizing it. She vigorously nodded, unwittingly agreeing to undergo any treatment and to cooperate wholeheartedly.

Thanks to that, that evening, she became the first elf in the long and illustrious history of the continent to hastily brew and consume Minotaur dung—a truly record-setting event.