Sorcerer’s Handbook

"If you want more people to come to you for treatment, shouldn't you work on your appearance a bit?"

In the treatment room, Ashe looked at the doctor wearing a crow mask and felt a little confused: "Dressed like this, it'd be impressive if people don't suspect you of robbing missionaries, much less come to you for treatment. Is this meaningless tradition?"

"It's tradition, and it has meaning," the doctor said. "Think about it, if...just in case...I mess up while treating you, and you wake up missing some parts, when you see me looking like this, would you dare attack me?"

"I probably wouldn't dare."

"There you go."

The two stared at each other, and Ashe suddenly understood: "So the terrifying clothes and eerie treatment room ambience are just props to improve doctor-patient relationships... Wait, so the likelihood of you messing up is pretty high?"

"It's not that high, just a little bit..." The doctor's words were ambiguous, and she didn't even dare look at Ashe. It seemed like that "little bit" was about the size of the Milky Way.

Ashe said, "With this kind of service attitude, no wonder you don't have patients coming to you. I bet you didn't have much business outside either, and patients even accused you of not treating them well enough, so you had to hide here in the prison to grind experience on us prisoners who can't complain, right?"

The doctor hung her head in shame. Ashe had clearly hit the nail on the head. She defended herself softly, "I did cure them completely, but they still went around complaining and causing trouble, and some issues weren't even my fault at all, they brought it onto themselves... All I did was provide basic guaranteed treatment, yet they demanded so much more..."

It was as if Ashe had broken through her defenses. The doctor poured out her negativity as if Ashe was a trash can. To Ashe, her story was totally deserved: in this day and age when most doctors collect a consultation fee, she didn't charge anything at all and was even willing to make house calls. As a result, patients complained she didn't treat them well enough, so she couldn't make it in the city and could only come to the prison to grind experience points on death row inmates.

After listening, Ashe thought for a bit then asked, "Do you know what your weakness is?"

"I know, my skills aren't good enough..."

"It's that you don't talk firmly enough!"

"Huh?" The doctor lifted her head, confusion in her eyes behind the crow mask.

"The way you talk is so timid and lacking in confidence. If any medical accident happens, the patient will definitely come after you. Even if you don't charge money, they'll still eat you alive." Ashe lectured: "Let me teach you, when you say you might not be able to cure the illness, make your voice loud and clear, keep your back straight, and say it with a confident, proud attitude."

"Plus that's just the first step. The second step is you have to find flaws in the patient. If the patient looks good, say he lives too profligately; if he's ugly, say he has no sex life; if he's thin, say he's malnourished; if he's fat, say he overeats. There's always some criticism that fits. No one is perfect, you can definitely find a way to suppress the patient."

"As long as you do these two steps, you can establish your own authority and suppress the patient's status, creating an atmosphere of 'I'm willing to treat your illness so you should be grateful.' Even if there's a medical accident, the patient won't blame you, he might even explain it away for you."

The doctor said, "Does it really work?"

"It really does!" Ashe nodded heavily. "It's from my many years of personal experience!"

Ashe was very familiar with these kinds of workplace PUAs, first picking apart the other's flaws to suppress them, then showing your own goodwill, and the other person would be moved to tears like Stockholm syndrome, unable to resist. Fresh grads were almost defenseless against these tactics.

Of course using such foul play in the workplace deserved condemnation, but a tool itself had no inherent morality, only the heart behind it. For volunteer doctors willing to provide free healthcare even with a little risk, Ashe felt they should have an easier professional path.

"So you know what to do now?"

"What should I do?"

"From now on, no matter what operation you do, you must tell the patient: I've done my best!"

"I've done my best."

"Louder, I can't hear you!"

"I've done my best!" The doctor clenched her fist and said.

Ashe nodded satisfied. "You can slowly comprehend the rest, I should go eat now..."

The doctor was lost in thought. When Ashe had put on his shoes and was about to leave, she suddenly stopped him and asked, "Really not going to get plastic surgery? Take a look in the mirror, don't you feel going out in public like that is disrespectful to others?"

Ashe's body shook, his eyes full of the gratification of a mentorable student—Damn, she just used the skill she learned on the teacher!?

If she joined our company, she'd at least be supervisor level!

"No contrast, no harm. Compared to your ugly crow face, I suddenly feel quite handsome. Next time, I'll come find you for plastic surgery when I feel I've gotten uglier." Ashe brushed her off.

"I'm not ugly, you're the ugly one!" The doctor was so angry she wanted to take off her mask, but when her hand touched the crow mask, she heard footsteps upstairs.

She suddenly recalled something. "Right, Ashe, take this."

Ashe was handed a tag engraved with [222].

"What's this?"

The doctor said, "My ID tag. Remember to keep it on you at all times, even when you sleep, so everyone knows you're my patient."

Ashe blinked. "So which are you, GG or MM? I'm pretty easygoing, but if your specs are beyond my bottom line, I will be charging extra..."

"You don't want plastic surgery, so when you go out you'll definitely scare people into challenging you to deathmatches seven or eight times. With my ID tag, when you get beaten to a pulp, I'll have priority treatment rights. If your face gets ruined, I can help you with plastic surgery too." The doctor pushed him out. "Alright go eat, the cafeteria is about to close..."

After Ashe left, the doctor continued organizing the treatment room's tools.

Suddenly another door opened, and a tall doctor walked in. Seeing the doctor, he said harshly, "Why are you still here?"

The doctor glanced at his name tag, [176].

That's right, not only did the death row inmates not know which doctor was which, even the doctors didn't know each other's identities. Except in their own bedrooms, the doctors had to wear crow masks and ID tags to identify themselves in any public setting.

"A patient just woke up and delayed me a bit. I gave him my tag and scheduled his future treatments."

"You didn't chat with him, did you?"

The tall doctor's tone became severe.

"You know it's against regulations to interact with prisoners. Our identities need to be kept strictly confidential. If word got out we're conducting rituals here, the human rights associations would tear down the parliament..."

"I know." The doctor stuck her tongue out under the crow mask.

"Then hurry back to your room. The 11-inch blood mage thesis is due by the weekend, don't forget." The tall doctor said sternly: "Don't think you can be lazy just because you have some talent. If not for the supervisor's permission, you wouldn't even have the qualifications to be here..."

In the past, the doctor would have become apprehensive and self-reflective when criticized by a senior. But after chatting with Ashe, she suddenly had a thought.

"Is Senior deliberately criticizing my imperfections to establish his own authority and suppress my status? I got in here through the supervisor's care, something I can't change, it has nothing to do with my skills. He can always use this one thing to criticize me."

Hearing the tall doctor's worthless blather, the doctor missed the sweet-talking Ashe more and more.

Speaking of which, Ashe's recovery ability seemed much stronger than the average martial mage's. The feel of his treatment was really quite nice...

I do hope Ashe gets beaten to near death soon, the doctor thought.