Sorcerer Manual - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Ash’s Workplace Mini-Training

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

“If you want more people to be treated by you, shouldn’t you put more effort into your appearance?”

In the treatment room, Ash looked at the medic in the crow mask and wondered. “If you are all dressed like this, you’d be lucky if people don’t suspect you of being robbers or missionaries, never mind ask to be treated. Or is this a meaningless tradition?”

“It’s a tradition, and it’s meaningful,” said the medic. “Think about it. Think about it. What if… in case… just in case something happens to you while I’m treating you, and you wake up to find some parts missing, would you dare to attack me when you see what I look like?”

“Not really.”

“That’s right.”

The two of them looked at each other. Then, it suddenly dawned on Ash. “So that’s why your clothes are so scary, and the treatment room is so weird. They’re all props to improve the relationship between medics and patients… Wait, so there is a high probability of something going wrong with your treatment?”

“It’s not that high, there’s just a slight possibility…” The medic spoke vaguely, not even daring to look at Ash. It seemed that this slight possibility might be about the size of the Milky Way.

Ash said, “Your service attitude won’t do. You definitely don’t have many patients looking for you outside either, right? You even get accused by the patients of providing subpar treatment, so you have no choice but to hide in prison to gain experience from criminals like us, who can’t complain. Is that right?”

The medic lowered her head in shame. It was obvious that Ash had hit the mark. She explained in a low voice, “I’ve clearly cured them, but they still went around complaining and causing trouble. Furthermore, some of the problems had nothing to do with me at all—those problems were of their own making… I was clearly only providing the most basic treatment, but they had so many requests…”

As if her defenses had been broken through by Ash, the medic poured out her negative emotions like Ash was a trash can. The way Ash saw her story, she deserved what she got: in an era where most medics would accept a little money as consultation fees, she actually didn’t want any money and was even willing to provide doorstep treatment. In the end, the patients complained that her treatment wasn’t good enough, so she couldn’t survive in the city and could only come to the prison to farm experience.

After hearing this, Ash thought about it and asked, “Do you know what your flaw is?”

“I know, it’s that I’m not skilled enough…”

“It’s that you’re not forceful enough with the way you speak!”

“Huh?” The medic looked up. Her eyes behind the crow mask were filled with confusion.

“The way you speak is weak and lacking in confidence. Once there’s a medical accident, the patient will definitely find trouble with you. Even if you don’t accept money, you will still be at their complete mercy.” Ash instructed her, “Let me teach you. When you say that you might not be able to treat an illness, your voice must be loud, your back must be straight, and you must speak with confidence and pride.”

“And that’s only the first step. The second step is that you have to find a patient’s shortcomings. If the patient is good-looking, you can say that he lives too loosely. If the patient is ugly, you can say that he doesn’t have a sex life. If the patient is thin, you can say that he’s undernourished. If the patient is fat, you can say that he’s overnourished. There’s always a criticism that suits you. No one is perfect. You can definitely find something to suppress the patient with.”

“As long as you can accomplish these two steps, you will be able to establish your own authority, suppress the patient’s status, and create a sense of ‘you should be grateful that I’m willing to treat your illness’. Even if something goes wrong with your treatment, not only will the patient not blame you, he will even explain it in your defense.”

The medic asked, “Is it really effective?”

“Yes!” Ash nodded forcefully. “This is my personal experience for many years!”

Ash was very familiar with this kind of workplace abuse. They would nitpick the other party’s flaws before showing their goodwill. This would make the other party as grateful as victims of Stockholm Syndrome. A new graduate would almost be helpless to resist such a move.

This kind of forbidden technique in the workplace, of course, deserved to be dragged to the shooting range. But as the saying went: weapons are not good or evil; intentions are. For a volunteer medical worker like the medic, who was willing to provide free medical treatment, even if there were a little side effects, Ash still felt that it should be used to make her career path easier.

“So, do you know what to do?”

“What should I do?”

“No matter what surgery you perform in the future, you have to 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 medic said as she clenched her fists tightly.

Ash nodded in satisfaction. “Just take your time to comprehend the rest. It’s time for me to take my meal…”

The medic was deep in thought. When Ash was about to leave after putting on his shoes, she suddenly stopped him and asked, “Are you really not planning to undergo plastic surgery? Look at your face in the mirror. Don’t you feel that walking in public like this is disrespectful to others?”

Ash’s body shook, and his eyes were filled with the gratification of finding a promising student—goodness, she was using the skill she had just learned on her teacher!?

If she joined our company, she would be powerful enough to at least become a team leader!

“There’s no injury without comparison. Compared to your ugly crow face, I suddenly feel that I’m quite handsome. Maybe next time. If I feel that I’ve become ugly next time, I’ll find you for plastic surgery,” said Ash perfunctorily.

“I’m not ugly, you’re the ugly one!” The medic was so angry that she wanted to take off her mask, but just as her hand touched the crow mask, she heard footsteps coming from upstairs.

She suddenly remembered something. “Right. Take this, Ash.”

She stuffed a name badge with [222] written on it into Ash’s hands.

“What is this?”

The medic said, “My number badge. Remember to bring it with you every minute of the day, even when you’re sleeping. This way, everyone will know that you are mine.”

Ash blinked. “So, what race are you exactly, and are you a dude or a lady? I may be a very casual person, but if your terms go beyond my bottom line, I’ll have to ask for a higher price…”

“Since you’re not doing plastic surgery, if you walk out, you’ll definitely scare people into starting deathmatches with you seven or eight times. You have my number badge with you, so when you’re beaten into minced meat in the future, I’ll have priority treatment rights. If your face is mashed, I can also take the chance to help you with plastic surgery.” The medic pushed him out. “Okay, hurry up and go eat. The dining hall is closing soon…”

Ash thought for a moment, then put the name badge in his pocket. “By the way,” he asked suddenly, “if I come by next time, can you cut me an apple?”

The medic was stunned for a moment. “Sure.”

Good. Target achieved.

Don’t think that it’s because Ash was bored. This was the secret to his workplace relationships—getting others to help him with something insignificant was a shortcut to getting closer to them. “Being needed” was a high-level emotional need. It was through this method that he obtained the most votes in the “Top Ten Employees” poll, and successfully received an additional six months’ bonus.

“Let’s have dinner together when you’re free. I’ll take my leave then,” said Ash. “See you next time, [222]… I almost forgot to say thank you.”

“If you want to thank me, let me help you with plastic surgery—”

“Next time, next time for sure!”

After Ash had left, the medic continued sorting through the tools in the treatment room.

Suddenly, another door opened and a tall medic walked in. He looked at the medic and said sternly, “Why are you still here?”

The medic glanced at his work badge. It was [176].

That’s right. Not only did the death row criminals not know who the medics were, even the medics did not know each other’s identities. Other than in their own dormitory, in any other public locations, the medics had to wear a crow mask and identify each other with work badges.

“There was a patient who just woke up, so I was delayed for a while. I gave him my name badge and reserved his future treatment.”

“You didn’t talk to him, did you?”

The tall medic’s tone became serious.

“You should know that it’s against the rules to communicate with prisoners. Our identities need to be kept strictly secret. If word of our ritual here gets out, the Human Rights Society will tear down the council…”

“I know.” The medic stuck out her tongue under the crow mask.

“Then hurry up and go back to your room. Don’t forget to submit the 11-inch blood spell paper by the weekend,” the tall medic said seriously. “Don’t think that you can be lazy just because you have some innate talent. If it weren’t for the leader’s permission, you wouldn’t even have the right to be here…”

If it was in the past, the medic would have become nervous and started reflecting on herself upon hearing her senior’s criticism. However, after chatting with Ash, an idea suddenly came to the medic.

‘Is my senior deliberately criticizing my imperfections to establish his own authority and suppress my status? I entered through my connection to the leader, which is something I can’t change. It has nothing to do with my skills at all. He will always be able to use this to criticize me.’

As she listened to the tall medic’s meaningless speech, the medic grew to miss Ash for his pleasant talk.

Come to think of it, the restorative ability of Ash’s body seemed to be much stronger than that of ordinary Physical Masters. The sensation during treatment was really good…

‘How I wish Ash will be beaten to the brink of death soon’, thought the medic..