Rin stepped forward.
Through the thin rubber gloves, her fingers pressed against the skin behind Qiluo's ear and slowly moved downward, tracing the path of the lymph nodes.
Her palpation technique was textbook, each step following the standard sequence.
It was clear that Qiluo was her first actual patient in a practical setting.
As her fingertips slid just above the collarbone, her movements suddenly paused.
Her patient lay quietly on the examination table, her collar open to reveal a clear silhouette.
Under the soft lights of the examination room, her skin gleamed gently, the shallow hollow of her collarbone rising and falling slightly with her breathing.
The act of unbuttoning her shirt earlier had been completely casual, but it was precisely that casualness that lent the current scene an implication she was reluctant to admit.
Below the collarbone was a tiny mole, positioned so perfectly that it seemed to play hide-and-seek right at the edge of the collar.
It was small and light in color; she would never have noticed it if she hadn't been this close.
But now, she had.
Her gaze lingered on the mole for half a second before she forced herself to look away.
The collar fell open slightly because of the undone button, the edge of the V-neck shifting gently with each breath, revealing just a little bit more with every rise and fall.
It wasn't intentional, and precisely because it wasn't intentional, she had no idea where to look.
Don't look down.
Her professional ethics sounded alarms in her head, but that soft curve remained at the edge of her vision, rising and falling gently with Qiluo's steady breathing.
She pressed her fingers back onto the collarbone to resume the palpation, though her touch was now a few degrees lighter than before.
She realized her fingers were trembling.
She had done this countless times in the medical school training rooms, on models and classmates.
Yet never had she needed to consciously control her finger pressure like this, terrified that pressing too hard might hurt the other person.
This was completely different from what she had been taught.
For the first time, she realized how incredibly difficult actual practice could be.
She wished Qiluo would button her collar back up.
On top of that, she was the friend Yuki liked so much.
This realization made Rin Kurokawa's fingers feel exceptionally heavy.
No, no, this is just a routine medical examination.
Rin Kurokawa's fingers rested above Qiluo's collarbone. Through the thin rubber gloves, she could clearly feel the smooth skin beneath her fingertips.
Under the soft lights of the examination room, it traced an elegant curve. Her skin was so fine that pores were practically invisible, resembling delicate white porcelain.
She forced her fingers to continue moving downward, following the textbook instructions.
But the sensation transmitting from her fingertips was far more concrete than any description in her textbooks.
If her gaze slipped any further, she wouldn't be able to hide it anymore.
She began to berate herself internally.
Why are you looking at her? Does what the patient looks like have anything to do with the examination results?
No. Then why are you still looking? Your hand isn't even moving. You're frozen.
The professors at medical school praised your perfect palpation technique, and look at you now.
And she's Yuki's friend.
Yuki treasures her as the most important person in her life. Yuki has never treated anyone else like this.
What are you doing right now? You are touching the person closest to Yuki's heart under the guise of a medical exam. Which of these messy thoughts in your head is worthy of Yuki?
She pulled her gaze away from the edge of the collar and focused back on the monitor, forcing herself to record the remaining data. When she wrote down the diagnostic conclusion on the form, her handwriting was noticeably heavier than usual.
“...The palpation results are normal. You may sit up.”
Qiluo obligingly sat up and refastened the button at her collar.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Her tone carried no excessive familiarity, nor did it hold any deliberate distance.
She simply fastened her button, casually raised her eyes to meet Rin Kurokawa's gaze before the doctor could fully look away, and offered a soft smile.
She was merely thanking a conscientious doctor.
As for how the other person interpreted that smile, that was her own business.
Qiluo could feel her tension. That restraint and struggle actually made Qiluo feel a bit... amused.
Rin thought she was making a mistake, but Qiluo found her behavior rather cute.
It was a mindset quite similar to Yuki's.
It seemed this older sister wasn't nearly as composed as she pretended to be.
Still, Qiluo decided to pretend she hadn't noticed anything.
After all, Rin Kurokawa was working hard to maintain her image as a professional doctor, and ruining someone else's efforts didn't fit Qiluo's style.
Thinking too much doesn't suit a doctor, Miss Rin Kurokawa.
“The mana residue scan is here. Please step into the detection capsule, place your hands on the sensor plates, and remain still for two minutes.”
Rin Kurokawa pushed open the door to the detection room and pointed to the cylindrical detection capsule in the center of the room.
The outer wall of the capsule was a translucent, milky-white material, and the interior was embedded with several slowly rotating sensor rings.
Qiluo stepped inside. The capsule door slid shut silently, and the sensor rings began to move from top to bottom.
Closing her eyes, she began to adjust the mana fluctuations within her body.
When ordinary people came into close contact with an Erosion Body, trace amounts of mana would remain on their skin, typically showing up on the analyzer as a three to five percent increase over the baseline value.
She carefully suppressed her own mana to this range, allowing the warm white glow to withdraw deep into her circuits, shrinking into a barely perceptible trickle.
By the time the sensor ring reached its third rotation, her consciousness drifted slightly.
The interior of the detection capsule was incredibly quiet, save for the faint hum of the moving sensor rings. Such a closed environment made it easy to lose track of time.
Keeping her eyes closed, she held her mana steadily within the pre-planned range.
As she controlled her mana, she caught wind of another mana fluctuation.
It came from the direction of the distant inpatient department, passing through several floors and walls to enter her range of perception.
It was a peculiar fluctuation—extremely faint, almost entirely drowned out by the city's ambient mana.
Yet it was remarkably stable, persisting in an incredibly slow, rhythmic beat.
Qiluo's brow twitched imperceptibly.
She had seen similar mana waveforms in the medical clinic of the observatory in her original world.
This occurred when external mana contaminated one's own magic circuits.
It would cause the body to enter a self-protective dormant state, where the magic circuits ran on extremely low power, waiting for external stimulation or self-repair.
However, this state could usually only be maintained for a few months. Any longer, and the circuits would gradually atrophy until they could never wake up again.
Fortunately, back in her world, this condition had already become as easy to treat as a common cold.
But the fluctuation she had just captured, though stable in rhythm, was already extremely weak.
Like someone who had held their breath underwater for too long and was about to give out.
She withdrew her perception, choosing not to investigate any further in that direction.
The humming stopped, and the capsule door slid open automatically.
Rin Kurokawa stood in front of the console, the screen displaying the complete results of the mana residue scan.
“It's within the normal range, slightly above average.”
She paused. “All your physical examination results are normal. You may leave now. The report will be sent to your school within three business days.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Qiluo said, stepping out of the detection capsule and tugging down the hem of her school uniform blazer.
Rin Kurokawa signed the form with her head down, then looked up.
Her hesitation lasted only a brief moment. Before she spoke, her lips pursed slightly—a habit Yuki also had when she was nervous.
“...I've heard Yuki mention you.”
Qiluo slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and turned to look at her.
After waiting so long, you've finally decided to speak up?
I thought she wouldn't bring it up at all.
“I didn't say anything during the palpation because I felt it wasn't appropriate to bring up in the examination room. But the exam is over now, so—”
Rin Kurokawa handed the copy of the physical examination form to Qiluo. “Thank you for being friends with Yuki.”
It felt as though she was entrusting something of immense importance to someone she didn't know well yet but was willing to trust for the moment.
“Yuki is a wonderful person. Being her friend isn't something you need to thank me for.”
Qiluo folded the form and slipped it into her pocket, offering nothing more.
As she pushed open the door to the detection room, she paused. “Dr. Kurokawa, I think you should also try making a friend, just like Yuki.”
As she walked down the corridor, the mana fluctuation from the direction of the inpatient department faintly drifted over once more.
She turned her head to look toward the inpatient building. The windows reflected the harsh glare of the afternoon sun, completely obscuring the view of any of the hospital rooms.
Rate on N.U.
