NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1
Chapter 1. The Imperial Princess’s Doctor Quits (1)
****
This happened a few years ago. Or so I remember.
I was a doctor in my past life—specifically, an emergency medicine physician at some university hospital. That day, like any other, I was working in the ER.
But during my graveyard shift guarding the hospital’s ER, I died after being hit by a hammer-wielding maniac. The culprit seemed to be someone with grievances against society, though I didn’t get all the details since I had already kicked the bucket before they finished explaining.
Such incidents aren’t entirely uncommon in ERs at night… Though successful attacks are rare, his timing was impeccable—if only he’d swung just a bit later, maybe I could’ve heard part two of his manifesto or something. Pathetic, really.
As a doctor dying in a hospital… what a way to go. Once your skull gets bashed in by a hammer, there’s not much you can do besides pray—or even that’s hard when you’re bleeding out everywhere.
Born in a hospital, lived in a hospital, and died in one too. My short life ended due to such a trivial accident. But then, I woke up as a healer in the imperial palace of another world.
Random reincarnation into an alternate universe.
I don’t know exactly which world I reincarnated into. It doesn’t feel completely realistic, so it might be some sort of fictional setting.
A centralized empire filled with absurdly powerful yet oddly idle noble families, decent living standards for the medieval era—it must’ve been a low-fantasy kind of place, right?
There were no works featuring Imperial Princess Mint in my memory, so this was all guesswork on my part.
Well, no use crying over spilled milk. At least healers here carry staves around, so I’m not worried about encountering another guy with a hammer anymore.
What’s a staff? A giant stick taller than me—perfect for smashing heads if anyone tries pulling out a hammer next time!
…
Not that I came here to talk about hammers.
What was I saying again?
Anyway. That’s how I became the imperial healer. The main concern among the palace healers? The mysterious lung ailment plaguing the imperial princess.
Diagnosis and treatment weren’t difficult.
Symptoms included sudden respiratory distress, coughing, shortness of breath during exercise—all classic signs of allergic asthma. And the likely cause was obvious.
The imperial palace burns through five thousand candles every single day.
Those idiots.
And it’s not like the palace has proper ventilation or fans installed. With everyone breathing in candle smoke all day, getting sick is practically inevitable.
It’s miraculous anyone *doesn’t* develop lung problems here. As soon as I entered the palace, I started coughing constantly. The princess probably had paraffin wax or smoke allergies.
In conclusion, I diagnosed her condition as allergic asthma.
Asthma occurs when the bronchial tubes constrict abnormally, making it hard to exhale and causing shortness of breath.
To diagnose asthma, we usually perform methacholine challenge tests, pulmonary function tests, allergy blood tests, and skin patch tests—but none of those methods were available here. Still, based on circumstantial evidence, I began treatment assuming it was asthma.
Since the princess exhibited clear symptoms of asthma, we started treating her accordingly.
First things first: those damn candles.
Even aside from the fire hazard, the constant smell of wax and smoke was driving me insane.
After replacing the ten thousand palace candles with glowing stone lamps and using some medicines from my previous life’s special ability, the princess recovered.
– Thanks to the unnamed healer, the curse upon the princess has been lifted! It’s a miracle!
I tried explaining to the royal family that her illness wasn’t a curse, but nobody believed me. They were too busy celebrating the “miracle.”
To be precise, I used long-acting beta-2 agonists and bronchodilators to treat her mild asthma. Oh, and what’s this “previous life special ability” nonsense?
Through my special ability, I can summon medicine. Not exactly glamorous, I know, but hey, you don’t get to pick these things.
Wouldn’t it have been cooler to become a great sorcerer or hero instead of continuing my old job in a fantasy world? So embarrassing.
Still, I managed to cure the princess’s asthma successfully. Since she got better, I’ve mostly been twiddling my thumbs around the palace.
Doing nothing is nice sometimes.
It was even one of my life goals back in the day.
However, after spending about a year doing absolutely nothing, my perspective changed. This isn’t boredom—it’s laziness. Besides, doctors belong by their patients’ sides, right?
Let me get serious for a moment. How many people in this world and era are suffering or dying because of outdated medical knowledge?
It’s not because I’m bored. No, I want to leave the palace and help real patients who need care.
Will they understand?
****
They didn’t.
Arcana Empire. Audience Chamber of the Imperial Palace.
I knelt on one knee before the audience chamber floor while the princess sat on her throne at its center, looking slightly annoyed.
“A humble subject greets Your Majesty… uh, whatever the title is.”
“Wow, you’re leaving already? Guess you’re tired of reciting honorifics too, huh?”
This is Princess Minaletia, aka Mint.
Until a year ago, she was known as the frail princess—but now she’s transformed into the epitome of arrogant nobility.
People call her the empire’s most precious daughter, but isn’t that a bit exaggerated? There must be someone prettier than Princess Mint if you look hard enough.
Regarding titles… yeah, they’re kinda annoying.
I mean, they seem to change every month. Trying to memorize each new variation is exhausting.
Lately, I’ve been winging it. Haven’t gotten scolded for it in a while, though.
“I forgot. You changed it recently.”
“In any case, your resignation won’t be accepted.”
“Is there even a law preventing resignation?”
“It’s my decision.”
Ugh, my legs hurt.
Sitting cross-legged on the audience chamber floor, I crossed my arms. The princess rested her chin on her hand and looked down at me, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
“Crazy bastard. Why don’t you bring a pillow and lie down?”
“Your Highness, if you won’t accept my resignation, I’ll stop working. If you keep refusing, I’ll eventually do just that.”
She chuckled mockingly.
“Teacher Asterix. Don’t work, then. What does it matter to me whether you do or don’t?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do whatever you want. Play around, let other healers handle palace duties.”
Whoa, this isn’t going according to plan.
An unexpected turn of events.
“Apologies, Your Highness, but please grant my resignation.”
“Why are you so determined to leave the imperial court? Surely there must be a valid reason, right?”
“There are no patients in the imperial court.”
“What about me?”
I shook my head.
“Hasn’t Your Highness been cured for quite some time now? Removing the candles alone greatly alleviated your asthma symptoms. We did use some medication, but…”
Royals may not be superhuman, but they sure act like it. Aside from the princess’s unique case, I’ve never seen any other royals fall ill—not even a common cold.
These days, my primary duty involves dispensing aspirin to servants who come by the infirmary either to slack off or gawk at my previous-life abilities.
There are plenty of other healers in the palace too. Honestly, the tapestries hanging around are busier than me. Conversations with the princess always end with her sighing or scratching her head.
Or worse, breaking something.
“Asterix, I may not fully grasp healing magic, but my illness was a curse that no healer in the empire could cure—until you came along.”
I shook my head again.
“That wasn’t a curse; it was asthma, a condition where specific substances trigger constriction in the bronchial tubes within the lungs. Simply removing the allergens and inhaling corticosteroids would’ve managed the symptoms easily—”
The princess waved her hand dismissively.
“Details don’t matter, smarty-pants. I didn’t ask for a lecture on healing techniques. Why don’t you want to stay as the royal physician?”
“Forgive me.”
“Are you upset about something?”
“It’s more than one thing, but if you’d give me a few days, I could write them all down…”
“Oh dear, asking was a mistake.”
I paused, searching for the right words.
“There are no patients in the imperial court.”
“Healer, how can you say that? There are so many people in the palace. Why would there be no patients?”
“I apologize, but prescribing headache pills and cold remedies all day has grown tiresome. Isn’t it a doctor’s duty to educate future generations and treat patients? Please allow my resignation.”
“Asterix, when did you start caring so much about lofty ideals? Are you really not just trying to escape from the royal court?”
“It’s not that I—”
The princess cut me off.
“You find treating the royal family boring and want to leave? You deserve death for such insolence. Asterix, you can’t resign until the day you die.”
“No, Your Highness, please!”
“Asterix. Who asked you to do anything? You can sit around doing nothing if you prefer, or conduct whatever research you desire in some quiet corner of the palace. Is staying as the royal physician really such an unreasonable request?”
Princess Mint stared down at me.
“I will not change my mind.”
I bowed my head.
The princess inspected her nails pensively for a moment. Would she finally let me go?
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