TL/N: All I wanna say I'm not going to upload this fanfict as consistently as my other translation im currently working on. Also im currently busy with school and cause the guy in my P@treon prefers the other work so gg pay to win.
As soon as the door to Vail's home was opened, a foul stench hit them. Lisa quickly pulled out a handkerchief to cover her nose. It was easy to imagine the pitiful state of a man who was paralyzed from the waist down and had no one to care for him.
Hobert waved his hand in front of his nose to fan away the smell as he stepped inside. The room was mostly empty of anything valuable, clearly having been looted. A man in his forties lay on the bed, his face covered in stubble, looking disheveled—this was the injured Vail. Moldy food and empty wine bottles were scattered on the floor, and Vail held a bottle of liquor in his hand, glaring at Hobert with bloodshot eyes. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Who I am isn't important," Hobert said as he opened a window to let in some air. "Where are your parents?"
Vail sneered, "They're dead."
"And your wife?"
"That bitch ran off long ago!" She had even taken the savings he had accumulated over the years.
Hobert calmly said, "Let me make a bold guess: in your current state, you probably won't survive more than half a month."
Vail stared at Hobert, "What do you want? I don't remember offending you."
"Perhaps I could give you some money to hire a maid to take care of you for a while, until you get used to being paralyzed," Hobert suggested, coaxing him.
Vail was initially incredulous, but then seemed to understand. "What do you need me to do?"
Hobert didn't beat around the bush. "Withdraw the charges against Xio."
Vail spat out bitterly, "That's impossible! She's the reason I lost my legs—let her rot in prison for life!"
"You didn't die on the spot," Hobert said. "So, it's only considered intentional injury. With me defending her, she'd be out in three or four years at most."
"Oh, Goddess, look at the state of the world today!" Vail drunkenly shouted. "The person who crippled me doesn't even get the punishment they deserve!"
Annoyed, Hobert waved his hand dismissively. "Enough. The fact that you're still alive is the greatest mercy from the Goddess. Let's talk business. I'll give you 300 pounds, and you withdraw the charges. Or, in half a month, I'll come to collect your corpse."
Hobert was trying, albeit clumsily, to use his ability to "distort" Vail's thoughts. However, Vail simply glared at Hobert, breathing heavily before finally saying, "I want 3,000 pounds."
Hobert was a bit disappointed. It was clear that his "distortion" ability hadn't had much effect.
The young man who had brought Hobert over was eavesdropping outside. When he heard Vail's demand, he was stunned.
"I'll agree to your demand," Hobert said with a smile, "and then spend 100 pounds to hire someone to kill you after you withdraw the charges."
Vail was visibly frightened by Hobert's cheerful expression.
"Brother, your asking price is too high," Hobert said.
"Then make it 2,000 pounds, no less," Vail countered.
Hobert shook his head again.
Vail sneered, "I'm a dead man walking anyway. Young lawyer, come collect my body in half a month. But make sure that damned arbitrator is ready to go to prison."
Hobert thought for a moment. "Let's change the terms. I'll find a doctor who can help you walk again, and then you withdraw the charges."
Vail was initially excited but then slumped back down, shaking his head in despair. "I've seen many doctors. They all said I'll never walk again."
Hobert continued to use his "distortion" ability to influence Vail's thoughts, speaking coldly. "With the kind of doctors you can afford?"
Vail paused, as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. Of course, what kind of good doctors could a thug from the East End afford? The doctor he'd seen in the hospital in the Joewood District was the best he'd ever met.
Hope rekindled in him. "If you can cure me, I'll take the 300 pounds…"
Hobert cut him off. "You can only choose one—either the money or the treatment. My patience is limited. If you keep playing hardball, you'll get nothing."
He was feeling a bit excited because his influence seemed to be working.
"Okay, okay, I choose the treatment!" Vail agreed. "But I'll only withdraw the charges after I see some improvement."
Hobert nodded and then called out to the young man peeking in from outside. "What's your name?"
"Peter, sir. My name is Peter."
Hobert took out another pound note. "Alright, Peter, are you willing to run some errands for me today? If you do, you'll earn another pound."
Peter quickly stepped inside and reached out for the note. "Of course!"
But Hobert pulled the money back. "You'll get it after you complete your tasks. Now, go find four homeless men and tell them I'm hiring them for the day. I'll pay them 6 soli each."
"Happy to oblige." Peter quickly ran off.
He soon returned with four homeless men, and Hobert then had Peter rent a carriage. The homeless men carried Vail to a nearby bathhouse, where Hobert arranged for him to get a shave and a haircut.
By the time they emerged from the bathhouse, Vail, now being carried by the homeless men, looked at least ten years younger.
It was now noon, so Hobert found a nearby café for lunch and invited the four homeless men to join them. The homeless men were grateful to Hobert, two of them even shedding tears—they hadn't had a proper meal in a long time.
Hobert kept reminding them to eat slowly so they wouldn't choke on the food.
The meal was greasy and heavy, but Hobert finished it all. After walking around the East End, he felt that any waste of food would be shameful.
However, Lisa seemed to have no appetite. She barely touched the lunch ordered for her, so with her permission, Hobert divided it among the four homeless men.
After lunch, Hobert instructed the coachman, "Head to Riverside Avenue in the South Bridge District."
The coachman asked, "Sir, do you have a specific house number?"
"I've forgotten. When we reach Riverside Avenue, I'll get out and ask for directions." Hobert was telling the truth—he'd only seen the vampire Dr. White's address a few times, and remembering that it was on Riverside Avenue was already an achievement.
As the carriage began to move, Lisa, sitting in the front carriage, asked with some concern, "Mr. Hobert, I'm not a doctor, but even I can tell that Vail's injuries are severe. Are you confident you can cure him?"
Hobert smiled. "Whether we can cure him or not isn't up to me—it's up to the doctor."
He added, "However, the doctor I know is very special and highly skilled. If he says it can't be cured, then Vail is truly beyond help."
Lisa didn't continue the conversation, and the carriage fell silent once more.
When they reached Riverside Avenue, where most of the residents were middle-class families, walking down the street made one feel like they were back in civilization.
Hobert got out and asked a passerby for directions, quickly learning the address of Dr. White, who was known for his "bloodletting" treatments: 48 Riverside Avenue.
When the door at 48 Riverside Avenue opened, a young vampire—no, a young man—greeted them. "Who are you looking for?"
Hobert asked, "We're here to see Dr. White. Are you Dr. White?"
"No, I'm his son, Emlyn White."
End of Chapter
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