Chương 500: B8—Chapter 7: Pride and Philanthropy

For the next three days, I healed and healed kids, ten and under, with all kinds of problems, thankfully none of them too serious. The first kid I treated had been the worst of the lot, but there was still plenty of work to go around. Of course, like always with kids and especially boys, there were endless bruises, scrapes, twisted ankles, and sore wrists from roughhousing, climbing things they shouldn't, and falling off things they absolutely knew they shouldn't climb.

Beyond that, there were lingering colds that never quite cleared, ear infections, nasty coughs, and inflamed throats from damp rooms. I fixed crooked fingers that had healed wrong, joints that had taken one knock too many, and old muscle strains. A few had skin infections from cuts that hadn't been cleaned properly, and more than one kid had chronic headaches from untreated fevers months back.

Nothing life-threatening, just the steady accumulation of minor problems that pile up when there's no healer around to catch them early. None of them were exactly malnourished in the medical sense, but it was obvious they didn't get enough food, and especially not the kind of food young bodies need, like fruits and vegetables. As a result, on top of everything else, I dealt with weakened immune systems, slow healing, brittle nails, and mouth sores.

Some had bone growth that lagged behind where it should've been; others tired too quickly or struggled to build any real strength. It wasn't starvation, just constant shortage, the kind that doesn't kill you outright but quietly stacks the deck against you year after year. After three days, the flow finally slowed, and I thought I was close to finishing with the healing and ready to start on repairs.

That was when I discovered I'd only treated the kids from the main building, and that the place had several more sections that weren't visible from the front. The mansion housing the orphanage was huge. The main building up front was built as a square around a large courtyard, but from there it sprawled outward in every direction. Long wings branched off unevenly, some still standing, others half-lost to collapses and crude repairs.

Courtyards opened into more courtyards, connected by covered passages that led into smaller buildings: old service quarters, storage halls, former guest wings, all spreading out in every direction. Rooflines rose and dropped at different heights, with corner blocks and partial towers breaking up the shape, and every turn revealed another section tucked behind the last.

More than half of it was in serious disrepair or outright destroyed, yet even with thousands of square meters still usable, I couldn't figure out where they housed so many kids. The main building with the courtyard I'd seen at first turned out to be only for the youngest children. The other buildings housed progressively older kids, with the structures at the far edges of the enormous compound reserved for the oldest ones, the ones who, by law, should've left a while back.

When Titi led me on a tour of the place, and I finally saw how big it was and how many kids it housed, I must admit I felt seriously overwhelmed.

"How do you support all of them with donations?" I asked. She slowed, then stopped altogether. Her shoulders tightened, and she looked away, fingers worrying at the edge of her sleeve. For a long moment, she didn't answer. Finally, she dropped her gaze to the floor and mumbled, "Some of the older kids beg on the streets and bring in money for food." I stepped closer and gently tipped her chin up until she met my eyes.

"Don't feel embarrassed," I said quietly.

"You do what you have to survive. That's nothing to be ashamed of." She pulled her chin out of my hand, let out a tired sigh, and nodded.

"I know." After a pause, she added, "We have some children who work as runners for businesses around the city to help support the place, but it's not enough." Her mouth tightened.

"So I send the cute ones out to beg. We don't have a choice." I turned fully toward her and placed my hands on her shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze until I was sure she was really looking at me.

"You're doing an amazing job," I said.

"Don't let anybody tell you otherwise." She nodded, but the dejected look didn't quite leave her face. After a moment, she looked away again, shoulders sagging just a little. I let the subject drop. Seeing the extent of the work needed for the repairs, and even more so for the healing of several thousand kids, I decided it was time to recruit the rest of the gang.

Rue was already part of the effort, of course, but his main contribution was keeping the kids occupied with games or rounding up new groups and sending them to my treatment room whenever I sent him a message. I'll admit that Mahya and Al sometimes got on my nerves. More than sometimes. Mahya was too explosive, at least before this world, and Al was too uptight for his own good. Still, moments like this were exactly why I traveled with those two amazing individuals.

Once I explained the situation and the sheer scale of the work ahead, Mahya crossed her arms and scowled at me.

"You know," she said, "one day your philanthropic tendencies are going to get us buried under a mountain of work."

"Probably," I agreed. She snorted, shook her head, and muttered something unflattering under her breath, then pulled out a notebook.

"Fine. What do you want me to do?" That was Mahya. She complained, griped, and made sure everyone knew exactly how she felt, but once she committed, she went at it with more energy than anyone else. I'd learned that back in Sanctuary. Al listened in silence, hands folded. When I finished, he nodded once.

"I will see what I can do." Then he stood up and went straight to his lab. That was all it took. I looked back at Mahya.

"Before you start making lists, you should see the place. That way you'll know what's actually needed." She slid the notebook back into Storage, made a face at me, and nodded.

"Fine. Tomorrow." The next day, I took them to the orphanage, introduced them to Sister Titi, and left them to figure out between themselves what they wanted to work on. I walked the entire place again on my own, then picked an almost ruined short tower and got to work. I split my mind into six and moved stones back into place, binding them as I went. The tower had probably been damaged during the uprising, or at least that was my guess based on the amount of moss growing on the stones scattered all around it.

Clean did its job on the stone itself, but the moss stayed put. Sometimes, I really didn't understand the logic of that spell. Sure, moss is a plant, so technically not dirt, I got that. But it was growing on a building stone, which should have made it dirt by association. Apparently, the spell disagreed. Fortunately for me, I had my amazing and criminally under-appreciated Aggressive Clean spell. That one removed everything.

I finished fixing the tower in the late evening and even redesigned some of its internal structure. The bottom floor became a large waiting room, and I took out all the spare couches I had, mostly from the Lord of Lightning dungeon, and arranged them in small groupings. Next came the treatment room, with all the necessary furniture and, of course, a bowl of sweets. Every kid got a candy after the treatment. It's tradition. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent.

Report any appearances on Amazon. The upper two floors each held four rooms. I rerouted the stairs, so they now wrapped around the inside of the tower, fully enclosed by walls, rather than the old design that had them running straight up through the middle. For that, I didn't have enough usable stone from the original structure, but Rue helped me out. He gathered stones scattered around the compound, stored them, and brought them over as needed. When I was done, I stood outside and admired my handiwork.

Elemental affinities were just amazing. No other word really fit. Looking back on my life before the Gate, if anyone had told me that one day I'd be rebuilding towers with magic, and doing it in a single day, I'd have sent them to see a shrink. But here I was, standing in front of a solid, fully restored tower that, not that long ago, had been a half-demolished ground floor and a sad mound of stones. And the best part was that I knew it was structurally sound.

It would take an unbelievable amount of force to bring it down again. On top of the carefully fitted stones that could've held even without magic, every block was now bound with mana. You'd need a dedicated Earth Wizard to unbind it properly. Yeah. I was feeling proud. Sue me. The following day, I got back to healing. I chose the tower location specifically. It was right in the middle of the compound.

Rue was responsible for rounding patients and telling them to wait in the new waiting room, and even recruited a cute thirteen-year-old kid to function as my assistant. His name was Tari, and his job was to call in the next one. With the new energy spells I had, I didn't even need to feed the kids before and after treatment to replenish energy and help their bodies to deal with the healing. The job turned into a sort of conveyor belt.

Life Sense to catch everything that was wrong, healing and energy spells as needed, a piece of candy handed out at the end by Tari, who occasionally swiped one for himself as payment, and then on to the next kid. Over and over, until the rhythm settled in and the hours blurred together. By late afternoon, my mana was running dangerously low.

I sent Tari out to let the others know it'd take a while before I could continue, fed both of us, and sat down to actively regenerate while translating the original medical texts I'd written for Rima into the local language. I was pretty sure they'd appreciate having a Healer of their own. It felt like the right thing to leave behind. While we ate, Tari talked. About the place, about himself. I learned that all the caretakers had grown up in the orphanage and stayed on to take care of the next generation.

Tari himself wasn't from the capital, but from a town he described as "almost a season away." He couldn't be more specific than that. His father had died in a mine when Tari was nine. His mother followed not long after, during childbirth. A childless couple took in his baby sister, but they didn't want a grown boy, so a merchant caravan brought Tari to the orphanage, one of many tasked with rounding up orphans and delivering them to the King's Orphanage. That name stuck in my head and left a bad taste in my mouth.

How could it be called the King's Orphanage when the crown didn't support it at all? I filed that irritation away and made a mental note to talk to the rest of the gang. One way or another, this was something that needed fixing. After the meal, I asked Tari to find Titi and tell her to come see me. I watched from the window as her eyes went wide the moment she spotted the tower, her steps slowing until she came to a full stop, staring up at it with her mouth slightly open.

By the time she stepped inside, she was still looking around in disbelief, turning in place as she took in every detail. I stayed quiet and let her absorb it at her own pace. I was very proud of the work I'd done, and watching her reaction unfold from the moment she first saw the tower was the best compliment I could've asked for.

"How?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, one hand lifting as she gestured helplessly at the walls.

"I told you I have some control over the earth element," I said, giving a small shrug.

"Yes, I remember," she said, shaking her head slowly. Her hand dropped to her side, then lifted again as she looked around, clearly at a loss.

"But I thought you'd strengthen some of the standing walls so they wouldn't fall. Not… this." She gestured at the room around us, still sounding stunned. I had nothing to say to that, so I just gestured for her to sit and handed her a cup of tea. I had no idea how she'd react to coffee, since this world didn't have it. Unfortunately. She took a few careful sips, her shoulders slowly relaxing as the shock wore off. Once her breathing steadied and some color returned to her face, I spoke.

"I asked you to come because I want to discuss a few things." She stiffened, fingers tightening around the cup.

"We don't have money." I raised both hands to stop here.

"Relax. Not money." I paused, then asked, "Did any of the older kids feel an intense burning sensation when their mana woke up?" She blinked and stared at me like I was speaking in tongues. Hmm. No then. Bummer.

"I see," I said, nodding to myself.

"All right. First of all, I know how to pass on the Healer class." Her eyes went wide, and she choked on her tea. I waited, stepping around the table to pat her lightly on the back until the coughing fit passed and her breathing settled again.

"As I said," I continued once she could breathe again, "I know how to pass on the Healer class. And I'm sure you understand what that would mean for this place." She nodded slowly.

"For that to work, I need you to gather the older kids, especially the ones who were supposed to leave already, but only the ones you trust. The ones who'd stay and help, not run off the moment they can earn coin elsewhere. Bring them here tomorrow." She opened her mouth to speak, but I lifted a hand to stop her.

"Tomorrow, I'll focus only on urgent cases," I said.

"The rest of the time, I'll work with the potential Healers." Her brow furrowed.

"Don't worry," I added.

"Everyone will get treated. Most of the issues aren't urgent or life-threatening. I'm just trying to structure my time so I can fix the buildings, train new Healers, and keep the kids healthy. With me so far?" She nodded, slower this time.

"One more thing," I said.

"While walking around, I noticed that the caretakers are actually in worse shape than most of the kids. When I go back to healing full-time, or maybe not quite full-time with the construction work and everything, say half a day or so, I want to start with the caretakers. Before the rest of the kids." She immediately started shaking her head, but I raised a hand to stop her again.

"I know," I said calmly.

"I understand how much you care about the children. I really do. But think about it this way. If the people who are supposed to look after them can barely function themselves, how good can that care really be? On the other hand, healthy caretakers can support more kids, catch problems earlier, and keep things from getting worse. In the long run, it helps everyone." She slumped in the chair with a defeated look.

"Good." I leaned back slightly.

"I also walked the grounds and got a sense of what needs fixing. There's a lot of stone lying around, but it won't be enough. Do you know where I can get more?" She pointed east.

"There are several ruined districts that way. Many buildings collapsed during the flooding a few years ago. Most people moved away after that, and no one bothered to clear the stone." Her hand dropped back to her side.

"It's just been sitting there ever since." That sounded workable.

"By the way, how did things go with Mahya and Al?" I asked.

"I haven't seen them since I brought them here." Her face lit up instantly, the tired lines around her eyes softening into a wide smile.

"Thank you so much for introducing us. They're amazing." She let out a small, almost disbelieving laugh.

"Mahya is making shutters for the buildings to keep out the cold, and Al is preparing salves for the children."

"Where are they?" I asked.

"I gave them the room you fixed on the first day," she said.

"They said it's more than enough."

"Good. Good." I nodded.

"I'll check on them later." I hesitated for a moment, then added, "One more thing. I have a large supply of food I can give you. Do you have somewhere appropriate to store it?" She shifted her weight and fidgeted, fingers tightening together.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We do," she said carefully, "but it needs repairs first." I waved the concern away.

"That's not a problem. I'll take care of it in the next few days. For now, where can I put the food you can use immediately?" She led me back to the main building and into a large dining hall lined with long wooden tables and benches. Behind it sat the kitchen, cramped but functional, with a few battered counters and two hearths that had clearly seen better days. I unloaded a food supply that should keep them going for a couple of days, stacking it into every available space I could find.

Once that was done, I headed back to the tower and picked up where I'd left off, settling back into the steady rhythm of treating kids.