"I'll check the esophagitis. It's not severe."

Oh, please. The moment the words "I'll check" left his mouth, the wendigo opened its mouth wide. Not opened, more like split, it gaped so enormously that the throat was fully visible, a spectacle worthy of applause. Should I clap? Should I be envious that it doesn't need an endoscopy?

"No medication needed. Just correct your lifestyle habits. Pay the basic consultation fee of 2 happiness and go."

For such a spectacle, the prescription is ordinary enough. Whether human or monster, what you hear at the hospital is similar. Sleep well, eat well, don't stress... things like that. A monster living a wholesome life, how ironic.

"Avoid binge eating and overeating, eat small amounts frequently. It's best to chew thoroughly. What does your usual eating pattern look like?"

"Grrk, greasy, fat..."

"How much do you eat at once?"

"About three, grk, but, only once, kk, a day."

"You probably swallowed without chewing much either."

The monster seemed to have known its own eating habits were poor, and scratched the back of its head awkwardly. When the strangely large hand at the end of its thin wrist made contact, something wet dropped off. Scalp or brain fluid, I couldn't tell. Please let it just be a piece of skin.

"Eat soft, small things divided into three or more meals a day."

By the time I'd looked away, the consultation was over. The monster that had shed a piece of its body on the consultation room floor bowed to the doctor and was about to leave when it stared fixedly at me. At my face, my hands, my whole body. And then I heard the sound of it swallowing. I wonder if it's too much to wish that saliva were acidic enough to dissolve its own esophagus right now. But since I could be the one dissolving, isn't a thought like that fair enough?

"I'll help with payment..."

"Something like this, grrk, do you eat it? doctor. Soft and small..."

I couldn't avoid the large hand that had been scratching and digging at its own head as it reached toward my neck. Just the tips of its fingers touched me, but the cold that spread from my neck downward froze me in place, and then with a thwack the cold vanished.

"Please leave."

The doctor's voice, colder than even the blizzard-bringing wendigo, warned once more, and I snapped back to my senses. The wendigo, which had been making a sound like phlegm rattling in its throat, was whimpering like a struck animal and bending over.

To pick up its own severed wrist. The hand that had been reaching toward my neck.

"P, payment received."

Wait, the doctor was sitting over there, how did he do that? The wendigo had come to the hospital to treat its esophagitis and had its wrist cut off, yet it couldn't lodge a single complaint. It just hurriedly paid its emotional fee and left, clearly wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

Not giving medicine and then giving medicine, but just giving the illness, what kind of hospital is this. I was standing there dazed, having forgotten I'd nearly been eaten, when the doctor, who had come out of the consultation room and was now standing behind me, pointed at the chart.

"Register as a problem patient."

"Yes."

A problem patient? It didn't seem that bad. But the moment I looked up, I saw the dirty pile of snow heaped in the corner of the waiting room. I drew a star in red pencil in front of the wendigo's name, and the doctor's expression eased slightly.

An extremely subtle difference, but I felt like I was starting to understand the doctor's moods a little, bit by bit.

The doctor, leaving aside the monster boy who was fidgeting as if it was his turn, reached out toward my neck. Having spent some time together, I didn't feel the terror I had with the wendigo earlier.

"Soft, indeed."

"Pardon?"

"After the next patient, it's lunch."

"Yes!"

The doctor's temperature wasn't high, but after the cold the wendigo had left behind, even that lukewarm warmth was welcome. He was very slowly gripping and stroking down my neck, and his hand was remarkably soft, so I was about to ask what he meant but shut my mouth entirely. Yes! If the next patient's consultation ends quickly, lunch will be long! Wondering why he was finishing consultations quickly for once, I cheerfully guided the monster boy in.

"It's fine. I'll clean it up. Come on, let's go in."

Whether it was because of the well-behaved monster, who kept wiping the blood flowing from the red hat he was wearing, or because lunch was approaching, my voice came out in a tone so gentle I wasn't sure it was mine.

In a moment of madness, I was patting his back as I guided him into the consultation room, as if he were a human boy rather than a monster, when I spotted a piece of the wendigo patient's skull that I hadn't cleaned up yet and quietly kicked it aside with my foot. It left a slight mark, but for now it was hidden under the doctor's desk. I'll clean it up after lunch.

"So the hat can't absorb the blood and it's causing trouble. Who was the most recent person you consumed blood from?"

"I, I don't know. Actually, I overate recently."

Why is everyone in such a mess over eating? And I couldn't tell whether the boy had overeaten or the hat had overeaten. But the doctor seemed to understand and nodded, then stated the diagnosis simply.

"It's an allergy."

***

"An allergy? I've lived over 200 years and I've never had an allergic reaction!"

"Allergies can develop at any point in life. Can you not remember at all what you ate when you overate?"

"I don't know. But lately I've developed a taste for junk food... instead of fresh, healthy blood, I've been eating some processed things."

"Toxic substances must have accumulated. Good."

If it were a completely monstrous consultation I'd only be scared, but it sounded vaguely like an ordinary allergy treatment, which made it all the more absurd. Looking again, the monster boy's red hat seemed almost swollen to the point of bursting.

"I'll give you allergy medication, but to prevent the same thing from happening again, it would be good to know the exact cause. I'll need samples of the blood you consumed. Staff Kang."

"Yes?"

Why is he calling me? Surely he's not going to say something insane like telling me to go collect samples of that unknown blood?

"Get the tray from the bottom drawer over there. The largest tray."

"Yes."

Thank goodness. I won't have to draw blood from monsters after all... or so I thought, but the tray I found when I opened the drawer looked to be about two meters long, and I bit my lip again. Could this be another surgery?

"Put the hat inside."

"Yes. My hat is a bit sensitive, so please handle it gently."

Aaagh! When the hat came off, the boy's brain was exposed. The glimpse of a fringe had been a fake all along. On top of that, the hat and the brain were connected by some unidentifiable rod, like the built-in straw of a tumbler. The boy detached it without any fuss, placed the hat on the large tray, and waited.

"Do you have to cut the hat open? That really can't happen..."

"Surgery is an option, but today I'll be relying on Staff Kang's help."

I wanted to shout for him to just do the surgery, but if it came to that, I'd be the one assisting anyway. Whatever it was, the other method was probably simpler, I figured, so I walked over as the doctor called me and he rolled up the sleeve on my arm.

"doctor...? What are you doing?"

"The allergy was triggered by consuming contaminated blood, so it will have clumped together inside. If I introduce a catalyst with abundant vitality, like Staff Kang's blood, it will separate, and then I can measure the allergic reaction from each individual blood sample."

What does that even mean, I'm a humanities major. I know this isn't really a humanities-versus-sciences issue, but my head still went blank. The saving grace was that the syringe needle the doctor produced with his other hand was very small.

I'd never seen a needle that thin, small, and short before. The syringe looked like a toy in the doctor's large hand, so I figured that would be fine and relaxed my arm. The doctor disinfected the spot an unnecessarily large number of times before drawing my blood.

"...Do we need to do it again?"

"No. It's done."

The needle had gone in so carefully I hadn't even felt it, and the blood it took was less than a third of the 5mm syringe. Thinking it might have been a failed draw, I was about to offer my other arm, but the doctor gave me a stern look and lowered my arm.

"Won't you need more? I ate quite a lot..."

I was wondering why he was being so stern and making such a fuss over nothing, but it turned out that was the better outcome. Without even answering the patient boy's words, the doctor slowly dripped my drawn blood onto the top of the hat.

One drop. The tip of the hat twitched slightly. Two drops, three drops. It split open like a carnivorous plant, and inside, the purplish, greasy blood that filled it to the brim came into view. It looked less like blood and more like industrial wastewater.

"The coagulation is severe. I'll need to get it further inside."

The doctor's gaze shifted toward the scalpel he often used. I could read the situation now. He was going to put my blood inside that clumped mass.

"Yes! I'll open it up!"

"Staff Ka-."

Bang!!!

I wasn't entirely sure, but the process of separating the blood seemed complex. The doctor had been introducing my blood with an almost excessive level of delicacy. That was precisely why I thought, instead of the doctor who still had the syringe in hand, I could just take the scalpel myself and pry open the coagulated blood. Stupidly.

"Ow, my hat!"

Still, it seemed my reflexes had improved somewhat since falling into this world. The moment the scalpel made contact, a chilling sensation ran down my spine, and I quickly raised my arm to at least shield my face. But the volume of blood that burst out was considerable, and it seeped all the way inside my top.

"I'm sorry. Let me wipe it off!"