According to Kal'tsit, the reason Warfarin fainted the moment she saw Lucian was because she'd been forcing down her feeding instinct.
Embarrassing on the surface, sure—but honestly impressive.
So Lucian sat beside Kal'tsit and asked humbly:
"Is there anything I can do to help? If I let her drink more of my blood, would she get used to it?"
"..."
Kal'tsit stared at him for a long time, silent.
Lucian was completely sincere. He wasn't joking.
Which left Kal'tsit in a strange, complicated mood.
"You truly don't discriminate against the Sarkaz. Even after hearing such an unorthodox survival method... you can still accept it?"
"What's so strange about that?"
Lucian looked even more confused. "If we're talking about weird ecosystems, who could be stranger than Sankta?"
"The Sankta have a Halo and Wings that don't even make contact with their bodies. And they're not born with them—they appear only after they learn to speak. Break a law, and the punishment shows up directly on the body. It's not scientific at all."
He lifted his hands. "My own race is already that bizarre. A few more strange races in the world is perfectly normal. And Warfarin's clearly doing her best to control herself. Isn't wanting to help her the natural response?"
"..."
Kal'tsit fell silent again.
She quietly organized her documents. Only after a while did she speak:
"If you insist on meddling, ask her yourself once she wakes."
"Got it. Thanks, Kal'tsit."
After that, neither of them spoke.
An awkward quiet settled over the medical room. Only the soft hiss of the respirator and Gavial's snoring filled the air.
It felt like a long time, though it might've only been minutes.
Kal'tsit finally spoke:
"Folinic locked herself in her room and kept making a commotion. What did you do?"
Lucian blinked innocently. "I have no idea?"
And he really didn't.
Kal'tsit didn't press the matter. "Then there's Gavial. And Warfarin."
She lifted her gaze.
"In a single day, you put two senior medical Operators out of action and drove my student to a mental crash. With your strength alone, you've made our already understaffed medical department even worse."
"Your attitude is sincere, but your behavior is disastrous. What exactly are you?"
Lucian raised his hand solemnly. "Let me defend myself."
"From where I'm standing, ninety percent of this isn't on me. Your Rhodes Island Operators are all completely unhinged. I need time to adjust."
"...Fair."
Kal'tsit accepted that far too easily.
While writing up medical records, she continued:
"Gavial, Warfarin, and the immature Folinic. They all have their flaws. They cause trouble. They can be exhausting."
"But they also have value. Their strengths outweigh their shortcomings. Compared to the occasional inconvenience, their daily contributions matter far more."
Lucian's face twisted. "You're doing that on purpose. You could've just said they're excellent Operators."
Kal'tsit replied coolly, "I'm being objective."
Kal'tsit could be truly heartless at times.
But Lucian always felt she did it deliberately—drawing a line, keeping people at arm's length with her sharp tongue.
And Lucian had something to say as well:
"Gavial told me. You take stimulants to stay awake and work nonstop, right?"
"That's not exactly a healthy work ethic. Ever considered changing your habits?"
Kal'tsit answered immediately. "Rhodes Island is a Medical Institution, and we have duties that must be fulfilled."
"Combat Operators are only useful during combat. But medical Operators are the core of Rhodes Island—we are never idle."
She snorted. "I don't need cheap concern. I know my limits."
Wow... ice-cold.
Lucian's shoulders slumped. He really wanted to say: people who insist they "know their limits" are always the ones who absolutely don't. It was a huge flag.
But he didn't dislike Kal'tsit's coldness.
If she were truly emotionless, she never would've become a doctor.
If she were a mad scientist experimenting on people, that'd be one thing. But Rhodes Island wasn't just a pharmaceutical company—it was a mobile hospital.
Lucian asked, "So what keeps you busy every day?"
"Consultations. Treatment. Surgery."
She kept writing as she spoke:
"Rhodes Island shelters Infected in need. Physically and psychologically, they have many problems. Most won't voice them, so doctors must uncover them."
"In this, Gavial excels. No one dares hide anything from her."
That didn't sound like praise for a doctor. More like describing an interrogation.
Kal'tsit explained further that she handled critical cases—the worst surgeries always fell to her.
She knew she wasn't good with strangers, and she didn't intend to be.
So Operators like Folinic—foundational medical staff—visited living quarters daily, checking on patients, helping them relax.
Most Infected had suffered persecution. Trusting kindness was hard.
So Rhodes Island symbolically charged everyone.
If they could afford it, they paid.
If not, they contributed with labor—cleaning corridors, folding paper ornaments, anything.
The point was giving them a sense of value.
Lucian found it deeply admirable.
If he were Infected, he wouldn't believe it either.
How could such a good charitable organization exist? And the fact that they survived in this world was nothing short of miraculous.
Of course, he assumed Rhodes Island held deeper secrets. They had to be more than a charitable medical group.
But everyone had secrets. No need to dig now.
Whether it was Blaze, Amiya, Kal'tsit, Folinic, or Gavial—everyone in Rhodes Island had a distinct personality and a strong, clear desire to do something.
It was good. Refreshing. Far better than a decade of identical Sankta in Laterano.
"I want to help too."
Lucian volunteered. "You said psychological counseling is part of a medical Operator's job, right? I want to learn first aid anyway. Let me learn on-site from your doctors."
"...You're confident."
Kal'tsit finally set down her pen, sounding almost amused.
"How do you plan to do that? The Infected suffer from a wide range of psychological issues—most tied to distrust and isolation. Will you rely on your looks like a cute girl, or break through walls like Gavial?"
"Neither."
Lucian crossed his arms, perfectly confident.
"If you open someone's stomach, their mouth naturally opens too."
"Food therapy is still therapy, Doctor Kal'tsit—the not-so-adorable one."