You said you were going to make games, how did you become the richest man without doing anything?

“We just kicked that Sherlock out, and this good thing happens right away.” Mary crossed her legs, chuckled, and swirled the red wine in her hand, a hint of sarcasm playing on her lips.

“It’s because there’s a poor guy in our group that our luck has turned so bad,” Olivet chimed in.

“That’s right,” Pierre said, shrugging as he peeled an olive. “That guy was like an ominous sacrifice. Once we got rid of him, we could finally take off.”

The crowd roared with laughter, glasses clinked, and the air was filled with the aroma of impending victory.

This mission is to defeat a magical beast called the "Fire Fox".

It was a magical beast nearly the size of an adult wolf, its entire body enveloped in crimson flames, every hair containing intense heat—a rare material for insulation and a high-grade ingredient for alchemy. Legend had it that the fire fox was extremely agile, possessed intelligence approaching that of humans, and was proficient in fire magic.

Minister Cohen's request was to retrieve the fox fur and make it into a scarf as a birthday gift for his daughter.

“A fire fox.” Mary licked her lips, her eyes filled with the excitement of a hunter. “I heard its fur glows in the moonlight. I really want to peel one off myself.”

“This time it’s a B+ level monster.” Olivet flipped through the data. “But we’ve fought quite a few A-level ones, so it shouldn’t be a big problem.”

"As long as we have a top-notch swordsman like me in the team," Louis said confidently, "plus Mary's precise archery, Olivett's destructive magic, and Pierre's protective magic—who in this world can stand in our way?"

"It's a pity there's no one to help with the luggage now," Pierre added with a laugh.

"Hahaha!"

Another round of laughter erupted.

G-chan let out a cold snort in the live stream: "These people are really... I don't know if they're laughing at others or at themselves."

These people are truly disgusting; they kicked Sherlock and then mocked him.

[Hilarious! Once Sherlock opens his clinic and makes a fortune, they'll be crying their eyes out.]

Firefox? Sounds like something you shouldn't mess with.

I hope they crash and burn soon; I really can't stand watching anymore.

“If we can secure this mission, we can establish a relationship with Minister Cohen.” Mary smiled slightly, her eyes full of ambition. “Becoming a nobleman in the future will not be a dream.”

"To our bright future!" Louis raised his glass.

"cheers!"

The clinking of the crystal glasses was crisp and melodious, as if tolling the bells of destiny.

They couldn't wait to welcome victory.

Little did anyone know that the fire fox's curse had been waiting for them deep within the Black Forest for a long time.

……

"Sherlock, I'm so bored..."

Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the broken window frames, casting dappled shadows that danced on the wooden floor. A faint scent of herbs mingled with the fresh aroma of newly repaired wood.

Fufu sat behind the counter, one hand propping up her cheek, the other idly drawing circles on the table. She wore a white apron she had sewn herself, and a crooked little nurse's cap on her head, with a crooked red cross embroidered on it.

Her eyes were vacant, like a kitten locked in a cage.

“Isn’t this perfect?” Sherlock came out of the room, holding a freshly wiped rag. “With no one coming, we have time to clean properly.”

As he watched the room gradually transform from its dilapidated state to a bright and clean one, a slight smile appeared on his lips and a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

The walls had been repainted, and the floor had been replaced with new wooden planks. Beds and treatment tables, made from wood salvaged from the ruins, were neatly arranged. A shelf in the corner was filled with bottles and jars of various medicines, as well as several well-worn books on healing techniques.

Although all these medicines and materials were "illegitimate goods" obtained from the black market, in Sherlock's eyes, this was already a decent treatment center.

More importantly, this place gave him a sense of belonging he had never experienced before. It wasn't a temporary camp for adventurer teams, nor a shack made of rags in the slums, but—home.

Although he was only staying at the house of a necromancer king, strictly speaking, he was just a tenant.

“That’s right…” Fufu pouted. “Do you need Fufu to go outside and help with promotion?”

As she spoke, she shook her little nurse's cap, looking just like a child earnestly playing a role.

She had long dreamed of being able to stand beside patients who walked in, greet them with a smile, and say the standard line: "Welcome, please have a seat. May I ask what's wrong?"

Unfortunately, we haven't even seen a trace of it yet.

"Let's forget about it." Sherlock shook his head and hung the rag on the wall hook. "If we go out and publicize it, it might attract the attention of the Royal Medical Center."

"Well……"

Fufu's face immediately fell.

In this country, the Royal Medical Center holds the authority to license and regulate all therapists. Practicing medicine without a license is not only illegal, but if discovered, it can result in immediate arrest or even exile for "disrupting medical order."

“But if we don’t do something, we’ll never have any patients come to us…” Fufu slumped her shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” Sherlock said softly, his gaze fixed on the doorway where sunlight streamed through the cracks, casting a warm glow on the floor, like a premonition.

"I guess... the patient should be arriving soon."

"Are you sure?" Fufu looked up, as if trying to grasp at a sliver of hope.

Just then, the door creaked open slowly.

"Excuse me, is this Sherlock's unlicensed healer's clinic?"

A deep and familiar voice rang out.

Fufu jumped up suddenly and rushed to the door at almost breakneck speed: "Oh my god, a patient has really arrived! Hello... wait, I think I've seen you before?"

Standing at the doorway was a lizard-man man nearly two meters tall, his green scales gleaming faintly with a metallic sheen in the sunlight. His left shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, and his tail swayed slowly, suggesting that he had not yet fully recovered.

He was the man who had been shot by a magic gun in the casual dining restaurant and who had been healed by Sherlock.

"You really came," Sherlock said calmly as he walked out of the examination room.

"You knew I would come?" The lizardman raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his expression.

“You were wounded by a magic gun last time. That kind of thing isn’t something ordinary people can come into contact with.” Sherlock walked up to him and looked at him calmly. “You’re not an ordinary citizen, so naturally you have ‘concerns’ that ordinary people don’t have.”

"..."

The lizardman was silent for a moment, then nodded: "My name is Child."

“Child…” Sherlock repeated the name.

“Although it took quite a while, I’ve been looking for you.” Child’s voice was low. “Fortunately, I remembered that you came from the Ruins Street area, so I searched around here.”

"Could you please examine my sister today?"

The room fell silent immediately after those words were spoken.

Fufu took a soft breath, her eyes wide open.

G-chan's voice rang out at that moment: "It's here!! It feels like the main quest is about to begin!"

[The sister-obsessed lizardman has arrived!] [Sherlock's first official customer!] [Finally open for business! Tears of joy!]

[The pacing of the plot is just right, G-chan, please keep airing!]

Sherlock didn't answer immediately. His gaze fell on Child's eyes, a look that was weathered yet filled with suppressed anxiety. As a therapist, he had long since learned how to read more information from a patient's eyes than words could convey.

"Is your sister... is her condition serious?"

“She…” Child paused, his voice lowering a few octaves, “was cursed.”

Fufu gasped.

Sherlock's brow twitched slightly.

"When did this happen?"

“About three days ago,” Child said through gritted teeth, “we went to the Royal Medical Center, but they refused to see us.”

"why?"

"Because we are... 'remnants'."

At that moment, the air seemed to be covered with a heavy layer of mist.

“I see.” Sherlock nodded.

"Remnants"—in the royal capital, this term is like a brand. It represents a gray group of people who are not of the royal blood and are not protected by the royal power. Whether they are demi-humans, half-bloods, descendants of demons, or even some exiled remnants of the old nobles, as long as they are labeled "remnants," they are almost equivalent to "the forgotten people" in the royal capital.

Wang Li's treatment center will not waste a single drop of medicine on the "remnants".

“I understand.” Sherlock nodded gently. “Bring her here.”

A look of shock flashed across Childe's eyes, and then he bowed deeply.

"Thanks."

Fufu stood to the side, her eyes shining like crystals.

The doors of the treatment center have finally opened to those who truly need help.

"Child".

As he called out softly, a figure quietly appeared in the sunlight at the doorway.

She was a young woman, tall and slender, with a brisk walk.

She had a cascade of black hair that reached her waist, neatly tied back in a ponytail. Sunlight streamed down her shoulders, making her scales gleam with a metallic sheen. Her features were sharply defined, with piercing eyes and deep green pupils, like a beast lurking in the depths of the forest, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

Its forehead and cheeks are covered with tiny scales that have a pale golden sheen, intermingling with human skin to form a strange yet beautiful pattern.

She stood there quietly, her gaze fixed on Sherlock, her tone crisp and direct:
"Doctor, my brother said you're a very skilled therapist. Could you examine me?"

“I’m not sure if I’m ‘very good’,” Sherlock smiled slightly, his tone humble yet firm, “but of course I’d be happy to treat you.”

“I was shot in the right arm, and the wound has not healed yet.”

She walked to the chair, sat down without hesitation, and then took off her coat in front of everyone, revealing her right arm.

At that moment, the air seemed to freeze.

Her entire right arm, starting from the shoulder, had turned completely bluish-purple, with blood vessels spreading out in an eerie net-like pattern. The skin was covered with fine scarring lines, as if it had been slowly eroded by corrosive toxins. Even in the dim light, it was clear that the arm was slowly dying.

Fufu gasped, her face changing color.

“You were shot by a magic gun with a poisonous effect.” Sherlock glanced at the wound, his tone calm but certain. “The poisonous bullet remaining in your body is continuously releasing magic energy, causing necrosis of the surrounding tissue. This is not an ordinary gunshot wound.”

"You can tell just by looking at it?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Actually, I was almost used as a test subject once.” Sherlock’s tone suddenly became somewhat sarcastic.

"...For testing purposes?" Fufu's eyes widened.

“It’s that kind of ‘for the sake of science’ excuse.” Sherlock’s voice was indifferent. “Louis, he said it was to study the actual effects of the new weapon, but now that I think about it, he was probably just looking for fun.”

"That guy really went too far." The woman's lips curled up slightly, revealing a dangerous smile.

“That’s right,” Sherlock shrugged. “I’ve decided that one day I’ll teach him a lesson.”

"Do you have a way to cure it?" the woman asked bluntly, as if everything was open to trade.

"If you come to me immediately after being shot, the wound will heal on its own once the bullet is removed. The toxins are troublesome, but not fatal."

"But I've been shot for more than three days."

“Then this arm is probably beyond saving,” Sherlock said without hesitation. “I suggest you amputate the entire arm as soon as possible before the poison spreads.”

The woman was silent for a few seconds, then sighed softly, her tone chillingly calm:

"I see... There's nothing we can do about it. How much does the treatment cost?"

Sherlock pushed the medicine bottle on the table and said calmly, "It will probably cost one million Wenzhou dollars."

"What did you say?!"

Childe stood up abruptly, his face filled with disbelief.

"One million just to cut off an arm? Are you kidding me!"

“Child, calm down.” The woman raised her left hand and gently calmed her brother down. “However, this price is indeed outrageous.”

She shifted her posture, crossed her legs, and changed her tone, which carried a hint of probing and warning:

"Doctor... if you knew who I am, would you still charge this price?"

Her voice came out coldly from her lips.

"I am Fina the Gale."

The live broadcast room exploded instantly.

G-chan froze for a few seconds before slamming her hand on the table: "Holy crap, it's her?! It's actually her!"

[Swift Fina?! The legendary female thief from the slums?]

She's someone even nobles find troublesome!

[G-chan, quickly investigate her!]

[This plot is starting to resemble a gangster doctor story more and more, haha]

Sherlock's eyes flickered slightly.

"So you are Gale Fina." He slowly stood up, showing no sign of panic. "I never expected such an important person to suddenly come knocking on my door."

Fina is the leader of a lizardman band of thieves who frequents the slums, and her reputation for robbing the rich to help the poor is widespread. She robs unscrupulous merchants who exploit the people, but never kills anyone, and even shares her spoils with the poor, thus earning her the title of "Hero of the Slums." (End of Chapter)