Shattered Lake Prison, treatment room.
"Are you pretending I haven't woken up as long as I keep quiet?"
Ash opened his eyes and stared straight at the medical practitioner fiddling with his face.
The practitioner wore a badge labeled [222], clearly the one from last time.
"If you don't want a messed-up face, then close your eyes!"
After fiddling for a few more minutes, the practitioner released his face, "All right, you can get up now. Here, the apples you asked for last time."
Ash quickly sat up and touched his face, breathing a sigh of relief. By the bedside was a plate of apple slices shaped like rabbits, with toothpicks stuck in them. Ash picked them up, eating them one by one.
"Phew, two eyes, one nose, one mouth, didn't lose any. I thought I might contribute to species diversity."
"I'm performing surgery on you, how can you doubt me?"
The practitioner folded her arms, trying to appear angry, but her crow mask muffled her voice. Ash didn't feel scared at all; in fact, he reached out his hand.
"You mentioned before that if I let you do cosmetic surgery, you would pay me, right?"
"Oh." The practitioner obediently pulled out her wallet but then snapped to, "I did say that yesterday, but you didn't agree!"
"So did you actually give me cosmetic surgery or not?"
"Cosmetic surgery is complicated, not as simple as you think—"
"Just a little, it was really just a tiny procedure... How much do you want?"
"Give me a silver coin."
The practitioner visibly relaxed, rummaging through her purse before looking up to ask, "How about a gold coin? I don't have change."
Ash, who lived off the state, had no concept of the economy. He was surprised, realizing silver coins were considered loose change given to beggars.
One was willing to give it, and the other took it. As Ash accepted the gold coin, a surge of elation bubbled up in his consciousness.
Feeling his palm heat up, Ash seemed to see a child in pajamas pat its full belly and fall asleep.
He glanced at the gold coin, sensing it had become slightly smaller. Judging by this rate of consumption, it might last a year.
So feeding a Technique Spirit was pretty easy after all.
Though Ash casually asked for money, he had a reason.
After all, the Sword Maiden told him Technique Spirits required money to sustain, and since he had none, he had to find ways to get some from those with lower IQs.
Satisfied, Ash pocketed the gold coin and casually asked, "So what cosmetic surgery did you do on me?"
"The Drue Technique for forehead skin extension and wrinkle removal, simply put, it gets rid of forehead wrinkles."
The practitioner straightened up slowly and looked down at Ash through the crow mask, "You should be grateful I did this surgery for you. Know that forehead wrinkles severely affect appearance, and outside, this Drue Technique would cost a fortune—"
"What, you removed my most handsome, manly forehead wrinkles?"
Ash was furious, "An unethical practitioner disfigures a sleeping patient, stealing their best features. Is there no justice? Isn't it a medical malpractice, a plot to murder for money!"
The practitioner was dumbfounded by Ash's counterattack, hesitated, and then opened her wallet.
"How much do you want?"
"Hey, don't be like that. I'm not that kind of person." Ash refused righteously, "I'm not the kind of criminal who extorts others with leverage."
The practitioner pondered for a moment.
"Wait here, I'll find some news about you..."
"In! Short!" Ash quickly stopped her, "I just wanted to ask you a few questions."
"You're not allowed to ask my name, take off my mask, or touch my skin!"
The practitioner quickly swatted Ash's hand away and crossed her arms defensively, making Ash truly feel his dignity as a death row inmate.
Still, Ash was a bit curious, "Why not?"
"It's the rule in Shattered Lake Prison. Practitioners aren't allowed private interactions with inmates. If caught, they'll be dismissed and, if severe, imprisoned!"
"So... we might soon become prison buddies?"
"If you have questions, ask quickly and leave."
The practitioner seemed indifferent about the rule, giving Ash the impression she wanted a long unpaid leave.
"Is the elf I fought still alive?"
"He was injured less than you and left long ago."
"It was only a throat cut, no big deal. He was healed in minutes. I spent over an hour regrowing your flesh."
The practitioner spread her hands, looking honest.
Ash examined his intact thigh and shoulder, wondering if treatment costs here were weighed by the pound.
Was losing more flesh harder to treat, while a slit throat was no big deal?
So the butt was considered a high-risk organ here, more important than the head?
"Any other questions, ask quickly."
"I wanted to know, is there a place in prison to trade Technique Spirits? A solitary man gets lonely and wants a pet..."
The practitioner stared intently at Ash.
"I'm going to report you for plotting to escape."
"I'm a death row inmate. Even if you report me, can my sentence be extended?"
"Yes, they can revive you and sentence you to death again."
"What, there's such a procedure!?"
"Of course not, it's too wasteful of taxpayer money and inhumane. It was banned a hundred years ago."
"So, a hundred years ago, death row inmates could be killed multiple times..."
"Either way, I won't answer your question." The practitioner crossed her arms, "Death row inmates like you should be obedient medical material, and when you're no longer useful, just die quietly."
"You have surprisingly decent principles..."
"How can you tell mine aren't?"
"Well, you chatted with me, a death row inmate, for quite a while. I thought you were someone curious about criminals."
"I'm not curious at all. If I were, I'd just read the news reports."
While gathering the medical equipment, Ash jumped down from the bed, stretching his thigh and shoulder.
The surgery was successful, aside from some thigh and shoulder skin being paler than the rest.
"If I said I was framed, would you believe me?"
"Don't think you can fool me." The practitioner sneered, "Since the memory evidence system was introduced, there've been no wrongful convictions. The Crime Hunting Hall must have found evidence in your memory before convicting you—"
"No, they didn't get evidence from my memory."
"How's that possible—"
"You can check the reports yourself, but they didn't take anything from my memory. I truly was framed."
Ash spoke confidently, not mentioning the criminal was Heath and not him, and he didn't even possess Heath's memories, feeling zero guilt in his claim.
The practitioner eyed Ash skeptically.
"If I lied, I'd work overtime without pay forever."
"If you're lying, you're doomed. You better hope you don't get hurt again, or I'll change your race and gender."
This remark hit Ash hard. Planning to explore the diverse healthcare in this world, he hadn't expected their medical tech to change races and genders!
Could he still believe any pretty girl on the street? Could people still trust each other?
"But even if you say that, I still can't answer you."
The practitioner spread her hands.
"Your magic power is restricted, and the first step in trading Technique Spirits involves the seller releasing with magic, while the buyer reactivates. Unable to use magic power, you can neither release a spirit nor reactivate one."
Magic Power even had effects akin to cryptographic keys; Ash viewed it as universal energy. He'd be unsurprised if it had Bluetooth functions too.
No wonder prisons didn't confine their Technique Spirits. Spirits were likely unbindable; meanwhile, restricting magic power kept things under control.
Ash pressed on, "No hope at all? Isn't there a place like a Death Battle Society where we can lift our magic restrictions?"
Having experienced a Void Realm Exploration, Ash realized gathering necessary spirits was a needle-in-a-haystack challenge. With enough time, it wasn't impossible, but his time was limited.
Ash wasn't averse to risk, willing to gamble on odds but also wanted a counter-strategy. Like a company covering health insurance when making them work 996 hours; whether an employee collapsed or not, the company benefitted. As Employee of the Year, Ash embraced this exceptional corporate culture, always preparing a backup plan.
If he could find a Technique Spirit trading platform, then even if he only found trash in the Void Realm, he could resell it for a profit.
"There is, you don't know?"
The practitioner's answer surprised Ash, "Why would I know?"
"It's an experience every death row inmate undergoes... Oh right, you just got here; you haven't experienced it yet."
Ash immediately understood her implication.
"Blood Moon Judgement?"