Rick Poe, who had been carried out by the prisoners, was suffering with a pale face.
“What happened?”
Event asked the fellow prisoner while pointing a baton at him.
“We didn’t do anything. He started suffering suddenly after eating the brioches that were brought to us.”
Upon checking, a partially eaten brioche was rolling on the floor of the cell.
It wasn’t causing suffering due to being stuck in the throat since more than half of it remained untouched.
It was probably poisoned.
“Peter, quickly fetch the physician,”
After giving instructions to Peter, I picked up the partially eaten brioches from the floor and secured it.
Then I crouched down next to the struggling Poe.
“Pull yourself together, Number 725! Can you hear me!?”
“Forget it, Wolf. That guy ain’t gonna make it anyway.”
Event merely looked down upon Poe with a cold gaze.
It was a sad reality, but apart from important witnesses or those suspected of involvement in major cases, prisoners were treated like this.
Poe’s focus was off, and his face bore the signs of impending death.
It would take some time before the physician arrived.
I believed that if things continued like this, he would soon perish.
Quietly, I retrieved that healing magic scroll from my pocket.
It wasn’t a detoxification spell, just a basic healing spell, so I wasn’t sure if it would work.
Nevertheless, it felt better to try something rather than do nothing.
If I left him here to die, it wouldn’t just weigh on my conscience, but it might also worsen my already troubled sleep time.
Tonight, I longed for a good night’s sleep, so for the sake of my mental well-being, I decided to use it.
It was uncertain whether the magic scroll would truly activate.
If there was even a single typographical error, the magic wouldn’t work properly.
Whether Poe would be saved or not depended on his luck.
While his lottery winning chances were only one in 150, my magic scroll would hopefully be a bit more forgiving.
…Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
“Pull yourself together. I won’t leave you to die,” I reassured him.
I slipped the folded scroll into Poe’s chest and activated the magic.
A small magic circle appeared, but it was hidden by his clothes, so it seemed that neither Event nor the other prisoners around had noticed what I had done.
It was better to keep the magic scroll a secret for now. It was more convenient that way.
“Cough, cough!”
Poe turned his face to the side and vomited.
There was a possibility that the brioche he had eaten was poisoned.
Despite his continued struggle and desperate attempts to catch his breath, there was a slight improvement in his complexion.
To facilitate his vomiting, I carefully adjusted his position, gently tilting his body forward and applying pressure to his abdomen from behind, as if embracing him.
“Get it all out. Hang in there!” I encouraged him.
Poe continued to gasp for breath, clearly trying to expel the contents of his stomach.
“Oh, it seems to be poison…” a calm voice came from behind, and when I turned around, Mr. Rod Mephisto was standing there.
“Hey, you assistants, prepare water and a funnel immediately. It’s urgent,” he commanded.
In the Alban Prison, there was a torture method known as water torture, so such instruments could be readily found.
Peter and Roan, who were given the order, immediately dashed off to fulfill it.
“In the prisoners’ words, it seems that they became unwell after eating this,” I said as I handed the brioche I had picked up to Professor Mephisto.
Taking a sniff of it, the physician remarked, “This doesn’t smell like brioche. It would be impossible to identify the poison.”
“What do we do then?” I asked.
Mephisto tilted his head slightly, contemplating the situation.
“We’ll make him drink a large amount of water to induce vomiting. Repeat the process to clean out his stomach. Then, administer a laxative to expel the poison through his bowels. If luck is on our side, he might just survive,” he explained.
It was a rather uncertain plan, but Poe had already drawn the short straw of fate.
If it were any other physician, they might have left him to die, but today’s attending physician happened to be Mr. Mephisto.
While he may not be known for virtues like kindness or compassion, at least he would carry out the treatment properly, which was far better than being left to perish.
He was probably just enjoying the situation, though…
“Does this prisoner have any money?” he asked.
“Well, he might have some, at least to some extent,” I replied.
Poe wasn’t just some destitute individual. He was the owner of a thriving bakery, even if it was an open-air stall. He must have saved up some pocket change.
“In that case, shall we try giving him some wine later? It seems that it has a slight effect against Cantarella poison,” he suggested.
Cantarella was one of the most common poisons, alongside toad oil and belladonna.
“Actually, there’s a detoxification method where you place it inside the severed belly of a toad, letting it soak in the organs and warm blood. But can we buy a toad for this person?” he asked.
I shook my head in silence.
“Well then, let’s give up on that. It’s not something we can afford to spend on. I wanted to try it, though…”
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed, and Peter and the others returned, carrying the required tools.
“Wolf, lend a hand here. It’s like a rehearsal for water torture. No bonus, though,” Event chuckled as he handed me the equipment.
There was a special bonus for performing torture.
If I remember correctly, it was 1,000 gil.
While causing harm to others earned you money, attempting to save lives wouldn’t even yield a single gil in Alban Prison.
Still, if it meant I could avoid the burden of a guilty conscience, it was far more appreciated than any monetary gain.
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