Chapter 74: Abnormal Hospitalization Procedure

Kraft pressed his palms to his forehead and stepped back several paces, severing his spiritual senses and letting the sense of confinement surge over him.

Thanks to its proximity and its willingness to approach, the timing was good—the discomfort amounted to little more than being stuffed into a ventilation duct, where the body struggled to move in cramped space.

After severing the link came another drawback: he had to reallocate the other senses that had been pushed aside by the flood of spiritual sensory data, like being blindfolded and forced to rely on secondary senses to perceive his surroundings.

This sudden redistribution of attention created a bizarre state—processing sensory input shifted from automatic to “manual,” requiring deliberate adjustment of their allocation.

But for now, this transition was not difficult for Kraft; most of the time he completed it before losing balance.

To Kup’s eyes, the bird-headed man had simply been startled into a sudden dizziness, then recovered immediately. He scanned the surroundings—apart from the two of them, nothing else had moved past just now.

This made him question himself: was it Kraft’s issue, or something he simply couldn’t perceive?

“Kup, I need you to know one thing,” Kraft said, gathering his composure amid the discomfort, speaking in a flat but serious tone, “your condition is serious.”

“Is that so? But I feel fine.”

A blank face, unable to comprehend how merely drawing water from the old well for a few extra days had brought him to this. His sleep duration hadn’t changed—he still woke at noon, perhaps even a little earlier.

Except for that dream—the brief dream that had only recently developed enough to be recalled, over the past two days.

“It’s hard to explain. Here—look, I’ve helped everyone else here recover. No doubts about that, right?”

Kup nodded; he understood this simple fact, “Yes, of course. Everyone here owes you thanks.”

With his hands folded before him in a relaxed posture, Kraft organized his thoughts and said, “Then do you think I’m a trustworthy person?”

This time Kup hesitated for an instant, then nodded, “Yes.”

He could see how Kraft helped the residents here, but found no corresponding motive—no preaching, no pursuit of gain. It was somewhat suspicious.

“Now, I want to tell you—you’re haunted by a malevolent spirit. That dream is its method of deceiving you.”

Malevolent spirit—he understood that. In Church doctrine, it referred to things lurking in dark corners, possessing evil power beyond mortal imagination. They lured people with seemingly harmless benefits into their traps.

The fools who coveted these illusory baits repeatedly proved, at the cost of their lives—and even their souls—that adherence to the teachings of the Divine, namely the Holy Scripture, was essential.

The Holy Scripture itself was beyond his comprehension, so most often, its interpretation fell to designated individuals—those clad in white robes, wearing winged circular halos.

But then again, who was to say this man, whose actions bore the marks of mystery and efficacy, couldn’t also be an authority on supernatural matters? After all, Kraft was rumored to be a person of considerable standing.

More importantly, what he said made sense. The recent abnormal dreams were indeed strange.

“Then… what should I do?” Kup panicked. Being haunted by a malevolent spirit was no trivial matter—losing one’s life was the least of it; worse, one’s soul might be claimed after death, unable to return to the Lord’s realm.

What should he do? Kraft wanted to answer, but he himself had no clear idea how to sever the connection once locked in.

Based on personal experience, the only way was to find a deeper region still above water, prepare thoroughly, and descend to fight it to the death. Usually, one was deceived into the spirit’s illusion before even reaching the next stage.

It required extraordinary awareness, iron will to withstand its shrieks, and a modicum of force sufficient to hold it off briefly. The latter could be trained; the former, Kraft knew how it worked but not why.

So there was only one solution.

“I believe you need specialized treatment. In short, this place can’t handle it—you must go somewhere specific for me to help you.”

“But I still have to go to the harbor every day…”

“You don’t need to anymore. For the next few days, I’ll provide lodging and food. Staying here will let the malevolent spirit endanger others.” This was true—the recovery rates of those nearby had clearly lagged; to claim it had nothing to do with him would be absurd even to the spirit itself.

Kup still hesitated. Trusting a stranger to take him for treatment against a malevolent spirit was no easy decision. With no clear symptoms, he didn’t fully believe him—perhaps waiting a few days would make it vanish?

“I won’t conceal this from anyone. The people nearby have the right to know a malevolent spirit is present.” What might happen if Kup stayed here was something Kraft dared not gamble on; under necessary circumstances, he could use minor, noncompliant threats.

“If you must know my reason, it’s curiosity. Handling such a case firsthand holds great significance for me.”

Kraft concluded his explanation with a reason that sounded plausible enough, hands folded before him, waiting for Kup’s response.

As Kup considered, Kraft himself hesitated—not over whether Kup should leave with him, but whether he himself should, and whether he had the right to enforce measures if Kup insisted on resisting.

His thoughts even drifted toward certain final solutions, immediately crushed—he shifted his hands from front to behind, gripping them tightly.

He didn’t know why he’d had such thoughts—perhaps patience had worn thin after days of handling this, or perhaps now that the hammer worked well, everything looked like a nail. Fortunately, reason snuffed it out instantly.

“Thank you for your help. May the Lord bless you.”

Kup showed no intention to refuse—Kraft exhaled in relief. “Bring what you need. I’ll wait here.”

“I don’t need to bring anything,” he said, shaking his head, closing the door of his shack, and leaving the Salt Tide District with Kraft for the house on Elm Street.

Strictly speaking, this was Kraft’s first “admitted” patient. Though there was no “hospital” for him to stay in, it perfectly matched the core principle of admission—fearing the patient might die outright and drag others down, relocating him to a place where a doctor could watch him day and night.

“This is where you’ll sleep,” Kraft said, pointing to the bed cleared of nails and wood shavings. “Everything will be like this from now on.”

“Huh? You don’t mind?” Seeing this was the only bed in the room, Kup didn’t understand where Kraft himself would sleep.

“Of course not, because I don’t sleep. Don’t worry—I’ll be watching you tonight.”

A large table stood beside the bed. Kraft pulled up a chair and sat behind it, facing the bed directly. He paused, then took out paper, ink, and pen, preparing to record this rare case in detail.

He hadn’t lied—he was curious about this process. After all, he’d never observed deep contact from the perspective of an outsider.

Since he was here anyway, why not record it? Perhaps future unfortunate souls in similar situations might find the data useful.

To prevent the situation from escalating too quickly, necessary preparations were essential. In Kup’s fearful gaze, the removed animal trap was reinstalled before the window.

For improvement, the fish oil jar was also placed directly beneath the window—after all, if it came in, it would crush the jar itself; discarding it afterward would be redundant.

These dangerous arrangements—the iron chain across the hallway door—left Kup uneasy. Even though Kraft explained them as exorcism measures, they didn’t fully reassure him.

“I hope you don’t have a habit of wandering at night. Of course, if you do, I’ll stop you.” Kraft removed his mask. His unusually young face made Kup even more nervous—in exorcism, youth and handsomeness were not assets.

If a priest stood here, Kup might feel better—but he wasn’t sure how a priest would treat someone possessed by a malevolent spirit.

“Oh, by the way, I think this will help you sleep better.”

A palm-sized wooden carving of a winged halo was produced. Kraft considered himself quite thoughtful—this was the Church’s holy emblem, tailored to Kup’s faith. If he didn’t believe in Kraft, praying to the Divine might still ease his anxiety.

Finally, Kraft invited Kup to the tavern for dinner.

This treatment first made Kup feel embarrassed—he’d assumed “full board” meant a cramped corner to sleep in, with basic black bread and dried fish.

Instead, he was treated to a lavish meal alongside a “big person.” After this, he’d have plenty to boast about to his acquaintances in the Salt Tide District.

Bread made from fine flour, roasted poultry glazed with secret sauce, creamy soup, sweet pies, and the classic roasted fish.

The food eased his inner unease and fear; even worries about the possible malevolent spirit were temporarily forgotten. Kup savored this rare feast—the perfect balance of fat and salt stimulated his taste buds, an irresistible flavor.

Until the fifth, then sixth dish arrived, and Kraft personally refilled Kup’s second mug of beer, casually asking if he needed anything else—even the slowest-witted person could sense the oddness of this meal.

Kup lifted his head from the table, looking across at Kraft, who had just finished a small portion of meat and vegetable soup, sipped water with restraint, and waved him off, indicating he should ignore him and keep eating.

“Don’t mind me. More beer’s fine—just don’t get drunk.” The blond young doctor, when not discussing serious matters, was remarkably relaxed, showing none of the sharpness associated with the bird-beaked mask.

“Tell the owner what you want—I’ll pay for it all.”

Facing the table of food, a disturbing thought formed in Kup’s blunt mind: this excessive generosity didn’t resemble how one treated a disobedient rule-breaker—it resembled how one treated someone else entirely.

Generally, only one kind of person received such extra leniency.