Do I need treatment?
Sakurai Hideaki had just regained some clarity, his brain capable of logical thinking now hitting a snag.
"Are you... a doctor?"
The other person nodded: "Sort of."
"......"
Sakurai Hideaki gulped.
If this really were a shady clinic and he walked in, and this doctor, whether staff or manager, said this to him, it would indeed seem normal.
After all, he had actively entered a clinic — what else would he seek but treatment?
Moreover, he did indeed need treatment.
He had just snapped out of that chaotic, emotion-driven state, so he knew better than anyone how bad his body was now.
At that moment, Sakurai Hideaki's survival instinct, suppressed earlier by emotion, resurfaced.
No matter the path, even if it's like a rat in a gutter or a hyena tearing at carcasses, who truly wants to die?
Yet, at the same time, he should be cautious.
He had just escaped the dragon's lair, only to unknowingly walk into a new tiger's den.
