"Because you look awful—dark circles, pale complexion, cold wrists. Lately, no matter how much you eat, you're still starving, and you constantly feel hungry, right?"
The Pig-Head hesitated, then sat back down.
Even though Lyn had been unreliable before, this time he'd hit the nail on the head.
Lately, he had been constantly hungry—even binge-eating barely eased the gnawing emptiness.
"How'd you know?"
Lyn stayed cool. He stood, fetched a wooden basin from the back room, filled it with clear water, then took a pale-green bottle from under the counter and poured it in.
Whoosh—
A plume of skull-green smoke hissed up from the basin.
Lyn clapped his hands. "This is a spirit-summoning potion. Stick your hand in. If there's really an evil spirit parasitizing you, or some other freakish mutation, the potion will reveal the truth."
The Pig-Head eyed him warily, sniffed with his snout.
Seeing no obvious danger, he tentatively dipped his hand in.
Instantly, a chill crept up from his abdomen.
"Wh-what's this?!" His expression shifted.
The green water began boiling, and thin strands of eerie black vapor slowly rose from his body.
The next moment, his belly cramped violently, and a grinning face bulged out from his stomach.
"Hehehe! Hehehe!"
"Oooooh—oooooh—" The Pig-Head's hair stood on end (ΩДΩ).
"My stomach! My stomach!!"
The laughing voice abruptly changed into a mournful wail.
"Waaaaa—Waaaaa—"
Seeing this, the Pig-Head was completely shaken.
"What the hell is that?!"
Bang—
Lyn swiftly grabbed a nearby frying pan and smashed it straight onto the bulging face, flattening his belly.
The crying and laughter stopped instantly.
Plop—
The Pig-Head collapsed onto the stool, dazed. "…Wh-what… what just happened…"
Lyn pushed the basin aside, calm as ever. "Preliminary diagnosis: evil spirit possession. But judging by how well one pancake flip handled it, the little punk wasn't fully formed yet. You're really lucky to run into me."
That settled it—the Pig-Head was thoroughly convinced.
He dropped to his knees with a thud, trembling. "Young brother! Earlier, Old Pig here was way too rough—please don't take it to heart! Save me! Please save me!"
He was genuinely terrified!
If it were a straight-up fight with an evil spirit, he wouldn't have minded.
But an evil spirit growing inside his gut? That was something he couldn't handle at all!
Lyn, pen in hand, stayed cool. "Remember eating anything unclean lately?"
The Pig-Head shook. "A month ago, I was out, and I remember swallowing a little ghost in one gulp. Other than that, I only eat pigs and humans."
Lyn thought a moment.
Then he looked up, serious. "Let's cut you open and check."
…
Moments later.
In the dim operating room, a few candles and brass mirrors directed beams of light onto the Pig-Head's greasy belly.
The Pig-Head lay trembling on the operating table—one he found deeply unsettling. "You're just gonna rush into surgery?! No further diagnosis?!"
Lyn put on gloves and a mask and calmly sterilized the scalpel. "Quick strike, clean cut—simple and brutal is real. Trust my diagnostic skill and ethics. I'll slice you open; if I can cut it out, I will. If I can't…"
Pig-Head: "Then I'll cut you!"
Lyn shook his head.
He took his teacher's usual boning knife and, right in front of the Pig-Head, started sharpening it.
Hiss–shink–
The Pig-Head lay there, stunned, staring up at the iron hooks hanging from the ceiling and the jars of monstrous tissues soaking around the room.
Somehow, he felt like a hog trussed up on a butcher's block.
Shink–shink– Sparks flew.
"Stop sharpening! Stop it!!" The Pig-Head couldn't take the grating noise and roared.
"Almost." Lyn rinsed the sharpened scalpel in disinfectant, picked it up—it gleamed viciously.
He walked to the Pig-Head's side, pressed an ear to the greasy belly, listened professionally, then took a pencil and drew a cross near the lower abdomen.
Lyn: "You ready?"
Pig-Head: "Re-re-re—ready…"
Click click click click—
Lyn pressed a button under the table; four iron shackles clamped the Pig-Head's limbs.
"Oooooh—oooooh—" The Pig-Head screamed in terror (ΩДΩ).
Lyn frowned, knife in hand. "Don't scream—haven't even cut yet. Shackles are to stop you from struggling and ruining my surgical ability. It's for your own good."
Pig-Head: "You done surgery on anyone before?"
Lyn, casually sharpening his knife and fork: "Seen my teacher slaughter pigs. You're my first patient. Close enough—I'm very confident in my surgical ability."
"..."
Brief silence.
"Oooooh—no! I won't do it! Let me go! Let go!!" The Pig-Head thrashed wildly (ΩДΩ).
Lyn's gaze turned fierce. "Are you kidding me?! Blade's ready, and you say no?! Afraid your belly'll swell till the evil spirit bursts out?! Once you're on my table, I'm responsible for you! Today, you will do it!"
Slice–
"Ooooooooooh—"
…
Half an hour later.
Blade Skill EXP +10
Blade Skill EXP +10
Surgical Ability +1
The Pig-Head lay dazed on the table, twitching nonstop, losing count of how many times he'd blacked out and woken from the pain.
Then—
"Waaaaa—"
A loud cry echoed through the operating room.
Lyn smiled, cradling the little imp, wiping sweat. "Congratulations, surgery completed perfectly."
A panel popped up before him:
Evil Spirit Blood Infant (Unformed)
Race: Malevolent Spirit
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Level: 1
Intro: Formed from resentment and ghostly energy, then fed on masses of livestock and human blood essence. Once fully formed, it devours the host's soul and flesh, grows stronger, and becomes a calamity.
The Pig-Head murmured dazedly, "…Stitch… stitch it up…"