Chapter 133: Going to Work Is the Real Rest
Sometimes, life really is full of surprises.
Last night, when Max had leaned close with a perfectly serious expression and declared that she was going to "punish" Caroline—then whispered an additional detail into Ethan's ear—
for one glorious moment, Ethan genuinely felt like life was worth living again.
Unfortunately, that beautiful feeling didn't last very long.
The surprise quickly turned into shock.
Then the shock evolved into outright terror.
This world had never been fair.
Why was it that when women were "sensitive," people praised them as "treasure girls"—
but if a man showed even a little sensitivity, he immediately got labeled weak and pathetic?
That already sounded ridiculous enough.
Reality, however, was always worse.
In real life, even if you outperformed ninety-nine percent of men, the second you failed to meet someone's personal expectations—
one casual "Seriously? That's it?" could still instantly destroy your confidence.
The next morning—
Ethan walked into the clinic carrying thirty cupcakes personally made by "Iron-Woman" Max.
That heavy exhaustion seeping out from deep inside his bones made him sigh quietly to himself.
Sure enough—
there was no such thing as overworked soil.
Only exhausted oxen.
He set the cupcakes down, washed his hands at the sink, and had just reached for a cup of coffee when a familiar voice drifted over.
"Morning, Doctor."
Helen walked into the clinic carrying the designer bag Ethan had recently given her, her tone as calm and gentle as ever.
"Only three follow-up patients this morning."
She removed her coat, paused for a second, then let her gaze linger on Ethan's face slightly longer than usual.
Her tone remained steady, but there was something faintly amused underneath it.
"But you look like someone who didn't sleep at all last night."
Ethan's hand noticeably paused midway through pouring coffee.
"I went to bed pretty early."
He had gone to bed early.
Sleeping, however, was another matter entirely.
Helen looked at him but didn't expose the obvious loophole. She merely hummed softly.
"Maybe it's just my imagination," she said after a moment.
"It's just that you currently look a little…"
She paused deliberately.
"…drained."
Ethan: "..."
That strike landed with terrifying precision.
"Young people really are lucky."
Helen sat down behind the front desk, preparing to start the workday while casually sighing in admiration.
"But I do have a question, Doctor."
"You can save cancer patients."
"You can pull people back after they've already been declared dead."
"You can even perform actual miracle resurrections."
She leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice on purpose.
"But you still can't rapidly recover your stamina after intimacy?"
Ethan: "..."
That question was more lethal than any firearm.
He stayed silent for a few seconds before finally answering helplessly:
"I'm a doctor."
"My job is restoring people's health."
"But I'm not a stimulant."
"And I'm definitely not a little blue pill."
He took a sip of coffee and sighed.
"Honestly, if I really had some kind of ability that let people stay permanently energetic and endlessly excited…"
"I'd probably be earning several times more money than I do now."
He paused briefly before adding quietly:
"After all, most people are perfectly willing to trade their health away for a little pleasure."
Soon, patients gradually began arriving at the clinic.
Ethan forced himself to stay alert, doing his best to maintain his usual calm professionalism.
The good news was—
his physical exhaustion wasn't affecting his work.
In fact, strangely enough, the opposite seemed to be happening.
Although Ethan himself felt somewhat dazed all day, the patients' overall experience at the clinic was unexpectedly excellent.
The reason was simple.
For the entire day, Ethan couldn't even be bothered to do any of the delicate, mentally exhausting "technical work."
No overthinking.
No deep analysis.
No complicated diagnostics.
He simply skipped straight to—
Holy Light.
And not the precise, carefully targeted kind of healing either.
Not the "surgical-level" treatment that focused on specific body parts.
No.
Today's version was broad, efficient, long-lasting, and overwhelmingly powerful.
The results were ridiculous.
Someone came in with nothing more than a cold, hoping to get painkillers prescribed—
and left feeling so refreshed that all the old aches in their body had disappeared too.
Naturally, they no longer needed the painkillers.
Another patient arrived to treat a burn wound.
After examining her, Ethan calmly informed her:
"You only feel injured psychologically."
"Your body is completely fine."
"Go home and take a shower."
Some people even walked up to the front desk afterward and seriously asked Helen:
"…Is your clinic kind of supernatural or something?"
"Why are people leaving cured after just talking to the doctor for a few minutes without even getting medicine?"
Helen simply smiled politely.
"Our doctor is very good at communicating with people."
"A lot of patients aren't actually sick."
"They just feel like they are."
Meanwhile, Ethan sat inside the consultation room maintaining exactly one operating mode all day:
Talk less.
Glow more.
Even he couldn't fully explain the sensation.
It felt as if "treating patients" had temporarily stopped being work and reverted back into pure professional instinct.
Like a dungeon healer in an MMO who physically could not tolerate seeing anyone's HP bar drop.
No thinking.
No calculating.
No weighing pros and cons.
A patient sat down.
He raised his hand.
Holy Light descended.
Simple.
Brutal.
Absurdly effective.
And the benefits became immediately obvious.
After every patient, Ethan could sneak in a tiny nap.
The speed at which patients entered the clinic was noticeably slower than the speed at which he spammed healing spells.
And so the day continued until noon.
Helen brought him lunch.
Ethan immediately took the opportunity to nap again.
It wasn't that he didn't want coffee—
his body had simply activated full power-saving mode on its own.
Then came the afternoon wave of patients.
But strangely enough—
the more he worked, the more energetic he became.
And during that endless cycle of treatment, Ethan suddenly realized something mildly horrifying.
If his Holy Light became powerful enough…
If its effects lasted long enough…
Then theoretically, every patient would only ever need treatment once.
And after that—
they would never have a reason to return to the clinic again.
Which meant—
would the Rayne Clinic someday go bankrupt precisely because its treatments were too effective?
Like those old phone companies that made products so durable nobody ever needed replacements?
Finally, the workday came to an end.
Ethan saved the last medical record.
The moment the file closed, a deep sense of accomplishment washed over him.
It felt exactly like clearing a dungeon successfully.
He stood up and stretched lazily.
Compared to the morning, his body actually felt significantly better.
And then Ethan realized something terrifyingly real.
Oh my god.
I've started thinking like a middle-aged man.
Turns out—
going to work was the rest.
He put on his coat, grabbed his bag, and headed toward the exit.
"I'm leaving," he said.
Helen glanced up at him, her tone still calm and gentle.
"Going to see Max again tonight?"
"Huh?"
Again?
Was she trying to kill him?
Ethan shook his head without the slightest attempt to hide the truth.
"I'm going home to sleep."
By the time he pushed open the clinic door, the sky had already darkened.
Streetlights flickered on.
The city resumed its normal rhythm.
And inside Ethan's exhausted brain, only one thought remained.
Home.
As for tomorrow's problems—
those belonged to Tomorrow Ethan.