A Hospital in Another World?

The boardroom was momentarily silent. The wealthy merchants exchanged glances, their looks speaking volumes:

—"Do we agree to his terms or not?"

—"This is outright robbery, 10,000 gold coins swallowed in one gulp without even a burp!"

—"I think it's fine, he did offer something in return, didn't he?"

—"A stone monument at the entrance of the building counts as a return?"

—"Well, it's somewhat useful, isn't it?"

The faces around the room shifted colors, their expressions changing despite their efforts to contain them. If each person wore a brainwave scanner with different emotions colored and labeled, it would light up like a neon display...

"Um, Master Nordmark..."

The leading merchant, Sangers, struggled a bit more. He had first spotted the business opportunity, created a full profit plan, and convinced his peers to gather funds by claiming familiarity with the mage.

"Master Nordmark, we have done the calculations. Investing in a new maternity ward is highly profitable. Here is the profit statement..."

He pushed forward a thick scroll of parchment that unfurled from Garrett's front across to the other side:

"Accept our investment, and it won't cost you a dime; you could earn at least 1,000 gold coins more each month! That's one building a year!"

Garrett scanned the document quickly. His calculations factored in all the women who could afford the painless childbirth services... But even without a new maternity ward, these clients would still come. So, his approach was incorrect. It should calculate the extra accommodation fees. For instance, a shared room costs one gold coin per day, and a VIP room ten gold coins?

But Garrett didn't want to argue over financial details. He just smiled slightly:

"Sorry, but this clinic of mine doesn't aim to make a profit. Any money made will be reinvested into medical research and services, so you might not recover your costs. Donations are welcome, but investments are unnecessary."

The merchants looked at each other. After a moment, a merchant sitting across from Sangers cautiously stood up and bowed with an apologetic smile:

"Sorry, Master Nordmark. Business hasn't been great lately... We were looking for another investment channel. As for donations, we're a bit tight on funds right now..."

A few others nodded slightly, their nods subtle as they cautiously gauged Garrett's expression. All in all, about half were reluctant to donate.

"It's alright," Garrett waved it off with a smile. "Donations are voluntary. If you don't want to donate, then don't. It's completely fine."

"And if we get sick later on..."

"Then come over for treatment!" Garrett grinned. "Oak Grove Clinic doesn't arbitrarily refuse patients."

Except in cases of medical disputes... But clearly, the burly security guards were deterrent enough; so far, only a handful of patients causing trouble had been thrown out. Those with greater strength knew well who stood behind Garrett...

The merchants visibly relaxed. Garrett's gaze then returned to Sangers: What about you?

Sangers had been silent, deep in thought. Honestly, coughing up a couple thousand gold coins all at once did sting, but it wasn't impossible. So the real issue was whether donating to the hospital could bring sufficient returns—

Honestly, when he first met Master Nordmark, he was just a second-level priest. In two or three years, he rocketed to the sixth level, owning his own mage tower, plus the status of a legendary disciple. A few thousand gold coins for some recognition seemed like a fair deal.

He decided to take the gamble!

"I can donate! I can bring out up to two thousand... two thousand five hundred gold coins. When the hospital building starts, can my company's name be engraved in front of the building?"

Imagining the stone monument at the base of Igor Peak, families who had contracts with the Magic Council had their names inscribed, enduring through the millennia. Even now, who wouldn't envy those families and their surnames?

The Oak Grove Clinic didn't need a thousand years; just a century of recognition would do. Nobles, magicians, and merchants visiting the clinic would see his company's name...

That would be a win!

Everyone knew the risks of being a sea merchant; one could be wealthy one day and bankrupt the next if the fleet sank... With high recognition, borrowing money for cash flow would be much easier!

"Of course! Thank you very much!"

Garrett agreed immediately, then smiled apologetically at him:

"Just wait a bit... Uh, funds are tight right now, not enough for the building yet. Maybe we could open an account at the White Tower, keep the money there, guaranteed for this specific purpose?"

Sangers sighed in relief. Master Nordark was truly

considerate; he didn't even need to ask, and the mage had already suggested earmarking the funds!

As soon as Garrett spoke, the other merchants were also interested. Two merchants exchanged looks and followed suit:

"I'll donate a thousand gold coins."

"I'll donate fifteen hundred!"

"I'm not taking this thousand back home! I'm donating it directly!"

Garrett kept thanking them. Though only half agreed to donate, together they managed to gather an intended donation of eight thousand gold coins. A little more from the hospital's funds, and they'd have enough for a building!

Garrett was in high spirits. He spread out a large piece of paper along with the [Endless Ink Pen], handing it to Sangers:

"Come on, write down your names, donation amounts, and company names in order. Write it all down, I'll take it directly to the Alchemy Workshop, and we'll engrave it on the wall when we build!"

Sangers stood up nervously, taking the pen with both hands. The golden-red feather felt warm to the touch, as legendary as a phoenix's tail feather. Near the pen tip was a pale black diamond embedded, and engraved along the central quill was a line:

"Year 1183, Emerging Magician Award, to Garrett Nordmark"

"This is... a prize from the Magic Council?!"

He looked at the feather pen with reverence, asking cautiously. Garrett nodded at him with a smile:

"Yes. But don't overthink it; it's still just a pen. Write quickly, others need to write too!"

Sangers's hands trembled as he wrote, accidentally dragging a long line of ink across the paper, forcing him to ask for a replacement.

Following that, other merchants took turns carefully writing with both hands. Even the merchant who initially said he couldn't afford to donate, after watching for a while, reluctantly raised his hand:

"I'll donate five hundred too!"

A prize from the Magic Council! Likely a high-level magical item! 500 gold coins to touch it, to use it to write a few words, worth it!

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