Divine Celebrity 86

“S-sorry, professor, we’re helping the patient, and he was feeling a bit self-conscious,” Nancy managed to shout even as she grabbed and removed her jersey, and replicated that for her friend, before dragging her stumbling body to the other room. 

“Why is she here, I thought Doctor Williams was responsible for the patient,” Stacy gasped. “She never visits patients.”  

I fixed my gown, which didn’t help much considering I had a raging boner, forcing me to pull the covers on as well — even if that was mighty uncomfortable with my body still heated after the earlier show — and the two naked beauties disappearing into the other room. 

Even when they returned half a minute later, with their uniforms back on, their sexiness didn’t diminish that much. Their uniforms were back on, but their lack of underwear was even less inconspicuous with the way their erect nipples pushed against the fabric, or the way their hair mussed. 

Altogether, they weren’t exactly able to erase what had been going on. 

Which contrasted greatly with their expression of panic, especially when they failed to fix their outlook as much as they wished. 

Considering the fear they displayed, along with the title, I expected a woman in her fifties, maybe even sixties, which was why I was surprised when the door was unlocked and a tall woman barely in her thirties stepped inside. 

A glance was enough to understand the source of their fear. She was young, but that didn’t impact the sharp aura she was radiating, one that was helped by her tall stature, and the way she gathered her hair tightly on the back like an eighteen-century matron. 

The glasses she was wearing just enhanced the scary glint as she looked at the two nurses, the slight tightening of her lips suggested that she didn’t miss the way they were dressed.

But she chose not to comment as she turned to face me — but the lack of relief on their face suggested it was not the end. Poor girls stayed on the side of the door, too afraid to even move. 

The professor walked toward me, her steps steady even as she turned toward me, her expression carrying a glint of interest. Unfortunately, it was not a glint of interest, but something different than two poor nurses had on them. 

One that made me feel like an experiment. 

She stood next to me, flashing a penlight to my eye without even bothering to talk, her fingers digging to my chin, which confirmed one thing. 

She didn’t earn her title because of her excellent bedside attitude. 

I said nothing as used the light against my gaze, then pinched my arm to test my reflexes, followed by a plethora of other reactions. “Go and prepare the operation room,” she said to the nurses immediately. 

“Wait a moment,” I called immediately, which stopped the nurses. “What operation?” 

She looked at me, looking surprised that I even talked. “You need an urgent operation,” she told in a matter-of-fact tone. “There’s a risk of brain aneurysm if we don’t intervene.” 

I didn’t need my Traits to see she was bullshitting. Her curiosity, along with the way she approached made me extremely suspicious. Her position as a professor suggested great ambition, combined with the nurses' attitude and the little mention of her habits of not dealing with patients suggested that she was not exactly interested in my health. 

I sighed as I looked at her, wondering if the System somehow affected my luck somewhat considering the people I started to encounter. 

But clearly, she had noticed some kind of interesting thing in the MR. I had no idea what. 

Or more accurately, I had many ideas but didn’t know which one was true, from the possibility of mental Traits somehow changing my brain to Recovery triggering a recovery reaction that didn’t conform with the scientific principles. It might even be the reappearance of my guide creating some kind of mental reaction. 

Regardless of the reason, I didn’t trust any authority as far as I could throw to actually consent to such a risk. Not to lie under the knife of a woman that didn’t even bother telling the truth about the situation. 

“It might be, but that doesn’t take away my right to reject the treatment,” I said with a shrug, with absolutely no intention to deal with her. Though, I frowned in frustration, as it was a risk I failed to consider when I was lost in my own cleverness of tricking Coach Spencer, despite my initial fears of ending up in an experiment table when I first received the System. 

Arrogance was a costly trait, though luckily this time, it came along with a curious professor with a horrible personality rather than a SWAT team wearing hazmat suits. 

It was something I needed to be careful about going forward. 

“What do you mean, you reject the treatment,” she said, her voice between anger and shock, like she was trying to comprehend I had rejected her claim in the first place. 

“Very simple, I’m using my legal right to reject the treatment, and I will check myself out of the hospital,” I said as I stood up. 

If there was one thing at the sudden tenseness, it dealt with my anger impressively. Under her tight glare, I started searching the drawers for something to wear — my uniform left behind in the ambulance, and no one else bringing anything with them. 

I didn’t miss her walking behind me, but I forced myself not to react even as she grabbed my arm and pulled, her well-manicured nails digging into my arm. “Who do you think you are, you arrogant little boy,” she started. 

I looked at her, but just as I was about to lash out, something clicked in my mind. “I’m the meathead that can use you, little girl,” I answered, but rather than using Intimidation, which would have convinced her to back up, I used the Taunt to mock her, complete with a leering smirk. 

The gasp of anger that covered her face, thick enough to shatter the matter-of-fact confidence she was wearing was beautiful. “R-really,” she said, her anger forcing her to swallow. “As you wish, come begging to my room once you change your mind,” she said and walked away, fuming. 

But she stopped when she was at the doorway, and turned to the nurses. “Make sure to update his file that he’s forbidden from playing due to serious risk of further concussions, pending a more detailed examination,” she said, then paused for a moment. “And, come see me in my room after discharging him. You have five minutes, or I fire you,” she added. 

One last little annoyance, prevented me from enjoying their long consolation even as the professor disappeared away.

Leaving me alone with two shocked nurses. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Nancy muttered after a while, her voice grave. “She has a reputation for holding grudges.” 

I shrugged. “Come on, sweetie, the worst, I’ll start going to another hospital. It’s not like she’s the only doctor,” I said, and winked. “It’s not like she’s the only doctor in the town.” 

Their expression tightened even more. “No, but she’s literally the best neurosurgeon in the whole state, no doctor in the state would dare to give a second opinion contrasting hers.” 

“Ah. It might be not as simple as I had assumed, then,” I said, but I didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, a report on concussion risk was very inconvenient, as it blocked me from playing any sports with body contact. 

Meaning, not only I couldn’t play football, but any sport with the risk of collusion was out, which included a wide range from basketball to hockey. I had no idea what the protocol was for athleticism, but I wasn’t really interested in them as well. Athleticism was hardly popular unless they were the Olympics. 

And while it was supremely tempting to collect Intent on a global scale, I didn’t exactly know that it was the greatest idea to be that high profile. The shadow assassins showed that even now, I was being noticed. 

But I didn’t mind that much. I still had chess in short term. 

Yet, it was not all negative. The only reason I faked concussion was to put Coach Spencer on the hot seat after his very public punch, and the report of my high risk of brain damage would ruin his career. 

Which meant he would use his family power to make the professor issue a clean report, and the stronger the professor, the longer their battle would take. Not playing for a couple weeks was a good trade to make myself untouchable to Coach Spencer — maybe even actually convince him that coaching was more trouble than it was worth. 

Of course, since I was a pessimist, I couldn’t exactly write off the possibility that the professor would be the victorious party, but if that happened, I decided to focus on that possibility later. 

But I made a mental note to hack the hospital network first. A little precaution wouldn’t hurt.  I didn’t expect to easily reach and erase my reports without a monumental effort, which was doubtlessly held behind several layers of external security and physical backups. 

But the same didn’t apply to emails. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetie, I’ll just come and accept the operation in a week if she doesn’t change her mind,” I said as I looked at them, giving them a big smile. I had no intention of doing so, of course, but a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. 

“S-should we try to keep it a secret?” she asked. 

“No,” I answered, letting my smirk widen. “Actually, why don’t you wait until I leave the hospital, then do your best to ‘accidentally’ drop the information to some of the gossip?” 

“Why?” Nancy asked, while Stacy just look confused. 

“Oh, it will make the school pressure the hospital, and it’ll quicken my return to the field, of course,” I said, giving a workable excuse. What I wanted was chaos to annoy both the arrogant professor and Coach  Spencer. 

The bigger, the better. 

One that worked well, making their smiles bloom. “Now, why don’t you call me a taxi while I sign your jerseys. You have worked well…”