The moment I stepped into the hospital room, Malia wasted no time with her sarcasm. “Well, well, Raelyn, do you need me to show you the chart? Wouldn’t want you making things worse for the poor patient.” I rolled my eyes. “If you know what needs to be done, why are you still standing here running your mouth?” Her expression soured instantly, like she’d just swallowed a fly, but in front of the patient, she had no choice but to hand over the chart. I glanced at the paperwork, then at the unconscious old werewolf lying on the bed, and let out a sharp click of my tongue. “This condition and you’ve been treating him for over a month? And instead of improving, he’s gotten worse. You still have the nerve to blame it on him?” Malia’s hands balled into fists. “We’ve been treating him seriously; how could this be our fault? And this isn’t some ordinary illness, Raelyn. Don’t get cocky. If you’re so capable, why don’t you treat him yourself?” I smirked and moved closer to examine the werewolf’s face, only to pause. “Where’s the air conditioner remote?” One of the younger werewolves in the room muttered bitterly, “They took it away. Said they needed to control the temperature for everyone and we couldn’t interfere.” I stared at him in disbelief. “The facial paralysis was caused by the air conditioning. It’s been blowing directly at his face for too long. This is a top hospital—don’t tell me no one here understands basic common sense.” The werewolf shot upright in anger. “I knew it! There’s no way someone just randomly develops facial paralysis.” Malia refused to admit defeat, her tone sharp. “We asked you here to treat him, not to argue. You talk too much.” I rolled my eyes at her again and pulled a witch’s spirit stone from my pocket. Tempest had given me this new stone not long ago. Without hesitation, I placed it gently on the paralyzed side of the old werewolf’s face, then massaged the muscles along his jaw and cheek to relax the tension. The spirit stone glowed faintly. After a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched—just a tiny movement, but enough to signal he was starting to wake. Malia sneered. “That’s it? I thought you’d actually fix him.”“Patience,” I said coolly. “This is just the beginning.” I took out a few smaller spirit stones and placed them on his forehead and over his heart. Once everything was in place, I waited quietly. The room fell silent. Everyone held their breath, careful not to disturb the process. After what felt like forever, the old werewolf stirred. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. His throat, dry from weeks of unconsciousness, rasped out a hoarse whisper. “What happened?” I poured him a glass of water, added a straw, and held it out. “Drink slowly.” “Thank you, miss. You are…?” Before I could answer, the werewolf at his bedside lit up with excitement. “Dad! This is your lifesaver, she’s…” He faltered, then turned to me. “What’s your name again?” I smiled faintly. “Raelyn.” “Yes! Raelyn. That’s her name.” Tears welled in his son’s eyes as he looked back at his father. “You don’t even know, Dad… these doctors here are useless. If it weren’t for Miss Raelyn and her incredible skills, your face would still be paralyzed.” The old werewolf pressed his lips together, then his expression brightened with sudden realization. “So you’re the famous Raelyn.” “Famous is a bit much,” I said lightly. “I just have a little name recognition.” Now fully alert, his voice had regained its strength, deep and commanding. “A little? Hardly. When you were live-streaming, I sent you one hundred thousand Carnivals.” I froze. One Carnival was three thousand dollars. One hundred thousand… three hundred million. I stared at the old werewolf in stunned disbelief. I never would have guessed that this unassuming old man was my biggest benefactor. Guess saving him had been the right call after all. “Well, now I have even more reason to make sure you’re fully healed,” I said, smiling. “Consider those Carnivals my consultation fee.” Malia, standing off to the side, scoffed bitterly. “Consultation fee? For a hundred thousand? What a scam.” I shot her a sharp look. “Then you treat him.” That shut her up immediately. After asking the old man a few more questions about his symptoms, I finally pieced things together. The patient lying in front of me wasn’t just anyone—he was Harold, the Alpha of the Voltclaw Pack and the wealthiest man in Veloria. No wonder he had tossed out a hundred thousand Carnivals without batting an eye. At that, Malia couldn’t hold back anymore. She stepped forward, plastering on a sycophantic smile. “Mr. Harold, how are you feeling?” His voice dropped several degrees. “Thanks to the hospital’s treatment, much better.” The sarcasm dripped from every word. I pressed a hand to my mouth to hide my laughter while Malia’s face went pale, then red, then pale again—an ugly sight if I’d ever seen one. “Well, Malia,” I said sweetly, “if you don’t have anything else to do here, why don’t you check on the other rooms? Aren’t you on rounds?” Knowing she had no way to recover her pride in front of the Alpha, Malia gave a sharp huff and stormed out.