It was the 16th of July, and the weather was as gloomy as a frosted eggplant.
Huo Fa, who had woken up early in the morning, yawned and walked around the small path surrounded by green trees toward the grey-white castle in the distance.
For some reason, going to work was always associated with sleepiness. Although he had not yet sat in the office, just looking at the castle in the distance made Hoffa yawn.
Around him, he could see some tinkerers like Edward Scissorhands trimming the plants into various shapes. There were also some old wizards with wrinkled faces like avocados walking along the path with crutches, with all kinds of strange medical equipment stuck on their bodies.
Saint-Mango Hospital was founded in London, England by Mungo Bohan in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century. It was the main and perhaps the only large comprehensive hospital for magical injuries in the magic world. The symbol of the hospital was a cross between a bone and a wand.
Greeting the nurses along the way, Hoffa came to his office on the first floor.
After entering St. Mungo Hospital, Huo Fa saw all kinds of patients suffering from all kinds of strange magic injuries. Some of the patients had an arm growing out of their heads, some were running around with a lizard tail, and there was even a deity whose entire upper body was wrapped in ice. (His lips opened and closed, and no one knew what he was saying.)
All kinds of visitors with room numbers and floors were busy shuttling through the crowd, and there were also healers in dark green robes hurrying around.
In the reception area, there was a table marked "Information".
He sat down behind the table, and soon, a man with a few lush plants growing out of his head sat down opposite Hoffa with a sad face.
Hoffa was surprised by the color of the man's face and asked, "Excuse me, how can I help you?"
"Give me a certificate, I've been cursed by someone with a green head."
The man said in despair, "My hair has turned into leaves."
"Okay."
Huo Fa swiftly took out a piece of paper and wrote down a few words.
"Reverse Magic Injury Department, fifth floor, looking for Dr. Bode. Fill in your name here. "
"How much?"
The green-headed man asked with a sad face.
"Thirty silver kexis if you're hospitalized. If you don't need to stay in the hospital, just 10 silver kexi will do. "
Hoffa replied, "By the way, how did you do it?"
"My wife cheated on me. I went to catch them in the act, but I didn't hit the adulterer!"
The man briefly told a heart-wrenching story, handed Hoffa thirty silver kexi, turned around, took the list, and walked to the elevator.
Looking at the other's bleak back, Hoffa suddenly felt that there was no harm without comparison. Thinking about it this way, his life seemed to be pretty good.
That's right, this was Hoffa's job.
His job in Saint-Mango was simple: he arranged beds for various patients and assigned them to various areas. If there was an emergency, they would also have to arrange the location of the hospital bed and help the patient contact the doctor to prevent chaos and unfortunate events from happening.
The position was very important, but it was also very busy. Especially in this war-torn era, allocating beds was an extremely busy job.
He didn't want to do this job, but it was the only job that could be done without a magic wand.
Hoffa's purpose in agreeing to Aglaia's internship at the hospital was very simple. He wanted to get a new System reward, the Spell Fragment or the System's reward of Great Knowledge.
But when he really came to the hospital, he found that he had taken it for granted.
The System did give him a prompt when he arrived in Saint-Mango, but the size of the hospital was far beyond his imagination.
The whole hospital had six floors and three basements, adding up to nine floors. Except for the shops and tearooms on the top floor, which were half-open, the other places were basically off-limits.
Not to mention the medicine dispensing and experimental areas at the bottom of the hospital, which were not places that an intern like him could casually enter.
This made him feel frustrated. After coming to Saint-Mango for a month, the exploration rate had reached 30%, and the remaining exploration rate had not increased at all. God knows how long it would take for him to get the reward.
But when he found out about this problem, it was already too late. Aglaia had already gone home.
She also didn't tell him what her family did in Saint-Mango, so Hoffa didn't have a good way to resign from this position.
But tonight was Aglaia's birthday, so this was a good opportunity.
He planned to resign tonight and quickly use the rest of the summer vacation to find a wizard's secret realm with a smaller area. It would be best if it was the same size as the Nine and Three Quarters Station, where he could get a reward after taking a few steps.
After sending away the unfortunate man, another figure appeared in front of Hoffa's table and knocked on the table.
Hoffa looked up, but this time it wasn't a patient who appeared in front of his table, but a short bald man with a big belly. He was wearing a suit, but he didn't look like a wizard, but more like a muggle manager. His stubby fingers were crossed in front of his chest, like an old penguin.
He stared at Hoffa with gloomy eyes, as if he wanted to pick out some thorns from his clothes.
"Good morning, Mr. Bolton."
Hoffa said cautiously.
This man's name was Cregan Bolton. He was the director of the hospital's logistics department, and was in charge of the distribution of magic potions and herbs. He was the boss who had appeared in his nightmares in the early morning. Hoffa believed that he was at least 50% responsible for his nightmares.
Sure enough, the man's stubby fingers pulled out a list.
Bang!
He threw it on the table, his expression extremely unfriendly.
Glancing at the list, Hoffa knew what he was here for.
Cregan Bolton: "You approved Hannah Kent's hospitalization application yesterday?"
Hoffa: "Yes, Mr. Bolton."
"At the price of thirty kexis?"
Hoffa hesitated for a moment: "No."
"Bastard!"
The big Fatso in front of him stood up. Just like the scene in his dream, his lower abdomen trembled, and he angrily walked in front of Hoffa.
"What did I tell you? Thirty kexis a day, this is the standard. If you don't meet this standard, you're not allowed to stay! "
"She's a Muggle, where would she get thirty kexis?" Hoffa asked back.
"Muggles, don't Muggles have pounds?"
Cregan Bolton waved his arms in agitation.
"Or do you not even understand the most basic currency exchange? My God, today was like this, yesterday was like this, and the day before yesterday was also like this. Do you have to let me do it once a day to be happy?"
Hoffa turned his head, frowning in displeasure.
Cregan Bolton was the man who graded his internship. This person's biggest hobby was not to flirt with beautiful nurses, nor to brag to his colleagues. His biggest hobby was to stare at him and not let go, pulling his pigtails.
Hoffa still remembered when he first entered the hospital, Cregan acted like a big boss, questioning his image in front of everyone, and whether he was qualified for the position where he had to deal with all kinds of wizard patients.
(Your eyes are "scary", do you want to find a doctor to treat them first?)
This was what he said on the first day.
There was a rumor that his nephew who graduated from the seventh grade wanted this job, but was accidentally replaced by him. That was why he was especially displeased with him.
However, Hoffa did not confirm the truth of this matter, as he felt that there was no need to. However, during his one month of internship, this annoying guy really made him dislike him.
"Look at me!"
The short and fat man said.
Hoffa turned his head and spoke quickly, "She was poisoned by a black wizard with a Tentacle Curse, and had dragon pox. When she was sent here by the Ministry of Magic's Department of Misuse of Magic, she was on the verge of death. How would I have the time to ask her for money?"
"First, pay, then, stay, in, the, hospital!"
The man gritted his teeth and said word by word. "This is the rule, the hospital's rule, Bach!"
Hoffa was silent, squinting his eyes and looking at his rotund nose.
Cregan Bolton said, "I just checked that ugly woman's account, her treatment fee is as high as seventeen Garen's, and she can't afford it herself! She only has two pounds and fifteen pence on her! "
Hoffa said, "My work rules say that if a Muggle is cursed, I should solve the problem quickly and unconditionally. I don't think my actions are against the rules. "
"That's under normal circumstances!"
Bolton almost jumped up.
"I told you on the first day you came, there's a war outside, bastard! Do you know how tight the beds are now? Do you know how much a bed is worth now? "
Bolton's stubby fingers knocked on the table.
"We're a hospital, not a charity! Don't let me see another Muggle hospitalization form that shouldn't be approved in front of me, do you understand!? "
Hoffa suppressed the urge to beat this man into a pig's head and nodded reluctantly.
"Damn it, what kind of people are these." Cregan Bolton jumped down from the chair and strode to the door, "Stupid as a donkey, I can't explain myself."
The voice disappeared around the corner, and a few female nurses on the morning shift looked at Hoffa sympathetically.
He looked at the list on the table and remained silent.
This was why he hated going to work. After the initial novelty, he had to face all kinds of inferior superiors. Compared to him, Tom Riddle was cute.
If it was any other day, Hoffa might have argued with this penguin.
But tonight, he was prepared to say goodbye to Aglaia and look for other Sorcerer's Secret Realms.
At this point, he didn't want to make things difficult for the people in the hospital. After all, the job was recommended by someone else, and he didn't want to make things difficult for them.
Ding dong
The hospital door opened, and a male Sorcerer with a bandage on his arm pushed the door open and walked towards Hoffa.
He took a deep breath, calmed down, and continued to receive guests for a new day.
Lunchtime came in the blink of an eye. Hoffa rubbed his eyes, dragged his tired body, poured a glass of water, and gulped it down. He was ready to go to the side of the street for lunch. He felt that a day's work was more exhausting than fighting ten Dark Sorcerers.
Hoffa didn't like the hospital's homemade meals. He always felt that it was strange to eat with a group of people with hands on their heads, and he was afraid that he would be disgusted when he saw Bolton, the penguin guy, while eating.
Entering and exiting the Saint-Mango Hospital for Magical Injuries and entering Platform 9 and 3 were very similar to the walls that one had to pass through to enter Platform 9 and 3. Through a glass window, one could arrive at a dilapidated and deserted factory.
Through this factory, one could enter the outside world of Muggles.
At this moment, the world of Muggles was in a state of panic, and there wasn't much color to speak of.
Military trucks rumbled through the streets, stirring up choking dust. Soldiers wearing helmets and carrying standard-issue weapons patrolled the streets with large strides.
Due to the fall of France, the street loudspeakers played over and over again the stammering voice of the British King, George VI, and Albert Windsor.
"At such a critical moment … perhaps a critical moment for the survival of our country … I send this message to my people … whether at home or abroad … that we are forced into a conflict … that we must protect ourselves and our country … that we must win …" His voice was low as he said, "We must win …"
Hoffa spent two pence to buy a newspaper and walked to the lunch vendor on the street.
Here, groups of war refugees were lining up to buy food. Their clothes were tattered, and their expressions were numb and hopeless.
If it wasn't for the fact that this was London, Hoffa would almost think that he was in Bombay. The whole city was very different from the bustling city when he had just transmigrated two years ago.
History was always on the rise, but it was also spiraling upward. Now was the low point of civilization.
After lining up to buy a simple pickled cucumber sandwich, he ate the simple food while reading the newspaper.
Germany had already defeated France and was planning a war against England. There were countless condemnations in the newspapers, and the war of words was endless.
Life was not easy.
Hoffa swallowed the not-so-delicious sandwich, folded the newspaper, and sighed. The uneasiness caused by the departure of the magic wand grew stronger.
He had to quickly resign and look for a new wizard's secret realm.
After lunch, just as Hoffa was about to return to the hospital, suddenly, an old-fashioned carriage stopped outside the dilapidated factory in front of the hospital. A few people dressed as Ministry of Magic employees jumped down from the carriage and carried a stretcher.
A carriage?
Hoffa was surprised. This was not common. Generally, wizards who went to Saint-Mango would use floo powder or Mirage.
Using such an ancient tool like a carriage, could it be that the wounded could no longer withstand any unusual magic transportation?
When they saw Hoffa's hospital uniform, they immediately waved anxiously and said, "Hey, sir, help us!"
Hoffa quickly walked over and was shocked. Fortunately, he had experienced a lot in the past two years, so he was not frightened by the unlucky guy lying on the stretcher in front of him.
This was a muggle soldier who only had half of his body left. He wore a green military uniform, and his body seemed to have been cut diagonally by a sharp razor. His thigh and right forearm were gone, and there were three sharp scratches on his lower abdomen. His slightly heaving organs could be seen.
The cuts were still hissing with smoke, and the charred flesh seemed to be constantly being roasted by a soldering iron.
The soldier lay on the stretcher, his chest only faintly rising and falling. His condition was too horrible to look at.
"Quick, take him to a healer."
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