“If you want more people to come to you for treatment, shouldn’t you put some effort into your appearance?”

In the treatment room, Asho looked at the medical practitioner wearing a crow mask with some confusion. “With the way you dress, people would suspect you of robbing or preaching, let alone coming to you for treatment. Is this just a meaningless tradition?”

“It’s tradition, and it has meaning,” the medical practitioner said. “Think about it. If…just in case…if I were to treat you and something went wrong, and you woke up missing some parts, and you saw me in this getup, would you attack me?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Exactly.”

The two looked at each other, and Asho suddenly realized, “So this terrifying attire and eerie treatment room environment are all props to improve the doctor-patient relationship…Wait, does this mean there’s a high chance of something going wrong during treatment?”

“It’s not very likely, just a little bit…” The medical practitioner spoke vaguely and didn’t even dare to look at Asho. It seemed that this “little bit” was about as big as the Milky Way.

Asho said, “Your service attitude is not good. You probably don’t have many patients outside, do you? You even get accused by patients of not treating them well, so you have to hide in prison and level up by treating us, who can’t complain.”

The medical practitioner hung her head in shame. Obviously, Asho hit the nail on the head. She whispered, “I did everything I could to treat them, but they still complained and caused trouble. Some of the problems weren’t even my fault, they were caused by themselves…I only provided the most basic care, but they had so many demands…”

As if breaking through her defenses, the medical practitioner poured out all her negative emotions to Asho like he was a trash can. Her story in Asho’s eyes was simply her own fault: in an era when most medical practitioners charged a consultation fee, she didn’t charge anything and was even willing to make house calls. As a result, she was accused of providing inadequate treatment by patients and couldn’t make it in the city, so she had to come to prison to level up.

After listening, Asho thought for a moment and asked, “Do you know what your weakness is?”

“I do. It’s that my skills aren’t good enough…”

“It’s that you’re not assertive enough when you speak!”

“Huh?” The medical practitioner raised her head, her eyes behind the crow mask full of confusion.

“When you speak like that, you sound weak and uncertain. If there’s a medical accident, patients will definitely come after you. Even if you don’t charge a fee, they’ll still eat you alive.” Asho instructed, “Let me teach you. When you say you may not be able to cure the patient, your voice needs to be loud, your back straight, and you need to say it with a confident and proud attitude.”

“And that’s just the first step. The second step is to find the patient’s weaknesses. If the patient is good-looking, you say they have a wild lifestyle. If they’re ugly, you say they have no sex life. If they’re thin, you say they’re malnourished. If they’re fat, you say they’re overnourished. There’s always a way to criticize them. As long as you do these two steps, you can establish your authority, suppress the patient, and create an atmosphere of ‘you should be grateful that I’m willing to treat you.’ Even if you make a mistake during treatment, the patient won’t blame you, and may even explain it for you.”

“Is this really effective?” The medical practitioner asked.

“It’s really effective!” Asho nodded heavily. “This is my many years of personal experience with workplace PUA!”

Asho was very familiar with this kind of workplace PUA – first, find faults in the other person, then release your own goodwill, and the other person will be grateful like they have Stockholm syndrome. This trick is almost irresistible to recent college graduates.This kind of forbidden technique should be used in shooting practice in the workplace, but as the saying goes, weapons have no right or wrong, only the heart. Like medical volunteers who provide free medical care, even if there are some side effects, Asho thinks that their professional path should be made easier.

“So do you know what to do now?”

“What should I do?”

“No matter what surgery you perform in the future, you must say to the patient: I have done my best!”

“I have done my best.”

“Louder, I can’t hear you!”

“I have done my best!” The medical volunteer clenched her fists.

Asho nodded in satisfaction. “You can slowly understand the rest. I should go eat now…”

The medical volunteer was still thinking. When Asho was putting on his shoes and preparing to leave, she suddenly stopped him and asked, “Are you really not planning to get plastic surgery? When you look at yourself in the mirror, don’t you feel disrespectful to others to appear in public like this?”

Asho’s body shook, and his eyes were full of teachable joy – wow, he just learned a skill and used it on his teacher right away! If he joined our company, he would be at least a team leader-level strong person!

“It’s not harmful if there’s no comparison. Compared to your ugly crow face, I suddenly feel pretty handsome. Next time, if I feel ugly, I’ll come to you for plastic surgery.” Asho said perfunctorily.

“I’m not ugly, you’re ugly!” The medical volunteer was so angry that she wanted to take off her mask, but as soon as her hand touched the crow mask, she heard footsteps upstairs.

She suddenly remembered something. “Oh, Asho, take this.”

Asho was handed a nameplate with the number “222” on it.

“What’s this?”

“My ID number. Remember to wear it all the time, even when you sleep. This way, everyone will know that you are mine.”

“So, what race are you, GG or MM? Although I’m a very casual person, if your conditions exceed my bottom line, I’ll have to charge extra…” Asho said.

“If you don’t get plastic surgery, you’ll scare people to death when you go out. If you wear my ID number, I’ll have priority treatment when you’re beaten to a pulp. If your face is ruined, I can also help you with plastic surgery.” The medical volunteer pushed him out. “Okay, go eat. The cafeteria is about to close…”

Asho thought for a moment, put the nameplate in his pocket, and suddenly asked, “By the way, can you cut an apple for me next time I come?”

“Sure.”

Okay, goal achieved.

Don’t think Asho is bored. This is his secret to workplace relationships – asking others to help with trivial matters is a shortcut to closeness. “Feeling needed” is a high-level emotional need, and Asho used this trick to win the most votes in the “Top Ten Employees” election and successfully received six months of bonus.

“If you have time, let’s eat together next time. I’ll go now. See you later… Oh, I almost forgot to say thank you.”

“If you want to thank me, let me help you with plastic surgery…”

“Next time, I promise!”

After Asho left, the medical volunteer continued to organize the treatment room tools.

Suddenly, another door opened, and a tall medical volunteer walked in and looked at her sternly. “Why are you still here?”

The medical volunteer glanced at his work badge, which read “176”.

That’s right, not only do death row inmates not know who the medical volunteers are, but the medical volunteers themselves don’t know each other’s identities. Except in their own dormitory, medical volunteers must wear crow masks and use work badges to identify themselves in any public place.”A patient just woke up, and it took a little longer than expected. I gave him my nameplate to schedule his future treatments.”

“You didn’t chat with him, did you?”

The tall medical sorcerer’s tone became serious.

“You know, it’s against the rules to interact with prisoners, and our identities must be kept strictly confidential. If word gets out that we’re conducting rituals here, the Human Rights Association will tear the council apart…”

“I know.” The medical sorcerer under the crow mask stuck out his tongue.

“Then hurry back to your room. The 11-inch Blood Artifice thesis is due before the weekend, don’t forget.” The tall medical sorcerer said solemnly, “Don’t think that having some talent allows you to be lazy. If it weren’t for the team leader’s permission, you wouldn’t even be qualified to be here…”

In the past, the medical sorcerer would have been sincerely frightened and reflective in the face of his senior’s criticism, but after chatting with Asho, a thought suddenly came to him.

「Is my senior deliberately criticizing my imperfections to establish his authority and suppress my status? The fact that I came here through the team leader’s care is something I can’t change, and it has nothing to do with my skills. He can always criticize me for this.」

Listening to the tall medical sorcerer’s meaningless speech, the medical sorcerer began to miss the pleasant conversation with Asho.

Speaking of which, Asho’s physical recovery seemed to be much stronger than that of ordinary Artificers, and the touch during treatment was really good…

He secretly wished that Asho would be beaten to the brink of death soon, so he could treat him again.