Back to My Worst Birthday and Starting Anew
Chapter 262 An Illness of the Mind
+8 Pearls
Caught off guard as he was pushed inside, Emyr steadied his wheelchair awkwardly and gave a slight nod toward Basil, observing him closely.
“Master Field, I appreciate your help.”
Basil let out a dismissive snort. “Mr. Emyr, you certainly have your fair share of admirers. A few young ladies are fighting over you.”
Emyr could tell that Basil was speaking with a hint of sarcasm as if he were standing up for someone.
Was it because of Freya?
He frowned slightly. “Freya’s efforts in persuading you to come out of seclusion won’t go unrewarded. I’ve already arranged appropriate compensation for her.”
Hearing this, Basil’s face darkened. “And what about the other girl? You won’t even bother to pay her off?”
“She’s my fiancée. She’s not to be compared with others,” Emyr stated matter–of–factly.
Basil, who had been leisurely sipping tea, suddenly spat a mouthful.
“Fiancée?”
His tongue was scalded, but more importantly, his mind was reeling.
That mischievous girl, without saying a word, had actually gotten engaged?
No wonder she had insisted on bringing him here to treat Emyr. It turned out she was keeping the benefits within her own circle!
Emyr noticed his reaction and raised an eyebrow. “Master Field, you seem surprised?”
Of course, I’m surprised! Even as her closest master, I had no idea!
Suppressing his rising temper, Basil gestured toward him. “Come here. Let me check your pulse.”
Following the instruction, Emyr maneuvered his wheelchair forward, placing his hand on the table.
Master Field removed his reading glasses, his usually clouded eyes momentarily glinting with clarity.
Placing two fingers on Emyr’s left wrist, he remained silent for two seconds before speaking again. “When did you two start dating?”
Emyr said, “Shouldn’t you be focusing on my condition?”
“Cough! I can get a rough sense of your condition just by touching your pulse.”
Clearing his throat, Basil finally adopted a serious expression and refocused his attention.
This time, a deep furrow formed between his brows as he shot Emyr a penetrating look. “The other hand,” he said firmly.
Emyr extended his right hand, and he could distinctly feel Basil’s fingers pressing down on his pulse with a
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Chapter 262 An Illness of the Mind
+ Pearis
After a long moment, he withdrew his hand and let out a meaningful sigh. I can’t cure this?
Emyr’s heart trembled briefly, but he quickly regained his composure after a fleeting shock.
He didn’t press for details. Instead, he merely nodded, his expression unreadable, “Understood. Sorry for the trouble. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Wait”
Basil raised an eyebrow, looking at him in surprise. “You’re not going to ask me anything else?
Most patients, upon hearing such a verdict, would be devastated–either drowning in self–pity, breaking down in tears, or frantically demanding alternative solutions.
It wasn’t that he, at his age, thought too highly of himself. But whenever he declared an illness untreatable, it was as if he had pronounced the final verdict–no one else could offer a solution.
Yet, the young man before him–so composed for his age–had quickly come to terms with reality, unshaken.
Emyr’s lips curled slightly in self–mockery, “If even you say my legs can’t be healed, what’s the point of asking more?”
“You’re calm about this. Before coming to me, you had already undergone a structured treatment of herbal baths and needle treatment. Your meridians have mostly recovered. By all logic, even if you can’t regain full mobility, you should show signs of improvement. Yet, there’s none. This means your illness isn’t in your legs -it’s in your mind.”
Emyr’s body tensed for a moment.
Basil gave him a deep, assessing look. “You have a psychological barrier. Unless you overcome it yourself, no one can cure you.”
He gripped the arms of his wheelchair tightly. “Thank you for your insight, Master Field.”
Hearing the study door open, Charmaine rose from her seat.
But before she could take a step forward, Freya rushed past her. She caught a glimpse of the elder inside through the slightly ajar door. His silhouette was oddly familiar.
Without dwelling on it, Freya eagerly grabbed Emyr’s wheelchair. “How did it go, Emyr? When will Master Field say you can stand again?”
Emyr lowered his gaze, his voice indifferent. “Master Field can’t cure me. You don’t need to keep searching for doctors for me anymore.”
Freya felt like she had been struck by lightning, standing frozen. “What?”
Without elaborating, Emyr gestured toward Tad. The assistant immediately handed Freya a check. “For all your efforts, this is your compensation—one hundred million.”
Before Freya could process what was happening, Emyr had already left the room.
