The next day, Chen Fan sat at the reception desk again with Makarov beside him.
Watching the lively guild, Chen Fan felt like something was missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He looked at Makarov, who was smiling with his eyes narrowed as he watched the members. Doesn't he get bored? Chen Fan wondered.
Wait... bored. That was it. Chen Fan was bored out of his mind. He wasn't used to having nothing to do. He decided he needed to find something to occupy himself.
Natsu and Gray had asked him to play, but how could he agree? He had the mind of an adult; he couldn't spend his time playing with children.
He had thought about chatting with the older guys, but they all treated him like a cute kid and just wanted to tease him.
Then he remembered he had offered to do "plastic surgery." He'd even had a few private inquiries yesterday that he'd forgotten about. No wonder a few people had been looking at him with resentful eyes this morning. He slapped his forehead in realization.
He turned to Makarov, who was still enjoying the sight of his guild members fighting and chatting. It must be an age thing, Chen Fan thought, otherwise, no one could be this bored.
"Master! Master! MASTER!"
Chen Fan started gently, but when Makarov didn't respond, he raised his voice. When he was still ignored, he finally roared.
Bang!
The shout startled Makarov, causing him to fall right off the table with a loud crash.
He climbed back up slowly, rubbing his sore spots and his ears. He looked at Chen Fan. "Oh, it's you. What is it...?"
Chen Fan leaned in with a smile. "Master, look at our guild. Everyone is so passionate, so young, so full of energy." He paused to find the right words. It was hard for him; he'd never been great at literature in his past life.
Makarov nodded proudly. Seeing that the bait had been taken, a lecherous, somewhat sleazy grin appeared on Chen Fan's face.
Makarov suddenly felt a chill and looked around cautiously. By the time he turned back, Chen Fan had replaced his grin with a look of pure admiration and respect.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Makarov whispered, "Chen Fan, did you feel a cold breeze just now?"
Chen Fan blinked, but his mind raced. He adopted a serious expression. "Master, have you been feeling sudden chills lately?"
When Makarov nodded, Chen Fan continued, "That is the early stage of 'Epilepsy,' a common condition among the elderly. It's a very serious illness, ranked right up there with the legendary 'spasms.' Patients often feel cold winds passing through them."
Seeing Makarov's dismissive look, Chen Fan grew even more solemn. "That's just the beginning. In the final stages, patients suffer from convulsions, foaming at the mouth, and in milder cases, dementia."
He crossed his fingers, rolled his eyes back, and let his mouth hang open in a perfect imitation of a mindless fool. He even let a bit of drool leak out, which made Makarov's heart skip a beat.
"In severe cases, they stop recognizing their own family. they'll kill anyone they see and worse. It might be one thing for a woman, but for a man..."
Before he could finish, Makarov's face turned deathly pale. He grabbed Chen Fan's hand and shook it desperately, tears streaming down his face. "Chen Fan, save me! Please, you have to save me!"
"You're my Master, of course I'll save you," Chen Fan said, looking like a benevolent saint.
But then his face fell. "But I don't have the right tools!"
"Then go buy them!"
"I want to, but..." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign for money.
Makarov seemed oblivious. "But what?"
Chen Fan was confused. Does the universal language of Earth not work here? He leaned in and whispered in Makarov's ear, "But I don't have any money."
"Money? Why didn't you say so? I have money!" Makarov said, looking grand and generous. Chen Fan was impressed. As expected of a major guild leader. Look at that wealth!
"Tell me, how many gold coins do you need?"
Thud!
Chen Fan fell off the table. He scrambled back up, grabbed Makarov by the collar, and snarled, "Listen here your money or your life!"
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