Chapter 357: Under the Microscope
Alexis’s office had always been a fancy room, but it looks like lately she’d transformed it into something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a high-end medical facility. State-of-the-art diagnostic equipment lined the walls, from advanced imaging systems to specialized monitoring devices that could track everything from neural activity to cellular regeneration rates. The centerpiece was an examination table that could have been lifted straight from a research hospital, complete with integrated sensors and holographic display capabilities.
I settled onto the examination table, trying to maintain the careful balance of appearing injured enough to justify my recent behavior while not overdoing the performance. The padding was comfortable, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking into a trap of my own making.
"Let’s start with the ankle," Alexis said, pulling on latex gloves with practiced efficiency. Her voice had returned to the professional tone she used during medical procedures, but I could detect an undercurrent of something else. Suspicion, maybe. Or concern that went deeper than normal doctor-patient worry.
She knelt beside the examination table and began gently manipulating my supposedly injured ankle, testing the range of motion and checking for signs of swelling or structural damage. Her touch was clinical but thorough, the kind of examination that would reveal any inconsistencies between my claimed injury and the actual state of my body.
I watched her face as she worked, trying to gauge her reaction through the subtle changes in expression that most people wouldn’t notice. But Alexis was exceptionally good at maintaining her professional mask when she wanted to.
"Hmm," she murmured, rotating my foot in a slow circle. "The swelling has gone down significantly since yesterday. How’s the pain level?"
"Much better," I replied, which was technically true. The Pain Resistance skill made it difficult to assess exactly how much damage remained, but the acute agony from yesterday had definitely subsided. "Still tender when I put weight on it, but nothing like it was."
She nodded and moved her attention to my chest, where the worst of the impact damage had occurred during my "accident" with the gym equipment. Her hands pressed carefully along my torso, checking for signs of internal injury or bone damage that might have been missed in her initial assessment.
"The bruising is fading faster than I expected," she observed, her tone neutral but somehow loaded with meaning. "Your body’s healing response seems to be operating at peak efficiency."
That was concerning. I’d hoped the visible injuries would provide cover for several more days, giving me time to figure out how to proceed with my experiments. If I was healing too quickly, it would raise questions about why I was still limping around.
"I’ve always been a fast healer," I said, trying to sound casual. "Good genetics, I guess."
"Mmm." The sound was noncommittal, but her hands continued their systematic exploration of my injuries. When she reached the area where several ribs had been cracked, she paused, her fingers applying gentle pressure to specific points along the bone structure.