Enforcer Manual
Chapter 294: One Matchstick for a Wish_1

As long as he was awake, he would curse at everyone around him. They had wanted to kick him out several times, but he just clung to his hospital bed and wouldn’t leave. Since the Law Enforcers’ department had previously investigated the case, they didn’t dare to forcefully remove him.

The word in the circles was that a few days ago, the head of the Law Enforcers department personally took down a clinic cooperating with the Log Bar. From the owner and doctors to those involved in selling the removed prosthetics of the deceased, not one escaped. They were all sent to report to a remote suburban prison.

It was said that on the very night they entered prison, they were all sent to the intensive care unit.

Illicitly trading the deceased’s prosthetics was bound to offend some figures in the underworld, and the majority in the remote suburban prison were gang members.

This once again proved the saying that had been popular in District Seventeen lately, "You can provoke anyone, just not the Law Enforcers."

"You’re finally here."

After listening to Song Lan explain his purpose, the Prosthetic Doctor was almost moved to tears, "Go take a look."

Even without entering the patient’s room, Song Lan could imagine the kind of irascible patient he was about to face; just standing at the door, he could clearly hear the patient swearing up a storm.

"What’s wrong with him now?"

Song Lan couldn’t help asking, as the patient continuously berated everyone in the Rainforest hospital as quacks.

"That’s a long story..."

The nurse who was responsible for receiving Song Lan hesitated to speak, but considering his status as a Law Enforcer, she chose to be honest, "Because no one had ever seen such injuries, the attending physician adopted a bold experimental remedy based on the patient’s condition."

To this day, they couldn’t explain how, logically, the bones in the patient’s head could be so contorted and yet he was still hopping around alive. They were extremely worried that opening his skull with conventional treatments would immediately result in the patient’s death.

"Initially, the diagnosis indicated his injuries were not serious, and the doctor had suggested he leave the hospital like that. In fact, it really wouldn’t have had much impact on his health..."

It would only make his appearance somewhat more peculiar.

The nurse muttered to herself.

"Be specific, what kind of experimental remedy was it?"

"Taking advantage of his inattentiveness, the attending physician struck him hard on the back of his head." Realizing the ambiguity in her explanation, the nurse hurriedly added, "It definitely wasn’t out of personal grudge, but a targeted treatment made by the doctor based on the patient’s description and actual condition! And indeed, the remedy was effective—the sunken part of his face returned to normal."

"Then why is he still cursing?"

"Because... this experimental remedy had some unforeseen side effects."

The nurse hemmed and hawed, speaking so softly it was barely audible, "The back of the patient’s head caved in."

Thus, their treatment reached an impasse.

Either the front would cave in, or the back of the head would cave in; the patient had to choose between the two.

She sincerely recommended the ’back of the head caved in’ package to the patient, assuring that if he wore a hoodie and a hat when he went out, he could hide the sunken part.

But this difficult patient rejected their recommendation and insulted them, calling them a black-hearted hospital.

Song Lan did not deliberately make it difficult for the nurse, knowing that a normal hospital was not likely to deal with a patient resembling Tom the cat on a regular basis.

Before entering, Song Lan adjusted his emotions, took a few deep breaths, and tried his best not to laugh in front of the patient.

"Calm down a bit, mate with the caved-in back of your head."

"MD, it’s your back of the head that’s caved in!"

It turned out, the patient was not only emotionally unstable but also experiencing hallucinations.

Song Lan had to correct him, "My back of the head isn’t caved in."

"Shit!"

The patient rolled up his sleeves, seemingly ready to have a wrestling match with Song Lan right there in the hospital.

He apparently hadn’t learned any lesson from this incident.

"I’m here to help you."

Song Lan kept waving his hands to show he was not proficient in street fighting, "Only by understanding exactly what happened, can we possibly get you back to normal."

...

After the patient’s narration, Song Lan came to understand some details that were not recorded in the dossier.

After being hit hard by the other party, the patient didn’t actually feel much pain; he was just startled by the sudden noise and special effects.

With a "bang," the loud noise was exaggerated like in a cartoon, and after he fell to the ground, he insisted that he saw several birds circling incessantly around his head.

Just as he was about to strike back, the passengers in the car suddenly erupted into a burst of terrified screams.

It was only when the people around him pointed it out that he realized his face had been flattened.

Literally flattened, and quite thoroughly at that.

Sound and special effects...

The description of the injured man was like he had entered the world of cartoons.

So his head also underwent a noticeable change, similar to characters in cartoons after taking a heavy punch, a form of expression actually quite common in animation. Besides Tom, Xiaofu and Lufei are also experts at getting their faces smashed.

But what kind of power could this be?

The injured man interrupted Song Lan’s thoughts, "Hey, didn’t you say you’d help me revert to normal? Where’s the remedy?"

"Hold on for a second, I need to consult a professional’s opinion," Song Lan replied.

With that, he took the opportunity to leave the ward.

Being a man of integrity, once outside, he began to consult the Devourer, "Little Devourer, what do you think about this person, can his head be restored?"

"Biological sample has changed, advise discard and replace with a new one."

........................

Meanwhile, somewhere in District Seventeen.

Guests were coming and going at the hotel entrance, where a little girl in tattered clothes sat at the corner clutching her knees with an equally battered bowl in front of her.

The people who could afford to stay in this hotel were wealthy, and they ignored her, occasionally casting disdainful glances her way.

After an unknown amount of time, someone finally stood in front of her.

"Little girl, why are you here all alone?"

She looked up. The angle of the sunlight was very harsh, causing her to squint instinctively, unable to see the other’s face clearly but deducing from the voice that it must be a man.

Seeing her delayed response, the man asked again, "Where is your family? Don’t they care about you?"

"All gone."

The little girl’s voice was very hoarse, as if she hadn’t drunk water for a long time.

"What a poor little girl."

The man bent down and placed an object in the battered bowl.

"...Thank you," she thanked him.

But when the little girl looked down, she found that what was placed in the bowl wasn’t money but an old matchbox.

As if bewitched, she opened the matchbox and found it contained only a single match.

When she looked up again, the man had already left, leaving behind a sentence echoing in her ears.

"Keep your wish in your heart, otherwise it won’t come true."

She slowly picked up the match.

As she struck it, a flickering flame came to life with a "whoosh."

The little girl stared intently at the flame, and in that moment, the whole world seemed to drift away from her. She thought she heard the sound of thunder and the exclamations of the people around her.

The sky, suddenly shrouded by dark clouds, sent everyone scattering for cover, desperately seeking shelter from the unknown substances falling from above.

The man paused, looked up at the sky with curiosity, and let the objects falling continuously stain his clothes.

The majority of objects deformed upon touching him, their original shapes no longer discernible.

He touched the cream sticking to his sleeve with the index finger of his black leather glove and tasted it.

It was sweet.

Yet the taste was different from any cake he had tried before, seemingly conveying a longing for some unknown.

Unconcerned with his "drenched chicken" appearance, the man walked into the hotel.