Chapter Text
Law opened his eyes and blinding light seared his retinas.
This wasn't an unusual situation for him, as he tended to sleep with the window opened.
The unusual thing was the room, because something had definitely happened to it overnight: vivid rugs, curtains and tapestries blooming with flower patterns everywhere that his eyes could reach; bronze mirrors mounted on the wall; lacquered furniture with flawless carvings and cushion.
It felt like he had fallen asleep then woken up in the penthouse suite of a billionaire heiress obsessed with rococo decor. The transformation was almost aggressive, as though someone had decided his tastes were a personal insult that required correcting.
Law usually preferred clean lines, muted colors with the exception of yellow, and practical furniture, not this explosion of pink silk and gold trim.
While he was indifferent toward pink, he definitely didn't like it this much.
For one brief, horrifying second, he was worried that he had gone home with someone.
That, in itself, was enough cause for alarm, as Law wasn't one for one night stand, or dating for that matter. Long before the start of his job, he had come back from the University of Zurich with a strong command of the Swedish language, a spotted hat, a suitcase full of books, and a broken heart.
This broken heart had been inflicted upon him by a man two decades older than him, who was very experienced in turning smart men into fools. His brief period of entanglement coupled with two mediocre one night stands had left him with the notion that he was not built for romance, which was fine.
At the end of the day, what he cared about more than anything was his job, partly because the study of medicine was in its own way something to care about in place of deceased family members, and partly because the galling bitterness of poverty had haunted him throughout his childhood. He would rather die than end up on the streets again, penniless.
That particular train of thought evoked a distant voice in the back of his mind, feminine and raspy:
As your senior, I must advise you to take a day off. You have worked 170 hours of overtime per month from the beginning of this year and if you keep it up, one day you will keel over and croak.
"Chief Kureha," he mumbled, licking his lips. His mouth was dry. He needed some water, but the lone porcelain cup on his garish bedside table was empty. Another discrepancy. He always left a full bottle of water nearby in case he woke up in the middle of the night with a parched throat.
Tumbling out of bed, he made his way to the adjacent bathroom, which turned out to be as big as his old apartment.
"What the fuck is going on," he grumbled, considering the possibility that he was either on drugs or stuck in a very brutal reality show, when he came face to face with the mirror. "Well, damn."
The reflection was him, from the way he carried himself to the shape of his scowling expression. However, his reflection was not as well-groomed as he remembered, his body bore no trace of swirly black ink, and his eyes were a deep shade of gold instead of gray.
He also didn't appreciate the pink sleeping robe around his body. Where was his normal, comfortable, for-sleep-only boxers?
Law might have chalked all of this up to a prank of some kind, but for one to be pranked one must first have friends, and the person he talked to the most was his boss.
He couldn't find a clock anywhere. For the first time ever, he was definitely going to be late for work.
He was mourning over his perfect track record on the side of the bed when the big oak door creaked open.
A woman walked in, then halted in surprise. Whatever she was expecting, it definitely wasn't him.
Before Law could ask her if this was Vegas, she gave him a deep curtsy.
"Nami, at your service," she said, voice even and practiced, as though she did this every morning.
Law stared, rendered speechless.
Even though this Nami was flesh and blood, and not the official pencil-sketch version Law was used to, it was easy to identify her. Her dress was a flawless purple; her long, orange hair curled and crashed down around her shoulders. She looked too real. As a matter of fact, everything around him looked too real to be fictional.
Alarm blared in his head as Kureha's most recent warning echoed with a vengeance: one day you will keel over and croak.
He knew exactly who Nami was. He also knew she worked for a man who shared his name.
Between working in the hospital and writing his own research papers, he rarely had time for fiction, but the sheer hype surrounding The Golden Empire—and the rumor of a minor villain sharing his name—had finally broken his resolve.
The sweeping novel proved to be a gripping web of court intrigue. In it, the faceless villain Law acted as the story's first hurdle, conspiring with King Doflamingo to exploit the supposed naivety of the protagonist, Luffy, in a plot to tear down Garp's nation. It was a testament to the book's addictive pacing that Law had devoured both available volumes in less than a week, completely hooked despite his namesake's role.
But the fictional Law had severely underestimated the hero's reach and his own household. Luffy had a secret friend inside the estate: Nami. Bound by a past debt, she discovered the treasonous letters and took matters into her own hands, poisoning her master in Chapter 10 to protect her friend.
Law looked at the empty cup on the bedside table. Nami's brief flash of shock suddenly made sense. The man she served was supposed to have died last night.
"My lord?"
Nami's voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he almost corrected her, telling her to address him as Doctor instead.
There was too much running through his mind, and as of right now he required complete solitude to get himself together. He picked up the cup and handed it to her.
"Go put this away for me," he told her calmly. "That will be all."
Hopefully, she would catch the hint and realize that he knew of her plot.
Nami hastily took the cup and strode out of the room.
With this attempt a complete failure, in a sense, there was no telling what she would do next. Law pinched his brow, firmly scolding himself. One issue at a goddamn time, please and fuck his life.
Law had always worked best with a plan, and to form an effective one, he first needed a clear grasp of the timeline, the sequence of events, the people involved, and where exactly everything was meant to go.
The first variable was Luffy.
Since Nami's assassination attempt had failed, the engagement would remain intact until the end of the year. At the Feast of Yuletide, the kingdom's third prince was supposed to formally announce their new status: no longer merely betrothed, but soon to be married.
Except that was never going to happen, because Luffy would publicly end the engagement instead.
Luffy had only met the original Law once during the treaty negotiations between King Doflamingo and King Garp. One day together had been enough for him to come away disliking both Doflamingo and Law on instinct alone.
That instinct had been completely correct, for by then, Law had already become Doflamingo's perfect heir in everything but title.
And Garp, naturally, had no intention of sacrificing his grandson to an unhappy marriage. The engagement had only been allowed to continue because they needed time to gather proof of Doflamingo's betrayal. Once that happened, both Doflamingo and Law were meant to be exiled alongside each other.
A fitting ending for the first book's villains.
Law had no intention of sharing that ending for obvious reasons, but he still wanted to see Doflamingo's downfall.
Which brought him to the second variable: Nami.
He must find a way to make her realize he was on their side without making it obvious. A sudden change in behavior would only invite suspicion. For now, the safest approach was simple: stop gate-keeping letters from her. If she could pass information freely to her friends, she would eventually notice the difference on her own.
Hopefully before she or Luffy tried to kill him again.
Now that a plan had been formed, he found there wasn't much for him to do.
If this was how nobility lived throughout the day, he suspected he would become a rouge soon. Even the usual solace he found in books was nowhere to be seen, as a long search through the estate's library yesterday had left him disappointed.
The medical information around here was very outdated, as far as he could tell. He could even see some original elements sprinkling in here and there in the flora system. The historical aspect of the series was mostly dictated by creative liberties. Once upon a time, Law had enjoyed it, craving to escape into another world, but now that he was within it and needed to know things to function properly, it presented a variety of problems for him to tackle.
Law walked through his enormous closet, mentally preparing to give away all of these horrendous clothes. He was getting sick of pink already.
Finally, he put on a pair of black trousers and white tunic. Shrugging on what seemed like a decade-old blue cloak, he smoothed down the fabric and pushed through the door.
In the hall, the way the morning light trickled in through the curtains reminded him of being in a chapel. A maid stopped in her track and hastily bowed; it had been seven days since his arrival and still their show of deference unsettled him.
At the bottom of the grand staircase stood Nami, bright-eyed and awake despite the early hours.
"Where are you headed?" she asked bluntly without proper title.
Ever since he let her fetch his letters every morning instead of doing it himself, she had been eyeing him with renewed suspicion.
"Do I need to report every second of my day to you?" he teased.
As often with his flavor of teasing, it came out mean and challenging. His coworkers hadn't appreciated it, and neither did Nami, if her deepening frown was any indication.
"Of course not," she said at last. Law noticed the way her back straightened and mentally sighed at an oncoming headache. "It would, however, be helpful for me as I must arrange the house and servants around your schedule."
Beside her was another maid, so silent he hadn't noticed her until now. He didn't really like the apprehension in her eyes as she regarded him from behind her bangs.
At odds or not, he needn't make their lives harder without good reasons.
"I'm going into town."
Nami's eyes widened. "Why?"
"Sight-seeing."
She seemed unduly shocked. The other Law didn't like to step near anyone he deemed beneath his station, let alone a whole village of them.
"Well then." She smiled thinly. "I shall go with you."
Law drew in an impatient breath but didn't argue. He felt no pleasure at the prospect of her tagging along, keeping watch, though for her peace of mind, he tried not to show any obvious frustration.
"Fine."
The nearest village was no more than ten minutes from the estate, and the wind off a nearby lake smearing his cheeks and running its light fingers through his hair made it feel shorter.
After a few moments of walking in silence, the mist around them thinned. Law could see that they were now at the entrance of a small, busy community filled with farmers and thatched-roof cottages. Most of the cottages were so old the ground seemed to have consumed half of them, and grass and vines were threaded through every crevices in the stone walls.
A new character rushed over.
"My lord!" he exclaimed. "We have never—Heavens, you have never graced us with your presence before. We didn't know you were visiting today!"
Law peered at the restless murmurings behind the man. "What's happening?"
The man grimaced. "We have recently found a body nearby. It is not something suitable for your eyes, I am sure."
Law stared him down. "Lead the way."
The man looked worriedly between Law and his fellow villagers, before he nodded and led them to the other side of town, where a cluster of people were looking down at a sprawling body.
The crowd stepped aside at the sight of Law.
In some ways, he preferred corpses to the living. He didn't mind living people, as they were the main source of income in his previous life after all. He diagnosed people and at twenty-six could still retain the usual note of triumph in his vein at a treatment well done. So, living people were fine, but they tended to ask stupid questions, such as, "Dear god, what happened?" when it was obvious that this character had recently drowned.
A hand on his arm. "What do you think you are doing?" Nami exclaimed. "Don't come any closer."
"I won't faint," he drawled.
She looked like she wanted to protest, but stopped herself as he none too gently stepped away from her grasp to squat on the river bank.
Drowning wasn't a fun way to die. He had almost died from it himself, back when his parents were still alive.
The character in front of him had gotten soggy and bloated. The fishes had taken a chunk out of his eyes and guts. From the familiar, decaying wound on his arm, Law could tell that it had been serious, though not untreatable.
"Any idea what happened to him?" asked Nami tentatively.
"I can tell you he's been in the water a day, maybe a day and a half."
"I didn't know you're capable of identifying such a thing."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," he replied. In times like these, keeping it vague was the best strategy. Before this line of questioning could get out of hand, he continued, "He likely got stabbed before, which still doesn't really explain the drowning."
Nami fell quiet. When he turned around, her expression was grim. "The nearest infirmary stands three days away by carriage."
Law stared at her in surprise. "Does it?"
Nami offered nothing else, but the glare in her eyes clearly conveyed her fury at his ignorance.
Law ran through what he knew of the geography in his mind. He currently lived in a remote frontier estate several weeks from the capital. The surrounding villages were desperately poor; if Nami was to believed, most locals relied on prayer or sheer luck to survive injuries and illnesses alike.
This was a country of resilient people, yet it couldn't avoid unfortunate cases like this, where the person felt cornered enough to end his own life the moment he saw no other way to seek treatment for his wounds.
The fishes hadn't cored this one out completely yet. With a swallow, it was becoming increasingly hard for Law to view everyone here as characters instead of people.
Real, breathing human, just like him.
It was a rainy day when Nami was notified by the kitchen staff that Law had, once again, skipped breakfast. She had just recovered from a long night of balancing the monthly budget, and therefore had absolutely no patience for this nonsense.
Law's concentration was solely on his work when she walked into his private chamber. He cut a striking figure, leaning over the table to take notes, occasionally glancing at a nearby vial that was filled with an unknown liquid; and if he disliked the way she had banged against his door, he didn't berate her for it.
Nami took a moment to look around.
She could scarcely believe this was the same room within the same estate. There was now a big wooden desk at the center, covered in parchments and books. The needlessly rugs and extravagant fur that had once dominated every corners were now completely absent, leaving behind a room in which the only decorations were papers and pots of plants.
So much plants, green and red and purple everywhere, laying next to chairs, on windowsills, hanging from the ceiling and above the four-poster bed, where a dark blue feather quilt was tucked under a few pillows, their silver tassels gleaming like they were woven from moonlight.
This chamber no longer had an oppressive feel to it, just a place to rest, which, judging from the dark smudges under Law's eyes, meant it was frequently used as a place to work instead of slumber.
"Wha—" she began, then stopped to dodge around a hanging pot of trailing rosemary. When she had recovered her faculty of speech, she managed to ask, "What's with the plants?"
He flicked his wrist to dry the quill, not a movement wasted. "Researching," he explained without tearing his eyes away from his work.
"Researching what?"
"Everything that needs to be researched."
A vein popped in her temple, and she could see his mouth quirked for a brief second before it settled back into a severe line. She stood in stony silence, waiting. Law's hand flew across the paper in front of him, jolting down a few more lines, before he finally focused on her.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm your stewardess. I'm here on business, obviously."
"Alright?" The small frown between his eyebrows indicated he saw no common sense in what she'd just said. "Are there letters for me then?"
"Yes," she sighed, handing them over. "Is there anything else you need from me?"
"Actually, I need you to do one thing."
She braced herself. "What is it?"
There was a glint in his eyes now, leagues different from before.
"If I were to open a clinic in the nearby village, what would I need to do?"
And Nami—
Nami truly didn't know what to make of him.
Luffy hadn't wanted her working under Law, but she had persisted anyway. Like her friends, she had sensed something rotten beneath the man's exterior, and with the discovery of the secret correspondence, the inner court had gone into an uproar, with Luffy loudly swearing that at the Feast of Yuletide ten months from now, he would beat Law bloody for it.
Those letters—vile, horrible things—had once been guarded personally by Law himself, rather than entrusted to a stewardess or a butler like every other household.
And now they were in her hands.
Fourteen days ago, Law had suddenly summoned her into his chambers without warning and informed her, in no uncertain terms, that from then onward she was to collect letters every morning. The change had been so abrupt that she couldn't ignore it.
It meant she no longer had to sneak into his rooms to read the correspondence between him and Doflamingo. Now she could examine them in secret before delivering them herself.
The convenience unsettled her more than it relieved her.
Briefly, she wondered whether he knew what she had been doing all along. Whether he wanted her to see the contents on purpose. He certainly must be aware of her failed attempt to assassinate him, and yet no punishment had come.
It was as though he had become an entirely different man, and she couldn't figure out why.
Law had only been in Raftel for two months, yet in that short span he had proven himself deeply unpleasant. Like his guardian, he wielded proximity like a weapon, stepping closer than courtesy allowed, smiling with a kind of quiet malice that seemed to sour the air itself. Nami had never seen him strike or kill anyone, though that was likely owed more to the fact that he was living on another king's land than to any restraint of character.
Lately, however, something had shifted.
He had begun avoiding physical contact altogether, as though personal space had suddenly become sacred to him. The constant smiles were gone as well. Instead, he moved through the estate with sharp focus in his eyes and a permanent frown shadowing his face. Somehow, the expression suited him better, more natural.
Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if the cheerfulness from before had been a facade.
If, beneath it all, he had always been a deeply serious man.
The establishment of a clinic was nothing to scoff at.
There was the matter of location, staff, equipment. As the only person of noble blood in the vicinity, Law could have simply ordered the locals to surrender a building in the name of the greater good. No one would have questioned him for it.
But the idea sat poorly with him.
He wasn't a noble, not really. He preferred to think of himself as a somewhat unsettling diplomat first and a brawler second, so he told Nami to arrange a meeting with the village chief instead.
The negotiations stretched across several days, most of them spent untangling logistics. More often than not, Law found himself pausing halfway through a discussion just to explain concepts like joint ventures and shared investment, arguing that a clinic would not only keep people alive but also create work for the village and, by extension, a steady source of income.
Law might have died in his previous life—an uncomfortable fact that still crept up on him during the darkest hours of the night—but he had no intention of giving up medicine because of it. He had studied too hard and for too many years, damn it, no way some absurd twist of time and space could keep him from doing the one thing he knew best.
"We need a way to supplement the patients' diets," he told Nami after the chief had finally gone home for supper. "We need to establish a soup kitchen as part of the clinic. I need to calculate how much extra space we'd need for that."
Nami dropped her head into her hands. "Do you ever stop working?"
"Nothing else to do around here, Nami-ya."
"Untrue. There are social events for you to attend. Dinners to host."
"Sounds like you want to do those things." He turned back to his papers, before something occurred to him. "Although…"
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"You don't have to like it," he retorted. "You need only to do your job. Right now, your job is to help me host the Rothwoods."
"Pardon?"
"Preferably dinner, here, as soon as possible."
"I don't understand you," she complained, and he wasn't sure if she thought he was plotting to gather allies for his cause.
"That's the sleep deprivation talking," he replied. "Do close the door on your way out."
The estate turned into a house of whispers the moment word of the dinner spread.
Law's status was as bewildering as the rest of him: a foreign noble with no claim to another kingdom's throne, betrothed to their prince in what many quietly assumed was only a temporary arrangement. After all, if Prince Luffy had truly intended to marry him, he would never have sent Law so far from the capital, to an estate that might have looked grand to commoners, yet compared poorly even to the humblest residence of a duke.
What everyone did know was the Rothwoods' standing at court.
Baron Rothwood and his wife had long since fallen from favor after a scandal, but influence did not disappear so easily among the nobility. Why Law wanted to meet with them, no one could say. Surely there was some larger scheme at play, and so the servants resolved that the estate must leave a flawless impression.
As determination solidified all around, the servants made sure every surface shone like sunlight. For the first time in nearly three months, every corridors came alive with noise: people gushing, hurrying feet, the clatter of pots and pans.
The moment Law stepped from his own room, Nami appeared at his side.
"They've arrived," she reported, smoothing already immaculate hair from her shoulder. "Baron Gabriel and Baroness Cercis. Her health has been worsening lately, so they brought along their private physician as well. Good riddance, they should have warned us beforehand."
Law gave a noncommittal hum as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. "Why should they? My standing is beneath theirs, in a way. They only accepted my invitation because I make for interesting gossip."
She cast him a bewildered look. "Then why did you orchestrate any of this?" she exclaimed.
Law didn't answer, for the evening had already begun.
The dinning hall was different tonight. Candlelight from the small chandelier spilled warm gold across the long table where three people already waited. Nami peeled away silently, retreating to supervise from elsewhere.
Law's eyes skipped over the couple as they exchanged pleasantries, landing on the reason why he had invited them over in the first place.
Marco looked older and wiser than either of his employers. His blond hair was darker under the light, and beneath his perpetually drowsy expression rested sharp obsidian eyes that missed very little.
Toward the end of The Golden Empire's first volume, a plague later known as the Frozen Affliction swept through the kingdom. The infected would collapse into an unnatural sleep for four to six days before death inevitably followed.
Before Chopper's official introduction, Marco had been regarded as one of Raftel's finest physicians, and he alone had noticed the outbreak's earliest signs. Had he possessed sufficient funding, and had his life debt not chained him to the Rothwoods, he might have discovered a cure in time to save Ace.
From a storytelling perspective, Law understood why Ace had died. It had been the catalyst for Luffy's growth, the turning point that hardened him into someone stronger. Law himself only wanted to watch Doflamingo's downfall because Luffy had beaten him half to death before his exile.
Still, Ace was Law's third favorite character, which was all the reason he needed, really. Doflamingo was fun too, but watching his defeat was better.
As soon as the plates were arranged, the pork cut, the wine started, conversations commenced.
Gabriel instantly exhibited every trait Law hated in animals. He slurped when he drank and he ate without tearing his eyes away to acknowledge others. Cercis was slightly better, but she had forgotten to take off her hat until her husband reminded her, so the only one who seemed remotely civilized was Marco.
"This is excellent, my lord," Marco said after tasting the first course. "Thank you for accommodating Lady Cercis's dietary restrictions. It is refreshing to see someone take my recommendations seriously."
The last remark was directed squarely at the Rothwood couple, who only laughed.
"This one," Gabriel finally stopped drinking long enough to say, "spends all of his time worrying over our health."
"It is almost as though that is my profession," Marco replied dryly.
"What about you, Lord Law?" Cersis asked, looking back at her husband with a knowing smile. "From the look of it, it seems His Royal Highness still has not visited you."
Marco's expression tightened almost imperceptibly, while Law raised an eyebrow at her over the rim of his cup.
"He is a busy person," he agreed. "I can't expect him to ride all the way here."
"Why, this place has a certain… rustic charm to it. The estate is hardly at fault."
"Is that so?"
"I simply mean that, if you put in a little bit more, ah, effort into everything around here, he might find the time to visit."
"Busy?" Gabriel snorted, spittle flying as he talked. "He's currently in Alabasta, visiting one of his oldest friends."
Law leaned forward slightly, pulse quickening. "Truly? Then I simply must ask…"
They both turned to him in expectant glee. "Ask away!"
"Who accompanied him?"
Whatever they had expected him to ask, it certainly wasn't that.
"Pardon?"
"A prince doesn't travel without trusted retainers." At their befuddled nod, he continued, "For instance, did he take Sir Sanji with him?"
Cersis sputtered, turning toward her husband for support. "I… suppose? It only makes sense, no?"
"Of course," Gabriel agreed.
Marco added, "Wherever His Highness goes, his usual entourage tends to follow."
Law imagined them riding a camel together, traversing across the great stretch of sand. Under that boiling heat, water supply would eventually run out, and Sanji, who was well-known for his generous nature, would share his water flask with Luffy.
"How nice," he mused, feeling his face lift in the beginning of a smile and raised his cup to cover it.
Cersis seemed to have recovered from her previous stupor. "It is nice!" she insisted with new gusto, eyes gleaming with something Law distantly recognized as malice. "Do you wish you were there with His Highness instead of Sir Sanji?"
"No," Law answered at once.
The conversation drifted into safer, more boring waters after that. Apparently, the Rothwoods found discussions of the prince's companions far less entertaining than they had hoped.
When dinner ended and the Rothwoods staggered toward their carriage, Marco lingered behind.
"Thank you again for the invitation. I had a good time tonight."
Law inclined his head, pleased. Their brief exchange regarding medicine had been far more stimulating than the rest of the dinner combined.
"Before you leave," Law spoke up, catching Marco's attention again, and handed him a sealed envelope.
"What is this?"
"Something that may prove useful to you."
He flicked his gaze meaningfully toward the Rothwoods. Understanding dawned almost immediately into Marco's eyes.
With a sharp bow, he mounted the horse and departed into the evening mist.
Nami was waiting for him by the main hall when he returned inside.
"You should not let them speak to you that way," she hissed.
"What way?"
"Disrespectfully."
Truthfully, Law had found the entire thing amusing. Most of their insulting implications had not even been directed at him, but at the other Law, a man he himself used to mock online before waking up in this ridiculous world.
He couldn't tell Nami that though.
"Setting aside how they spoke, were what they said wrong?"
Nami faltered in her steps. "But—"
"But?"
"Anything can change," she protested. "People are often not what they seem. For example, perhaps everyone was wrong about you. I once thought you malicious and sadistic, but you are not."
To be fair, the other Law had definitely embodied all of those traits.
"People might not be what they seem, but first impression lasts," he said. "Don't sidestep it on my behalf, we can both agree that Lu—His Highness detests me."
"So what? You don't plan on setting the record straight with him at all?"
"Why would I do that?" Law frowned at her in confusion. He did want to see Luffy up close. Wanted to watch him interact with Sanji. But no way in hell would Luffy willingly travel all this way to visit someone he hated. "I know he never intends to marry me in the first place."
Nami gaped. "You knew about that?"
Probably not a good idea to confirm that he had been aware of the exile plan all along though.
"Nami-ya," he tried. "If he really wanted to be with me, he would have kept me by his side. What else am I meant to think? He sent me thousands of miles from the capital after meeting me once. Has there ever been a case like this in your kingdom's history?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"You can't isolate someone from the rest of the nobility then still expect other lords and ladies to respect them," he continued. "That was never going to happen."
She still seemed unhappy, though Law suspected she would calm by tomorrow.
He genuinely didn't take offense, because at the end of the day, what mattered to him was the plan to prevent the plague at hand.
Everything else was just that: noise.
Dear sir Marco,
I think it is best to get straight to the point, as neither of us seems particularly fond of unnecessary pleasantries.
I have heard of your suspicion regarding your neighbor's recent death. Though your colleagues and patrons dismiss your concerns, I believe you might be onto something.
I would propose a collaboration. You may share your findings with me, and I shall share mine in return. Together, we may yet stay ahead of what is to come.
As a gesture of goodwill, enclosed are the list of ingredients and procedures required to synthesize a new form of anesthetic, as I find the one we already have profoundly inadequate. Whether you choose to sell the medicine yourself or the formula behind it, it will provide sufficient funding for future research.
I look forward to your response.
Sincerely,
Law