Captivated by the Ruler of the Underworld
Chapter 9 A Stealthy Cure

Upstairs, as soon as Sylvester left, the girl woke up, no longer appearing sleepy. She got up and looked around before entering the adjacent room.

On the bed lay a boy with extremely pale skin, his lips cherry red, and his features delicate and clean, resembling Sylvester a little.

Seeing the cherry red lips, she concluded that he was poisoned.

She touched the boy's wrist, feeling a weak, faint pulse. His life energy was diminishing, indicating a critical condition. The boy's vital signs were gradually disappearing. She didn't hesitate, fiercely biting her own finger, and fresh blood oozed out. She placed her hand near the boy's lips and let it drip into his mouth.

Unfortunately, her wound quickly closed, her healing ability was too powerful, enabling her to quickly recover from minor injuries. Without much thought, the girl fiercely bit her fingertip again.

She repeated this cycle dozens of times, until the boy on the bed finally began showing signs of waking up. Only then did the girl stop.

Finally, she checked his pulse and, seeing that there was no immediate danger to his life, she finally calmed down.

Just at that moment, hurried footsteps approached. Unable to go outside in time, she could only hide behind the curtain.

As the curtains shifted slightly, Sylvester glanced in that direction, and the girl held her breath, afraid of being discovered. However, Sylvester only took a quick glance and shifted his gaze back to the bed. "Sylvester, do we really have to send Charlie to the hospital? It wouldn't be good if your condition leaked out. Maybe we should have someone come over instead?" Elvis said with concern.

In order to conceal the reigning Gomez sons' conditions, the family had dedicated medical personnel like Doctor Johnson and top-notch medical equipment. But Doctor Johnson had just...

Well, he was dead and useless. "The team we currently have in place doesn't know how to use the medical equipment without Doctor Johnson, so we will have to call someone else." Elvis declared. Sylvester glanced at the curtains, smirked, and nodded.

"Alright then."

Not long after, a weathered, aged man with a white beard was brought in by Michael.

"Hey, hey, hey! Be gentle, you brats. My brittle bones can't handle your roughness, "the old man grumbled, discontent with Michael 's behavior. But because he was one of the Gomez's longest-serving people, he didn't dare offend them.

He was the leading cardiovascular expert in Pliar, with a prestigious position in the World Medical Organization. He presided over the Providence Conservatory and was hailed as an honorary fellow. Most people invite him around with great respect, except for these damn Gomez.

Tsk! So rude.

Michael supported him and said, "Stop complaining. It's an honor for you to serve Mr. Sylvester."

The old man straightened his back and spoke with a tinge of disdain, staring at Michael. "They call you Michael, but you're anything but angelic."

"Don't talk nonsense."

Except for their boss, Michael treated everyone with arrogance.

"Michael, don't trouble me. Otherwise, I'll die before I even get there, "the old man grumbled.

Only then did Michael soften his grip a bit. In the room, the old man Watson, the doctor, skillfully operated the equipment to conduct a full-body examination for Young Master Charlie.

As he looked at the various report data in his hands, his brows furrowed tightly. Michael stood by, and the doctor's expression made him concerned that Charlie was in grave danger.

Lowering his voice, he spoke quietly to Sylvester, "Sir, don't forget that there is a Mutant we can use. I believe Charlie needs the Mutant's blood." Michael spoke with reluctance, as this Mutant they'd brought home was too adorable, and he couldn't bear to hurt her.

Sylvester shot him a chilling glare and his voice was icy, piercing through the sky, "Are you trying to tell me how to help my own brother?"

Michael felt like his heart was being squeezed at that moment, as if it would explode in the next second. He quickly shook his head. He dared not speak any further, but then became confused.

Wasn't the primary mission for their master to acquire a Mutant from the Balthazar auction to cure Charlie? Why was the boss unwilling now?

Suddenly, the doctor, Watson, put away the checklist in his hands...

Looking very unhappy, his tone contemptful, Watson scoffed, "Master Sylvester, are you trying to deceive an old man like me? Charlie is not sick at all. He's perfectly fine."

It was late at night and he should be at home cuddling with his young wife. He did not expect to be dragged here to see a perfectly healthy young man, wasting his precious sleep time.

Sylvester raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with Charlie?" Doctor Watson wanted to say, ""Are you questioning me?"" but considering it was Sylvester, he held his tongue and nodded instead, "Yes. He's perfectly fine, not poisoned, no tumor, no infectious disease."

Only then did Sylvester relax, rubbing his temples with his hand.

Elvis was extremely surprised, "That's impossible. Charlie was in bad condition even before Doctor Johnson injected poison into him. Blood was flowing from his every orifice. It took Doctor Johnson a lot of effort just to stop the bleeding." Sylvester jerked towards his uncle, his voice deep and serious, "What did you just say? Doctor Johnson injected poison into Charlie?" Unable to keep it hidden any longer, Elvis explained the whole story. Sylvester pursed his lips, his teeth grinding, his face tense.

Suddenly, he laughed and didn't mention Raymond at all. Instead, he turned to look at Charlie on the bed, "He's really lucky."

Seeing that Charlie was no longer in danger, Rachel couldn't bear watching Sylvester struggle like this. Even though she didn't know why, she spoke up, "Sylvester, you should go rest. We'll take care of things here." Hearing this, Doctor Watson thought there was nothing else for him to do. He pointed at himself, "Master Sylvester, how about me..."

Before he could say the next two words, Sylvester coldly ordered, "You stay."

Doctor Watson pouted, his little mustache twitching. When he turned and saw Michael staring at him, he sighed. Ah! He couldn't leave at all.

"Can I at least go sleep in a nearby guest room?" He was getting old and couldn't handle staying up late.

Sylvester looked at Michael and gestured for him to prepare the guest room.

Michael dragged Doctor Watson to the nearest guest room, h is er face filled with dissatisfaction, "Old man, if Charlie is fine, then he's fine. Why are you acting all bitter and resentful?"

"Son, when your bones are as old as mine, you'll resent being awoken for nothing, too, "he scolded the young man.

"And you dare to suggest I'm overreacting," he said.

The situation today felt like a game, and it was only natural for him to feel bitter and resentful.