Flora’s Guide to a Second Chance at Love and Life

"Mr. Atticus, come quick! Something's wrong with him!"

Mr. Atticus rushed over to check on the man, but before he could even start, he heard several more thuds as people collapsed around him.

It was chaos-several people were on the ground, frothing at the mouth and convulsing uncontrollably. Panic spread like wildfire.

Mr. Atticus was at a loss, overwhelmed by the sheer number of people needing help. He knelt beside the nearest man, trying to get a sense of his pulse.

The man's pulse was erratic, his breathing all over the place. Even Mr. Atticus couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

More people collapsed, not just frothing at the mouth this time, but their faces turning a horrible shade of purple as if they were suffocating.

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd. "Mr. Atticus, what's happening? What's wrong with them?" they urgently asked.

Mr. Atticus, gritting his teeth, was at a loss when a smug voice cut through the tension, "Well, well, all these folks were treated by you, weren't they, Mr. Atticus? How come they were fine before, but now they're like this? Could it be your incompetence that's harming them?"

Lance's voice was full of schadenfreude, eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

Just moments ago, Ms. Flora had mentioned he couldn't cure these people. Now, with this unfolding disaster, it seemed obvious that Mr. Atticus's lack of skill had turned saving lives into taking them. Lance's words hung in the air, casting a deadly silence over the crowd. A moment later, the silence broke into a frenzy.

"Yeah! These people were all treated by Mr. Atticus!"

"Is it really his fault?"

People still waiting in line took several steps back without even realizing it.

Meanwhile, those treated by Flora were perfectly fine, as lively as ever. They felt a wave of relief, glad to have avoided Mr. Atticus's treatment.

"Mr. Atticus, say something! What's going on here?"Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

As more people collapsed, it became clear that everyone Mr. Atticus had treated was affected. No one was spared.

"Mr. Atticus, do something!"

"Hurry up!"

The crowd's respect had vanished. How could they trust him when he seemed to be killing people?

"Brother! Hang in there!" A young man, eyes red, cradled the convulsing man on the ground and turned to Mr. Atticus, shouting, "What are you waiting for? You're the doctor, save him!"

Mr. Atticus, carrying his medical bag, quickly knelt beside the man and started administering acupuncture with silver needles. But it was futile. Absolutely futile.

At first, he managed to stay calm, but soon, even his hands started to tremble, making it impossible to continue.

Desperate, he pulled out various Western medications, forcing them down the man's throat, but nothing worked. His interference only made things worse.

All the while, Flora watched, her chin propped up, expressionless, her eyes filled with cold mockery, as if witnessing a farce.

Indeed, it was nothing but a farce.

Watching his brother's condition worsen, the young man, enraged, pushed Mr. Atticus away. "What's wrong with you? Are you trying to save him or kill him? If anything happens to my brother, I won't let you off!"