The Great Medical Saint (Matthew) novel Chapter 898

Jerome's frustration boiled over. He nearly tore the page to shreds in anger. He had hope for a miraculous solution, a life-changing prescription. Instead, what he received was Tony's contact information.

Worse, Tony didn't even have a medical license. For treatment to process, the license had to be secured. Yet without proof of mentorship, which Tony couldn't provide since his mentor had passed away, getting the license seemed impossible.

No license, no treatment. Jerome felt trapped. Was he truly left with no options?

…

On the ninth floor of Opulent Club, Tony sat across from Ansel. Ansel carefully picked up a silver spoon, measured a small amount of freshly ground coffee, and placed it into a sleek, handcrafted coffee maker.

He poured in hot water, swirling it gently to extract the rich flavors before letting it rest. The steam curled upward, carrying the bold, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Smiling, Ansel poured a cup and set it before Tony. "Have some coffee."

Tony, lost in thought, stared blankly at the table. "Do you think Matthew can actually get the medical license done?"

Ansel sighed inwardly, already weary of this question. "Trust me. If anyone can, it's Matthew. This is child's play for him."

Tony frowned. "But he didn't ask for my ID or a photo. How is he going to manage it?"

Ansel waved dismissively. "Relax. He's capable of pulling this off even without those details. I guarantee it."

Tony shook his head, unconvinced. "It's not that I don't trust him, but I just can't wrap my head around it. No ID, no photo—how are you supposed to get a license without following the proper procedure?"

Ansel's patience wore thin. For days, Tony had been obsessing over the medical license, voicing his doubts non-stop. Thumping his chest, Ansel declared confidently, "I swear on my reputation—when Matthew gets back, he'll have your license with him."

Just as he finished speaking, footsteps echoed from the corridor. Both men turned toward the door.

"It's Matthew," Ansel said with a triumphant grin, gesturing toward the entrance. "See? I told you he'd come through."

Tony sprang to his feet, his face lighting up with excitement. "Matthew, you're back! Did you bring the medical license? Come on, let me see it."

"He's a director at the health department. He's the one responsible for issuing medical licenses in this region," he explained.

Tony blinked, stunned by the revelation. "Are you saying that the director himself is going to bring the license here?"

Matthew nodded. "That's right. I gave him the task, and I'm confident he'll deliver."

Tony fell silent, the room growing heavier with his doubt. His mind wrestled with the absurdity of the claim. Having a director personally deliver his medical license? It sounded more like a fairy tale than reality.

Tony let out a weary sigh. "If you can't help me get the medical license, just be honest with me. Don't come up with excuses."

Her aged face was etched with defeat. "I've known all along there are no shortcuts for this. I'll just go back to taking the exam."

Tony looked utterly deflated, like a plant that had withered after a harsh frost. He stared blankly at the table, his expression caught somewhere between a bitter smile and the verge of tears.

All those years of effort, all those failed attempts… He had tried everything, and still, he came up empty-handed. The thought of starting over felt like an insurmountable mountain.