But now, even this facility was raising concerns over his reckless disregard for his own physical limits.
"Mr. Vaughn, let's dial back the intensity slightly today."
"Maximum intensity," Jorrod replied, his eyes closed and his tone deadly flat.
The doctor frowned. "It's only Thursday, and you've already far exceeded the recommended limit of three times a week..."
"Just start," Jorrod cut him off, opening his eyes to check his watch. "I have a meeting soon. We need to hurry."
The doctor opened his mouth, desperately wanting to fulfill his oath and insist on medical boundaries, but one look at his VIP patient made him swallow the lecture.
When the session finally ended, Jorrod opened his eyes and ripped the patches off with practiced efficiency.
He stood up, smoothing down the slight wrinkles in his clothes.
"Mr. Vaughn," the doctor approached him, holding a chart. "The data isn't looking good. I strongly advise you to take at least a month off from neuro-stimulation and switch to a conservative medication regimen."
It was phrased politely.
But the message was crystal clear: high-intensity treatments were destroying him.
Jorrod completely ignored the warning. "A month won't work."
"But..." The doctor pushed a little further as Jorrod slipped into his jacket. "The brain isn't a machine. Forcing it under this kind of stress might stimulate some memory recovery, but I'm worried..."
Jorrod turned his head, casting a side-glance at the doctor.
"I'm worried that not only will you fail to retrieve the lost memories, but your current memories might also start degrading."
The doctor watched as Jorrod fell completely silent, holding his gaze for a long time.
His dark, bottomless eyes seemed unnervingly calm, but for a fleeting second, a suffocating wave of heavy emotion rippled through them. Before the doctor could decipher it, the look was gone, buried so deep it was untraceable.
Finally, Jorrod just murmured, "It's fine."


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