"Bonnie!"
A sharp, furious female voice shattered Bonnie's train of thought.
Seraphina strutted over in her heels, obvious displeasure stamped across her perfectly made-up face.
She slammed a packet of herbs onto the front desk.
"Go to the brewing room right now. Prepare this medicine, bag it, and deliver it to Bed Twelve on the third floor of the inpatient ward."
Bonnie stared coldly at the packet, not moving an inch. "Brewing and delivering medicine is the pharmacy and logistics department's job. It doesn't fall under the front desk's duties."
Seraphina scoffed. "Who do you think you are, putting on airs with me? Most of the pavilion's staff have been transferred to the emergency center, and there's no one available right now. I have to go to the inpatient ward to take care of Mr. York in a bit. If you didn't know a little about pharmacology, do you think I'd even bother asking you?"
Noticing the rising tension, Caleb quickly reached out to grab the packet.
"Dr. Miller, I'll do it. I know a little bit about it too..."
Seraphina shot him a glare that could cut glass. "Why is a logistics guy trying to get involved? Brewing medicine is all about heat control. If the heat is too low, the medicine's properties won't release; if it's too high, the properties will dissipate. If something goes wrong, can you afford to take responsibility?"
Caleb shrank back, awkwardly withdrawing his hand as he cast a worried glance at Bonnie.
Seraphina turned her head, staring down at Bonnie with a look full of contempt and authority.
"Bonnie, I am now instructing you as an official physician: the patient must drink this medicine before noon. If any issues arise, you will bear all the responsibility!"
With a cold huff, she turned to leave.
"Stop right there!" Bonnie called out coldly.
Seraphina paused, turning around with a mocking sneer on her face.
"What? Want to ask about Mr. York's condition? Bonnie, what makes you think I'd tell you a single thing about him?"
Bonnie slowly stood up, looking at her with total composure.


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