In the center of the crowd, a man in his sixties was lying on the ground.
He clutched his chest in an incredibly theatrical manner, his face flushed as he let out booming, energetic groans.
"Ugh... I can't breathe... I'm suffocating..."
"Help... someone save me..."
Bonnie only needed one glance to frown in disgust.
The old man was screaming at the top of his lungs, but his breathing rhythm wasn't erratic in the slightest, and the pulse visible at his neck was perfectly steady.
More importantly, his complexion was rosy. He showed absolutely zero signs of oxygen deprivation.
It was a painfully obvious act.
Bonnie shifted her gaze and caught sight of Master Thorne standing in the crowd, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
It hit her instantly—someone was deliberately setting her up.
Were they trying to force her to treat him publicly so they could nail her for 'practicing without a license'?
"What are you standing there for?!" The staffer who had dragged her over was practically vibrating with frantic urgency. "Aren't you a genius? Hurry up and treat Arthur Zale!"
His shout successfully drew everyone's attention straight to Bonnie.
Bonnie scoffed coldly. "I can't treat this man's illness."
At that moment, Seraphina pushed her way through the crowd.
Hearing Bonnie's refusal, a flash of smug triumph crossed Seraphina's eyes. She immediately stepped forward, shoving Bonnie aside.

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