<b>Chapter </b><b>387 </b>


    Mirabe made her way next door once again.


    Niki caught sight of her returning with an antiqued–looking iron box cradled in her arms. and couldn’t help his curiosity. “What’s in the box?” he inquired, wondering if it was yet another concoction of hers.


    Mirabe set the iron box on a nearby table, her fingers deftly undoing thetch. The <b>box </b>opened with ease, revealing sheepskin–wrapped silver needles. “Acupuncture needles,” she responded to Niki’s question.


    She unfurled the sheepskin to disclose an array of silver needles of varying lengths, at least a hundred in total.


    Niki watched in amazement. His family, the Reeves, had a long lineage in alternative healing and did their fair share of acupuncture, but they never crafted such an extensive collection of needles. Once his initial shock subsided, Niki asked, “Are you nning on using these on James?”


    Mirabe nodded, her mind busying itself with how to strategically ce the needles to alleviate James‘ nerve pain while also addressing his chronic ailments.


    “I’ve


    just tried acupuncture on James, but it seemed to worsen his pain,” said Niki, a hint of concern in his voice.


    “You can’t stick to the conventional methods,” Mirabe remarked, her finger gliding across the row of needles.


    “Will you use unconventional methods? What might those be?” pondered Niki, stroking his long beard thoughtfully.


    Mirabe picked up a needle and turned to Wyatt. “Strip James down, please.”


    James, instinctively clutching at his shirt, blurted, “What the-”


    Wyatt, understanding the directive, nodded briskly and moved to the bedside. When he caught the apprehension in James‘ actions, he chuckled slightly. “Boss, Ms. Mirabe is simply preparing you for the session,” Wyatt murmured. There was no need to act as if he were about to be defiled.


    James shot him a look. Wyatt pretended not to noticeJames‘ re and proceeded to help James out of his shirt. Turning back to Mirabe, he asked, “Should the trouserse off


    as well?”


    James was visibly irritated. That bloody scoundrel.


    “Yeah,” Mirabe replied nonchntly, acting as if there was nothing amiss.


    With a touch of trepidation, Wyatt followed through with Mirabe’s instructions, sweat


    <b>115 </b>


    beading on his forehead. After cing the trousers on a nearby chair, he looked back at Mirabe, who appeared puzzled by his reaction–it was just clothing, after all.


    Quickly. Mirabe selected a needle and turned her attention to James, pausing as her gaze swept over his body. Not bad, she thought. Everything was in rather good proportion


    James, acutely aware of her scrutiny, felt a wave of difort wash over his handsome face and gave a cough to break the tension.


    Mirabe gracefully averted her gaze, adding, “A doctor sees no gender, no need for embarrassment.”


    “It might hurt a bit when I insert the needles, but it should be less painful than the nerve pain you’re experiencing. Just bear with it.”


    No sooner had she finished speaking than the silver needle in her hand swiftly punctured a major point on his chest. Niki, observing her first cement, was taken aback once more. The spot she targeted was one of the most delicate in the human body, a ce where the slightest misstep could cause unimaginable pain.


    And as she continued with the second, the third needle… with each casual insertion, Niki’s heart skipped a beat. Her technique was unconventional, almost reckless. It was a nerve–wracking sight.


    Before long. Mirabe’s needle cements grew faster, and in no time, James‘ body was adorned with silver needles at every major point.