This time, Fred did not follow the man. Instead, he turned and surveyed the disinfected room. Its tidiness and sparse furnishings allowed him to assess it at a glance. He then grasped the doorknob, gently closing the door behind him before returning to his office.

About an hour later, the disinfection team completed their work. The five workers gathered in the lobby, exchanging quiet glances.

"So?!" Fred thundered, descending the stairs. "Did you finish disinfecting every room?"

"Yes, Your Grace," the leader replied. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"What kind of virus are you dealing with? Will it spread to our premises?" Fred asked.

"It's unlikely, Your Grace, but we can't guarantee it. Knowing your background in medicine, I'm sure you understand," the leader said.

Fred chuckled, nodding. "Since you've finished, please keep your promise and don't disturb us again so soon."

"We're simply doing our job, sir," the leader began, but Fred interrupted.

"Enough with the scripted lines," Fred said, clicking his tongue impatiently. "We have important matters to attend to and no time for idle chatter. Please leave." He turned to go.

One of the men called out, "Your Grace, is your arm injured?"

Fred paused, glancing at his arm in its sling. "Yes," he said, turning back. "I fell two days ago. Working injured is challenging, yet you came to cause as much trouble as possible." He shrugged. "But I'll forgive you."

"A simple fall requiring a sling? Did you break it? It could be serious. Shall we examine it?"

Fred chuckled. "No need. I have doctors here. You're here to disinfect, not mend broken bones."

"I know a little about herbal medicine," the man offered, his tone tempting. Something about his eyes seemed familiar to Fred.