Chapter 177: Vincent’s Day as a Forensic Assistant

Today is an ordinary day.

At 5 a.m., he eats the breakfast he prepared the day before, then packs his lunch for later.

By 6 a.m., as always, he arrives at the office early to review the day’s autopsy schedule.

He also takes care of a case scheduled for tomorrow—a case for which he hasn’t finished designing the dissection plan to submit to the lead examiner.

At 7 a.m., he checks in with the administrative desk about the case statuses.

Today’s cases are relatively simple, especially the first one the lead wants to handle: a high school girl, presumed suicide. The police suspect poisoning.

As usual, per Vincent’s request, the admin has already contacted the family.

The funeral will be open-casket.

“Poison, huh? Should be easier to manage this time...”

He mutters while organizing his tools.

Half an hour later, he hands over the compiled materials to the lead.

He doesn’t talk much while working, and the lead is used to that.

A simple nod follows.

“Nice job.”

And then the day begins in earnest.

Because the cases are simple—and staffing is always short—Vincent ends up handling four in a row.

He’s nearly exhausted.

People often laugh at how carefully he stitches the bodies up, saying the clothes will cover everything anyway.

He always replies gently:

“One day, when someone in your family dies, you’ll find out whether it shows or not.”

Sometimes that works.

Sometimes it pisses people off.

But when they realize Vincent says it with a polite smile, the kind that feels more like precision than warmth, they usually fall quiet—uneasy—and find a reason to change the subject.

By 11:30 a.m., nearly lunchtime, he hands off the samples to the techs.

Because he’s always so meticulous, the techs enjoy working with him. Sometimes, they even tell him:

“Good work today.”

And even though he’s not one for conversation, he’ll smile and reply:

“You too. Thanks.”

At lunch, he eats while reviewing the draft reports he’s written.

Occasionally, someone he’s familiar with—close enough to be called a friend—steals a bite of his food and drops off a drink he’ll actually accept.

Vincent complains, nearly every day, that their handwriting looks like ghost scribbles.

The lead examiner just watches the whole interaction, quietly satisfied that the rookies still have life in them.

At 2 p.m., an emergency case comes in.
Vincent helps, weighed down by the heaviness of it.

Because...

That’s reality.

Not every case comes with time to ask the family.

Not every body can be spared from being opened up.

Not every corpse looks like the ones in textbooks.

After the case is over, he brushes off the weight and gets back on his feet.

Training the newbies still needs to happen.

Because of the emergency, he joins the session late today.

A few familiar rookies greet him; he nods and smiles.

As usual, some of them still treat the corpses carelessly.

That’s why Vincent rarely speaks unless necessary—when he does, it carries weight.

When he demonstrates incisions and sutures, many of the students go quiet, transfixed.

His hands are too precise.

The final result looks almost... beautiful. Like some form of art.

Before anyone realizes it, they all want to do it just like he does.

At 4 p.m., he starts reviewing tomorrow’s case list.

He always makes a copy to take home, so he can design the procedures in peace.

He marks the bodies that need the “open-casket or closed?” confirmation and reminds admin to ask.

Because of the emergency earlier, he doesn’t clock out until 6 p.m.

After work, he heads to the same café and orders a strawberry frappuccino, then settles in to work on his reports.

He always picks the corner seat—to avoid startling the general public.

Once he finishes his drink, whether the reports are done or not, he asks for a second one to go, and takes his time enjoying the quiet hum of the café.

By the time he gets home, it’s around 8:30 p.m.

He makes himself dinner and preps breakfast for tomorrow.

Then he reads over some reports and a few personal interest books, adjusts his skincare products, and winds down.

By 9:30 p.m. sharp, he’s in bed.

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Chapter 176: Vincent Rick Thorne’s Self-Care Routine

He starts with a large glass of water.

First, his teeth.

When brushing, he begins by rinsing with diluted fruit vinegar.

Then he uses a carefully chosen toothpaste, brushing every corner thoroughly.

Without rinsing yet, he goes straight through the sequence—dental floss, interdental brush, tongue scraper.

Then he brushes again, and finally rinses with a specially selected mouthwash.

After that, he removes his earrings, cleans them with alcohol and water, and uses a disposable cleaning swab for his piercings.

Next, his face.

He removes his eyeliner with makeup remover, cleanses, and applies a warm compress to his eyes.
Following the shape of his eyes, he massages gently in circles, then works from the inner corners outward in a curve, lifting the cheek muscles as he goes.

The same method applies to facial cleanser—he doesn’t just rub out foam randomly like many people. Instead, he follows the direction of facial muscles, working slowly and lightly to create the lather. He includes his neck and ears, even behind the ears.

Then he cups hot water in his hands and rinses away all the foam from his face, neck, and ears, making sure no residue is left.

He pats his face dry with a towel.
If necessary, he uses an acne extractor and applies pimple patches.

Next, he applies moisturizer, waits five to ten minutes for absorption, then rinses with cold water and dries again.

He applies another layer of moisturizer, then takes out a carefully chosen lip balm—light pink, enough to brighten his complexion without being too conspicuous—and smooths it onto his lips.

After that, he applies his own homemade, science-based (not fruit-pulp) face mask evenly over his face and neck.

By now, the water he drank earlier has taken effect, and he goes to the bathroom.
When he’s done, he prepares for sleep.

He coats his hands in honey, then slips on transparent disposable gloves. Having done it countless times, he’s skilled enough not to smear honey everywhere.

When he sleeps, he wears a disposable steam eye mask.

In the morning, he washes off the mask completely, brushes his teeth as at night, and drinks another large glass of water.

Since hot water accelerates skin aging, he washes his face with cold water only in the morning.

After drying his face, he uses a cotton swab to apply his homemade hair growth inhibitor (not hair removal cream) in small spots where new beard growth is appearing.

He can tell exactly which are vellus hairs and which are potential beard hairs—even when no one else can.

Then he applies a base skincare layer to prevent the sunscreen layer from touching bare skin.

He follows with SPF primer, eyeliner, setting spray with sun protection, the same lip balm as at night, styles his hair, and puts on his earrings.

He also maintains a three-week nail care cycle.

On the first and third Sundays:

He removes nail treatment polish (if any), soaks his hands in hot water, dries them, and disinfects.

Even though he has little dead skin, he gently pushes it back with a cuticle pusher and trims it with cuticle nippers. He keeps separate nippers for cuticles and for other dead skin.

He trims his nails with clippers, shapes them with a 180-grit file, and smooths the edges again with a sponge buffer.

He finishes with his own blend of nail treatment polish, then applies cuticle oil.

On the second Sunday:

The prep steps are the same, with cuticle oil applied last.

He polishes the nail surface with a 240-grit buffer, follows with a sponge buffer, then uses the green side of a polishing block, wipes away the dust with an alcohol pad, and buffs with the white side to add shine.

Finally, he applies cuticle oil.

Vincent is a refined man—one who can rival Elizabeth in dedication to self-care.

Vincent Rick Thorne (main AU Adult Elizabeth’s BF)