Tokyo, 1994, starting with medical training

Chapter 38 is quite honest.

After watching, Kiryu Kazusuke closed his eyes and began to rest.

First of all, it needs to be clear that a person cannot strangle themselves. After passing out, their hands will naturally loosen.

He had to endure the pain while fighting his will to survive.

Moreover, a half-day trip to the county mental hospital?

No need, no need.

Secondly, he is neither Tom Cruise, the protagonist of the "Mission: Impossible" series, nor Jason Statham from "The Expendables".

So, something like prying open the top of an elevator?

No need, no need.

In the end, he thought it was pretty good to be a background character and get a 1 yen reward without doing anything.

Inside the elevator car, the dim emergency lights cast long shadows of the two people.

Apart from the faint sound of Imagawa Ori chewing chocolate, the only other thing in the air was the almost negligible stuffiness after the ventilation system stopped working.

Time passed by, second by second.

Fifteen minutes is enough for an acute appendicitis patient to progress from dull pain in the lower right abdomen to peritonitis.

Kiryu Kazusuke stood in one corner of the sedan chair, lost in thought.

Imagawa Orinori leaned against the wall on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes closed, as if she were asleep.

I don't know how much time passed, maybe ten minutes, maybe twenty minutes.

"Dr. Imagawa, how are you?"

Kiryu Kazusuke found the time dragging on and broke the silence.

"It's alright, how so?"

Imagawa Ori opened her eyes, her expression somewhat obscured in the dim light.

"It's nothing, I was just asking."

Kiryu Kazusuke nodded, but didn't say anything more.

Another long silence followed.

Just when he thought he would have to wait until the rescuers arrived, Imagawa suddenly spoke up.

"Kiryu-kun."

"Yes."

Do you think I'm greedy for money?

"But Dr. Imagawa seems to be really short of money."

Kazusuke Kiryu turned to look at the young specialist.

She would smile and fawn over people at the "Kagura Club" for the sake of a champagne tower, and she would also be ruthless when accepting gifts from patients at the hospital. She would even work for dozens of hours straight for money.

Although we learned through the light screen that her goal was 100 million yen, the reason behind it was unclear.

Imagawa Ori opened her eyes and stared at his face in the dim light.

"Kiryu-kun, could you give me 70 million yen?"

However, as soon as she said those words, she found them somewhat ridiculous.

So, I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Kiryu Kazusuke paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"cannot."

The monthly salary for a medical trainee at Gunma University Hospital is only around 18 yen.

After deducting resident tax, health insurance, welfare pension, and employment insurance, plus rent, utilities, and food, it's considered good if you can save 5 yen a month.

At this rate, even if he didn't spend a single penny, it would take him over a hundred years to accumulate seventy million.

Moreover, even if he had it, the answer would still be no.

The elevator fell silent again.

A few minutes later.

Perhaps it's because people's psychological defenses become weak in such an environment, or perhaps it's because she also wanted to shift her focus.

"That Ōkawara's son."

"Preperitoneal packing, and C-clamps—how did you come up with that?"

"This isn't taught in school textbooks, and the latest surgical journals also have a lot of controversy surrounding this type of surgery."

"Many senior professors believe this is opportunistic and an irresponsible half-finished project."

"Where did you get the guts, you're just a medical resident?"

She didn't really care at first, as long as the result was good.

But I have nothing to do now, so it doesn't matter if I ask.

Moreover, she was also a little curious that in such an extreme environment where people could die at the slightest mistake, a recent graduate was not only not scared out of his wits, but also came up with a feasible solution.

This unscientific.

Kiryu Kazusuke leaned against the armrest and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"I don't have any guts."

"Everyone could see the situation very clearly at the time."

"Hypothermia, acidosis, and coagulation dysfunction are the triad of trauma-related death."

"The patient's physiological functions were on the verge of collapse, so we could only do damage control. As long as he could leave the operating room alive, there would be plenty of opportunities to go back in for repairs later."

He certainly couldn't say that he had seen similar cases in a previous life.

Damage control surgery originated from naval terminology.

Proposed by doctors at Western University in 1993, this term describes a phased surgical treatment strategy for patients with severe trauma.

Damage control.

Imagawa Ori repeated it thoughtfully.

It's not about performing a perfect surgery, but about performing a practical surgery that allows the patient to survive.

This is not something a rookie doctor would say.

At that moment, a faint, intermittent sound of music could be heard coming from the elevator shaft.

It's "Silent Night," Christmas Eve.

It was probably coming from a radio in one of the hospital rooms, drifting down the ventilation shaft, and sounded exceptionally clear in this confined space.

"Being trapped in an elevator on a day like this is quite a unique experience," Imagawa Ori suddenly remarked.

"Yes," Kiryu Kazusuke echoed.

"Don't you have a date?" Imagawa Ori turned to look at him. "Christmas Eve is a holiday for couples. Even though you're busy as a medical trainee, you shouldn't be so single that you don't even have a girlfriend, right?"

"Doesn't Dr. Imagawa also not have one?" Kiryu Kazusuke met her gaze and asked in return.

"Me?" Imagawa Ori scoffed. "I only have work."

All there is is work, all there is is money.

This is the whole meaning of life.

Thinking of this, Imagawa Ori then asked, "What kind of doctor do you want to become?"

This is a very grand, yet also very cliché, question.

They usually only appear at medical school interviews or in medical dramas.

But on this special night, in this enclosed space, it seems to have become a topic that can be seriously discussed.

Kiryu Kazusuke thought for a moment and said, "My parents left me a sum of money after they passed away, which I could use to go to medical school, so I went. I didn't think too much about it."

In his past life, he harbored the ideal of healing the sick and saving lives.

Later, realizing that he was just an ordinary person, he made peace with himself.

Whether or not the patient can be saved is not up to him. As long as he can say with a clear conscience when he leaves the operating room that he has done his best, that is enough.

"Quite honest."

"And what made Dr. Imagawa a doctor?"

"Because doctors make a lot of money."

What a naked, vulgar answer.

Imagawa Ori turned to look at Kiryu Kazusuke, waiting for him to show a look of disdain or surprise.

"You're quite honest."

However, Kiryu Kazusuke was not surprised by this at all, and instead nodded.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

Imagawa Ori smiled and said, "You're not going to criticize me?"

Kazusuke Kiryu also laughed: "Because money is a good thing, and I like it too."

It was 8 p.m.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound of electricity came from above, followed by a violent jolt in the elevator car.

The previously dim emergency lights went out, and the bright fluorescent lights instantly turned on, so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes.

hum-

The ventilation fan started spinning again, bringing in fresh air.

The elevator began to slowly ascend.

saved.

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.

Ding--

The elevator doors opened on the first floor.

Outside was the brightly lit hospital lobby, and several maintenance workers, their brows slick with sweat, stood guard at the entrance with their tools.

The repairman bowed repeatedly in apology, saying, "Are you alright? I'm so sorry!"

The two stepped out of the elevator.

The fresh, cold air rushed in, instantly invigorating the senses.

Imagawa Ori walked in front, but after taking a few steps, she suddenly stopped.

"Kiryu-kun."

"yes?"

"Thank you for the cake, even though it tastes terrible."

After saying that, she strode away, the sound of her high heels echoing in the empty hall, without looking back.

(End of this chapter)