The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint - Chapter 20

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

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◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 20: Winter in Limbus Pit (1)

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Limbus Pit was the asshole of the Imperial capital.

It was a filthy metaphor, but I couldn't think of a more fitting one.

Everything the people up above did not want to do or deal with came rolling down here.

For example, people wanted to cut up and eat meat, but nobody wanted a slaughterhouse reeking of blood next door.

As a result, slaughterhouses came down to Limbus Pit and became one of its major industries.

Factories, casinos, mercenaries, and so on.

Businesses that had demand but nowhere else to go came to Limbus Pit one by one.

Eight industries had come down to Limbus Pit that way.

Then the darkness that had always been here latched onto them.

When slaughterhouses came down, prostitution followed.

When factories came down, smuggling followed.

When casinos came down, loan sharks followed.

The respectable side and the shady side.

Together, they formed the livelihoods of Limbus Pit.

‘And if I remember correctly, H Sector's livelihood was...’

I recalled what I had heard during a history lesson with my private tutor.

H Sector had begun with a prison and an execution ground.

And its livelihood was the human trade that fed off them.

Condemned prisoners were going to die anyway.

Long ago, someone had wanted to make efficient use of those wasted resources.

A fighting arena where they pitted the condemned against one another, and a laundering operation that sold the identities of the dead.

It had developed into a massive human market where kidnapping and slave trading now ran rampant.

‘Other nobles go to H Sector when they want to buy slaves, too.’

And lately, that H Sector had been coming and going through D Sector.

They clearly weren't here for anything good.

‘All right. Time to get out of here.’

Once I made up my mind, I acted quickly.

Following Wangcho's advice, I immediately began packing.

I might be the protagonist, but that didn't mean I was the sort of character who inconvenienced everyone around me just to get my moment to shine.

If my presence would get in Wangcho's way, then I should clear out.

Besides, I heard rational protagonists were popular these days.

And since I was a rational person myself, I prepared to head back up without hesitation.

As I packed, Eri asked with a displeased expression.

“But aren't you scared, Doctor?”

“Of what?”

“They said the H Sector bastards are coming up here.”

Erika's reaction made the corners of my mouth rise slightly.

“You eat with the boss of D Sector, but you're afraid of H Sector?”

Every livelihood was assigned according to rank.

The strongest organization claimed the magical engineering industry of A Sector, while the next strongest claimed the adventurer industry of B Sector.

And Wangcho had claimed D Sector's slaughterhouse industry.

In other words, Wangcho ranked around fourth.

H Sector, on the other hand, was dead last.

They obviously didn't seem like they could stand against Wangcho.

I wasn't packing because I feared H Sector, either.

I was simply trying not to inconvenience Wangcho.

So I calmly told her exactly how I felt.

“If a mouse comes out and the homeowner cleans the house, would the guest leave the room because they're scared of mice?”

“Ah, figures. Born nobles really are different. Even at a time like this, you're talking about manners.”

Erika let out a hollow laugh.

“Still, be careful. If they bite you, you might not die, but it'll be a real pain.”

“Why? Are they that strong?”

“No. It'll be a pain because they're crazy. They bite anyone. That's why they're annoying.”

It would be a pain because they were crazy?

Eri's assessment was different from what I had expected, so I leaned slightly closer to listen.

“What do you mean, they bite anyone? Could you explain more?”

“Huh? What are you asking about?”

“Why do the members of H Sector bite anyone? Is that their boss's policy?”

“Ah.”

Erika slowly nodded.

Then she said,

“You really don't know anything because you're from up above. H Sector doesn't have a boss.”

“?”

It was an abrupt answer.

But I understood a second later.

“So H Sector doesn't have someone like Wangcho.”

“Right. The other sectors are all controlled by one big organization, like Wangcho's. There are people you can't touch and places you can't enter. There are lines like that. But H Sector doesn't have any of that. It's nothing but small-time gangs tearing at each other.”

No boss meant no control, and no control meant nobody drew any lines.

And I could see why H Sector had no boss in the first place.

‘Because it's human trafficking.’

This was a fantasy world.

If someone they sold off returned stronger later, their whole organization would be wiped out.

After trading thousands of people, there was no way a future Sword Saint wouldn't be mixed in somewhere.

Naturally, the organizations would not last five years before facing revenge, so no large organization could emerge from the human trade.

“I understand, Eri. So they don't have a boss, which means there's nobody to negotiate with.”

Eri nodded at my summary.

“That's right. A lot of them live only for today. What lines would they have?”

“They think it's enough if they bite and run.”

“Exactly.”

Sometimes small organizations that didn't know their place were more exhausting than large ones.

Having finished her brief explanation, Eri summed it up.

“If they bite you, it hurts. Even if you stop them, there's nothing to gain. There isn't even a representative to negotiate with. Wangcho and the other sector bosses don't hate H Sector for no reason. Now do you get why people are scared of them?”

I thought I did.

People who drooled were scarier than people who spat.

And H Sector was a collection of small and medium-sized organizations that went around leaving their spit everywhere without considering the consequences.

“So? Changed your mind?”

“...”

“Then let's hurry up and go, Doctor. If they bite us, we're the only ones who suffer.”

With a look of disgust on her face, Erika hurriedly packed her things.

In contrast, my hands moved much more slowly than before I learned that fact.

‘Uh... Hmm...’

After hearing her explanation, I had a feeling this might not be someone else's event after all.

* * *

Once we had packed everything, I picked up my bag and grabbed the doorknob.

“Let's go. If we wait any longer, Mr. Wangcho will cry and cling to us.”

I had already told Otto, our driver and bodyguard, to go get the car.

He was probably on his way from the boundary between Civitas Square and the red-light district by now.

“Doctor. We're meeting the driver at the entrance, right?”

Eri.

Otto was still young.

If you called him an uncle, he might get hurt. He wasn't even married yet.

Men got strangely sensitive about their age when they neared thirty.

I wanted to tell her that, but I held back because I had an image to maintain.

“Let's hurry.”

Eri went ahead and opened the door.

At that moment,

Thud.

Something flopped through the gap in the doorway.

A young man collapsed, striking his head against the floor.

A red pool began to spread from beneath his head.

“Driver?!”

Eri turned Otto's face over and froze in horror.

Someone had carefully slit the corners of his mouth all the way beneath his ears, then stitched them into a smile with thick fishing line.

“Why is this man...?”

Otto was not quite first rank, but he was a capable fighter just below it.

In this area, that meant nobody could handle him except Wangcho.

It was no surprise Eri was horrified to see him in such a miserable state.

Incomprehensible sounds came from his open mouth as if he were trying to say something.

“Urrgh...”

His tongue had been stitched through as well, so the sounds escaped as groans before they could form words.

Letters carved into Otto's forehead with a knife were bleeding.

[Einladung]

Eri's face hardened when she saw the invitation.

“Hmm... Ein... Uh... Ein, as in inside? What kind of word is this?”

“...”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?!”

I take that back.

Eri didn't know the exact meaning of the invitation. Her expression had hardened because she sensed the grave atmosphere.

Ignoring her grumbling, I examined Otto's wounds.

‘Now I understand why nobody wants to deal with H Sector.’

These bastards did this to a person's face.

I had never met them, but I was certain they were not people who could be reasoned with.

“Kh... Ugh...”

Even in pain, Otto desperately looked at me and tried to say something.

His pronunciation was unclear because his tongue had been stitched through.

But it was obvious he was begging to be saved.

“I'll make you feel better right away.”

I took scissors from my house-call bag and approached him.

First, I had to cut the thread binding his tongue.

Smack.

At that moment, Eri roughly grabbed my arm.

“Doctor, I think we should leave him.”

She warned me with terrified eyes.

“Doctor. We can't treat Otto or take him with us right now. The best thing is for us to get out first.”

She was right.

The moment I saw Otto's condition, I understood what they wanted.

Rationally speaking, we should abandon Otto and head back up.

Nobody could call that choice heartless.

Before he was my driver, he was my bodyguard. Being abandoned for my safety was part of Otto's role.

And that was reflected in the salary he received.

“I suppose so.”

“You understand quickly. Then let's head up right now. We'll be safe once we reach Civitas Square.”

Eri's judgment was cold. It was rational, fitting for a child who had survived on these streets.

Any sensible person would run without looking back.

But I couldn't take my eyes off Otto's stitched lips and the message on his forehead.

“Doctor?”

“...”

My feet would not move.

A doctor's pride?

There was some of that.

But what bothered me more was that I was the protagonist of a misunderstanding story.

‘It doesn't seem like we can escape just by running away.’

The protagonist won in the end.

But winning came with the assumption that I would inevitably get dragged into the incident.

No, was I already involved?

After considering those two points, I concluded that running was impossible.

Once I decided, I acted quickly.

Ignoring Eri as she chattered beside me, I turned toward the treatment room.

“Eri. Put down the bags and lock the back door.”

“No, don't tell me... Doctor! Are you crazy? They're right outside!”

“So?”

I turned the beak of my crow mask toward Eri.

“He's my patient. And he's part of our household.”

And above all, I was the protagonist.

“...”

“Thirty minutes will do.”

“Haah...”

Eri moved with a resigned sigh.

I felt sorry seeing her react like that.

I knew I would be fine because I was the protagonist, but this was reality for Eri.

‘Since I feel bad, I should show her something impressive.’

It was not much of an apology, but I would show her the fantastic surgery that had captivated medical students.

I headed to the safe against the wall.

Creak. Click.

From deep inside, I carefully took out a brown ampoule held in a velvet case.

The label read [Erythroxylum Coca].

I had not made lidocaine yet, so I used it as a substitute local anesthetic.

Incidentally, it meant cocaine in Latin.

Why? Latin sounded cool.

‘IV anesthesia seems a little dangerous. I should apply it locally.’

Cocaine had a high absorption rate through oral mucosa and open wounds.

There was no need to inject it. Soaking gauze and applying it would be enough.

It also constricted blood vessels, so I could expect a hemostatic effect as well.

It would have been a perfect drug if not for the addiction.

“Don't move now. You can sleep if you want.”

If he could, that is.

As I waited for the anesthetic to take effect, I examined the wound.

‘From both corners of the mouth to in front of the ears. About seven centimeters each.’

The fishing line used by the H Sector bastards was thick and rough.

It was less a suture than a crude attempt to tie him shut.

Tsk. If they were going to make art, they could at least do it cleanly.

‘The tissue necrosis isn't severe. Immediate reconstruction should be fine.’

After forming my surgical plan, I opened an old leather case.

Silversmith razors.

Dwarf watchmaker tweezers.

Fishing hooks arranged by size.

I set out the surgical instruments, then dipped my hands in limewater and withdrew them.

“Don't move your tongue. I'll cut the fishing lines first.”

Instead of answering, Otto's fingers twitched faintly.

I cut the fishing line one strand at a time.

Each time a line came free, the wounds opened. I immediately stopped the blood seeping from them.

I removed the thread stitched through his tongue as well.

“Take a deep breath.”

Freed from the thread, Otto inhaled deeply.

“Now breathe through your nose.”

Next came debridement.

The necrosis was not severe, but contaminated tissue still remained.

I cut it all away.

‘Next, suturing and reconstruction.’

The wound was at the corners of his mouth, an area that moved frequently.

If I simply sewed it shut, he would develop contracture later.

As the scars tightened, he would not be able to open his mouth properly.

‘I'll use Z-plasty.’

Z-plasty.

It was a technique where a straight wound was deliberately incised into a Z shape and sutured again.

It dispersed the direction of tension to prevent contracture, with the added benefit of reducing scarring.

‘There isn't enough skin. I'll need to pull some from behind the ears.’

Scars behind the ears could be hidden by hair, and there was enough extra skin there, making it a suitable donor site.

I could not anesthetize behind the ears with gauze, so I used an injection.

Using dwarf watchmaker forceps to grasp the tiny blood vessels, I harvested the skin with a silversmith razor.

I laid the removed skin over the defect and used catgut thread, made from goat intestine and meant to dissolve, on a fishing hook to suture the muscle layer.

A few minutes later,

“Done.”

I washed my hands once more and checked the time.

Twenty-nine minutes.

One minute faster than expected.

It was a thoroughly unsatisfying result.

‘Tsk. It still takes me this long.’

In my previous life, it only took fifteen minutes when I was an adult.

Twelve minutes with a resident assistant who worked well with me.

My hands were still small, so they were slow. The equipment here was also inferior to what I had in my previous life.

‘I still have a long way to go.’

That was enough self-reflection.

I looked at Eri.

She had forgotten to keep watch and was staring blankly at me.

“...What was that speed with tying knots? What did you do before, Doctor?”

“Doctor.”

Erika had a good eye.

People thought a surgeon's defining trait was steady hands, but the true final boss was the ability to handle thread.

And in my previous life, I had received quite a few offers because of my skill with thread.

...But why did I choose trauma surgery of all things? Damn it.

That was enough vanity.

Eri's voice brought me back to reality.

“No, that's not what I was asking... Are you really not connected to some duke's family?”

“I've never even been near one.”

“Tsk...”

Eri looked at me suspiciously.

“You didn't just do it roughly, did you?”

“Do I look like that kind of person?”

“You were cutting away without even holding up a ruler.”

“There are methods.”

My tweezers and forceps had grooves carved into them at 0.5-centimeter intervals.

It was a small customization to save time measuring everything with a ruler.

I had wanted a customization like this in my previous life, but the hospital refused because it was expensive.

Maybe it was because I lacked seniority.

But in this world, I had plenty of money and no seniority to worry about, so I could make that customization.

Money really was the best.

“By the way, should you really be chatting like this? You wanted to run away until just now.”

“Oh, right!”

Eri hurriedly picked up the bags again.

Meanwhile, I calmly prescribed medicine for my patient and led him to the back door.

“This is a narcotic, but only take it when you're in pain. As long as you don't take it three or more times a day, you shouldn't become addicted. Now take this and go to Wangcho.”

Otto shook his head.

He still could not speak properly, but his eyes were unwavering.

He probably meant he could not leave the young master behind.

“Honestly, in your current condition, you'd only be a burden.”

But that was not what he needed to do now.

“Go out through the back door and bring Wangcho. That's the best thing you can do right now.”

“...”

Otto finally nodded.

When I opened the back door, he staggered away toward Wangcho's slaughterhouse.

“Doctor! What are you doing?!”

“I'll be waiting, Otto.”

“Doctor!”