WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Haruto
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈
Chapter 79: Good Healer (7)
──────
* * *
B Sector.
A district of hot-blooded adventurers who still could not let go of their dreams of freedom and exploration beyond the wall.
The facilities that kept B Sector alive, despite everyone wanting them elsewhere, were the Adventurers’ Guild and the forge.
The shadows clinging to them were mercenaries and assassins who would do anything for money.
That was why it was called Swordsmen Street.
Aside from nobles and knights, every profession in this city that made its living by the blade gathered here.
“As you know, sir, I’m close with the man in charge of Swordsmen Street.”
The car headed toward B Sector.
Inside were me, Wangcho, Ayla, and her four friends.
Wangcho began with a brief explanation.
“When a carrier pigeon suddenly arrived this morning, I thought someone was putting in an urgent order.”
B Sector had frequent dealings with D Sector.
When adventurers from Swordsmen Street hunted magical beasts, Tanner’s Street separated the meat, materials, and magic stones.
And when broke adventurers or mercenaries were injured, they could receive cheap treatment at the clinics in D Sector.
Not to mention the adventurers who could not contain the heat of a single night and visited the Red-Light District.
In many ways, B Sector owed D Sector.
Under those circumstances, it was only natural for B Sector’s leader and Wangcho to become close.
“But that wasn’t it. The moment I saw the news that last night’s subjugation force was returning in ruins, I woke right up.”
Wangcho spoke with a harsh exhale.
Ayla and the students, who had been listening quietly, hunched their shoulders.
“They say the mutated magical beast that caused this incident was not particularly strong. At most, it was a small magical beast.”
A party that included a first-rank superhuman could easily handle a small magical beast.
“The problem was that when it died, it made a massive noise, like some kind of alarm. That woke several packs of large magical beasts from hibernation at once, and the subjugation force is retreating after suffering devastating losses.”
“Large magical beasts, of all things...”
If large magical beasts had awakened, that changed everything.
Large magical beasts were roughly Rank 3 to Rank 4.
It took a noble to subjugate even one.
If large magical beasts were leading a pack, a knight order was needed as well.
Of course, nobles and knights had been included in this subjugation force.
So if only one pack containing large magical beasts had awakened, they might have been able to handle it.
The problem was that it was not just one pack.
“They began retreating at dawn, and injured people are flooding in through the city gate right now.”
Dawn meant the subjugation had barely begun.
They must have gone out to target magical beasts that had not fully awakened from hibernation. It would have been when they were least guarded.
The situation was probably worse than anything I could imagine.
“This is B Sector.”
Once we left the alleys of D Sector, the scenery began to change.
The smell of grease and leather disappeared, replaced by charcoal and iron filings.
Normally, the street would have been filled with the sounds of anvils ringing and swords being sharpened from early morning, but it was quiet.
Looking through the car window, I saw everyone on the street heading toward the city gate.
“There, sir.”
Wangcho pointed at the open gate.
Beyond it, through the dawn light, lay the snow-covered landscape outside the wall.
And people were pouring in through that gate.
“How could this...”
Ayla covered her mouth with both hands.
A mercenary carried on a comrade’s back.
A knight limping along with a shield as a cane.
A noble dragged along by two servants supporting them.
A procession of people in miserable condition stretched from the gate.
They were even among the better off.
A broad road connected the city gate to the central square.
Normally, carts carrying magical beast corpses should have been constantly moving along it.
But the carts now filling the road carried injured people and corpses instead of spoils.
“Urgh...”
“Save me... Please...”
“My leg... My leg...”
Wails rang out everywhere.
Bloodstains spread across the white snow in every direction, and a person lay collapsed at the end of each trail.
Ayla and her friends could not say a word at the sight.
One student met the eyes of a corpse being carried on a stretcher and covered their mouth.
“Ugh...”
I felt sorry for showing them this on their first day.
But I had made them confirm it before we left.
The place we were going was a horrific disaster site filled with blood and screams.
They were not to dream of a cheerful, wise life at the clinic full of laughter.
There, I would have no choice but to treat them not as students, but as disaster relief workers.
Even so, the students had said they would come.
So I had no choice but to treat them accordingly.
“We have arrived at the Adventurers’ Guild.”
At Wangcho’s words, I prepared to get out of the car.
The other children prepared to get out as well.
As soon as the car stopped, Wangcho leaped out.
I hurried after him toward the guild building.
“This way, sir.”
The B Sector Adventurers’ Guild headquarters was a stone building north of the square, closest to the city gate.
When we opened the doors, a familiar fantasy-style guild interior unfolded before us.
A broad space serving as both tavern and waiting room stretched out before us, with reception counters and a bar farther inside.
But the tavern area had become a command center.
“How many B-rank and above are still outside the wall?!”
“Three! No, four! We still can’t contact Rina’s party!”
“Check the beds in the treatment ward! If there aren’t enough, clear out the forge and lay people down there!”
“Have letters been sent to the noble houses?! Are we checking who’s where?!”
“Contact the upper districts too! Hurry!”
Using the request board as a briefing chalkboard, a middle-aged man shouted at the top of his lungs.
Where requests and subjugation notices should have been densely posted, someone had drawn a rough map in chalk.
52/8
64/9
The approximate number of injured and estimated number of dead were being updated in real time.
More shouts piled atop the shouting.
Wangcho pushed through the center of the chaos without hesitation.
“Move!”
He tossed obstructing adventurers aside as he walked toward the board.
The students and I followed the path Wangcho made.
Soon, we reached the board.
A man stood on a table placed in front of it.
“Alexei! I’m here!”
At Wangcho’s call, the man on the table looked down.
Alexei was in his late forties, with a scar running from his forehead to his chin.
A silver wolf emblem faintly glimmered on his black leather coat.
“Tao Chen. You came quickly.”
“Sir, this is Alexei. He is the head of the B Sector Adventurers’ Guild.”
“Greetings, Director Schun. I have heard much about you.”
The guild master jumped down from the table, gave me a light bow, and offered a handshake.
When I clasped his hand, I felt cold metal.
His right hand seemed to be prosthetic.
“The situation is urgent, so please forgive me for not observing proper formalities.”
“Of course. What should I do here?”
“Many parties and teams remain stranded beyond the wall. Even concentrating on rescue operations is difficult.”
Alexei exhaled with a sigh and pointed to the board.
A map of the area beyond the wall had been drawn on one side.
Several team names were circled in red and marked with exclamation points.
“I will handle the rescues beyond the wall. Please take charge of dealing with the injured who have made it inside the wall. Before that, how many healers did you bring?”
“Healers from the Merkuer Trading Company are on their way.”
I had sent messages while we were coming here.
When I told the trading company president about the situation, they had snorted and said this.
“Excellent! This is a perfect opportunity to improve our trading company’s image!”
An awfully villainous choice of words for a nouveau riche.
Still, I knew that was not what they truly meant.
The trading company president was a nouveau riche who admired the spirit of noblesse oblige.
Despite appearances, they were one of the few genuinely good people I could trust.
In any case, the healers were on their way.
“Thank you, Director.”
“Thanks can wait.”
“Understood. I will inform the other team leaders as well.”
Guild Master Alexei called over a receptionist who had been rushing about.
“Marius. Tell the guild employees and party leaders. From now on, once they cross the wall, they are to follow this person’s instructions completely when dealing with the injured.”
“Yes!”
The employee briefly glanced at my mask, then quickly drew a composite sketch of me on paper.
A black suit and a crow mask.
Holding up the sketch that captured my features with remarkable accuracy, the employee vanished behind the counter.
Alexei pointed at the board with his prosthetic right hand.
“The guild has a treatment ward. Other available spaces include the guild meeting room and two storage rooms at the blacksmith shop next door. We have about thirty porters assigned already. Let me know if you need more.”
“Understood. I will arrange additional support myself.”
Then I turned to Wangcho.
“Wangcho.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We need more people.”
“I’ll bring some strong men from the slaughterhouse.”
“You may use my car and the trading company’s carriages freely.”
“Understood.”
I trusted Wangcho. He would not misuse the vehicles in a situation like this.
Wangcho gave a single nod and headed back the way we had come.
Once I confirmed he had disappeared, I overturned my bag onto the table.
Flags dyed four different colors spilled out.
“All D Sector clinic directors, gather here.”
“We are here.”
The five clinic directors who had arrived early with me gathered before the guild master’s table.
Behind them, guild members stopped one by one to see what was happening.
I immediately gave the clinic directors their instructions.
“Tell any healers who went to work at their clinics instead of coming to the scene to remain there. We need backup.”
There were limits to what could be done at the scene.
The personnel who had not arrived would wait at the clinics.
“And from now on, the clinic directors and I will focus on sorting patients rather than treating them.”
I spread the bundle of flags over the table.
Red, yellow, green, and black.
They were flags for triage.
During a large-scale disaster, when resources such as time and personnel were limited, it was impossible to provide the best possible treatment to every individual.
The moment several medical staff rushed to one patient, the other ten left behind were neglected.
That was why medicine in such disasters aimed not for the best care, but for the greatest number of survivors.
Triage was a method of sorting patients according to severity and determining their treatment priority.
“What I am about to explain is triage. You have all worked in emergency rooms, so I will keep it simple.”
First, green.
“People who can walk on their own. People who are responsive and fully conscious receive this flag. Their treatment comes last.”
Yellow.
“People who cannot walk but remain conscious. They need treatment, but have about an hour to spare. We will treat them, but only when divine power is available.”
Red.
“People who must be treated immediately. People who are losing consciousness, struggling to breathe, or bleeding severely. We will prioritize them.”
And black.
“...You all know, right?”
There were too many listening ears, so I left the explanation at that.
But everyone who had worked at my clinic knew what the color meant.
Black.
No hope.
“We will not perform time-consuming treatments such as CPR, neurosurgery, or regenerative surgery.”
“Yes!”
I continued.
“There are rules for sorting. Thirty seconds to one minute per person. Do not spend any longer. The criteria are breathing, pulse, circulation, and consciousness.”
Sorting was the most important thing in this situation.
Proper triage alone could change the first digit of the survival rate.
But if sorting delayed treatment, that would defeat the purpose.
“Do not hesitate. If you cannot decide, classify them as yellow for now.”
The healers nodded together.
“All right, then we will divide the areas by color...”
That was when it happened.
A loud trumpet sounded outside the guild.
Bwooooo!
It came from the direction of the city gate.
The guild employees listened closely to the trumpet, which sounded in four separate bursts.
One of them spoke to me.
“It seems the Basilisk Strike Force has returned.”
“How many people?”
“About eighty.”
“We will be busy.”
I handed the flags to the clinic directors and finished speaking.
“Divide the areas according to the flags and sort the patients. Let’s begin immediately.”
I gave the brief order and took a bundle of flags.
Then I gestured to the students, who had been staring blankly in our direction.
“Students, follow me.”
* * *
I led the students around as we began handing out flags to patients.
I examined an adventurer in leather armor with a twisted ankle.
“What is your name?”
“...Mar... tin...”
“Green flag.”
They could not walk, but they were conscious and showed no signs of a life-threatening condition.
People did not die from a twisted ankle.
Therefore, green.
I told the patient to hold the flag and head for the green zone with help from other patients who could walk.
The next patient was a knight with a thorn as thick as a forearm lodged in their abdomen.
“Patient. What is your name?”
“Mom...”
Mom, I’m hungry, I’m cold.
The classic lines of people waiting for the ferryman at the River Jordan.
The moment I heard that, I flipped open their eyelids and briefly pressed then released a finger.
Their condition was poor.
Their breathing was shallow and rapid. Even a rough count put it well over thirty breaths per minute.
Still, if the thorn was removed and Heal was cast, their condition could be expected to improve quickly.
“Red.”
Tap.
Ayla tied a flag around the knight’s arm.
Not long after, workers arranged by Wangcho placed the knight on a stretcher.
They began carrying them to the area where red-flag patients had been gathered.
“I’ll pray for you, Knight.”
Before the knight was taken away, Ayla cast Refresh.
Normally, the principle in this situation was to conserve divine power.
But I made an exception for Ayla.
Over the past few months, I had never seen Ayla run out of divine power from using Refresh.
There had even been days when she used it nearly a hundred times without issue.
So I allowed her to cast Refresh on red-flag patients.
It might raise their survival rate, even a little.
“That one is green.”
“This one is yellow.”
“This person is...”
Black.
Each time a black flag was planted beside a patient, the students’ faces darkened.
Ayla’s lips moved, but no voice came out.
They understood too.
They knew what terrible tragedies would unfold if they recklessly talked about miracles in reality.
That was why they silently planted black flags.
It was a reality I had not wanted to show these budding young dreams if I could help it.
“Next...”
That was when it happened.
“Why?! Hurry up and treat me!”
A shout rang through the square.
I stopped sorting the flags.
Ayla and her friends halted as well.
In one corner of the square.
In the relatively less-busy green zone, a man had seized a healer by the collar.
The healer’s robe was wrinkled in the fist of a man more than a handspan taller, and he had been lifted off the ground.
The man gripping the healer’s collar wore a flamboyant blue coat that screamed noble from head to toe.
A hawk was embroidered on its breast.
Of course, seeing that crest did not tell me which family he belonged to.
“Do you know who I am, and still dare to act this way?!”
The man shook the healer’s robe roughly.
“The second son of House Karimzad has entered the city walls! How can a healer stand before me with his hands folded?!”
“Young master... There are many people in more urgent need right now...”
“What? More urgent people?”
The man’s voice rose.
“You see my thigh and forehead, yet you still say that? What injury could possibly be more urgent than this?!”
I quickly assessed his injuries from a distance.
The wound on his forehead was certainly deep.
If left alone, it would definitely scar.
The wound on his thigh was not small either.
But the bleeding from both the forehead and thigh had stopped long ago, and the second son was fully conscious.
Unless an artery had been injured, green was the correct assessment.
He was probably a superhuman anyway, so he would be harder to kill.
But to a second son raised in comfort, those wounds must have felt like injuries that could kill him at any moment.
“You have divine power to spare, yet how dare you refuse to treat me!”
The second son’s shout rose another octave.
“Consider this. Which is more valuable to the Empire, one commoner lying about in this square, or me?!”
The second son’s reasoning was extremely simple.
Rather than cast Heal on a commoner, cast it on him.
Would that not benefit society more?
Strategically, he might even be right.
One first-rank superhuman was worth more than ten Rank 0 soldiers.
But medically, it was logic I could never agree with.
And the healer being held by the collar seemed to think much the same.
“Young master. Even so...”
The healer could not continue.
He gripped a brass cross while being held by the collar.
But he did not use it to cast Heal.
During his time at our clinic, he had learned something.
How many miracles a single low-grade Heal could create.
That was why he could not use low-grade Heal carelessly.
By conserving this divine power alone, several people under red flags could be moved to yellow.
So the healer argued in a trembling voice.
“I understand what you are saying, young master, but... if I use Heal on you now, five red-flag patients who will arrive shortly...”
“Silence! How dare you...!”
“Sir Karimzad.”
I could not watch any longer and intervened.
The second son snapped his head toward me.
Once again, surprise replaced the anger that had occupied his face.
It seemed he knew my face as well.
More precisely, my mask.
“Ah, the crow mask. You are Director Schun?”
The second son lowered his voice.
It had become entirely different from his earlier roar, gentle and soft.
“To meet in such a place. This encounter can only be His Majesty the Emperor’s grace.”
The second son released the healer’s collar.
Then he lightly tapped his chest with his fist.
“I am Arno Karimzad, second son of House Karimzad. Beneath His Majesty’s boundless mercy...”
I let his greeting go in one ear and out the other as I signaled to the healer.
I would handle this, so he should tend to other patients.
The healer gave a slight bow and quietly withdrew.
By the time Arno finished introducing himself, he called to me.
“Director Schun. Are you not curious how I received these wounds? During today’s subjugation, I encountered a medium-sized magical beast alone. A Blackbristle Wolf, perhaps you have heard of it. It was equivalent to Rank 2. When it came at my flank, I...”
Arno proudly tilted his forehead wound toward me.
He would probably tell me how he had sacrificed his thigh to take the wolf’s head.
The bite marks on his thigh were proof enough.
But I had no interest in his war story.
So I interrupted him.
“Sir. Do you know something?”
“...?”
I had met plenty of people like this in my previous life.
As a trauma surgeon, I had dealt with many people like this alongside emergency room doctors.
And I knew how to effectively make such people shut up.
“This is an emergency. I trust you understand what it means to be in a condition that requires a healer’s full attention at a time like this.”
I lightly raised a red flag and pointed toward the eastern part of the square.
Arno’s gaze instinctively followed.
People with red flags planted beside them had already gathered there.
An adventurer whose left arm had been completely torn away below the shoulder.
A prone knight whose breastplate had melted completely from the back.
A mercenary with half their face gone, their jaw hanging grotesquely loose.
The second son’s expression hardened slightly as he looked upon the area where they had gathered.
“If necessary, I can help you receive the healers’ attention over there.”
“...Are you threatening me?”
“Who knows?”
For the record, I received complaints fairly often whenever I used this method.
They claimed doctors were threatening patients, or something along those lines.
Thanks to that, I visited disciplinary hearings often.
Of course, our hospital had an even more unhinged director, thoracic surgery department head, and center directors, so I was always found innocent.
“When you work as a doctor, you can toss around a few trashy parents now and then. Good job, Yoonho.”
“Department Head... You are the only one who does that at our hospital. And I don’t want to go before the disciplinary committee.”
“Once you’re disciplined a few times, it feels like receiving medals. You get used to it. As long as you don’t get a criminal record, it’s fine.”
The pediatric department head I was particularly close to had defended me very passionately.
Eventually, I started becoming a little more unhinged, like that person.
Later, I could have built a tower with the complaints sent in under my name.
...Damn it.
I had learned only strange things from that person.
In any case.
“Sir Karimzad. Shall I escort you over there? If you don’t like red, I can guide you to the black area instead.”
“...”
Some of the color drained from Arno’s face.
Then he shook his head.
“Come to think of it, waiting here is the proper duty of a noble.”
“I can at least provide basic first aid.”
Still, it felt wrong to neglect a noble child too completely, so I decided to give his thigh basic treatment.
Of course, not with my own hands, but with the clumsy hands of trainees.
“Student Ayla. Practice suturing the open wound with your friends.”
“Hm? Why not you... Guh!”
Sometimes, very occasionally.
I thought this in moments like these.
Dark fantasy was a wonderful era where romance still lived and breathed, and I did not have to worry about repercussions afterward.
* * *
Arno was held down by the students and became an excellent teaching aid.
I told the students to come back to me once they had studied enough, then resumed sorting patients.
I was just leaving the green zone.
At one side of the green zone.
A man sat upright on a boulder.
Dark bronze skin. A high nose and thick eyebrows.
A neat jawline, with short black hair carefully groomed, silver beginning to glint at his temples.
He looked to be in his early forties.
A family crest embroidered in gold thread rested on dark crimson silk.
‘Who is that?’
Freya could identify a house just by seeing its crest.
Tch.
Charlotte and I had no idea who people were even when we saw things like that.
Fortunately, I quickly learned the man’s identity.
“Count Mukadar. I believe it would be best to call a healer.”
A person who appeared to be his retainer was speaking softly beside him.
“I mean the wound on your side. The area of bruising is...”
“It is fine.”
The count waved a hand.
“As I said, I can endure this much. It is only a bruise. We should not waste divine power in a place like this.”
“Did you not hide an injury like that before and end up with a scar?”
“Wounds no one can see are a noble’s medals. If I have more medals, that is even better news.”
“Count, is this really the time for jokes?!”
“Ha ha. Cough.”
The count laughed lightly, then coughed.
“I truly am fine, so check on the knights instead.”
“You must receive treatment. Were you not struck squarely by a troll’s club? You may have injuries inside that cannot be seen, so you should at least receive Heal.”
“Good grief, you are persistent. Why make such a fuss over a troll’s club...”
The count stopped speaking to his retainer and turned his head behind him.
Then he spoke to me.
“...What are you doing right now?”
“Conducting a physical examination.”
“You approached a count without a word and placed your hand on his back. Is that the famous examination method of Director Schun?”
I nodded.
“Yes. Thanks to that, I now know your condition.”
“Ha ha. You are as eccentric as I heard.”
“Thank you. But first, there is something I must tell you.”
I gestured that I wished to whisper to the count.
The count regarded me cautiously for a moment, then nodded and let me speak into his ear.
I leaned toward him and whispered quietly.
“I understand that strength is proof of a noble title, but there is no point in dying to preserve your pride.”
“...?”
“Your lower left chest hurts whenever you breathe or speak, does it not? You are struggling to hide your cough as well.”
The count looked at me with startled eyes.
I pointed with my head, no, my beak, toward a tent.
Then I spoke loudly enough for others to hear.
“If you are available, Count, there is something I would like to ask of you personally. May we speak over there for a moment?”
It meant I would treat him somewhere no one could see.
The count thought for a moment, then nodded.
Author’s Note
Emergency triage.
It is an emergency classification system for disaster situations, first developed by Dominique Jean Larrey, Napoleon’s military surgeon.
Previously, injured soldiers were transported only after the fighting had ended, during the cleanup.
It was essentially, “If you survive until then, we will save you.”
Even then, the order of treatment depended on military branch or rank.
But after Larrey’s triage was introduced, much changed.
Treatment order was determined by medical urgency, regardless of status or nationality, and even enemy soldiers were treated without distinction.
Emergency transport wagons, ambulances, were also created at this time.
It is famously said that Wellington, then an enemy commander at the Battle of Waterloo, ordered his men not to shoot that surgeon because of such humanitarian conduct.
This spirit later became the foundation for the creation of the Red Cross.
However, its most important significance was its enormous strategic value in preserving fighting strength and raising morale.
While the opposing side feared that being injured meant being abandoned on the battlefield, French soldiers could charge forward with hope that, if they were shot, they might survive with proper treatment. In some cases, they could even return to the battlefield.
It therefore produced tremendous effects in both morale and strategy.
Emergency triage is the beginning, end, and foundation of emergency medicine, so this author’s note became rather long.
“If the French army were to erect a monument to honor a truly devoted and selfless person, its subject should rightly be Larrey.”
Napoleon is said to have left words like these in his will, reflecting the greatness of Dominique Jean Larrey’s achievements.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
