episode_0111

111. I’ll Perform This Surgery Myself

I had stepped onto the stage, but I couldn’t speak.

Well, because my body moved before my mind could.

The doctor, Frankburg, standing right in front of me, seemed just as bewildered as I was.

“Ugh….”

Don’t look at me like that.

The grotesque, L-shaped blade in front of me is far scarier.

But Frankburg was both a doctor and the MC of this show.

Despite the sudden broadcast mishap, he calmly cleared his throat and continued the performance.

As if to show off to the nobles…

“Ahem! An enthusiastic spectator who wants a closer look?! Or perhaps someone who wishes to be my assistant?”

Frankburg, who thought my sturdy build made me a perfect assistant.

A doctor who didn’t demand medical skill or knowledge—just brute strength.

Truly… Seeing it firsthand was even more shocking than reading about it in history books.

But I couldn’t spill my knowledge here.

I didn’t want to stand out, and I didn’t want to work.

But…

“Hmm…! If you have nothing to say, then let’s proceed with the surgery!”

“Nooo… stop!!”

The sight of a man well over thirty, snot and tears streaming down his face, thrashing about.

And the assistants pinning him down, rendering him immobile.

It was a scene reminiscent of a torture chamber.

Frankburg raised the hideous L-shaped blade.

The moment the blade touched the blackened leg…

“Stop—!!”

My voice halted the surgery.

Before the blade could even pierce the skin…

This was supposed to be a life-saving procedure, so why did it look so agonizing?

The shock of what I was witnessing turned my mind blank, cutting off my words.

Let me say it again.

I didn’t want to stand out, and I didn’t want to work.

But I couldn’t turn a blind eye to the wrong unfolding before me.

“Are you really going to proceed like this?”

“Sigh….”

Frankburg, looking at me as if I were a nuisance, let out a sigh.

Then, with a wave of his hand, burly assistants tried to drag me off the stage.

As the show stopped, the nobles in the audience jeered at me.

For a moment, my pupils trembled.

“Ah….”

I remembered the days I spent inventing things at the company.

I wasn’t there for the first demonstration of that invention.

By sheer coincidence, I had come down with a terrible cold that day, so the geniuses who helped me conducted the demonstration in front of the shareholders instead.

I knew the first prototype would likely fail, but…

A frantic call sent me rushing to the lab, where the shareholders were already furious.

They attacked me personally and, true to their oil tycoon nature, threatened my future with their overwhelming capital.

Later, a flood of lawsuits followed, shaking my family to its core.

And my already neurotic temperament grew worse.

I became so paranoid it bordered on delusion, burying myself in writing papers.

“Get out—!!”

“Do you know how much money I paid for this seat?!”

“Drop dead—!!”

The nobles, intellectuals, and mages in the audience hurled insults at me.

The PTSD from back then resurfaced, making my body shrink back…

“What kind of strength…!”

I struggled, trying to break free.

Though I had no magic, my body was naturally sturdy—too much for the assistants to handle.

In the end, we all tumbled forward together.

Frankburg, watching this unfold, crossed his arms.

Annoyed at the disruption, he scowled.

But surprisingly, his tone remained gentlemanly as he admonished me.

With a hint of sorrow in his voice.

“Doesn’t this look utterly horrifying? Like something a butcher would do….”

“……”

“But look at this leg.”

Frankburg pointed at the patient’s leg.

Brown? Purple? The right leg had turned a sickly shade.

The doctor explained in a way even the uneducated could understand.

“That… is a rotting leg. If we don’t amputate it soon….”

“Necrosis.”

Frankburg flinched at my words.

Then, with a slightly surprised expression, he asked:

“You knew the symptoms? Are you a doctor too?”

“Not at all.”

“…But you seem to have basic knowledge.”

Frankburg stroked his mustache.

“I don’t do this because I enjoy it. It’s just profitable, and it’s the only way to save the patient.”

“Then why?”

Pinned to the floor by the assistants, I looked up at him and asked.

“Why… don’t you think of a better method?”

“That’s….”

Frankburg glanced around cautiously.

The sorrow in his voice vanished, replaced by a cheerful tone.

Pointing at me with exaggerated flair, he spoke brightly.

Like a clown.

“You insolent fool! How dare you mock the great master of medicine?!”

Then, instead of addressing me, he spread his arms toward the audience.

With flamboyant gestures, he drew all eyes to himself.

Then, as if listening intently, he dramatically cupped his ear.

“What should we do with this ruffian?!”

“Perform the surgery!”

“Kick him out!!!”

The doctor bowed, as if expecting the negative response, and thanked them.

Then, in a hushed voice, he set the stage.

“But you see….”

One hand on his chest.

The other raised, finger pointing skyward.

In an exaggerated tone, as if persuading the crowd, he declared:

“How dare this man accuse me—someone who strives to save lives—of not seeking better methods?!”

“The audacity—!!”

“Exactly! Utter audacity! And a grave insult to my honor!”

Frankburg seemed ready to wrap things up.

Then, looking at me with arrogance, he said:

“Let’s postpone the surgery!”

“What?! We paid a fortune for this!!”

“Instead—!!”

Frankburg cut off the jeers.

Then, with a polite bow to the audience, he announced:

“Why not let this confident man bring us a solution?

Frankburg vs. the Brave Man—what could be more thrilling?!”

His words, dripping with anticipation, concluded the act.

But the audience’s reaction remained sour.

If anything, they seemed disappointed and betrayed.

“Boo—!! Are you going to refund our money?!”

“Just perform the damn surgery!!”

“What’s fun about watching you fight some nobody?!!”

The jeers poured in.

Now, the arrows of criticism weren’t aimed at me—but at the doctor.

Yet Frankburg, seemingly used to it, endured the insults with a bowed head.

The atmosphere grew increasingly heated.

Then, a single voice silenced the crowd.

“I think it sounds fun.”

A cheerful, pleasant young man’s voice.

Currently, Erica’s close friend, who held significant influence in Jarmark.

A man whose voice carried more weight than the elder mages and intellectuals present.

It was Marcus Caphon.

Laughing heartily, he raised one hand halfway.

Then, in a measured yet commanding tone, he declared:

“A battle between the surgical genius Dr. Frankburg and heaven-sent talent? A once-in-a-lifetime spectacle worth paying for!”

The audience fell silent.

So quiet you could hear an ant’s footsteps.

Frankburg, too, looked at me in shock.

Then, in a voice brimming with disbelief, he barked at the assistants still pinning me down:

“Wh—why aren’t you moving?! You brainless imbeciles!!”

“Ugh… so embarrassing….”

Shame outweighed my pride.

That cringeworthy nickname had truly spread across the empire.

Even after the assistants let go, I hung my head in humiliation.

Then, Frankburg kindly helped me up.

And addressed the audience.

In an even more excited tone than before.

“What do you think of this duel?!”

Whether they recognized my infamous nickname or not,

the crowd erupted into cheers and applause as if they’d never been angry.

And just like that, the duel between me and the doctor was set.

The deadline: roughly two weeks.

────────────────────

On the way back to the high council chamber we were using as lodging,

Marcus laughed heartily, amused by the spectacle.

He patted my back in encouragement, saying he looked forward to the duel of the century, before we parted ways.

Left with me was Adela, who gave off the vibe of an engineering noona.

She berated me relentlessly.

“Are you stupid? Or insane? Or have you glimpsed the secrets of the universe and lost your mind? Huh? The guy who hates attention just had to jump on stage, huh? Right? Ugh, His Majesty tasked me with protecting you, and I couldn’t even stop you from climbing up there! What use is a strategist like me?!”

“Ugh… s-sorry….”

Her words came so fast, without stuttering, it was almost like rap.

And though she spoke like the sharp-minded person she was, I had no rebuttal.

I learned firsthand what it meant to be verbally pummeled.

Looking back, I realized how idiotic I’d been.

Adela’s job was to keep me out of trouble.

But I’d ignored that and acted on impulse.

“I’m sorry….”

“Sigh… whatever. It’s done.”

Stress must’ve gotten to her—she chain-smoked the whole way back.

Her role was that of a strategist.

Planning ahead was her job, but so was cleaning up messes like this.

Maybe out of habit… or genuine concern.

She asked me seriously:

“What’s your plan now?”

“I’ll make something, obviously.”

“You’ve thought it through…? Never mind. You’ll figure it out.”

Hey, don’t give up on me.

Scratching my head, Adela fell silent.

Even I knew I’d acted too rashly.

I didn’t even have a clear direction for what to make.

As I pondered while walking…

Adela glanced at me and asked:

“Why did you step in?”

“Huh?”

“Our genius isn’t the type to act without reason. If you did, there must’ve been one.”

At her question, I scratched my head awkwardly.

I’d acted on instinct because one thought struck me first.

What if Erica, Vivian, Adel, Luna… or anyone close to me ended up like that?

I didn’t want to regret it later, and I couldn’t bear the thought.

Seeing them lose a leg, hobbling on crutches—I couldn’t take it.

Especially if necrosis set in—even modern medicine couldn’t fix that.

Adela listened to my explanation.

Then, as if it made perfect sense, she nodded.

“Tch, just showing off again….”

“Oh, and there was one more thing.”

“What now?”

Adela sighed, sounding annoyed.

I hesitated, knowing it sounded nosy.

But a strategist’s job was to consult on complex matters, so I might as well be honest.

She was the only one who knew about Vivian, Adel, and Luna anyway.

Hiding this would be weird.

“The doctor’s expression didn’t sit right with me.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

I had seen it.

The doctor, playing the crowd with exaggerated antics.

But when their attention fixated on the grotesque leg…

I had watched Frankburg’s face.

Could he really do this without guilt or disgust?

Was it because, in this medieval world, the weak didn’t survive?

That doubt led me to notice…

The moment he brought the blade to the leg, his expression turned deadly serious.

That’s why I rushed to stop him.

Having seen that, I had to ask—why not seek a better method?

After hearing everything, Adela stroked her chin, piecing together the puzzle.

“He did seem to shield you at the end. Before he knew you were the ‘Heaven-Sent Genius.’”

“He was deliberately acting like a clown.”

“Makes sense.”

Adela explained:

Doctors, as I knew, were a despised profession.

Limited in how they could earn, they had to resort to theatrics.

As she reasoned aloud…

I laughed and said:

“Heh, so he is a good person!”

“Good my ass… Judging people like that will get you backstabbed one day.”

Adela gave me a stern warning.

Despite her aloof demeanor, she had a tsundere way of looking out for me.

But I shoved my hands in my pockets and replied:

“With you by my side, what’s there to worry about?”

“…Y-you— Ugh, this damn flirt!”

“???”

Adela smacked my back hard.

Stunned, I blinked in confusion.

For some reason, she fumed and stormed ahead.

Stomping her feet to make her irritation clear.

Then, she stopped.

“In all my years predicting people… I can’t figure you out.”

She didn’t turn back, speaking to my silhouette.

Not expecting an answer, she walked off without another word.

I couldn’t figure her out either.

Laughing alone at her desk, calling me a flirt, leaving nothing but riddles.

When will she just say it straight?

So frustrating.