A new day began with the clamor of the alarm clock.
Kiryu Kazusuke sat up in bed, unable to keep from pressing his temples against the headache brought on by his hangover.
His memories of last night at “Kagura Club” were somewhat hazy. All he remembered was that Nakamori Sachiko had been in high spirits and had dragged him and Imagawa Ori into drinking quite a bit.
As for how he had gotten home in the end, he could no longer remember at all.
Kiryu Kazusuke took out his wallet and opened it. Inside was an extra stack of crisp new ten-thousand-yen bills.
As agreed, Nakamori Sachiko had put all of the night’s expenses under his name and settled the bill.
A nomination fee of 20,000 yen, a table fee of 10,000 yen, a service charge of 40,000 yen, one bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé for 160,000 yen, and an eight-tier champagne tower for 4,000,000 yen.
Later, Kiryu Kazusuke had wanted to order a few more bottles of high-end champagne, but Nakamori Sachiko said the wager had already ended, and she would not be covering any bills after that.
He could only give up resentfully.
In other words, in theory, he could receive cashback amounting to 20% of the spending bill, which came to 845,000 yen.
However, the Villainess Worldline Convergence Plan was not reasonable.
It only acknowledged the portions Kiryu Kazusuke had actively spent.
Meaning that of the champagne tower worth 4,000,000 yen, only the part he added on counted—three bottles of Louis Roederer Cristal worth 600,000 yen.
But that did not matter.
After all, Kiryu Kazusuke’s true intention had never been this in the first place. As long as he obtained “Surgical Incision Suturing,” that was enough.
There was no need to fret over gains and losses because of it.
……
After arriving at Gunma University Hospital,
Kiryu Kazusuke first went to the nurses’ station to pick up Suzuki Shinya’s medical chart and checked last night’s nursing records.
Everything was normal.
Suzuki Shinya’s vital signs were stable, and the swelling in the injured limb had also subsided considerably compared to yesterday, reaching the standard for surgery.
When he returned to the First Department of Surgery office, several doctors were already inside.
“Morning, Kiryu-kun.”
Tanaka Kenji was sitting at the desk by the window, flipping through a medical file. Seeing him come in, he greeted him.
“Morning, Tanaka-senpai.”
Kiryu Kazusuke nodded and put Suzuki Shinya’s chart back on his own small desk.
“Yeah, I was working overtime on medical records last night, so I just came straight over this morning.”
Tanaka Kenji stretched, leaned back in his chair, and made a crackling sound from his bones.
As he spoke, he glanced at Kiryu Kazusuke and asked somewhat strangely, “Kiryu-kun, you look a little out of it. Did you not sleep well last night?”
Kiryu Kazusuke shook his head. “Just a small matter. Headache.”
Naturally, he would not mention what happened at the nightclub last night. Although the two of them had a senior-junior relationship, they were not close enough to share their private lives.
Tanaka Kenji did not ask further and instead turned to some office gossip.
“The selection for the next professor is coming up soon, right?”
“If nothing unexpected happens, Associate Professor Mizutani should be able to get elected.”
“Are Professor Mizutani’s chances that good?”
“Professor Nishimura is getting on in years. Retirement is only a matter of time.”
“Although Professor Mizutani’s clinical skills are said to be average, he’s an academic doctor after all. He’s published plenty of papers and often attends international conferences.”
“Within the department, he has the most seniority and the widest network. There shouldn’t be any problem.”
Kiryu Kazusuke nodded.
Here was a little counterintuitive piece of knowledge: not every professor possessed superb medical skill.
If they were academic professors who had left the clinical front lines, their surgical ability might even be inferior to the specialists under them.
As the two chatted idly,
the office door was pushed open, and a man of medium build, looking somewhat exhausted, walked in.
This was Takigawa Takuhei, a resident specialist in the First Department of Surgery.
Under the training system, the growth path of medical students was rather long and fixed.
For example, after Kiryu Kazusuke graduated from medical school and passed the national medical licensing examination, he first became a junior resident.
Only after two to five years of odd jobs and clinical study could he be promoted to resident specialist.
A resident specialist was the stage after the training period ended, during which one continued accumulating experience in the same specialty.
It usually required several years of clinical practice and case accumulation.
Although they still had to work under the guidance of senior physicians, they already possessed a certain degree of independent diagnostic and treatment ability.
Only after passing the strict certification exams for certified physicians or specialists could one be considered to have reached the level of a true professional. For example, Imagawa Ori already possessed the authority to conduct independent diagnosis and treatment and to serve as chief surgeon in complex operations.
It could be said that the specialist examination was the most important threshold in a doctor’s career.
As for Takigawa Takuhei, he had failed the qualification examination several years in a row. In terms of seniority, he was older than many young specialists, but in terms of skill, he had remained stagnant all this time.
“Takigawa-senpai, good morning.”
Tanaka Kenji greeted him warmly.
“Mm, morning.”
Takigawa Takuhei walked in with dark circles under his eyes, yawning. Clearly, he had also not rested well during last night’s shift.
He waved weakly in greeting, then collapsed into his seat, preparing to catch up on sleep.
Tanaka Kenji quietly lowered his head and dropped his voice. “Takigawa-senpai failed again this year. Next year will probably be rough for him. When the time comes, the department may very well arrange for him to be sent to some remote affiliated hospital.”
This was the cruel side of the medical department system: survival of the fittest, with no middle ground.
There were many people like Takigawa Takuhei in the hospital.
It was not that they did not work hard. It was just that their talent, luck, and opportunities always fell short by that tiny bit.
Day after day, year after year, their original ambitions were worn away by reality, and in the end, they could only remain stuck in an awkward neither-high-nor-low position, helplessly accepting their own mediocrity.
So Kiryu Kazusuke said nothing.
Even though hospitals placed great importance on seniority, they also valued ability highly.
Before long, the office door was pushed open once again.
Imagawa Ori walked in.
She was still as brisk and capable as ever, with shoulder-length short hair and a light-colored shirt under her white coat. She looked full of energy, not at all like someone who had drunk quite a bit at a nightclub last night.
The previously relaxed atmosphere in the office immediately turned serious.
“Good morning, Doctor Imagawa!”
Tanaka Kenji immediately stood up to greet her.
Even Takigawa Takuhei, who had been lying down to catch up on sleep, instinctively straightened his body.
As for Kiryu Kazusuke, his gaze briefly met Imagawa Ori’s. Then, in the next second, the two of them tacitly looked away.
Imagawa Ori walked to her desk, set down her handbag, and picked up the already organized surgical schedule from the tabletop for a glance.
“Takigawa, Kiryu, come here for a moment.”
“Yes!”
Takigawa Takuhei immediately sprang up from his chair, and Kiryu Kazusuke also followed him forward.
“Take another look at Suzuki Shinya’s films.”
Imagawa Ori placed an X-ray and several CT reconstruction images onto the viewing light.
The light came on.
At a glance, one could see the horrific comminuted fracture at the distal radius. The articular surface was like an eggshell smashed by a hammer, with more than a dozen bone fragments of varying sizes scattered and separated.
The CT images showed even more directly the collapse of the lunate articular surface and the avulsion of the ulnar styloid.
The difficulty of the surgery was obvious at a glance.
After a while, Imagawa Ori asked, “Takigawa, you’re the first assistant. What do you think?”