Being shunted to the left—whether in Japan or in the neighboring great nation, the meaning was exactly the same.
It referred to a demotion in position, or being transferred to a remote, unimportant post.
Judging by the name “Haramachi Red Cross Hospital” alone, one might not get much of a sense of it. After all, it bore the Red Cross signboard, and sounded like a proper general hospital.
But Kiryu Kazusuke knew that this place was located deep in the mountains on the border between Gunma Prefecture and Fukushima Prefecture.
In winter, the snow could pile up to knee depth, and even ambulances had to put on tire chains to get in.
In summer, there were more mosquitoes and insects than people.
Most crucial of all was its monotonous patient structure.
Nothing but elderly people left behind in the countryside: hypertension, diabetes, chronic bronchitis, plus the occasional femoral neck fracture from falling while doing farm work.
Usually, only doctors who had completely lost in departmental power struggles, or those who had caused serious medical accidents and needed to lie low, would be exiled there.
In this era when the internet was not yet developed, once you went to a place like that, it was equivalent to disappearing completely from the mainstream view of the medical world.
Want to come back?
Dream on.
Kiryu Kazusuke sat in his somewhat wobbly office chair, spinning a ballpoint pen in his hand.
The reward for Branch Two was 500,000 yen. It was indeed quick money—more than three months of his salary—and enough to set up half a champagne tower at a nightclub in Chiyoda.
For a doctor who wanted to coast through life, that place might be heaven.
Good air, little pressure, and a guaranteed salary rain or shine.
But to him, it was a grave.
To bury the possibilities of the next several decades of his future for a mere 500,000 yen?
In that case, only two choices remained.
Kiryu Kazusuke glanced at the sticky note on the desk that read “Lunch Order Tally.”
As a resident at the bottom of the department’s food chain, being responsible for tallying and ordering lunch for all the senior physicians every noon was one of the chores he had to perform.
Deliberately leave out Imagawa Ori’s lunch order?
A small mistake like that would certainly make her unhappy, but at most she would scold him with a couple of lines like “useless thing.”
In the department, residents getting scolded was an everyday occurrence. Not getting scolded would be the abnormal thing.
Low risk, low return. Purely to disgust the other party a little.
If it were any other time, Kiryu Kazusuke might have chosen this for 10,000 yen and the chance to see Imagawa Ori’s frustrated expression.
Branch One could serve as the safe option. He would keep it in reserve for now.
Kiryu Kazusuke’s gaze continued downward.
【Branch Three: Exploit her predicament, extract the maximum benefit from her, and admire her smile. (Reward: Fracture Anatomical Reduction Technique · Perfect)】
Kiryu Kazusuke stared at this line of text, putting away his casual attitude.
So-called “anatomical reduction” referred to completely restoring the fractured ends of a bone to their anatomical form before injury, fitting together seamlessly without the slightest deviation.
Clinically, this was an ideal state.
Most of the time, doctors could only achieve “functional reduction”—in other words, even if the bone was a little crooked, as long as it did not affect use, it was acceptable.
Because achieving “anatomical reduction” was truly too difficult.
Not only did it require a god’s-eye understanding of anatomical structures, it also required a pair of extremely steady, extremely sensitive hands, protecting the blood supply of the surrounding soft tissue to the greatest extent and reducing complications.
Moreover, the word “Perfect” in “Fracture Anatomical Reduction Technique · Perfect” represented a level that surpassed human limits and reached the realm of art!
Imagawa Ori was like a trapped beast that had fallen into a snare.
Right now, she urgently needed this paper to give Professor Nishimura an answer and maintain her standing in the department.
The core theory of the paper happened to be in Kiryu Kazusuke’s hands.
A classic imbalance of supply and demand.
In that case, as the supplier, he naturally possessed absolute pricing power.
Was this right?
Too right!
She wanted Kiryu Kazusuke to write the first draft, but did not want to pay the corresponding price.
That was arrogance.
If he did not take the opportunity to bite off a vicious chunk of flesh, he would be letting down capitalism’s careful cultivation of him.
With this skill, Kiryu Kazusuke would be able to display his ability in more surgeries, thereby plundering more resources and status.
As for what exactly he should extract from her…
Kiryu Kazusuke’s gaze landed on Imagawa Ori’s face, which remained delicate and beautiful even in her anxiety.
Authorship on the paper. That was the most basic thing, and it was what he deserved.
But that was not enough.
Money?
Not quite. Although he was very poor right now, in the previous option, all he had done was ask Imagawa Ori for 500,000 yen, and he had been retaliated against afterward.
With someone like Imagawa Ori, you could ask for her life, but money was the one thing you could not ask for.
Then what else was there?
Money, power, sex.
Kiryu Kazusuke imagined for a moment Imagawa Ori lying on a bed, looking at him with a face full of disgust…
Forget it. There was no need.
If he angered her, he might still end up being shunted off to Haramachi Red Cross Hospital.
Then only her authority as the lead surgeon remained.
After thinking for a few seconds, Kiryu Kazusuke made up his mind.
Aside from that, there was still one small problem: how to make Imagawa Ori smile even after being squeezed dry by him…
Hmm…
It was not completely impossible.
He just had to take a gamble.
For “Fracture Anatomical Reduction Technique · Perfect,” it was worth it.
……
Kiryu Kazusuke was in no hurry to go find Imagawa Ori. Instead, he picked up the phone.
“Hello, this is Gunma University First Surgery.”
“Yes, today’s lunch.”
“One deluxe makunouchi bento, two tonkatsu bentos, three ginger pork bentos…”
As he looked at the duty roster on the wall, he read out the dishes into the receiver.
He had to take care of a resident’s proper work first, lest he forget later.
At this moment, Tanaka Kenji suddenly raised his head.
He looked at him eagerly from the side. “Kiryu-kun, I want a large serving of rice. It has to be large!”
“Got it.” Kiryu Kazusuke responded casually and continued ordering.
“And one eel rice bowl. The kind grilled fresh.”
This was for Assistant Professor Mizutani. That old man had recently been constantly complaining about his sore waist and aching back, saying he needed nourishment.
“Lastly…”
His gaze swept over Imagawa Ori, who was sitting in the corner, still frowning miserably at the pile of documents in front of her.
“One more deluxe sashimi platter set meal.”
“Yes, the most expensive kind.”
After hanging up the phone.
Tanaka Kenji leaned over and kindly reminded him, “Hey, hey, Doctor Imagawa’s… she didn’t say she wanted anything that expensive, did she?”
In the department, who did not know that Doctor Imagawa was famously stingy?
She was also extremely harsh on herself. At noon, she often made do with convenience store rice balls or cheap vegetable salads.
That deluxe sashimi set meal had to cost 10,000 yen, right?
It was common for residents to pay in advance for senior doctors’ meals. Some thick-skinned doctors would forget about it after eating and never mention paying the money back at all.
Although Imagawa Ori would not go so far as to repudiate the debt, ordering something this expensive for her—wasn’t that asking to be scolded?
“It’s fine.” Kiryu Kazusuke waved his hand. “Today is a good day.”
“A good day?” Tanaka Kenji looked in confusion at the gloomy sky outside the window. “Is today some kind of anniversary?”
Kiryu Kazusuke did not explain.
He sat back down in his seat, turned on the computer, and pulled up the document he had written before.
It was something he had organized after Suzuki Shinya’s surgery ended. Although it had no charts or data analysis, this was the core idea within it.
The remaining work was to fill in flesh onto this skeleton.
This was exactly what Imagawa Ori lacked most right now.
She had technique, cases, and data, but she lacked the theoretical elevation to connect all these things together.
Kiryu Kazusuke printed the document out.
There were only three pages in total.
He picked up the stapler, fastened them together with a click, and walked toward Imagawa Ori.