The Winter of Limbus Pit (1)

Limbus Pit is the anus of the Imperial capital. It’s a crude metaphor, I know, but I can’t think of a more fitting one. Everything the people above don’t want to deal with rolls down here. For instance, people want to eat sliced meat, but they don’t want a blood-reeking slaughterhouse next door. As a result, the slaughterhouses moved down to Limbus Pit and established themselves as one of the district's primary industries.

Beyond that, there are factories, casinos, mercenary guilds, and so on. Businesses that have demand but nowhere to go have trickled down into Limbus Pit one by one. There are eight such industries that have settled here. And to these, the darkness that originally resided in Limbus Pit has clung like a parasite. Where slaughterhouses go, prostitution follows; where factories go, smuggling follows; where casinos go, loan sharks follow. The light and the shadow. The combination of the two is what makes up the rice bowl of Limbus Pit.

'And if my memory serves me right, the rice bowl of H-Sector is...'

I recalled what I had heard during my private tutor’s history lessons. H-Sector began as a prison and an execution ground. And its rice bowl was the "human trade" that parasitized those institutions. Death row inmates are going to die anyway. In the past, someone wanted to recycle that low-efficiency resource thriftily. An arena where those destined to die fight each other, a laundry that sells the identities of the dead. That evolved into the massive human market that now teems with kidnapping and slave trading.

'Other nobles also tend to go to H-Sector when they want to acquire slaves.'

And that H-Sector has been crossing over into D-Sector lately. It was obvious they weren't coming for anything good.

'Alright. Let's bolt.'

Once decided, I acted fast. Following Wangcho’s advice, I immediately began packing my bags. I may be the protagonist, but I’m not the type of character who likes to inconvenience others just to get my own spotlight. If my presence here is going to be a nuisance to Wangcho, I should clear out. Besides, they say it’s trendy for protagonists to be rational these days. And since I, too, was a rational human being, I prepared to head back up without hesitation.

While I was packing, Eri asked with a displeased expression, "But Teacher, aren't you scared?"

"Of what?"

"They say the H-Sector guys are coming up."

At Erika’s reaction, the corners of my mouth curled up slightly. "You eat meals with the boss of D-Sector, yet you're afraid of H-Sector?"

Every rice bowl is determined by hierarchy. The strongest organization takes the magic engineering manufacturers of A-Sector, and the next strongest takes the adventurer industry of B-Sector. And what Wangcho holds here is the slaughtering business of D-Sector. In other words, it means Wangcho’s rank is about fourth. In contrast, H-Sector is dead last. Naturally, they didn't seem like they would be a match for Wangcho. Packing my bags right now wasn't because I feared H-Sector. It was simply to avoid being a nuisance to Wangcho.

So, I calmly conveyed my true feelings. "If the landlord says he's going to clean the house because rats appeared, would a guest vacate the room just because they're afraid of the rats?"

"Ah, as expected. A born noble is a bit different. To think you'd talk about etiquette even at a time like this." Erika let out a dry laugh. "Still, be careful. If you get bitten by them, you might not die, but you'll suffer quite a bit."

"Why? Are they that strong?"

"No? I'm saying you'll suffer because they're just crazy bastards. They bite anyone regardless of who they are. That’s why they’re annoying."

'They're annoying because they're crazy?'

Eri’s evaluation was different from what I had expected, so I leaned in toward her. "What do you mean they don't distinguish between people? Can you tell me more?"

"Huh? What do you want to ask?"

"Why do H-Sector organization members not distinguish between people? Is that their boss's policy?"

"Aha."

At my words, Erika nodded slowly. And then, "You were in the upper district, so you wouldn't know at all. There is no boss. In H-Sector."

"?"

It was an out-of-the-blue answer. But a second later, I understood immediately.

"H-Sector doesn't have anyone like Wangcho."

"That's right. Other sectors are firmly held by one big organization, right? Like Wangcho. There's a person you shouldn't touch, a zone you shouldn't enter. There's a line like that. But H-Sector doesn't have anything like that. It's just small organizations tearing each other apart."

No boss means no control, and no control means there's no one to draw the line. And I also felt like I knew why there was no boss in H-Sector.

'Because it's human trading, I suppose.'

This is a fantasy world. If someone you sold off returns later after becoming strong, your organization gets wiped out. If you trade thousands of people, there's no way a future Sword Saint won't be mixed in there. Naturally, organizations wouldn't last five years before getting retaliated against, so a large organization couldn't emerge from human trading.

"I understand, Eri. Then since they don't have a boss, negotiations won't work either."

Eri nodded at my summary. "That's right. There are a lot of guys there who only live for today. What kind of line would they have?"

"I guess they think they can just bite and run away."

"Exactly."

Small organizations often get more annoying than big ones because they don't know their place and just charge in. Finishing her brief explanation, Erika summarized the situation so far. "It hurts if you get bitten, and there's nothing left even if you block them. There isn't even a representative to negotiate with. It's not for nothing that Wangcho and the bosses of other sectors hate H-Sector. Now you know why people are afraid of them, right?"

I suppose so. Usually, the one spitting is scarier than the one drooling. And H-Sector was a collection of small-to-medium organizations that didn't think about the consequences and went around getting their spit on everything.

"How about it? Did you change your mind?"

"..."

"So let's go up quickly, Teacher. If we get bitten, only we suffer."

Erika began packing in a hurry with a look of disgust on her face. In contrast, my hands had slowed down much more than before I knew that fact.

'Uh... hmm...'

After hearing the explanation, I had a gut feeling that this wouldn't be someone else's business, but my own event.

I packed everything. I picked up my bag and grabbed the doorknob. "Let's go. If we delay any longer, Mr. Wangcho will be crying and clinging to us."

I had told Otto, our driver and escort, to go get the car in advance. He was probably on his way from the border between Civitas Square and the red-light district by now.

"Teacher. We agreed to meet the driver at the entrance, right?"

Eri. Mr. Otto is still a young man. If you call him 'mister', he might get hurt. He isn't even married yet. Men get sensitive about their age as they approach 30, you know. I wanted to tell her things like that, but I held back because of my character.

"Let's go quickly."

Eri opened the door first. At that moment.

Thud.

Something collapsed through the gap in the door. A young man fell, slamming his head into the floor. A red pool began to collect from his head.

"Driver?!"

Eri flipped Otto’s face over and was horrified. Someone had meticulously slit his mouth corners up to his ears and fixed them in a smiling expression with thick fishing line.

"How did this man..."

Otto isn't a 1st-Class, but he’s a skilled fighter who is just on the verge of it. It means he’s someone no one in this district can handle except Wangcho. Since he had been dealt with in such a miserable state, it was no wonder Eri was horrified.

As if trying to say something, unintelligible sounds came from his open mouth. "Ugh..."

Because his tongue was also pierced, the sound leaked out in the form of a groan without being completed into language. Looking at Otto’s forehead, letters carved with a knife were bleeding.

Eri, who saw the invitation, stiffened. "Umm... Ein... uh... Ein (Inside)? What word is this?"

"..."

"Why? What! Why are you looking at me with those eyes!"

I correct myself. I don't know the exact meaning of the invitation, but Erika, who sensed the serious atmosphere, stiffened. I ignored the grumbling Eri and examined Otto’s wounds. 'Now I know why people don't want to deal with the H-Sector kids.'

To think they would do such things to a human face. I had never met them, but it was certain they weren't people I could talk to.

"Ugh... ugh..."

Even in pain, Otto was desperately looking at me and trying to say something. Because his tongue was pierced, the pronunciation wasn't clear. But it was clear that it was a plea to save him.

"I will make you comfortable right away."

I took scissors out of my medical bag and approached. It was to cut the thread binding his tongue first.

Snap.

At that moment, Eri grabbed my arm roughly. "Teacher, I think it's better to leave him."

She sent me a warning with eyes filled with fear. "Teacher. You can't treat Otto or take him with us right now. The best thing to do is for us to get out of here first."

She was right. As soon as I saw Otto’s condition, I knew what they were aiming for. Rationally speaking, in this situation, I should abandon Otto and go up. No one would call this choice cold-hearted. Because before he was my driver, he was my bodyguard, and it was Otto’s role to be abandoned if it was for my safety. And he was receiving that level of salary reflecting even that.

"I suppose so."

"You're quick to understand. So let's go up right now. It will be safe if we just walk to Civitas Square."

Eri’s judgment was cold. Like a child who survived in this street, she was rational. A sensible person would turn around and run away without looking back. But I couldn't take my eyes off Otto’s stitched lips and the message on his forehead.

"Teacher?"

"..."

My feet wouldn't move. A doctor's pride? That was part of it. But the fact that I was the protagonist of a misunderstanding story bothered me more.

'I don't think I'll be able to escape even if I run away.'

The protagonist wins in the end. But the word "win" carries the premise that you will inevitably get caught up in the incident. No, wait, am I already caught up?

After considering these two things, I judged that running away was impossible. Once decided, my actions were fast. Ignoring Eri, who was chattering beside me, I turned my body toward the treatment room.

"Eri. Put the bag down and lock the back door."

"No, no way... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Teacher! Are you crazy? They're right in front of our noses!"

"So?"

I pointed the beak of my crow mask toward Eri. "He’s my patient. And he’s a member of our family."

And above all, I am the protagonist.

"..."

"30 minutes is enough."

"Haa..."

Eri sighed as if resigned and moved. It makes me feel sorry to see her react like that. I know I'm fine because I'm the protagonist, but for Eri, this must be reality.

'I feel sorry, so I should show her something cool.'

It’s not much of a substitute, but I’ll show you a fantastic surgery that captivated medical students. I headed to the safe on one side of the wall. Whir. Click. Deep inside the safe, I carefully took out a brown ampoule contained in a velvet case. On the label, it was written [Erythroxylum Coca]. It was a local anesthetic I was using as a substitute because I hadn't been able to make lidocaine yet. For reference, the meaning is cocaine in Latin. Why? Latin is cool.

'IV ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠(intravenous anesthesia) seems a bit dangerous, so I'll go with topical application.'

The oral mucosa and open wounds have a high absorption rate for cocaine. It’s enough to just soak it and apply it without needing to inject it. Additionally, it has a vasoconstrictive effect, so I can also expect a hemostatic effect. It would be a perfect drug if it weren't for the addiction.

"Please don't move now. You can sleep if you want."

If you can sleep, that is. Waiting for the anesthesia to penetrate, I observed the wound. 'From both corners of the mouth to the front of the ears. About 7 centimeters each.'

The H-Sector bastards' fishing line was thick and rough. It was at a level of just tying it up rather than suturing. Tsk. If you're going to do art, you should do it cleanly.

'Tissue necrosis isn't severe. It's fine to reconstruct right away.'

After establishing the surgical plan, I unfolded the old leather case. Silver-crafted razor blades. Dwarf clockmaker tweezers. Fishing hooks sorted by size. I set up the surgical tools and dipped my hands in lime water.

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

Instead of an answer, Otto’s fingers twitched slightly. I cut the fishing lines one by one. Every time the thread loosened, the wound gaped open. I immediately stanched the blood seeping from the open wound. I also removed the thread pierced through his tongue.

"Take a deep breath."

Otto, whose tongue was freed, took a deep breath. "Now breathe through your nose."

Next was debridement. Necrosis wasn't severe, but there was still contaminated tissue. I cut out all those tissues.

'Next is suturing and reconstruction.'

The wound area is the corner of the mouth, a frequently moving area. If I just stitch it, contracture will occur later. The scar will shrink, making it impossible to open the mouth properly.

'I should go with Z-plasty.'

Z-plasty. It is a technique of intentionally cutting a straight wound in a Z-shape and suturing it again. It is a method to prevent contracture by dispersing the direction of tension, and you can also expect the side effect of less scarring.

'I'm short on skin. I'll have to pull some skin from behind the ears.'

Behind the ear is suitable as a donor site because the scar can be covered with hair and there is skin to spare. I used an injection because I couldn't anesthetize behind the ear with gauze. I picked out the micro-vessels with the dwarf clockmaker's forceps and lifted the skin with the silver-crafted razor blade. I placed the detached skin on the defect area and sutured the muscle layer with catgut thread (thread made from goat intestines. Dissolvable thread) on the fishing hook. That took about a few minutes.

"Done."

Washing my hands once more, I checked the clock. 29 minutes. 1 minute faster than expected. It was a very unsatisfactory result.

'Sigh. It still takes this long.'

When I was an adult in my past life, it took 15 minutes. If I had a well-coordinated resident assistant, it took 12 minutes. I think it's because my hands are still slow because they are baby hands, and the equipment is also inferior to my past life.

'Still a long way to go.'

Self-reflection ends here. I looked toward Eri. She had forgotten to keep watch and was staring at this side blankly.

"...What's with that speed of tying threads... What did you do in the past, Teacher?"

"A doctor."

Erika has a good eye. Many people think that a surgeon's life is hand tremors, but the real master is the ability to handle thread. And I received love calls from quite a few places in my past life for my ability to handle thread. ...But why did I choose trauma surgery of all things? Damn it.

The rambling ends here. I returned to reality by Erika’s voice.

"No, that's not what I asked... Are you really not related to the Duke's family?"

"I've never even been near there."

"Sigh..."

Eri looked at me with suspicious eyes. "You didn't just do it roughly, did you?"

"Do I look like that kind of person to you?"

"To say that, you were cutting it smoothly without even using a ruler."

"There's a way for everything."

My tweezers and forceps have grooves carved in 0.5cm increments. It was a small custom to save time measuring with a ruler one by one. I wanted to do this custom in my past life too, but the hospital said it was expensive and didn't do it. It might be because I hadn't served long enough. But in this world, I have a lot of money and there's no such thing as seniority, so I could do this custom. Money is indeed the best.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"But is it okay to be talking like this? You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wanted to run away until just a moment ago."

"Ah, right!"

Eri hurriedly picked up her luggage again. In contrast, I leisurely prescribed medicine for the patient and guided him to the back door.

"This is a narcotic, but if you only take it when it hurts, and don't take it more than 3 times a day, you won't get addicted. Now take this and go to Wangcho."

Otto shook his head. He still couldn't speak properly, but his eyes were stubborn. It meant he couldn't leave his young master behind.

"Honestly, in your current state, you're just a burden."

But that wasn't what he had to do right now.

"Go out the back door and bring Wangcho. That is the best you can do right now."

"..."

In the end, Otto nodded. When I opened the back door, he disappeared toward Wangcho’s slaughterhouse, staggering.

"Teacher! What are you doing!"

"I'll be waiting, Mr. Otto."

"Teacher!"

I saw the patient off and turned back toward Eri.

"Eri, don't rush me."

"Our lives are on the line, how can I not rush!"

"But does anything change if you rush? We can't go up anyway, now that Mr. Otto has been targeted."

"..."

"Above all, it's already too late."

30 minutes is enough time for the pursuers to have finished their meal and surrounded us. Bang! And as if to affirm that fact, the front door was smashed inward.

Look. I told you. This is my event.