I Think I Transmigrated into a Saint

South Korea, 2030... and the Castrato Medical Center is as peaceful as ever today.

"Did you clear the field with suction?"

Although the operating room is currently in a frenzy with alarms blaring over a patient in hypotensive shock, isn't this just business as usual for a hospital OR? It is even more of a daily routine in a trauma surgery OR. Therefore, one could say the hospital is peaceful today as well.

Humming a tune as I snapped on my surgical gloves, the resident at the operating table called out in a panic.

"Fellow! The patient's vitals are dropping!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm moving as fast as I can. Nagging me won't make the formula come out of the bottle any faster."

Today's patient was a victim of a traffic accident, run over by a truck. Having finished my preparations, I peered into the patient's opened abdomen.

"Fortunately, the spleen isn't too badly ruptured. But the upper gastrointestinal tract is completely necrotic. The volvulus is severe, too. What on earth did they do to twist this poor guy's innards into a pretzel?"

"I heard there was a bit of a mishap when they were pulling him out from under the truck."

"How many hours did it take to get him to the hospital?"

"About four hours."

"We can't save it."

"What?"

The resident looked at me in sheer terror. Realizing my slip of the tongue, I quickly corrected myself.

"I meant we can't save the stomach and the small intestine. Of course the patient will live. I've saved people in far worse conditions than this."

Seriously, I've even saved a patient with a bullet lodged in their heart. And that was while the heart was still beating! Hard to believe, right? Honestly, even I was surprised I pulled that one off.

"Let's go with a total gastrectomy. Leave a tiny bit behind, keeping a future Roux-en-Y reconstruction in mind. For now, we staple."

Untangling the twisted intestines, I stapled the end of the esophagus to the end of the small intestine. Finally, I inserted a feeding tube into the jejunum and created a stoma on the abdominal wall for waste elimination.

"What did he eat for lunch to have this kind of stuff in his stomach?"

"Aren't you worried about sepsis?"

"Eh, infectious diseases will handle that. That's what they're there for."

After changing my contaminated gloves several times, I sutured the ruptured diaphragm and inserted a chest tube, finally bringing the surgery to an end.

"Phew..." I pulled down my mask and peeled off my gloves.

"You do the final closure. And—" I tapped the shoulder of the resident, who was staring at me from in front of the computer.

"Tell Professor Kim in GI surgery. Ask him to handle the reconstruction once the patient stabilizes."

"Yes, sir!"

"Oh, and don't forget to take photos of the surgical site to send over. They need to know where the feeding tube is so they can avoid it later."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'm warning you now. Don't forget like last time and get the whole department chewed out."

"Yes, sir! Understood! Thank you for your hard work, doctor!"

"Yeah. And one more thing."

Before leaving the operating room, I gave the resident a final instruction.

"Admit him under GI. If you call me, I'm blocking your number. If any issues come up, talk to another professor. I am going to sleep through my entire off-duty block."

The moment I stepped out of the OR, fatigue hit me like a tidal wave. Checking the clock, I realized it had been twelve hours since I clocked in. Arriving in the morning only to face a hit-and-run, a fall from height, a stabbing, and just now a truck accident... It had been an incredibly dense day.

Ah. On second glance, the date had changed. It wasn't twelve hours; it had been thirty-six hours. Damn it.

Fuck. Just let me go home.

Operating for thirty-six consecutive hours was not fit for human beings. Then, suddenly, I remembered the most important thing I had forgotten. I immediately turned back to the OR. I called out to the medical students who were standing in the corner, watching blankly.

"My dear medical students."

"Y-Yes, doctor!"

"This right here is a twenty-million-won surgery."

"Excuse me?"

"The insurance reimbursement rate for trauma surgery went up the year before last. For a single surgery like this, the six of us in this room split twenty million won. Sure, they deduct the cost of materials, but it's still a hefty sum."

"???"

"On top of that, if you perform a night surgery after six, you get almost double. Trauma surgery makes great money. So, what do you think? You want to join trauma surgery, right?"

At my words, the medical students' eyes drifted from me to the resident, and then to the nurse. We were a picture of heroes—soaked in blood, sweat, and deep dark circles. Surely, this was enough to make anyone fall in love with the field? After a brief hesitation, one of the students mumbled,

"W-We're sorry..."

Ah, why?!

The moment I arrived home, I threw myself onto the sofa like a corpse. I didn't even have the strength to wash up.

"Haa... I need to sleep..." But the chronic disease of modern humans flared up. My body was completely drained, yet my brain refused to rest, screaming for dopamine. Out of habit, I turned on my smartphone.

"Isn't there a light novel to read..." Reality was already a fantasy world full of monsters, anomalies, and endless patients. Thanks to that, trauma patients were overflowing lately, leaving our department with no time to rest. I certainly didn't want to read something gloomy in my leisure time.

"Something peaceful... healing..." As I scrolled down, an intriguing title in the rankings caught my eye.

"Schnabel? A plague doctor?" Schnabel. The German word for a bird's beak. It was also a term commonly used to refer to a plague doctor.

I pieced together the synopsis and the tags. Misunderstanding, denial... and a saint. Schnabel meant beak, but it was also synonymous with the crow mask. In other words, the protagonist of the original work must have been a plague doctor who went around saving people while wearing a crow mask. The story would be about the people around him misunderstanding his actions and worshipping him as a saint. With my years of experience reading web novels, I could figure this out in a heartbeat.

I can basically map out the entire plot. The protagonist would casually wrap some bandages and prescribe basic medicine, and then some passing Northern Grand Duchess or Imperial Princess would get obsessed, saying, "You're the first one to treat me like this." Meanwhile, the protagonist would be revered as a saint or a prophet, feel burdened by it, and try to escape. Then he'd get caught again and be forced to suffer a life of wealth and glory.

"Must be nice, living so easy." Here I was, on the verge of losing my mind while stitching up intestines crushed by a multi-ton truck, while this guy got to be a misunderstanding-genre protagonist who was praised just for breathing. It would be wonderful if I could live like that.

Let's see how this guy survives in another world. I immediately opened the prologue. But before I could even read the first sentence of the novel, a sharp crack echoed in my chest, followed by a tearing, agonizing pain right in the center of my breastbone. A horrific radiating pain, as if a sharp axe had split my sternum and pierced straight through to my spine.

The smartphone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. Cold sweat poured down like rain, and my vision flashed white. Ugh... God ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠damn it... I thought I just had indigestion lately.

Going out like this without even a chance to scream... Was it an acute myocardial infarction? Or an aortic dissection? I had emphasized so much to my medical students that if a patient complained of indigestion, they always had to suspect heart disease. Yet here I was, thinking I just had an upset stomach and looking for antacids. Damn it... I was so close to a professorship...

When I opened my eyes, I was in another world. I actually survived this. Well, it was survival in a different sense, but I was alive nonetheless.

The name I was given in this life was Julian Schnabel. The moment I heard the surname Schnabel, it wasn't hard to guess that I had transmigrated into the novel I was about to read. And of all people, as the protagonist.

I said I envied the protagonist, not that I wanted to become him. I also got to experience firsthand the novel's setting, which I hadn't been able to check before. This world was a mixture of dark fantasy and fusion punk. Driven back by magic beasts and Main, humanity had chosen to build massive walls and hide behind them. Even so, news of other fortresses falling occasionally reached us.

It was a gloomy world that I would have placed at the very bottom of my list if I could have chosen my transmigration destination. In such a world, the first adult I met was not my biological parents, but a friend of theirs. Apparently, my parents had left me in his care and departed for the southern front to treat soldiers.

"Julian. Your parents were truly wonderful people." Perhaps because of the nature of this world, my parents who went to the southern front never returned. Of all the places to be reincarnated, it had to be here. It was certainly a reincarnation fraught with problems. However, it wasn't entirely without its merits. If my memory served me right, the novel had a "misunderstanding" tag. This implied only one thing.

It means my future is bright. I might be a little miserable now, but in the end, a happy future awaited me. Even if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I only put in a little effort. So, there was no need to be discouraged by temporary misfortune. An opportunity will surely come. Until then, I just need to keep reviewing my medical knowledge so I don't forget it. I was busy painting a picture of a happy future in my mind when a chilling thought suddenly crossed my mind. The platform where the novel was serialized came to mind.

Wait. If this was TopBelpia... what gender am I right now? I immediately looked down. ...Fortunately, it was still attached. Phew... At least I won't have the Crown Prince and the Grand Duke obsessing over me.

Time passed. One day, while I was staying in the annex of my godfather's mansion and constantly reviewing my medical knowledge, a piece of the setting I had ignored crashed into my life. My parents' bodies, which had been classified as missing, were discovered. The moment had come when my status as a potential orphan became a definitive one.

"Julian. Let us go meet your parents. You should at least bid them farewell on their final journey." As soon as he heard the news that their bodies had been found, my godfather took me to the Southern Fortress. After crossing the Magic Realm on an airship, we arrived at the Southern Fortress, where I attended my parents' funeral.

I was not allowed to see my parents' bodies directly. They said it was not a sight for a child's eyes. All I could see were two blanket-covered bodies being pulled from the swamp. Only then did the death of my parents feel real, and a wave of melancholy washed over me. I wasn't quite at the point of crying, but I definitely needed a change of pace.

"Julian. If it is too hard, go take a walk." Thanks to my godfather's consideration, I had some time to myself. While walking, a certain sight caught my eye. A reddish liquid that a local guide was drinking. That reddish water looked strangely familiar. So, I asked him about it.

"Mister, what are you drinking?"

"Ah, this? It's water boiled with tree bark. If you drink this when you have a fever out here, it makes it bearable." It was a drink used by the local beastmen guides who were helping with the funeral. They were constantly drinking this reddish water instead of regular water.

"It's from the Tirun tree. Would you like to see it, young master?"

"May I try some?"

"Here you go. But are you sure you'll be alright?"

"With what?"

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

"Well, it's something eaten by common folk like us..."

"It is what the people who are helping my parents on their final journey drink. I was never taught the etiquette of calling such kind people 'common' or 'lowly'."

"...Thank you for saying so, young master. Please, have a drink." I took a sip of the water the beastman handed me. The reddish liquid tasted like a dry, bitter cocktail. It was almost like...

Tonic water? It was an unmistakable taste. This was definitely the taste of tonic water. In that instant, the pieces of the puzzle clicked together in my head. The Magic Realm where mosquitoes swarmed. A fever akin to malaria. And a tree bark that tasted like tonic water.

Jackpot. Putting all of this together led to one conclusion: I could make Quinine. Quinine—the legendary malaria treatment. In the past, Europe had been unable to colonize Africa due to malaria, but once this drug was discovered, they were able to dominate the continent. In a sense, it was a drug that changed the map of the world.

This water definitely tastes like a tonic water cocktail. Tonic water was originally a beverage made from quinine. Because of its dry, bitter, and strangely addictive taste, it had a history of being used in cocktails after its development as a medicine. Anyone who loved alcohol would probably know of "Gin and Tonic." Not many people knew it originated from quinine, though. At any rate, it was no coincidence that I thought of quinine the moment I drank the red sap. It was because the drink tasted exactly like that cocktail.

Calm down, Julian. I barely managed to steady my trembling hands. My heart urged me to dive straight into researching the medicine, but this was a different world. Perhaps the disease was different, or perhaps this was just a different plant that happened to taste like tonic water. So, before embarking on the drug's development, I first investigated the fevers of the southern front. After compiling the symptoms, I became certain that the fever of the Magic Realm was indeed malaria.

It occurred primarily in mosquito-infested areas, and the fever fluctuated every three days. It was a textbook case of malaria. Add to that the fact that drinking this red sap brought the fever down, and there was no longer any room for doubt.

I'm already a misunderstanding-genre protagonist, and now I get a fortuitous encounter like this? I couldn't help but count my chickens before they hatched. To be honest, I didn't know if this was a fortuitous encounter meant for the original protagonist. Perhaps it was intended for some other supporting character. But now that I had found it, ignoring it was out of the question.

I don't know if it's appropriate to develop this at my current age, but who cares? I immediately set to work developing the malaria treatment. I referenced the history of my previous life to guide my process. The malaria drug quinine was born from researching the tree bark that indigenous Africans used to boil and drink. A European who observed this processed the tree's sap to create quinine. I planned to do the exact same thing in this world.

I suppose I have no choice but to go through trial and error from scratch. Fortunately, quinine is a simple extract, making it one of the easiest pharmaceuticals to produce. By refining the sap that already had an effect on malaria into something more sophisticated, quinine would be born. Thus, it was the perfect candidate for my first creation.

For half a year, I boiled and dried the tree sap to make the medicine. Midway through, I realized that the trees of this world were slightly different from those of my previous world, and I had to pivot. In my past life, the sap was definitely the raw material... In my previous life, the tree's sap contained the main active ingredient. In this world, however, the therapeutic effect was much stronger in the bark. Because of this, I had wasted half a year researching the wrong part of the tree.

Whatever. Discovering it in half a year is still pretty fast. I wasn't particularly disheartened. If anything, I was relieved that I had realized my mistake and corrected it in just six months. From that day on, I immediately began researching the bark instead of the sap. I boiled, roasted, and processed the bark, occasionally handing out pocket money to soldiers to conduct clinical trials. Finally, Quinine was complete. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠There was just one minor issue.

Is it okay to name it Quinine? At first, since it was made from the Tirun tree, I wondered if I should give it a different name. Tirunine? Tiro? But I figured that would only confuse me, so I just stuck with Quinine. If anyone asked about the etymology, I'd just say my parents bestowed it upon me in a dream.

"I've completed the medicine, but..." Even though it was finished, there was a problem. There were limits to supplying and selling this drug in the body of a ten-year-old child. I was pondering how to promote this medicine when—

"The Lord has collapsed!!"

My godfather, who had just returned from an inspection of the south, collapsed with symptoms of malaria.