Winter in Limbus Pit (1)
Limbus Pit is the anus of the imperial capital. It is a rather filthy metaphor, but I couldn't think of a more fitting expression. Everything the people above want to avoid ends up rolling down here. For instance, people want to slice and eat meat, but they don't want a blood-reeking slaughterhouse next door. As a result, the slaughterhouses were relegated to Limbus Pit, establishing themselves as one of the district's primary industries. The same went for factories, casinos, and mercenaries. Businesses that were in high demand but had no place in polite society trickled down to Limbus Pit one by one.
Eight such industries descended into Limbus Pit. And to these, the native darkness of the Pit clung. Prostitution followed the slaughterhouses, smuggling followed the factories, and loan sharking followed the casinos. The light and the dark. The fusion of the two was what fed Limbus Pit.
'And if my memory serves me right, the livelihood of H-Sector is...'
I recalled the history lessons from my private tutor.
H-Sector had its beginnings as a prison and execution ground. Its livelihood was the parasitic trade of human trafficking. Condemned criminals were going to die anyway. In the past, someone had wanted to frugally recycle those inefficient resources. Arenas where those destined to die fought each other, identity laundries that sold the names of the deceased. This evolved over time, and now it had become a massive human market dominated by kidnapping and slave trade.
'Even other nobles tend to head to H-Sector when they want to procure slaves.'
And lately, those H-Sector thugs had been encroaching on D-Sector. It was obvious to anyone that they weren't visiting for a friendly chat.
'Alright. Let's make a run for it.'
Once I made up my mind, I moved fast. Following Wangcho's advice, I immediately began packing my bags. I might be the protagonist, but I wasn't the type of character who liked causing trouble for those around him just to hog the spotlight. If my presence here was going to get in Wangcho's way, it was only right that I cleared out. Besides, I heard that being rational is all the rage for modern protagonists. Since I was a highly rational man myself, I prepared to head back upstairs without a moment's hesitation.
As I was packing, Erika asked with a disgruntled look on her face.
"But aren't you scared, Teacher?"
"Of what?"
"They say the H-Sector bastards are coming up."
Erika's reaction brought a slight smirk to my lips.
"You regularly share meals with the boss of D-Sector, yet you're afraid of H-Sector?"
Every livelihood was determined by hierarchy. The strongest organization seized the magic engineering manufacturing of A-Sector, while the next strongest took the adventurer industry of B-Sector. And the domain Wangcho claimed was the slaughterhouse industry of D-Sector. In other words, Wangcho's rank was roughly fourth. In contrast, H-Sector was at the very bottom. Naturally, they were no match for Wangcho.
Even now, I wasn't packing because I feared H-Sector. It was simply to avoid being a nuisance to Wangcho. So, I calmly conveyed my thoughts.
"If a rat appears and the landlord decides to clean the house, does the guest vacate the room because they're afraid of the rat?"
"Ah, of course. A born noble really is different. Even in a situation like this, you're talking about manners."
Erika let out a dry chuckle.
"Still, be careful. If you get bitten by them, you'll be in for a rough time, even if it doesn't kill you."
"Why? Are they that strong?"
"No? I mean you'll suffer because they're just plain crazy. They bite anyone without distinction. That's why they're a pain."
They were a pain because they were crazy? Since Eri's assessment differed from what I had imagined, I leaned in slightly to listen.
"What do you mean they don't make distinctions? Could you elaborate on that?"
"Huh? What are you trying to ask?"
"Why don't the H-Sector gang members make distinctions? Is it an instruction from their boss?"
"Ah."
At my words, Erika nodded slowly. Then, she said,
"You really have no idea because you're from the upper districts. There is no boss in H-Sector."
"?"
It was an unexpected answer. But a second later, I understood.
"So H-Sector doesn't have anyone like Wangcho."
"Exactly. In other sectors, one major organization keeps a tight grip on things, just like Wangcho does. There are lines you don't cross—people you don't touch, areas you don't enter. But H-Sector has none of that. It's just a bunch of minor gangs tearing each other apart."
No boss meant no control, and no control meant no one to draw the line. On top of that, I thought I knew why H-Sector lacked a boss.
'It's because of the human trafficking.'
This was a fantasy world. If someone you sold grew powerful and returned for vengeance, your organization would be wiped out. If you traded thousands of people, there was bound to be a future Sword Saint mixed in there. Naturally, these gangs couldn't last five years before facing retaliation, which was why no large organization could ever emerge from the human trade.
"I understand, Eri. Since they have no boss, negotiation is out of the question as well."
Hearing my summary, Erika nodded.
"Yeah. Most of them live like there's no tomorrow. What kind of lines would they respect?"
"They probably think they can just bite and run."
"Exactly."
Sometimes, small gangs that didn't know their place were far more exhausting to deal with than large organizations. Having finished her brief explanation, Erika summarized everything.
"If you get bitten, it hurts, and even if you fend them off, you gain nothing. There isn't even a representative to negotiate with. There's a reason Wangcho and the bosses of other sectors despise H-Sector. Now you see why people are afraid of them, right?"
That made sense. A drooling madman was always more terrifying than someone who merely spat at you. And H-Sector was a collective of minor gangs drooling and smearing their filth everywhere without a single thought for the consequences.
"Well? Have you changed your mind?"
"..."
"So let's hurry up and go, Teacher. If we get bitten, we're the only ones who suffer."
Erika began packing in a hurry, her face twisted in disgust.
In contrast, my hands had slowed down significantly compared to before I learned this.
'Uh... well...'
After hearing her explanation, I had a strong gut feeling that this wasn't someone else's problem, but rather an event triggered specifically for me.
Having packed everything, I picked up my bag and grabbed the doorknob.
"Let's go. If we delay any longer, Uncle Wangcho will probably cling to my legs in tears."
I had already told Otto, our driver and bodyguard, to fetch the carriage in advance. He was probably on his way from the border between Civitas Square and the Red-Light District by now.
"Teacher, we're meeting the driver uncle at the entrance, right?"
Eri. Otto is still a young man. Calling him 'uncle' might hurt his feelings. He isn't even married yet. Men get surprisingly sensitive about their age when they approach thirty.
I wanted to say those words, but I held back to maintain my character.
"Let's move quickly."
Erika took the lead and opened the door.
At that moment—
Thud.
Something collapsed through the doorway. A young man fell face-first onto the floor. A crimson pool began to spread from his head.
"Driver uncle?!"
Erika rolled Otto over and gasped in horror. Someone had meticulously slit the corners of his mouth all the way to his ears, sewing them shut with thick fishing line to lock his face into a grotesque, permanent grin.
"How could he...?"
While Otto wasn't a 1st Tier mage, he was a capable fighter who barely hovered around that level of strength. In this area, it meant no one except Wangcho could easily best him. Seeing him reduced to such a wretched state, it was no wonder Erika was horrified.
He seemed to be trying to say something, but only unintelligible noises escaped his open mouth.
"Uuuhhh..."
Since his tongue had also been pierced and sewn, the sound couldn't form words and leaked out as a mere groan.
Looking at Otto's forehead, words carved with a blade were weeping blood.
Erika's face stiffened as she looked at the invitation.
"Ugh... Ein... uh... Ein (inside)? What word is this?"
"..."
"Why? What! Why are you looking at me like that!"
I stand corrected. She didn't know the exact meaning of the invitation, but sensing the gravity of the situation, Erika's expression hardened.
Ignoring the grumbling Erika, I examined Otto's wounds.
'Now I see why people refuse to associate with H-Sector.'
To do such a thing to a human face. I had never met them, but it was absolutely certain they were not people you could reason with.
"Kh... uuugh..."
Even amidst his agony, Otto desperately looked at me, trying to say something. With his tongue sewn, his pronunciation was completely garbled. However, it was unmistakably a plea for help.
"I will ease your pain immediately."
I retrieved a pair of scissors from my medical bag and approached him. My first priority was to cut the thread binding his tongue.
Grab.
Just then, Erika roughly grabbed my arm.
"Teacher, I think we should leave him."
She warned me, her eyes filled with terror.
"Teacher. We can't treat Otto or take him with us right now. Our best option is to escape by ourselves first."
She was right. The moment I saw Otto's condition, I knew what they were aiming for. Rationally speaking, the correct move was to abandon Otto and go upstairs. No one could call this choice heartless. Before being my driver, he was my bodyguard, and if it was for my safety, it was Otto's role to be left behind. His hefty salary reflected that very risk.
"I suppose so."
"I'm glad you understand quickly. So let's go right now. We'll be safe once we walk up to Civitas Square."
Erika's judgment was cold. It was rational, fitting for a child who had survived these streets. Any sensible person would have run away without looking back. Yet, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Otto's stitched lips and the message carved into his forehead.
"Teacher?"
"..."
My feet wouldn't budge. Was it a doctor's pride? Perhaps. But what weighed heavier on my mind was the fact that I was the protagonist of a misunderstanding story.
'Even if I run, I doubt I can actually escape.'
The protagonist always wins in the end. But the word "win" carries the prerequisite of inevitably getting dragged into the incident. No, wait, had I already been dragged in?
Weighing these two factors, I concluded that running away was impossible.
Once I made up my mind, I moved fast. Ignoring Erika's frantic chattering, I turned back toward the treatment room.
"Eri. Put down your bag and lock the back door."
"No, wait... Teacher! Are you crazy? They're right on our doorstep!"
"And?"
I pointed the beak of my Crow Mask toward Erika.
"He is my patient. And he belongs to my family."
And above all, I am the protagonist.
"..."
"It will only take thirty minutes."
"Sigh..."
Erika let out a resigned sigh and moved. Seeing her react like that made me feel a bit guilty. I knew I would be fine because I was the protagonist, but to Erika, this was a life-or-death reality.
'Since I feel bad, I should show her something impressive.'
As a small consolation, I would show her a fantastic surgery that had once mesmerized medical students.
I walked over to the safe on the wall. *Rattle. Click.* From the depths of the safe, I carefully retrieved a brown ampoule nestled in a velvet case. The label read:
Since I hadn't been able to synthesize lidocaine yet, I was using this as a substitute local anesthetic. For the record, the Latin name translates to cocaine. Why? Because Latin sounds cool.
'An intravenous injection seems a bit too risky, so I'll go with topical application.'
The oral mucosa and open wounds had a high absorption rate for cocaine. There was no need for an injection; simply soaking a gauze and applying it would suffice. Additionally, it had vasoconstrictive properties, which would help control the bleeding. If it weren't for the risk of addiction, it would be a truly perfect drug.
"Do not move now. You may sleep if you wish."
Though I doubt you can.
While waiting for the anesthetic to take effect, I observed the wounds.
'From both corners of the mouth to the anterior auricle. Roughly seven centimeters each.'
The fishing line used by the H-Sector thugs was thick and coarse. It was less of a suture and more of a crude binding. *Tsk.* If they were going to make a statement, they could have at least kept it clean.
'The tissue necrosis isn't severe. I can proceed with immediate reconstruction.'
After formulating the surgical plan, I unrolled my worn leather case. Silver-plated razor blades. Dwarven watchmaker tweezers. Curved needles sorted by size. I arranged my surgical instruments and dipped my hands into lime water to disinfect them.
"Do not move your tongue. I will cut the fishing lines first."
Instead of an answer, Otto's fingers twitched slightly. I snipped the fishing lines one by one. Each time a thread was cut, the wound gaped open. I immediately stanched the blood seeping from the newly opened flesh. I also removed the thread piercing his tongue.
"Take a deep breath."
His tongue finally freed, Otto inhaled deeply.
"Now, breathe through your nose."
Next was debridement. Although the necrosis wasn't severe, contaminated tissue still existed. I meticulously excised all of it.
'Next is suturing and reconstruction.'
The wounded area was the corner of the mouth, a highly mobile region. Simply sewing it straight would lead to contracture later on. The scar tissue would tighten, preventing him from opening his mouth properly.
'I'll have to use a Z-plasty.'
Z-plasty. A plastic surgery technique where a straight wound was intentionally incised into a Z-shape before being sutured back together. By redirecting the lines of tension, it prevented contracture, and as a bonus, it significantly minimized scarring.
'There's not enough skin. I'll have to harvest some from behind his ear.'
The area behind the ear was an ideal donor site; the scar could be hidden by hair, and there was plenty of lax skin. Since I couldn't anesthetize behind the ear with gauze, I used an injection. Using the dwarven watchmaker's forceps, I clamped the microscopic blood vessels, and with the silver-plated razor, I harvested the skin graft. I placed the harvested skin over the defect and used a curved needle with catgut—sutures made from goat intestines that would dissolve over time—to sew the muscle layer. After a few minutes of this—
"Done."
I washed my hands once more and checked the clock. Twenty-nine minutes. One minute faster than expected. It was a highly unsatisfying result.
'Tsk. It still takes me this long.'
In my past life, when I had an adult's body, it would have taken me fifteen minutes. If I had a well-coordinated resident assisting me, twelve minutes. I suppose my hands were still slow because they were practically child-sized, and the equipment here was far cruder than what I had in my previous life.
'I still have a long way to go.'
Enough self-reflection. I looked over at Erika. She was staring blankly in my direction, completely forgetting her lookout duty.
"...How can you tie knots that fast? Teacher, what did you do before this?"
"I was a doctor."
Erika certainly had an eye for talent. Many people believed that a surgeon's life depended on steady hands, but the true mark of a master was their ability to handle sutures. In my past life, my dexterity with thread had earned me love calls from various hospitals.
...But why on earth did I choose trauma surgery of all things? Damn it.
Enough reminiscing. Erika's voice pulled me back to reality.
"No, that's not what I meant... Are you absolutely sure you have nothing to do with a ducal house?"
"I've never even been near one."
"Hmm..."
Erika eyed me suspiciously.
"You didn't do a half-assed job, did you?"
"Do I look like the kind of person who would?"
"Well, you were slicing away without even using a ruler."
"There is a method to it."
My tweezers and forceps had grooves carved into them at 0.5-centimeter intervals. It was a minor customization designed to save the time spent measuring with a ruler. I had wanted to make this customization in my past life, but the hospital had refused, claiming it was too expensive. Maybe it was because I lacked seniority back then. But in this world, I had plenty of money and no superiors to answer to, so I could customize my tools however I pleased. Truly, money was the best.
"By the way, is it alright for us to be chatting like this? Weren't you desperate to run away just a moment ago?"
"Ah, right!"
Erika hurriedly picked up the bags again. In contrast, I leisurely prescribed medicine to my patient and guided him toward the back door.
"This is a narcotic, but as long as you only take it when you are in pain and do not exceed three doses a day, you will not become addicted. Now, take this and go to Wangcho."
Otto shook his head. Though he still couldn't speak properly, his eyes were resolute. He was clearly refusing to leave his young master behind.
"To be frank, in your current state, you are nothing but baggage."
But what he needed to do right now was not to stay and fight.
"Go out through the back door and bring Wangcho here. That is the best thing you can do right now."
"..."
Ultimately, Otto nodded. When I opened the back door, he stumbled out and disappeared in the direction of Wangcho's slaughterhouse.
"Teacher! What are you doing?!"
"I will be waiting, Otto."
"Teacher!"
After seeing the patient off, I turned back to Erika.
"Eri, do not rush."
"Our lives are on the line! How can I not rush?!"
"But does rushing change anything? The moment Otto was targeted, our path upstairs was already cut off."
"..."
"And above all, it is already too late."
Thirty minutes was more than enough time for our pursuers to have a full meal and still surround the place.
*Crash!*
And as if to confirm that reality, the front door was violently smashed inward.
See? I told you. This is my event.