The Genius Doctor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 15
Startled by Allen’s sharp command, the Tavern Owner faltered and stepped back.
Allen wasted no time positioning himself behind the Patient.
‘Arms under the armpits, wrapping around him. Fist between the sternum and navel.’
His memories from Dreamland weren’t perfect, but one thing remained crystal clear.
Half-measures couldn’t save the dying.
Allen pressed his right fist against the Patient’s abdomen, anchoring it firmly with his left hand.
Then, with all his strength, he drove upward as if to lift the man clean off the ground.
‘One!’
He released the pressure momentarily, then compressed the chest again and thrust upward.
‘Two!’
The Heimlich Maneuver—a technique to expel airway obstructions using thoracic pressure.
Allen repeated the motion five times in succession.
But no sound emerged from the Patient’s mouth, not even the rattle of phlegm.
Instead, the man’s body grew heavier in Allen’s arms, sagging like a dead weight.
‘Damn it—is it not working?’
Cold sweat ran down Allen’s spine.
The Patient’s lips had turned a sickly blue-purple, and his eyes had rolled back, losing all focus.
Death had his throat in its grip.
‘What comes next?’
His mind was sluggish with panic, struggling to clear.
He continued the Heimlich Maneuver desperately while clawing through his own thoughts.
Think. Remember. You have to remember!
Then, from the deepest recesses of his mind, a flash of lightning struck.
“Bring me a knife! A small one—and a hollow tube! Now!”
At Allen’s shout, the Tavern Owner trembled like an aspen, his bulk belying his terror.
“A, a tube, sir?”
“Right now!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
The panic-stricken proprietor bolted for the Kitchen.
Allen compressed the abdomen one final time, but it was futile.
The Patient lost consciousness entirely in Allen’s arms.
‘Damn. Is it cardiac arrest?’
He pressed urgently at the man’s neck. The pulse was still there—faint, fluttering.
The brain had shut down from oxygen deprivation, but the heart hadn’t stopped yet.
“H-here, sir!”
The Tavern Owner returned with a large Kitchen Knife and a worn Tube.
The blade was too broad, but this was no time to be choosy.
Allen laid the unconscious Patient flat on the rough floor.
‘I’ve never done this. Never even seen it done. Only theory. Just theory.’
His palms had gone slick with sweat.
Tilting the Patient’s jaw upward to expose his neck, Allen’s fingers found the space between the prominent thyroid cartilage and the cricoid cartilage below it—a hairline gap.
Without hesitation, he raised the knife’s point and brought the cold blade to the man’s throat.
‘Please let this work.’
Slice—
The blade cut through the skin cleanly.
Blood welled up in a bright line, but Allen didn’t falter.
He seized the Tube the Tavern Owner had brought and, channeling all his weight, drove it straight through the incision.
Crunch.
With a dull sound, the Tube pierced through the tough connective tissue and breached the membrane between the thyroid and cricoid cartilages.
Hiss—
Air whistled through the narrow opening of the Tube.
And with it, the Patient’s chest—still and lifeless moments before—began to rise and fall in shallow, tentative breaths.
The tavern, moments before a storm of chaos, fell into a strange, holding silence.
Time seemed to suspend itself as everyone held their breath, watching.
“Hah…”
Allen released the tension knotted through his body, exhaling in relief.
His shirt clung to his back, soaked through with cold sweat.
Cricothyrotomy—the emergency procedure to secure an airway when Endotracheal Intubation is impossible.
The fastest technique in a life-or-death situation.
It was a reckless procedure performed with an unsterilized blade, but survival took precedence over hygiene now.
‘At least we’ve passed the critical moment.’
The danger of asphyxiation had vanished.
Though his mouth and nose were blocked, the tube embedded in his throat had become a conduit of life, carrying air into his lungs.
The faint pulse that had nearly stopped found its rhythm again, and color—a healthy crimson—crept back into lips that had been turning blue.
Dozens of pairs of eyes watched him in awe, but Allen had no room for their stares.
‘It’s not over yet. The obstruction is still lodged in the airway.’
Without an endoscope or forceps in this barren environment, Allen resorted to his last gambit.
‘One more bet. Let’s see if it works.’
Allen pried open the patient’s mouth and covered it with his own.
It was not artificial respiration.
He drew together the muscles of his chest and inhaled with every ounce of force he could muster.
Like desperately trying to unclog a blocked straw, he pulled with all his might.
Whump—!
Nothing came out.
Undeterred, Allen inflated his chest again.
Whump—!
Since the patient was already breathing through the tube in his throat, there was no risk of suffocation.
After repeating this five times in succession, beneath the dim light, he felt something stirring deep in the patient’s throat.
‘There!’
With one final pull, drawing every last breath of air, there came a sharp “Pop!” and the obstruction shot free from the patient’s throat.
Allen plucked it out with his fingers.
It was a large, stringy chunk of pork—swallowed without proper chewing.
At the same moment, the patient erupted into violent coughing.
“Cough, cough, gasp!”
Life’s signal flooding out like a dam breaking.
Allen quickly withdrew the tube from the throat, fearing any damage to the delicate airway tissue.
“Phew…….”
With the tension released, Allen sank onto the tavern floor.
As adrenaline drained away, profound exhaustion and chills swept through him.
If he had hesitated to use this technique when the Heimlich Maneuver failed, this man would be lying cold and lifeless by now.
“Cough, cough……!”
The man’s eyes fluttered open at last.
In that instant, the tavern erupted in fervent cheers as if by collective agreement.
“Good heavens, he’s actually alive!”
“In all my years, I’ve never witnessed such a thing!”
“A miracle! A physician sent by God himself!”
From the elderly man making the sign of the cross to the man wiping away tears, everyone stood transfixed by the impossible sight before them.
The Tavern Owner, who had trembled as he brought the knife, now asked in a shaking voice.
“Who on earth are you, to perform such wonders?”
The question was laden with reverence.
Allen glanced at Edward, who stood motionless in the shadows behind the partition, then answered.
“I’m merely an apprentice to the surgeon standing over there.”
Murmuring rippled through the crowd.
“An apprentice? And you wield such extraordinary skill?”
Allen gestured toward Edward and continued.
“My master indulged in a bit too much wine this evening, so I simply performed the procedure under his guidance in his stead.”
Every eye turned toward Edward.
Edward opened his mouth but said nothing.
Shock, embarrassment, and complicated feelings toward Allen—for graciously deflecting the credit—flickered across his face.
The Tavern Owner hesitated, then asked him.
“If I may ask, what is your name?”
“Edward Gordon.”
Edward spoke and pointed to Allen.
“The apprentice over there goes by Allen Light.”
“Then, then you are the renowned Edward!”
Only now did the innkeeper realize that this stocky man was the legendary ‘Edward,’ and he trembled.
He bowed deeply at once.
“Thank you so much, sir. From this day on, you and your apprentice are honored guests at this tavern. Please visit whenever you wish—you’ll never pay for a thing!”
Edward’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.
Being praised was pleasant enough, but a corner of his heart ached.
If he had been in Allen’s place, could he have done exactly the same?
Meanwhile, the Patient, now on his feet, stood bewildered, glancing about in all directions.
His fingers kept touching the small wound on his neck—the wound that had saved his life.
* * *
That night.
Two men crossed the dim street toward the Clinic.
Edward’s gait was perilously unsteady from drinking far too much; before he’d taken even ten steps, he grabbed a wall and breathed in ragged gasps.
Allen fell into step beside him without hurrying, matching his slow pace.
“Heave—blegh.”
Edward retched against the wall.
He’d drunk far too much.
Allen patted his back.
“Why did you suddenly drink so much?”
“Because—the alcohol was free!”
After Bruno had declared the drinks complimentary, Edward had drunk his fill. Though it was more than just the free liquor that had loosened his tongue.
“Heave. Blegh—blegh.”
“Be careful it doesn’t go into your airway. Bend lower.”
“Then—you can just puncture it open and save me again!”
Edward gasped for breath.
Gripping the wall, he suddenly banged his head against it with a dull thud.
“Damn it! What am I? What am I?!”
…….
“You should be becoming a surgical master, yet you haven’t even finished your apprenticeship and you’ve saved a life like that. You’re a genius. You must be! I’ve been a surgeon for fifteen years since I was thirteen, and yet in just two months as an apprentice you’ve already done this!”
Edward’s anguish was more than mere jealousy.
It was fear—that the very surgical skills he should be teaching would be overwhelmed by Allen in an instant.
And beneath it all lay doubt about his own worth as a master.
“Edward. Do you think I saved his life because I’m some kind of genius?”
“Of course! What else! That kind of nerve to draw a blade in an instant! That knowledge of exactly where to cut! With just those two things, what’s left of being a surgeon? It’s over! I’m not needed!”
Allen sighed quietly at Edward’s complaints.
“I wanted to run away, honestly.”
“…What?”
“My hand went cold with sweat when I held the blade—so slippery I could barely grip it. I’d never done it before, and I was terrified my own hand would kill someone. The world spun before my eyes. I’m not some genius or lion-heart. I just had no other choice, so I struck despite my fear.”
Allen looked at Edward’s stooped back and continued.
“If you’d known about this technique, I would have handed you the blade right then. I would’ve begged: ‘Master, please do it yourself.’ I may know more in theory, but your hand has a hundred times more familiarity with the feel of a blade parting living flesh than mine ever will.”
“Allen…….”
“I’m afraid of the blade. If I’m to clear away the obstacles blocking my path, I need to make friends with this knife—but every time I hold the scalpel, my heart feels like it’ll burst from fear. What I wanted to feel before that patient wasn’t terror. It was certainty.”
Edward remained standing with his head against the wall.
Breathing hard.
“So get up, you stubborn fool!”
Allen shouted and grabbed Edward by the scruff of the neck.
Edward yelped and pulled himself upright.
“I’m not whispering sweet nothings to some lover, nor should I have to soothe the feelings of a man my own age—and one who’s even served in the military at that!”
Edward stood dazed for a moment at Allen’s words.
His drunken eyes, half-lidded, began to tremble at the corners of his mouth.
“Ha ha, haha!”
He laughed heartily.
“Damn it, was I just acting like a woman?”
“Yes. Like a moody teenage girl.”
“Damn! I was just complaining a little. Don’t I have that right?”
Edward grumbled and steadied himself against the wall with his hand.
“Still, watching you makes me feel something new.”
…….
“At some point, I stopped doing anything but what I already knew. I was afraid of trying something new. I didn’t even bother looking for better ways. I just moved by habit, always the same.”
His voice wavered.
“But you know, Allen, I’ve gotten greedy.”
“Greedy for what?”
“Before, I thought, whatever happens, happens—I’ll scrape by somehow. But watching you, I’ve caught this hunger. I want to be a truly good surgeon. A genuinely excellent physician.”
“I’ll gladly support that ambition.”
Allen clapped a hand firmly on Edward’s shoulder.
“This humble apprentice shall assist you with the utmost devotion, Master.”
“Blast it! One moment you’re acting like an apprentice, the next like a partner—just pick one, will you? Just one!”
Edward waved a dismissive hand, then suddenly turned away, his face turning green. He pressed himself against the wall and retched repeatedly into the gutter.
“Good God. Don’t you know of anything for a hangover? You call yourself a competent physician—surely you’ve got something!”
“Drink plenty of water, sir.”
“Quack!”
Edward broke into cackling laughter.
Allen smiled softly at that.
They both gazed upward at the night sky. The clouds had parted, and a full moon hung luminous above them, casting its gentle light down upon them both.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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