The Genius Doctor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 38

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

Episode 38
* * *
The season had turned from autumn into the first breath of winter.
It had been more than half a year since Allen joined Edward’s Clinic.
In that time, the changes the clinic had wrought were nothing short of remarkable.
Until early that year, most people in Danford didn’t even know Edward’s Clinic existed, but now there was scarcely a soul in the city who hadn’t heard its name.
‘No complications from surgery.’
‘Trust nature, but direct treatment with certainty.’
‘Never resort to needless overtreatment.’
These whispers spread from corner to corner, until one day Danford’s afflicted began asking this question without fail:
“Have you tried visiting Edward?”
And when Robinson, the elder statesman of Greenhills District, suddenly reversed his initial criticism of Edward’s methods and became an advocate, the flame truly ignited.
Now it was routine for lines to form at the clinic from first light, and house calls came in so thick that Edward barely had time to breathe.
In half a year alone, Edward had performed the remarkable feat of buying the very house he’d been renting.
Yet a certain few still distrusted Edward’s Clinic.
Most of their grievances were simple enough.
“He won’t do what the patient asks.”
“I asked for bloodletting, and he refused! I told him I’d pay for it myself!”
“I asked for better medicine, and he said such things wouldn’t help. But there’s so much fine mercury in the world—surely it helps!”
Such patients were gladly received by other surgeons who willingly obliged their wishes.
Edward’s Clinic was not an unmitigated disaster for rival practitioners; rather, it was a form of coexistence, each serving a different clientele.
There were, however, some sharper minds among the doubters.
They focused not only on Edward, but also on the somewhat older apprentice, an individual named Allen.
“He doesn’t seem like an ordinary apprentice.”
“There’s something about him that feels like a partner. Could it be that Allen changed Edward, not the other way around?”
But there was no proof.
Allen existed still in shadow.
Robinson, who knew the truth, maintained a thorough silence—as one naturally would.
That silence was born not merely of necessity, but of choice.
There was nothing to gain from saying “Allen is actually an internist and physician to the crown.”
Though Allen was the architect of change, William too played his part.
Having completed his apprenticeship and become for all practical purposes a full surgeon, he was an excellent practitioner for the clinic.
Moreover, under the guise of “expanding the clinic’s reach,” he began quietly spreading a new technique among Danford’s parturients—something he’d learned during his apprenticeship days.
It was the Forceps.
* * *
A manor house in Greenhills District.
The bedroom was suffocating—thick with the smell of sweat and oppressive heat.
The fireplace, heavy with burning logs, blazed brightly, and candles scattered about flickered and danced.
Intermittent screams tore through the dense air.
“Ahhhhh…! No, no….”
The parturient was only just into her twenties, a young woman barely more than a girl.
Her mother, middle-aged and grim, gripped her daughter’s hand with all her strength.
The servants stood pressed against the walls, their eyes wide with fear.
Below the parturient’s waist, two thick layers of linen cloth were draped, completely obscuring the view.
A barrier to shield the woman’s lower body from a strange man’s gaze.
Beneath that curtain stood two men.
William with his fair hair and Allen with his brown.
William had thrust both his arms deep beneath the linen cloth.
In the absolute darkness, he relied solely on the sensitivity of his fingertips to gauge her condition.
“The cervix has completely effaced. Dilation is adequate,” William said quietly, withdrawing his hands.
“Vertex presentation. The sagittal suture aligns properly with the birth canal. The descent is favorable. Would you like to confirm it yourself?”
William turned his head to regard Allen.
Allen immediately inserted his own hands beneath the cloth.
Between the slick amniotic fluid and traces of blood, he felt the fetal scalp and fontanelle distinctly.
“…I see. The pelvic canal entrance is clear—full engagement.”
“The forceps.”
At William’s word, Allen turned.
On clean linen cloth lay a pair of heavy steel blades, gleaming with an eerie light.
The instrument had been boiled once and disinfected with alcohol.

Allen set down the Forceps and turned, and the parturient’s mother drew in a sharp breath.
“Is… is that what you call Forceps?”
“Yes. It’s an instrument to facilitate safe delivery.”
“It looks terrifyingly like scissors or a knife.”
“Not at all. It’s never a cutting instrument. It gently cradles the child’s head on both sides and guides them safely into the world. It will greatly reduce the mother’s exertion.”
At Allen’s composed explanation, the mother swallowed hard and fell silent.
William grasped the left blade of the two separated branches.
His eyes gleamed as he waited for the next contraction to peak.
“Uuuugh…!”
The parturient’s abdomen hardened taut, and contractions began anew.
William used his left hand’s fingers to create space between the fetal head and the birth canal, then slid the left blade of the Forceps through that opening.
In the invisible darkness, he felt the curved surface of the Forceps seat perfectly against the pelvic wall and the lateral surface of the fetal skull.
The right blade then disappeared into the veil of flesh.
William crossed the two handles and locked them together.
Click.
The locking mechanism engaged with a sharp sound.
William inserted his fingers again to palpate that the Forceps were positioned correctly.
Satisfaction crossed his face.
“Excellent. Would you verify, please?”
Allen slid his hand into the birth canal.
Both blades of the Forceps were seated symmetrically against the lateral surfaces of the fetal skull.
“You must synchronize with the labor pain cycle. Rotate and traction slowly, following the curve of the pelvic canal.”
At William’s whispered instruction, Allen nodded, his eyes tense.
Technique performed in such blindness was the realm of absolute mastery.
“Aaaaagh! My belly, my belly…!”
Another violent contraction swept over the parturient.
“Now! Push with all your strength!”
William gripped the Forceps handles and drew the fetal head downward.
Gently.
With force only as the contraction surged.
Not a hard pull, but a smooth, steady draw.
With the first traction, the fetal head descended to the pelvic outlet.
As the contraction subsided, William immediately released the Forceps lock.
“Holding it longer would be dangerous.”
The second contraction followed.
And when the third contraction finally ended, the neck of the Forceps emerged from the veil of flesh.
“It comes!”
The moment the fetal head was delivered, William swiftly unlocked and separated the two blades, setting them down on the linen cloth.
Then he flashed a grin toward Allen.
“We’ve crossed the most dangerous threshold now. The rest requires only bare hands.”
As William’s hands cradled the fetal head and pressed downward slightly, the shoulders slipped free first, followed swiftly by the slick torso and legs, all in one fluid motion.
William deftly secured the infant’s airway, then bound two points on the umbilical cord firmly with silk thread.
Snip.
The scissors cut through the cord.
Then he gently stimulated the nape of the child’s neck.
“Waaah…! Waaah-waaah!”
A lusty cry shook the bedchamber.
The parturient covered her mouth with her hand, and the middle-aged mother wept, embracing her daughter’s shoulders.
A waiting maid rushed forward, unfolding a warm linen cloth.
William handed the child to her, wiping away the amniotic fluid.
Shortly after, the placenta was delivered cleanly.
Every stage had been immaculate.
The maid, cradling the infant carefully, placed it in the parturient’s arms.
“A healthy son, madam.”
Relief and reverence intermingled on the mother’s face as she held her child.
The tension in the room evaporated in an instant.
A maid hastened to open the window, and fresh dawn air rushed in, sweeping away the metallic scent.
The two physicians washed their hands in a bronze basin set in the corner of the room.
“Remarkable work, William.”
Allen uttered his admiration with genuine warmth.
A level of Forceps technique like this was not something you could see just anywhere.
“Would I venture to the capital without any plans in place? I’ve already secured a means to make a living, I assure you.”
William dried his wet hands and smiled.
Forceps delivery was his trump card, his secret weapon.
“It may look like you’re simply pulling, but if the angle shifts even slightly, it becomes a catastrophe. As you know, a newborn’s skull is still cartilage, yes? Even a small mistake in pressure control and the skull will collapse. If the traction angle goes wrong, the neck bones fracture. If it slips, the mother’s birth canal tears.”
“True. More than anything, it’s chilling that such a perilous procedure must be executed by fingertip sensation alone. The pressure must be beyond imagining.”
At Allen’s observation, William glanced around before lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“The truth is, sir, when learning at first, everyone steals glances here and there to develop the touch. Who in this world masters an instrument perfectly blindfolded from the very beginning?”
Allen offered a wry smile at William’s shameless confession.
“We are truly grateful, doctors. I shall never forget this kindness as long as I live.”
The mother’s own mother approached and bowed repeatedly to both men, expressing her gratitude.
The mother in the bed, cradling her child, appeared exhausted, yet her eyes held a trusting gleam directed toward the two physicians.
“Not at all. It is thanks to the mother for enduring her contractions so admirably.”
William smoothly redirected the praise, then gently grasped the mother’s hand and softened his tone.
“If there are any ladies of quality in this Greenhills District suffering from difficult labor or wishing for a safe delivery, please tell them they are welcome to visit Edward’s Clinic at any time.”
“Of course, doctor. Having witnessed such a marvel, how could I not recommend you? I shall spread the word through all my connections.”
The mother’s mother gazed at the steel Forceps resting in the basin with reverent awe.
There lay the symbol of the ‘new technique’ that could transform the very nature of childbirth.
* * *
A small house in Danford’s back alleys, where poverty and misery met.
In a room where two candles pushed back the darkness, several women sat gathered.
They were all Midwives of Danford.
In the seat of honor sat a short, gray-haired old woman.
Her face was unusually scarred, as if she had suffered smallpox in childhood.
“Mother, the number of people seeking our services continues to dwindle.”
A middle-aged Midwife spoke in a low, anxious voice.
“There was a birth yesterday in the Greenhills District—Mrs. Wilson’s family. None of us received a call. They summoned Edward’s Clinic instead.”
Another Midwife exhaled a weary sigh.
“I delivered their third child myself, but this time…they called on those people from Edward’s Clinic.”
The old woman listened to the Midwives and closed her eyes tightly.
Her name was Helen.
She was the most experienced Midwife in Danford, and the senior among them all.
Originally, no Surgeon in Danford had ever undertaken deliveries.
The work of childbirth had been entirely entrusted to the Midwives.
But suddenly, like a natural disaster, Edward’s Clinic appeared wielding the weapon called Forceps.
Of course, their arsenal was not Forceps alone.
Allen’s knowledge of obstetrics proved invaluable to mothers even without delivery technique, and was particularly excellent in Postpartum Care.
Add to that the Forceps technique, and the wealthy women simply entrusted the entire birth process—before and after—to Edward’s Clinic.
For the Midwives, it was nothing short of catastrophe.
“I’ve heard those fellows use something called Forceps.”
Helen spoke in a heavy voice.
“They say it keeps labor from dragging on, that they deliver the child quickly. They use it even for Difficult Labor.”
The Midwives shuddered.
“Grasping a child’s head with metal…it’s far too dangerous!”
“A child is not an object. How could they do something so appalling?”
Helen raised her hand to quiet the murmuring Midwives.
“Dangerous, yes. But because they manage this dangerous feat time and again, people flock to them, do they not?”
The Midwives fell silent.
Helen continued quietly.
“The mother need not struggle through to the end by her own strength—that is comfort indeed. And who knows the pain of childbirth as well as we do?”
Helen had never given birth herself.
Yet she understood the pain of childbirth better than anyone.
Her ears had heard the screams of mothers countless times over more than a thousand deliveries.
“But Mother, if they continue to take on deliveries, what will become of us?”
“The wealthy families will all go to them now. It has already begun.”
“There will be nowhere left for us…”
Helen exhaled a deep sigh.
The competence of Edward’s Clinic was undeniable.
Over these past six months, what they had demonstrated was no falsehood.
Helen too had come to hear the rumors well enough.
“They mean to monopolize every medical practice in this city, it seems.”
Helen’s fingers curled into tight fists.
“Monsters, the lot of them. How they’ve managed to climb so far in barely half a year is beyond comprehension.”
The midwives in the room all lowered their heads.
Once surgeons began extending their reach into childbirth, there would be no place left for a midwife to stand.
Their sense of crisis was that acute.
‘If this continues, we’ll have nowhere left to go at all.’

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