The Genius Doctor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 44

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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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Chapter 44
Helen regarded Allan with steady eyes.
The “elderly apprentice” at Edward’s Clinic had become something of a fixture in Danford’s lower circles.
It was partly due to his unusual age for an apprentice and his striking appearance, but more than anything, it was because the clinic had begun to flourish since his arrival.
Some people speculated he’d been a fairly skilled wandering healer.
Someone who, having grown older, had finally decided to pursue the path of a surgeon.
Helen had thought similarly herself, but now she found herself revising that assessment.
“You’re certainly no ordinary apprentice. I’ll be frank with you—Edward’s been learning from you, hasn’t he?”
“No, ma’am. I’m genuinely learning from Edward. To be honest, my manual technique isn’t even as good as the worst charlatan surgeon in the city.”
“I suppose you won’t tell me what you did before becoming an apprentice?”
“Does it really matter?”
“You’re right. Clinging to the past is an old person’s vice. Here I go again with my old habits.”
Helen drew deeply on her pipe, then exhaled slowly.
Her expression had grown considerably more at ease than before.
“If you’re truly serious about teaching anatomy, I’ll speak to the midwives. The same goes for forceps. I’ll select children eager to learn and send them as apprentices.”
“I’m grateful.”
“And when we have a case of difficult childbirth, we’ll contact you, yes?”
“Yes. Though there is one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to learn manual technique from you.”
Helen tilted her head thoughtfully.
“What could you possibly learn from me?”
“The various techniques you demonstrated during today’s birth. The different methods for turning the child in cases of difficult childbirth. I want to learn those.”
“Well, now.”
Helen broke into laughter.
It was partly genuine desire to learn, but also a delicate political calculation.
By proposing this, he was suggesting they share knowledge rather than have the midwives remain one-sided beneficiaries of Edward’s Clinic.
“I don’t teach carelessly. Steel yourself for some tears.”
“Of course.”
And then, one more thought struck Allan.
“Forgive my shamelessness, but I have one more request.”
…?
* * *
Danford Orphanage.
Every weekend, Allan conducted medical visits there.
When that work was done, one final task always remained.
A small room at the end of the corridor, where two chairs waited for the lecture that followed.
When Allan opened the door, the two children inside were in the midst of a spirited debate over a diagram spread across the desk.
“So the stomach breaks food down into small pieces, I’m telling you. It crushes it like porridge and sends it down.”
“Breaking it isn’t enough. It needs to be dissolved so the body can actually absorb it.”
“Oh, the teacher’s here!”
It was Liman who looked up first.
The fair-haired boy with freckles scattered across his nose jumped to his feet with delight.
“Teacher, when you say the stomach carries out digestion—it’s about churning the food into a paste, right? The stomach has strong muscles. It crushes like a leather sack, doesn’t it?”
Setting Liman’s eager gaze aside, a dark-haired girl with her hair tied back rose calmly to her feet.
“That’s only half right.”
She spoke quietly and turned to Allan.
“Teacher, I think churning alone isn’t enough. No matter how finely you tear bread, it doesn’t dissolve into the body by itself. There must be something that dissolves it. You said stomach acid comes from the stomach last time.”
Allan studied the two of them for a moment.
Eight months.
That was how long he’d been teaching these two children.
What had begun with fifteen students had dwindled to eight at some point, then four, and now only these two remained.
Children who once rolled their eyes at a single bone name had now, after just last week’s brief introduction to the digestive system, already arrived at this point through their own reasoning.
“You’re both right.”
Allan slowly removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair.
“The stomach handles food in two ways. The muscles churn and knead it, just as Liman said, and stomach acid dissolves it, just as Sarah said. But these two don’t work separately. The finely broken food gives the acid more surface area to work with.”
He pointed to the diagram with his finger.
“Just like bread dissolves faster in water when it’s torn into small pieces than when it’s whole.”
“So they work together, then.”
Sarah finished the thought.
Allan nodded.
“That’s right. The pressure and the fingers work together.”
Liman shot Sarah a look of indignation.
“You should’ve just agreed when I said it was about breaking things.”
“You’re the one who kept insisting that only your way of breaking it was correct.”
Liman bristled, but lacking a proper counterargument, his mouth only worked silently.
Allan swallowed a laugh.
Liman was the sort of child who would feel something with his hands and shout the answer aloud, while Sarah was one who would probe even at what couldn’t be felt, piecing things together quietly.
After eight months of teaching them together, the two had become an oddly harmonious pair—complete opposites in every way.
‘It started as mere self-satisfaction on my part.’
Allan thought, watching the two children.
During his orphanage years, he’d always felt the sting of never receiving a proper education himself.
So he’d begun giving lectures on the human body—partly to share what he did well with the children, and partly to keep watch for bright ones among them.
‘But unexpectedly, I’ve caught something remarkable.’
Liman possessed initiative and brilliant intuition, while Sarah excelled at reasoning.
Both reminded him of himself from long ago.
Yet Allan spoke in an ordinary tone, keeping his feelings hidden.
“Well, the year’s nearly gone. We’ve known each other for over eight months now, haven’t we?”
Both children nodded side by side.
“Next year you’ll both be thirteen.”
“Yes.”
“Have you thought about your futures?”
The smile faded slightly from Liman’s face.
He fidgeted with his fingers for a moment.
“…A weaver, sir.”
“A weaver?”
“They’re hiring at a workshop in the next village. They say if you get in there, you won’t go hungry.”
His words were calm, but his voice trailed off at the end.
Liman understood well enough.
To become a Surgeon’s Apprentice, one had to pay a master a considerable sum.
Parents ordinarily provided that lump sum, but an orphanage child had no parents.
No matter how eagerly one attended lectures on anatomy, that was where the story ended.
“And Sarah?”
Sarah was even more matter-of-fact than Liman.
“I’ll enter service as a maid somewhere, if any household will have me.”
She harbored no illusions from the start.
Women could not become apprentices.
That was not a question of money—it was a door sealed shut.
Sarah was the sort of child who had accepted this truth early.
Allan looked between the two children.
“I see. …But suppose I were to open another path for you. Would your answer not change?”
“……?”
Both children’s eyes widened.
Allan gestured toward the door.
“Come in, please.”
Thump. Thump.
A man stepped slowly through the doorway.
He was stocky and broad-faced, yet his shoulders were powerfully squared and his torso thick—a man solid as granite.
At first glance, he might have been mistaken for a workshop foreman.
“Hmm.”
The man released a heavy breath as he came to stand before Liman.
Liman swallowed involuntarily.
“Are you Liman?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“I am Edward Gordon.”
Liman’s eyes went wide.
That Edward Gordon!
Owner of Edward’s Clinic, and Allan’s own master!
The great Surgeon of Danford!
“Allan tells me you have the makings of a fine Apprentice. What say you—do you have it in you to become a Surgeon’s Apprentice?”
Liman’s fingertips began to tremble.
He had dreamed of it, yes.
But it was a path he had long since set aside, one he could never truly claim as his own.
Now that the way lay open before him, his mouth wouldn’t obey—he couldn’t find the words.
Heat gathered behind his eyes.
Without thinking, he turned to look at Allan.
Allan was smiling quietly.
Liman wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and forced his lips open.
“…It’s an honor.”
Edward nodded with grave finality.
“Then I’ll take you on at the start of next year. Until then, keep yourself in good health.”
He spoke curtly, exchanged one brief glance with Allan, then strode from the room with the same long steps he’d used to enter.
Liman stood motionless, his head bowed as though he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“Congratulations, Liman.”
Sarah reached over and patted his shoulder gently.
Her voice was sincere.
But when her hand fell away, she let her gaze drift down to her own lap.
It was surely good news that a path had opened for her friend—joyful news, even.
Yet woven through that joy was a thread of something cold and sharp.
She was a woman, and no such door had ever been offered to women from the start.
Sarah pressed her lips together, determined not to let that feeling show.
Then, from outside, came a commotion.
“The witch is here!”
“She’s come to devour us!”
The sound of children shrieking and scattering in panic echoed through the corridor.
The noise ceased abruptly at the door, and a short, bent-backed old woman stepped into the room.
“Wretched little things. They need a lesson in manners,” she muttered.
Helen came in, grumbling.
To Sarah and Liman’s eyes, she was exactly what the children had called her—a face twisted with age, a spine curved with time, a frame barely five feet tall, and eyes that burned with unnerving intensity. A witch indeed.
The children’s flight seemed entirely justified.
Both of them swallowed hard.
“Why aren’t you two running? Don’t you want to?”
“Children don’t know any better, Elder,” Allan replied with an easy smile.
Helen shook her head slowly.
“Getting old makes people ill-tempered. Spite just keeps multiplying.”
Then she walked up to Sarah.
She straightened her bent spine and brought her face level with the girl’s.
“Let me see your hands.”
Sarah hesitated, then held them out.
Her fingertips trembled faintly.
Helen turned Sarah’s hands this way and that, examining them, then the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
“Clean work. Are you interested in midwifery?”
“……”
“Delivering children. Do you want to learn?”
Sarah’s eyes wavered.
She glanced once at Allan, just as Liman had done, then turned her attention back to Helen’s weathered face.
“…I do want to.”
Her voice had grown quiet.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Aren’t you Helen the Midwife?”
Helen tilted her head.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve heard your name. You’re quite famous.”
“Then why did those fools in the hallway run screaming that I’m a witch?”
“…Perhaps you look different from what they imagined.”
Helen let out a bark of laughter, as if she found the whole thing absurd.
Then she turned her head toward Allan.
“Has this one finished her education?”
“No. There are still several things I need to teach her before sending her to you.”
“Good. Teach her well. That way, I’ll have less work to do.”
Helen tapped her bent back rhythmically as she left the room.
Sarah sat in a daze, her face flushed crimson.
Beside her, Liman whispered carefully.
“…Congratulations, Sarah.”
Allan regarded the two young people slowly.
“Liman. You’ll come to Edward’s Clinic at the start of next year. We’ll draw up a contract and you’ll become a proper Apprentice.”
Liman nodded vigorously.
“And Sarah.”
Allan’s gaze settled on the girl.
“You’ll be apprenticed to Helen as a Midwife. But that’s not where it ends. If you wish, you’re welcome to come to our Clinic whenever you like. The more a Midwife understands the body, the better she becomes.”
Sarah blinked.
“…So I can keep learning from you, Master?”
“Yes. First, you’ll need to master the Forceps. Which means you can’t stay away from us. We’ll continue the Anatomy lessons and lectures on the human body. I’ve already obtained permission from Helen. You’ll learn from both her and us.”
A door she’d believed locked forever.
A path she’d thought closed from the start—because she was a woman, because she was an orphan.
That path now lay open before Sarah.
From Sarah’s tightly clenched fists came tears she could no longer hold back, falling drop by drop.
“…If only I could, I’d be truly grateful.”
These were tears of relief—two children who’d lived their whole lives as orphans had finally found their place.
“Until next year, though it may feel frustrating, let’s keep meeting here.”
“…Yes.”
“…Yes!”
Both answered at once.
Allan rose from his seat.
“We’ll have the lecture later. Today, let’s dine out instead. I’ve already received permission from Michael.”
He gestured for them to follow as he headed toward the door.
Liman and Sarah scrambled to their feet.
“What shall we eat, Master?”
“Is there anything you’d like?”
“As long as you’re buying, anything will do!”
Before stepping outside, the two of them glanced around the room once, as if bound by an unspoken pact.
Then they followed Allan without hesitation.
The empty room lay still, two chairs placed side by side, as the soft afternoon light settled quietly upon them.

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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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