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Chapter 272 Stephen Strange
2022-10-19 Author: Great Demon Spirit
“Mr. Stephen, there’s a surgery for you to perform.”
“Stephen, given your incredibly high surgical success rate, the city government has decided to award you a medal.”
…
A man with a lean, haughty face sat bewildered on the hospital bed. His eyebrows were long, narrow, and thick, and his eyes were sharp, yet filled with immense sorrow and anger. His high-bridged nose, much like his character, reflected a refusal to admit defeat and an arrogance born from his own abilities.
In a daze, countless words of praise and flattery were fading away.
Stephen Strange, a renowned doctor in Philadelphia, was famous in the medical world for his superb surgical skills. Matching this reputation were his exorbitant surgical fees and a temper so foul he had no friends.
Stephen sat on the hospital bed. Though a doctor, he was now forced to wear a patient's gown, helplessly watching his own trembling hands.
In the past, these hands had cured countless diseases, but now, every finger was implanted with metal supports like an exoskeleton, leaving them looking utterly ravaged.
"My hands, my hands... Is there really no way to fix them?" Stephen gritted his teeth, desperately trying to stop his hands from shaking. But unfortunately, these hands, his greatest source of pride, refused to obey him and continued to tremble slightly.
Hands like these could no longer perform surgery.
"Nicodemus, you're my best assistant. Tell me, there's still a way to heal my hands!" Stephen, like a madman who had lost all hope, ignored the weakness in his hands and grabbed his assistant's clothes, his face filled with expectation.
Immediately, due to the sudden exertion, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his hands. It felt as if the lubrication between his bones had vanished, causing them to grind harshly against each other.
More than the pain, Stephen was terrified by this sensation.
"Stephen, calm down. The most important thing now is to rest. Such intense emotions aren't good for you..." Nicodemus placed his hands on Stephen's shoulders. As Stephen's best assistant, he knew his friend's pride all too well. If he spoke the truth directly, Stephen would collapse.
"No, Nicodemus, tell me! Tell me! My hands can still be saved!" Stephen roared in a low voice, his eyes bloodshot, like a ferocious, wounded beast.
Nicodemus looked at Stephen with a complicated expression. As one of Stephen's few friends, he knew full well that this proud man would never ask anything in such a pleading tone unless he had no other choice.
He didn't need to say more. As a top-tier surgeon, Stephen actually understood the condition of his hands better than anyone.
"Stephen, quiet down. This isn't like the calm man I know..." Nicodemus comforted him in a low voice. It was the only thing he could say.
He had personally operated on Stephen while he was unconscious after the car accident. These hands... they were truly beyond saving.
Stephen's roar, filled with indignation and sorrow, was like the cry of a cornered beast.
"You bastard! You obviously weren't sure you could fix my hands, so why did you operate on them without my permission!" Stephen struggled to his feet. The intense pain made him scream as he knocked over a cup and flowers on the table, staggering and falling to the floor.
"Dr. Stephen, please don't be like this! If it weren't for Nicodemus's timely surgery, your hands would have been completely crippled, you wouldn't even be able to move them! You can't blame him for this!" a nurse screamed loudly.
"Nonsense! How could I possibly be crippled! He shouldn't have operated on my precious hands without my consent! He... he..." Stephen shoved the nurse aside and knelt helplessly on the floor. He pressed his cheek against the metal on his hands, feeling its cold, lifeless touch. Despair washed over him.
He was lashing out, but he still possessed his basic judgment. Reason told him that Nicodemus had done nothing wrong. He just didn't know what to do. He had lost his hands, and his career was utterly ruined.
"I'm sorry, Stephen... I'm truly sorry..." Nicodemus, a middle-aged man, stared blankly at the once-proud Stephen, his face etched with guilt.
A strong sense of responsibility filled him with self-blame.
If, if only his surgical skills were a little better, perhaps Stephen wouldn't be like this?
If he had acted faster after getting the news of Stephen's car accident, even by a single second, maybe the outcome would have been different?
But deep down, he knew it was useless. No matter how fast he had been, the outcome would have been the same. The fact that Stephen still had his hands after the accident was the result of him giving his absolute all, combined with a great deal of luck.
"I will submit my resignation to the hospital..." Nicodemus said with a complicated expression. He gave a deep bow to Stephen, who was kneeling on the floor with his face buried in his hands, then turned and left.
This honest doctor felt he was too ashamed to remain here any longer.
The young nurse stood there, dumbfounded. In a single day, the hospital had lost two of its finest surgeons.
Stephen no longer heard anything from the outside world, completely immersed in his own regret. Why did I have to take the sports car out? Why did I take that treacherous mountain road? Why was I driving so fast?
If he had just paid a little more attention, been a little more careful, he wouldn't have ended up in this wretched state. His pride, his career, his future—everything rested on these hands.
But from this moment on, it was all ruined.
He had lost his entire world.
An arrogant man had lost the one thing he was most proud of.
Stephen buried his face in his hands and wept.
A man filled with pride was secretly crying.
Stephen shoved past the nurse and, ignoring everyone trying to stop him, stumbled out onto the street in his hospital gown, looking around in a daze.
Pedestrians on the street looked at him curiously. Not one citizen of Philadelphia recognized this man with messy hair, a haggard face, and a scruffy beard as the pride of their city.
Like a mere passerby, Stephen walked helplessly past one person after another. No one recognized him.
He ignored the kind-hearted people who approached to help and returned home in a trance.
It was a very luxurious house. This villa had cost Stephen tens of millions of dollars.
On a table in the villa's living room sat a photograph, a picture of Stephen and his younger brother together.
His brother had been dead for some time, and Stephen had once fallen into a period of despondency. He had been close with his brother, having grown up together. When he suddenly received the news of his brother's death from The Government, he was stunned and driven to a frenzy for a while.
He had sought out officials to inquire about his brother's cause of death, but they had simply dismissed him with the reason of a "car accident."
What was tragically ironic was that his brother had died in a car accident, and just as he had finally managed to pull himself together, his own hands were ruined by one too.
His brother's name was Victor Strange.
(end of chapter)
2022-10-19 Author: Great Demon Spirit
“Mr. Stephen, there’s a surgery for you to perform.”
“Stephen, given your incredibly high surgical success rate, the city government has decided to award you a medal.”
…
A man with a lean, haughty face sat bewildered on the hospital bed. His eyebrows were long, narrow, and thick, and his eyes were sharp, yet filled with immense sorrow and anger. His high-bridged nose, much like his character, reflected a refusal to admit defeat and an arrogance born from his own abilities.
In a daze, countless words of praise and flattery were fading away.
Stephen Strange, a renowned doctor in Philadelphia, was famous in the medical world for his superb surgical skills. Matching this reputation were his exorbitant surgical fees and a temper so foul he had no friends.
Stephen sat on the hospital bed. Though a doctor, he was now forced to wear a patient's gown, helplessly watching his own trembling hands.
In the past, these hands had cured countless diseases, but now, every finger was implanted with metal supports like an exoskeleton, leaving them looking utterly ravaged.
"My hands, my hands... Is there really no way to fix them?" Stephen gritted his teeth, desperately trying to stop his hands from shaking. But unfortunately, these hands, his greatest source of pride, refused to obey him and continued to tremble slightly.
Hands like these could no longer perform surgery.
"Nicodemus, you're my best assistant. Tell me, there's still a way to heal my hands!" Stephen, like a madman who had lost all hope, ignored the weakness in his hands and grabbed his assistant's clothes, his face filled with expectation.
Immediately, due to the sudden exertion, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his hands. It felt as if the lubrication between his bones had vanished, causing them to grind harshly against each other.
More than the pain, Stephen was terrified by this sensation.
"Stephen, calm down. The most important thing now is to rest. Such intense emotions aren't good for you..." Nicodemus placed his hands on Stephen's shoulders. As Stephen's best assistant, he knew his friend's pride all too well. If he spoke the truth directly, Stephen would collapse.
"No, Nicodemus, tell me! Tell me! My hands can still be saved!" Stephen roared in a low voice, his eyes bloodshot, like a ferocious, wounded beast.
Nicodemus looked at Stephen with a complicated expression. As one of Stephen's few friends, he knew full well that this proud man would never ask anything in such a pleading tone unless he had no other choice.
He didn't need to say more. As a top-tier surgeon, Stephen actually understood the condition of his hands better than anyone.
"Stephen, quiet down. This isn't like the calm man I know..." Nicodemus comforted him in a low voice. It was the only thing he could say.
He had personally operated on Stephen while he was unconscious after the car accident. These hands... they were truly beyond saving.
Stephen's roar, filled with indignation and sorrow, was like the cry of a cornered beast.
"You bastard! You obviously weren't sure you could fix my hands, so why did you operate on them without my permission!" Stephen struggled to his feet. The intense pain made him scream as he knocked over a cup and flowers on the table, staggering and falling to the floor.
"Dr. Stephen, please don't be like this! If it weren't for Nicodemus's timely surgery, your hands would have been completely crippled, you wouldn't even be able to move them! You can't blame him for this!" a nurse screamed loudly.
"Nonsense! How could I possibly be crippled! He shouldn't have operated on my precious hands without my consent! He... he..." Stephen shoved the nurse aside and knelt helplessly on the floor. He pressed his cheek against the metal on his hands, feeling its cold, lifeless touch. Despair washed over him.
He was lashing out, but he still possessed his basic judgment. Reason told him that Nicodemus had done nothing wrong. He just didn't know what to do. He had lost his hands, and his career was utterly ruined.
"I'm sorry, Stephen... I'm truly sorry..." Nicodemus, a middle-aged man, stared blankly at the once-proud Stephen, his face etched with guilt.
A strong sense of responsibility filled him with self-blame.
If, if only his surgical skills were a little better, perhaps Stephen wouldn't be like this?
If he had acted faster after getting the news of Stephen's car accident, even by a single second, maybe the outcome would have been different?
But deep down, he knew it was useless. No matter how fast he had been, the outcome would have been the same. The fact that Stephen still had his hands after the accident was the result of him giving his absolute all, combined with a great deal of luck.
"I will submit my resignation to the hospital..." Nicodemus said with a complicated expression. He gave a deep bow to Stephen, who was kneeling on the floor with his face buried in his hands, then turned and left.
This honest doctor felt he was too ashamed to remain here any longer.
The young nurse stood there, dumbfounded. In a single day, the hospital had lost two of its finest surgeons.
Stephen no longer heard anything from the outside world, completely immersed in his own regret. Why did I have to take the sports car out? Why did I take that treacherous mountain road? Why was I driving so fast?
If he had just paid a little more attention, been a little more careful, he wouldn't have ended up in this wretched state. His pride, his career, his future—everything rested on these hands.
But from this moment on, it was all ruined.
He had lost his entire world.
An arrogant man had lost the one thing he was most proud of.
Stephen buried his face in his hands and wept.
A man filled with pride was secretly crying.
Stephen shoved past the nurse and, ignoring everyone trying to stop him, stumbled out onto the street in his hospital gown, looking around in a daze.
Pedestrians on the street looked at him curiously. Not one citizen of Philadelphia recognized this man with messy hair, a haggard face, and a scruffy beard as the pride of their city.
Like a mere passerby, Stephen walked helplessly past one person after another. No one recognized him.
He ignored the kind-hearted people who approached to help and returned home in a trance.
It was a very luxurious house. This villa had cost Stephen tens of millions of dollars.
On a table in the villa's living room sat a photograph, a picture of Stephen and his younger brother together.
His brother had been dead for some time, and Stephen had once fallen into a period of despondency. He had been close with his brother, having grown up together. When he suddenly received the news of his brother's death from The Government, he was stunned and driven to a frenzy for a while.
He had sought out officials to inquire about his brother's cause of death, but they had simply dismissed him with the reason of a "car accident."
What was tragically ironic was that his brother had died in a car accident, and just as he had finally managed to pull himself together, his own hands were ruined by one too.
His brother's name was Victor Strange.
(end of chapter)
