405-407

Chapter 405: That Doctor’s Side Profile Is Seriously Handsome!

*Wardroom*

After seeing off a delighted Rachel, Adam took a moment to check on Mr. Dean before heading into surgery for a female patient with a brainstem tumor who’d narrowly escaped death.

“How’re you feeling?” Adam asked.

“Pretty good,” Mr. Dean replied, leaning back in his bed. He had a pen and paper in hand, sketching something. When he saw Adam walk in, he set them down, looked up, and gave a heartfelt, “Dr. Duncan, I heard everything. I can’t thank you enough—you saved my life.”

“No need to thank me,” Adam said with a smile. “It’s just what us doctors do.”

He meant it, too. The little +0.01 notification from his system was reward enough. Not to mention the noticeable boost to his reputation around the hospital.

“Mr. Dean’s been drawing the moment Dr. Duncan saved him,” a nurse chimed in, unable to hold back her excitement.

“Oh?” Adam’s curiosity piqued, and he glanced at the paper resting on Mr. Dean’s lap.

“It’s just a hobby,” Mr. Dean said with a chuckle. “When I heard the crazy story of what happened to me, I got this overwhelming urge to sketch it out.”

“Can I take a look?” Adam asked.

“Of course.” Mr. Dean handed over the sketch.

“Wow, this is really good,” Adam said, genuinely impressed.

It must be the difference in upbringing—some random amateur artist could whip up something this skilled. Or maybe it was the near-death experience. That kind of shift in perspective could infuse a drawing with real emotion, making it hit you right in the chest.

Hmm… The doctor’s side profile in the sketch? Seriously handsome!

“Dr. Duncan, I’d love for you to keep this when it’s done,” Mr. Dean said.

“Oh, uh…” Adam hesitated.

“It’s fine, Dr. Duncan,” the nurse jumped in, quick to reassure him. “Mr. Dean’s not a professional artist. He’s never sold his work. It’s just a little gift—no big deal.”

American doctors can’t accept bribes—at least not openly. It’s like letting teachers run private tutoring gigs. Once you open that door, most teachers would half-ass their regular classes, saving the good stuff for the paid sessions. Students who don’t shell out? Good luck keeping up. Same deal with doctors. If the floodgates opened, you’d have to grease their palms just to get decent care. And the truly unethical ones? They might let savable patients die if the “tip” wasn’t fat enough.

Word gets around fast. Who’d dare go under the knife without slipping a hefty gift first? Even the good doctors with a conscience would get dragged into the mess eventually. It’d be a vicious cycle.

“Thanks, then,” Adam said after a moment’s thought, deciding not to turn it down.

The sketch was just an amateur’s casual work—no big value attached. Plus, it depicted Adam saving the guy’s life. Accepting it wouldn’t cross any lines. Down the road, when Adam opened his own practice, he could hang it up in the office as a badge of honor. Pretty standard move for doctors stateside. Some even chase autographs or selfies with famous patients. The less scrupulous ones ask celebs to keep signatures vague—think “Thanks!” instead of “To Dr. Duncan”—so they can flip it online later. Most celebrity patients catch the hint and play along without a fuss.

Then there are the weirder ones. Some doctors collect stuff they pull out of patients—like that guy from The Big Bang Theory who kept Steve Jobs’ gallstone as a prized trophy, making Leonard and the gang jealous. Or the patients who swallow random junk—or shove it where the sun don’t shine—only for docs to fish it out of their rectums. Those treasures end up in a basket at the nurses’ station, affectionately dubbed the “Ass Basket.” Newbies who don’t know better might snag something shiny or valuable from it.

Take Bald Chris, for example. He pulled a stunt like that. When things got serious with Kara, a nurse from Internal Medicine, she asked him for a gift that showed he really got her. Problem is, Chris—bald as he was—couldn’t scrape together an original idea beyond flowers or chocolate. Desperate, he turned to the expert: Adam.

Adam didn’t let him down. “A fancy pen,” he said without missing a beat. Kara loved writing—every letter she sent was handwritten because it felt more personal. Solid idea, and it worked like a charm. Kara adored the gift so much she told Chris right then and there, “You’ve touched my soul. Tonight, don’t treat me like a person—just go for it!”

Chris, though? Too busy to follow through. By the time Kara’s deadline rolled around, he’d forgotten to buy anything. Then he spotted a gorgeous pen in the Ass Basket at the nurses’ station. Clueless about the tradition, he thought it was a lost-and-found stash and asked the nurses if he could grab it for an emergency. They love pranking rookie docs, so they grinned and nodded—naturally, they didn’t spill the beans.

So, Chris gifted his girlfriend this stunning, very seasoned pen.

Afterward… well, yikes.

God could be a girl, Buddha could be Black—anything’s possible, right?

After checking Mr. Dean’s vitals—all perfectly fine—Adam headed to the OR, buzzing a little from his first gift of this kind.

“Duncan, O’Malley, come with me to meet the patient’s family in a bit,” Dr. Shepherd called out. “And remember: don’t mention how she wasn’t resuscitated and almost got sent straight to organ removal.”

“Why not?” George, ever the justice warrior, piped up.

“The patient just needs to know we’re doing everything we can,” Shepherd said with a sigh. “And we are, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are!” George shot back. “But that Dr. Hans from Weeks Hospital and the other guy earlier? They didn’t give a damn—they almost killed her!”

“We can’t let this blow up,” Shepherd said, rubbing his temples. “It’d tank the reputation of every doctor and the whole medical field. One less organ donor means multiple patients miss out on life-saving treatment.”

“But it’s wrong!” George’s face was all defiance. “Adam, what do you think?”

“I’m with the hospital on this,” Adam said coolly.

George stared at him, floored. “Adam, you—!”

Adam met his gaze, unfazed.

Sure, he knew it wasn’t right. But was this the only injustice in the world? If you charged headfirst into every wrong, guns blazing for justice, you’d burn out fast. Adam wasn’t some invincible hero—just a regular guy with a mediocre system, scraping by as a(time-traveler) for nearly a decade, barely making it to billionaire status. Even if he were some OP protagonist, society would smack him down in a heartbeat.

The dark underbelly of American healthcare? Even the mighty U.S. of A couldn’t tame that beast. All Adam could do was the good within his reach—nothing more, nothing less. That’s the rule he’d figured out to stretch his lifespan with the system. Charity with his millions could save countless lives, but if he didn’t get his hands dirty himself, the system wouldn’t give him a single point.

Mr. Dean? Adam met him, saved him. This woman teetering on death’s edge? Same deal. But that’s where it stopped.

Chapter 406: I Am God!

*Medical Center*

In the end, Dr. Shepherd only took Adam to meet the female patient’s family.

George’s sense of justice was practically bursting at the seams right now.

This place couldn’t handle that kind of righteous glow.

The patient’s family, of course, had no idea about all the twists and turns behind the scenes.

They’d originally been told there was basically no hope—hurry over to say their last goodbyes and confirm the organ donation while they were at it.

Who could’ve guessed a miracle would drop from the sky?

She could still be saved!

Naturally, they were all sobbing with joy.

Of course, part of that was because organ donation here is completely unpaid.

Otherwise, Adam would’ve probably gotten another front-row seat to the flaws of human nature.

Haven’t you heard?

There was this one guy whose older brother—minding his own business at home—got randomly killed, like some cosmic “disaster from above.” And what did the younger brother do? He stood there, representing his “ascended-to-heaven” big bro, forgiving the murderer. Completely ignored his crying parents next to him and went straight to hug the killer.

Why? Because he knew his brother was a devout believer—life and death were God’s will, so obviously they had to forgive the murderer.

That’s the only way the world gets redemption!

That’s the only way the world gets true love!

Emmm.

And in his hand? A fat check.

Moved himself to tears with his own nobility.

Now, if organ donation did come with a paycheck, imagine one—or all—of the patient’s family members bawling, “She’s already suffered so much! Stop torturing her—let her return to God’s embrace in peace. Saving so many lives with her final act would be her blessing!”

If that happened, Adam wouldn’t even blink.

And if it did go down like that?

That’d be the real twist of human nature, the collapse of morality!

Because let’s be real—humanity can’t stand up to any real test.

And honestly, it shouldn’t have to.

Luckily, Adam didn’t have to deal with that mess. All he saw was the patient’s family crying tears of joy and showering him and the team with endless gratitude.

And that’s the power of rules—the kind of thing all those “freedom-loving” types and superhero wannabes love to scoff at!

No rules, no order.

But if you’re gonna break the rules, there have to be rules to break in the first place, right?

---

*Operating Room – Scrub Area*

“Stop staring. We’ve got surgery coming up, and you need to be looking at the patient’s brain, not mine,” Adam said to George, who was gawking at him while they scrubbed in.

“I just wanna know what’s going on in that head of yours,” George shot back. “You’re the one who fought tooth and nail to save Mr. Dean. You’re the one who backed me up without hesitation to stop the organ removal team. But you’re also the one who chose to hide the truth from the patient’s family! Which one’s the real you?”

Adam smirked. “Oh, let’s flip that around. You’re the one who went all out to expose Dr. Tyler, the anesthesiologist, for showing up drunk. You’re the one who fought to stop the removal team. But when Meredith was dozing off, didn’t trim her nails, and accidentally punctured a patient’s heart—you told me to be ‘kind’ and not rat her out. So, tell me, which one’s the real you?”

“…”

George froze, totally thrown off. The light of justice in his eyes couldn’t quite reach Adam anymore.

Yeah, he was a pretty righteous guy—most of the time.

But when it came down to “human justice” versus “pretty-face justice,” and those two collided?

He picked Meredith’s looks every time.

Adam didn’t bother with George’s famous double-standard meltdown. He finished scrubbing in and stepped into the operating room.

Brainstem tumor resection—now that’s what he was here for.

He didn’t have time to play George and wonder what was ticking in other people’s heads.

Unless, of course, that “other person” asked him to cut their brain open for research.

The surgery went off without a hitch.

---

“Duncan, after your internship, any interest in neurosurgery?”

Dr. Shepherd always had a bit of a reflective vibe after operating with Adam. This time, though, he outright threw out an offer.

In the U.S., once your one-year internship is done and you pass the exams, you get your medical license.

Not the full-blown attending physician license, mind you—it’s more like a starter pack. You can write some basic prescriptions, nothing too specialized.

Then, as a resident, you pick a specialty: neurosurgery, cardiothoracic surgery, plastics, ophthalmology, dermatology, you name it.

You train under an attending in that field, honing your skills.

Take Bailey, for example—she went for cardiothoracic surgery, the most ambitious, challenging, and prestigious specialty out there. Her mentor? Dr. Burke, a legend in the field.

Technically, Burke’s her real boss. Dr. Shepherd might be an attending too and can give her orders, but only if they don’t clash with Burke’s.

So when Dr. Shepherd—a neurosurgery rockstar—asked Adam this, the implication was clear:

“If you want, pick neurosurgery, and I’ll take you under my wing.”

“I’ve always been really interested in neurosurgery,” Adam said with a hint of apology. “But after my internship, I’m planning to go for cardiothoracic first. Once I finish that training, I’d love for you to give me a shot at learning from you in neuro.”

“You picking that route makes sense…” Dr. Shepherd started, a little miffed at the soft rejection but gracious enough to roll with it. Then he did a double take. “Wait, what? You’re gonna do cardiothoracic and then neurosurgery?”

“Yup,” Adam said with a grin. “The two most important organs in the body—the heart and the brain—I’m fascinated by both. I figure I’ve got the brains and the energy for it, so why not go for both?”

“…”

Dr. Shepherd was speechless.

If it were anyone else, he’d have warned them not to bite off more than they could chew.

Becoming a top-tier expert in any specialty isn’t a walk in the park. Even if you make it to the top, there are still diseases that’ll stump you—pushing you to keep leveling up your skills for a lifetime.

Double-specializing? For most, even geniuses, it’d just mean being mediocre in both.

But this was Adam saying it.

Dr. Shepherd couldn’t bring himself to say it was impossible.

Their little exchange didn’t just throw Shepherd off—everyone else in the room, George included, was giving Adam these weird, sideways looks.

What a wild ambition!

Adam just smiled modestly.

He was an adult now—no multiple-choice questions for him. He wanted it all.

Heck, after cardiothoracic and neurosurgery?

Infectious disease, immunology, oncology—he was curious about those too.

Back when he first started med school, the goal was simple: become a great doctor for a stable, safe way to extend his life.

But now that he was on this path, Adam had slowly morphed into one of those “surgeons with a God complex” the nurses always whispered about.

In the OR, scalpel in hand, he was unstoppable.

Every word, every move, decided if a life hung on or slipped away.

Beggar or president—they were all just patients, waiting for his verdict.

Everything was in his control.

That kind of power? It’s intoxicating.

That feeling? Better than words can describe.

Because, really—who doesn’t want to be God?

Chapter 407: Everything Is Just Too Difficult

The surgery was over.

"Duncan, go inform the family," Dr. Shepherd instructed before walking away.

"...Alright."

Adam forced a smile.

Of all the responsibilities that came with being a doctor, informing the family was one of his least favorite tasks.

Bad news meant facing a family on the verge of collapse.

Good news meant facing a family so overjoyed they wanted to hug him.

And for someone like him—a young male doctor—the number of hugs, and the length of those hugs, far exceeded what other doctors experienced.

Sometimes, even when delivering bad news, people still clung to him, sobbing in his arms.

Emmm...

Lu Xun once said: "A man must learn to protect himself when he's out in the world."

But as a mere intern, Adam had no choice in the matter. When a senior doctor assigned you a task, it wasn’t just a sign of trust—it was an order. There was no refusing.

The most he could do was try his best to avoid being hugged.

And if he couldn’t avoid it, at least he had to make sure no one took advantage of him.

Sigh.

For someone like him, who was always at risk of being tackled in public, when would he ever be able to stand tall?

---

Turns out, Adam wasn’t just being paranoid.

As soon as he shared the good news, the patient’s younger sister—a teenage girl—practically lit up and launched herself at him.

She was so fast that even Adam barely managed to dodge.

But he could only evade once. He couldn’t very well play a game of dodge the hug with the patient’s sister.

In the end, he had no choice but to surrender to her persistence and accept the hug.

And once the rest of the family finished hugging each other and shedding happy tears, it was finally Adam’s turn to be thanked.

That’s when they noticed something odd.

Their little sister, Mindy, was still clinging to Adam.

No matter what, she refused to let go.

"Mindy?"

"Mindy?"

"MINDY!"

The other family members, realizing their daughter had gone overboard, called out awkwardly.

"I’m just so happy!" Mindy clung to Adam, burying her head against his chest as if she were crying tears of joy.

But there wasn’t even a hint of sobbing in her voice—only unrestrained excitement.

Realizing she might’ve overdone it, she quickly added, "For Cindy!"

That poor attempt at justification only made her family even more embarrassed.

It took several people working together to finally pry Mindy off of Adam.

Adam shot them a helpless smile—then promptly escaped.

This is just too much.

---

In the Hallway

"Tsk tsk."

Meredith, holding a CT scan, ran into Adam and clicked her tongue in amusement.

"What now?" Adam asked irritably.

"People say you're a ladies' man, but I always thought that was just gossip." Meredith smirked. "But I guess I was wrong. Broad daylight, on the clock, and you're already getting cozy with someone? Look at that—there’s a huge lipstick mark on your chest."

She meant the first part sincerely.

After all, she’d flirted with Adam herself—more than once, in fact.

And he ignored her every time.

Given her lifelong confidence, she refused to believe it was because she wasn’t attractive enough.

She also knew about Adam and Bianca, so she knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t be with someone.

That left only one explanation: Adam wasn’t as much of a flirt as people claimed.

And she understood that all too well.

If no one gossips about you, you’re a nobody.

If no one spreads rumors about your love life, you must not be attractive enough.

She, too, had always had a bad reputation.

No one understood this better than she did.

Adam glanced down and—sure enough—there was a bright red lipstick mark on his chest.

His face darkened.

No wonder Mindy’s family had looked so awkward when he left.

"It's not what you think," Adam muttered.

"You don’t have to explain."

Meredith, ever the composed female doctor, wasn’t interested in giving him the chance.

Adam decided not to take the bait. Instead, he changed the subject. "What’s that you’re holding?"

"Oh, this?" Meredith handed him the CT scan with a smirk. "I always thought it was just a myth, but turns out, some people really are this stupid."

Adam held the scan up to the light.

His expression changed immediately.

"Wait, this patient isn’t named Ruth, is he?"

"Ruth?"

Meredith didn’t get the reference. "No, his name’s Mr. Harper."

Adam counted the objects in the scan and sighed. "Any one of these breaking open inside his stomach could kill him, and yet he swallowed ten of them. That’s ten times the risk. Are drug smugglers really this desperate these days?"

"If the packages break inside him, he’d die—he wouldn’t turn into a superhero," Meredith scoffed, reaching for the CT scan.

She needed to bring it to Dr. Bailey to decide what to do next.

But just then, Adam squinted at the scan, tilted it slightly, and made a surprised noise.

"What?"

Meredith frowned, thinking he was messing with her.

"This isn’t drugs," Adam said, handing the scan back. "Those are doll heads."

"...What?!"

Meredith stared at him in disbelief.

"You think drug smugglers would be dumb enough to package their stuff into tiny human-shaped heads?" Adam pointed at the faint outlines of female faces visible in the scan. "He must have unscrewed the heads off some dolls and swallowed them one by one."

His brows furrowed.

He’d seen plenty of patients who swallowed indigestible objects.

But ten doll heads?

That was next-level disturbing.

Because, psychologically speaking, doll heads had some level of human resemblance.

Which meant Mr. Harper wasn’t just some guy with an eating disorder.

He was likely seriously disturbed.

Today, he’s swallowing doll heads.

Who knows what he’ll do in the future?

And this wasn’t just any world. This was the combined universe of multiple TV dramas.

Adam hadn’t forgotten about all the infamous serial killers from those shows.

"Yeah, we should probably make sure he doesn’t see a psychiatrist," Adam muttered.

In TV worlds like this, a lot of people started out somewhat disturbed but weren’t that dangerous.

But the moment they started therapy?

It was like opening Pandora’s box.

They’d go from "harmless weirdo" to "full-blown psychopath" in no time.

Because:

1. Therapy offices were like support groups for the mentally unstable—if you weren’t crazy going in, you’d definitely meet someone who’d inspire you.

2. You never knew if the therapist themselves was more messed up than their patients.

Some of the worst serial killers in TV history?

Were therapists.

And given this guy’s "hobby"...

If he ended up with a certain professor as his therapist, would he turn into a full-fledged gourmet?

The thought alone sent chills down Adam’s spine.

---