Chapter 3 The Magistrate's gratitude

Its dawn at St. Jude’s Tertiary Hospital but it didn’t bring no relief; it just brought a different kind of noise. Alex stood by the locker room entrance, his hands raw from scrub-washing the dried arterial blood from beneath his fingernails. He had changed back into his faded, oversized janitor’s uniform, the fabric stiff and smelling of heavy chlorine.

"Did you hear what happened?" a passing staff nurse whispered excitedly to her colleague, completely ignoring Alex as they hurried past. "Director Vance worked a literal miracle in Trauma Bay 1 last night. The City Magistrate’s daughter flatlined for nearly two minutes, and he brought her back with a manual internal cardiac massage! The Magistrate himself is on his way to the VIP wing right now to thank him."

Alex leaned his head back against the cold metal lockers, a sharp, bitter smile playing on his lips. A manual cardiac massage. Julian Vance wouldn't have the nerve to attempt that technique even if his own life depended on it. Yet, the entire hospital machinery was already turning the fraud into a living legend.

[System Notification: Interface Update.]

[Host Name: Alex Eze]

[Level: 2 (200/1000 XP)]

[Acquired Skill: Vascular Blueprinting (Level 1), Precision Rate: 99.8%]

[Current Objective: Build a financial and social foundation. A genius cannot be suppressed forever by corporate shadows.]

Alex closed the holographic screen with a brief mental command. The System was right. Survival in the medical industry required more than just supernatural skill; it required leverage. And right now, Julian Vance held all the cards.

"Alex! There you are, you useless piece of trash, there are some trash that can be recycled, but in your own case you are doomed forever!"

The sharp, irritating voice echoed down the locker room corridor. Marcus stepped into view, his designer stethoscope draped over his shoulders, looking completely refreshed despite the grueling night shift. His eyes narrowed into slits the moment they landed on Alex, the memory of being publicly humiliated and physically shoved the night before clearly eating him alive.

"Director Vance wants the VIP recovery suite cleaned and sanitized before the Magistrate arrives," Marcus barked, tossing a fresh pack of chemical disinfectant wipes directly at Alex’s chest. "And don't even think about looking at the patient or stepping near the bed. If you so much as breathe too loudly near the Magistrate's family, I will personally ensure the administration fires you for vagrancy."

Alex caught the pack of wipes with a single, effortless motion. His high-resolution brain automatically scanned Marcus’s stance, noting the slight, protective tilt of the resident's right shoulder, he was still sore from where Alex had checked him the previous night.

"Make sure you don't trip over any chairs today, Marcus," Alex said, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of the subservient tone the resident expected. "The floors are quite slippery when they're clean."

"You..." Marcus’s face flushed a deep crimson, his fist clenching at his side. But before he could launch into another arrogant tirade, the overhead pager system blared loudly across the ward.

“Dr. Marcus, report to VIP Suite 3 immediately. Director Vance requires urgent assistance.”

Marcus spat on the floor near Alex’s boots. "Count your days, janitor. When this VIP case is fully settled, you are out on the streets." He turned on his heel and sprinted toward the elevators.

Alex didn't hurry. He picked up his cleaning cart, his movements methodical and calm as he wheeled it toward the VIP wing on the fifth floor. When he arrived outside VIP Suite 3, the hallway was completely packed. Two towering security guards in tailored black suits stood outside the door, the Magistrate’s private detail. Inside the glass-walled room, City Magistrate Harrison Cole stood by the bedside, his expression a mix of profound relief and immense authority.

Julian Vance stood opposite him, wearing his most professional, compassionate smile, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his pristine white coat.

"I cannot express my gratitude enough, Director Vance," Magistrate Harrison's deep, commanding voice carried through the partially open door. "The emergency medical team at the crash site told me my daughter was a lost cause. They said her thoracic cavity had completely collapsed. For you to perform such an advanced procedure under that kind of pressure... it proves your reputation is entirely justified."

"You flatter me, Magistrate," Vance replied, his tone dripping with fake humility as he bowed his head slightly. "As the Chief of Surgery, it is my sacred duty to protect every life that enters St. Jude’s. When your daughter flatlined, I simply refused to give up. I knew exactly where the internal vascular leak was, and I executed the ligation without a second thought. It was a routine manifestation of inherent capability."

Alex stood in the shadow of the doorway, holding a disinfectant cloth, his eyes locked onto Vance’s lying face. The deep, suffocating sense of grievance flared hot in his chest once more. This fraud was standing there, collecting the praise, the political favors, and the glory for a life-saving surgery he had almost turned into a murder.

But as Alex's gaze shifted to the patient lying on the bed, the Magistrate's eighteen-year-old daughter, Chloe, his high-resolution vision automatically triggered. The translucent green grid of the System swept over her body, and the green lines instantly turned into a flashing, violent red.

[Warning: Critical Patient Complication Detected.]

[Anatomical Analysis: Delayed Subdiaphragmatic Hemorrhage.]

[Source: A secondary micro-tear in the hepatic artery, neglected during the initial chaotic trauma closure by Julian Vance.]

[Vitals Status: False stability. Internal bleeding entering the peritoneal cavity. Full hemorrhagic shock in 120 seconds.]

"Her recovery will be smooth, Magistrate," Julian Vance continued, his voice oozing with a greasy, practiced confidence as he poured a glass of water for Harrison Cole. "With my personalized post-operative care regime, she will be back on her feet within a week. You have my absolute guarantee."

Beep... Beep... Beep-beep-beep...

The rhythmic, comforting sound of the vitals monitor suddenly hitched. The steady, horizontal green wave on the screen fractured, transforming into a chaotic, jagged mountain range of spikes.

"What... what is that?" Magistrate Harrison's voice dropped, his authoritative warmth instantly evaporating as he stepped closer to his daughter's bed. "Director Vance, why is her heart racing like that?"

Vance smiled smoothly so that it will not be obvious that he is nervous, though a tiny bead of sweat instantly erupted along his hairline. "Do not alarm yourself, sir. A slight tachycardia is entirely normal after a major thoracic intervention. The body is simply adjusting to the…"

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!

The monitor didn't just race; it exploded into a piercing, high-pitched alarm. Chloe’s pale skin suddenly lost what little color it had, turning a terrifying, translucent shade of blue-gray. Her chest heaved violently as her body desperately tried to hunt for oxygen, her fingers twitching against the pristine VIP sheets.

"Director! Her blood pressure is plummeting!" Marcus yelled, his arrogant demeanor completely shattering as he pointed a trembling finger at the digital display. "It’s 60 over 40... 50 over 30! She’s slipping into profound hemorrhagic shock!"

"That's impossible!" Vance bellowed, his professional facade completely ripping apart, at this point he can no longer hide he’s nervous act anymore. The panic fraud beneath is revealed. He lunged over the bed, his hands shaking so violently he could barely place his stethoscope over Chloe's chest. "The thoracic ligation was perfect! The chest cavity is dry! Where the hell is she bleeding from?"

"Do something!" Magistrate Harrison roared, his immense social status translating into a terrifying, suffocating pressure that filled the entire room. He grabbed Julian Vance by the lapels of his white coat, shaking the Chief of Surgery with raw, parental fury. "You guaranteed her safety! You said you were a master! Fix her!"

"Marcus! Prepare an immediate emergency dose of epinephrine!" Vance screamed, his voice cracking like thin glass as he completely lost control of his cognitive faculties. "Prepare the ultrasound! We need to locate the source! Nurse, call the blood bank for six units of O-negative! Move!"

The VIP suite turned into an absolute circus of incompetence. Marcus fumbled with the syringe, dropping the glass vial onto the floor where it shattered into a hundred useless pieces. Vance was blindly pressing the ultrasound probe against the girl’s upper chest, his eyes darting frantically across a monitor he couldn't even read properly because his brain was completely locked in a state of pure terror.

"Even a divine physician could not predict an anomalous secondary rupture!" Vance stammered defensively, his eyes darting to the Magistrate while trying to lay the groundwork for his own excuse if the girl died. "The trauma from the highway collision must have caused a delayed, invisible arterial decay! I... I have done everything humanly possible!"

"Get out of the way, you pathetic fraud star!"

The cold, heavy words sliced through the chaotic screaming of the medical staff like an iron blade.

Julian Vance snapped his head toward the doorway. Standing there, calmly wheeling his janitor’s cart directly into the high-security VIP room, was Alex. He had already discarded his disinfectant cloths, his raw, un-gloved hands completely steady as he stepped past the frozen private security detail.

"Alex?" Marcus gasped, clutching his head in confusion. "You... you trash! How dare you speak to the Director like that? Security, drag this janitor out!"

"Touch me, and you can start planning her funeral," Alex growled, his high-resolution gaze sweeping over the bed.

The holographic grid of the System flared to life within his vision, highlighting the girl’s abdominal area in a deep, pulsating neon crimson. The data was crystal clear. The bleeding wasn't in her chest; the blood was pooling beneath her diaphragm, filling her peritoneal cavity from a neglected tear in the hepatic artery.

"Magistrate Harrison," Alex said, turning his piercing gaze directly onto the city’s most powerful man. "Your daughter doesn't have an anomalous decay. She is dying because the man you are praising failed to perform a comprehensive abdominal sweep during the initial surgery. He left a micro-tear in her hepatic artery. If you let him touch her with those shaking hands right now, she will be brain dead in exactly forty-five seconds."

"You... you lying janitor!" Vance roared, his face turning an ugly, mottled red as his entire career flashed before his eyes. "He is a disgraced medical fraud who lost his license for malpractice! Magistrate, do not listen to a single word from this garbage!"

Magistrate Harrison Cole looked at Julian Vance’s trembling hands and pale, sweaty face. Then, he looked at Alex, a young man in a janitor's uniform who stood with the absolute, unshakable authority of a God, his eyes completely locked onto the fading vitals monitor. Harrison Cole hadn't become the city's highest judicial authority by being an idiot; he could recognize a true master from a desperate coward in an instant.

"Can you save her?" the Magistrate asked, his voice dropping into a low, desperate plea.

"I can," Alex replied instantly.

"Then do it," Harrison Cole commanded, stepping back and using his massive frame to physically block Julian Vance from reaching the bed. "If anyone in this room attempts to stop him, my detail will treat it as attempted murder."

Alex didn't waste a single syllable. He reached onto his cleaning cart, bypassing the chemical sprays, and pulled out a sterile emergency central line kit he had covertly pocketed from the trauma bay supply room earlier.

[Active Skill Initiated: Vascular Blueprinting (Level 1).] [Targeting: Hepatic Artery Micro-Tear.]

[Execution Path: Percutaneous retroperitoneal compression and targeted localized ligation. Time to irreversible brain death: 32 seconds.]

Alex didn't even require an operating table. He ripped away Chloe's gown, his fingers pressing hard into the right upper quadrant of her abdomen with a terrifying, calculated pressure. The golden luminescence pulsed faintly beneath his calloused skin, sending hyper-focused kinetic waves directly through the tissue to manually compress the leaking hepatic branch.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The frantic, dying rhythm of the monitor suddenly paused, then stabilized. The precipitous drop in blood pressure halted at 70 over 50, holding steady as the massive internal hemorrhage was choked off by Alex’s supernatural grip.

Alex looked up, his eyes meeting Julian Vance's hollow, horrified stare.

"You see that, Director?" Alex whispered, his voice carrying a deep, suffocating weight of unyielding grievance that made Vance take an involuntary step backward. "You couldn't even find the leak with an ultrasound. But to me... your absolute incompetence is written in high-resolution."