Outside the Raine Clinic, raindrops dripped along the metal edge of the sign, reflecting a dim, yellow light.
Ethan Rayne had just seen off his last Patient and was tidying the medical instruments on the table.
The light was dim, and the air was filled with the smell of alcohol. He habitually took off his gloves, intending to turn off the lights and go home.
Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps came from outside the door—
"Bang! Bang bang bang!"
"Open the door!" The knocking and shouting were as urgent as debt collectors, without a hint of politeness.
Ethan's movements paused, and his brows furrowed slightly.
He slowly turned to look at the door, his hands subconsciously beginning to gather strength.
The air vibrated gently, and a subtle layer of shadow wriggled in his palm.
"Troublemakers?"
He thought to himself, his gaze calm. "No big deal."
The next moment, he stopped again.
There were quite a few people outside, at least five or six. So many people disappearing at once could lead to a lot of unnecessary trouble.
The shadow slowly dissipated from his palm, and he walked forward to unlock the door.
The door was pushed open with a "bang," and a rush of damp, cold air and the smell of blood simultaneously poured in.
Several men rushed in, carrying a person, their clothes soaked and covered in blood.
"Doctor! Quickly save him!"
The leader was a fierce-looking man, Billy Buck; Ethan had heard of him.
"Gunshot wound." Ethan's gaze quickly swept over the wound. "He's lost too much blood, you should go to a hospital."
"Hospitals won't take us, and if they do, they'll call the police!" Billy suppressed his anger. "He's going to die here, are you going to save him or not?"
Ethan didn't move, just looked at them coldly: "I have no obligation to get involved in gang feuds."
The air froze for a few seconds, and several of the subordinates instinctively reached for the guns at their waists.
Ethan's fingertips moved slightly—the shadow energy was stirring again.
Another person emerged from behind the group of thugs. She wore a black trench coat, her hair wet with rain, and her eye makeup was a bit smudged, but it didn't prevent Ethan from seeing that she was a beautiful young woman.
She ignored the men and walked directly towards Ethan.
"I am Mary Mason, a medical school Surgeon student."
She said concisely, "I need a surgical light, hemostatic forceps, and a clean surface."
Ethan was stunned for a moment.
The name flashed quickly in his mind—Mary Mason.
"American Mary," the medical school student who, after being raped by her mentor, turned dark and became a dark-style plastic Surgeon.
That movie had left a very deep impression on him.
"You're going to operate here?" Ethan hesitated, unsure if this girl was pre-darkening or post-darkening.
"He has a bullet in his chest; if we delay another five minutes, he'll go into heart failure." Mary replied calmly, her eyes clear, showing no fear.
Ethan was silent for a few seconds, and the shadow under his palm completely dissipated.
"The operating table is over there, and there's alcohol and sutures to the left of the sink."
Mary nodded, directly taking off her trench coat, revealing the black clothes she wore for her interview.
"I'll be the lead Surgeon, you assist."
Ethan couldn't help but look her up and down: "Alright."
The surgical light came on, its beam reflecting on both their faces.
On the operating table, Mary seemed like a different person. She put on her gloves and looked down at the wound torn open by the bullet.
She took a breath: "Hemostatic forceps."
Ethan handed over the tool, sensing her momentary tremble.
Mary didn't look up, her movements clean and swift.
She first wiped away the surrounding blood with gauze, revealing the inside of the wound—a radial crack, with flesh and blood turned outwards.
"The bullet is lodged near the ribs, to the right," she murmured, assessing.
"Breathing is a bit shallow, heart rate is unstable." Ethan looked at the injured person's chest, his hand on the artery. "I'll help you apply pressure."
Mary nodded.
The scalpel pressed down, cutting through skin and flesh, met with a warm, soft resistance.
Blood welled up, and she immediately reached out to press on the artery, picking up the tweezers with her other hand to probe the wound.
"Don't panic," Ethan couldn't help but remind her.
"I'm not panicking." Mary's breathing remained steady, but sweat trickled down her temples.
With a gentle prod, the tweezers touched a hard piece of metal.
"Found it."
The bullet was embedded behind the ribs, tightly wrapped in blood and tissue.
Mary changed her angle, the scalpel slowly peeling away the adhering flesh and blood.
Bright red liquid flowed down the incision.
"A little more to the left." Ethan wiped the blood from her hand with gauze. "Breathing is weakening."
"I know." Her voice was low and focused.
The tweezers gave a gentle twist—in that instant, the faint scraping sound of metal against bone was almost hair-raising.
"It's out!"
Mary held up the tweezers, the bullet glinting coldly under the light.
"Clink—" The bullet dropped into the metal tray, making a crisp sound that echoed in the operating room.
After a second of silence, Ethan released his hand and quickly retrieved alcohol and suturing needles.
Mary's hands began to move again, and the only sound in the clinic was the faint "click-clack" of the needle passing through skin.
The bleeding stopped, and breathing resumed its rhythm.
With the last knot tied, Mary finally took off her gloves and said in a low voice, "He should live."
Ethan wiped the table with gauze, checked the wound, and confirmed steady breathing.
"Clean and precise," he commented.
Mary swayed, leaned against the counter, and took a breath, her voice a little hoarse: "Thanks for the assistance."
"I just provided the space." Ethan said faintly, "You could have done it alone without me."
At this moment, Billy stepped forward, staring at the subordinate. Seeing that he was no longer bleeding and his chest was still rising and falling, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well done!"
He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and slapped it onto the table with a 'pah'.
"As agreed, five thousand US dollars, split between the two of you."
Ethan didn't reach for it, only saying, "Let him stay here overnight, he can't be moved now."
Billy smiled: "As you wish." He put away his cigarette and nodded, "Doctor, Mary, you two... are very good."
The group left.
The clinic returned to quiet once more.
Under the light, Mary leaned against the wall, looking at the stack of money: "Can we split it fifty-fifty?"
Ethan: "No problem. But shouldn't you put your clothes on?"
Mary froze, subconsciously looked down, and quickly grabbed the trench coat from the chair and put it on. Ruffling her hair, she couldn't help but say:
"Is this the Raine Clinic? Are you Dr. Rayne?"
He looked at her, extending his right hand: "Ethan Rayne."
Mary briefly shook his hand: "Then tonight... it was a pleasant cooperation."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mary's phone suddenly vibrated, jolting her awake from her memories.
She picked up her phone; it was a text message:
[Billy: Tonight at nine. Many guests, high tips.]
She stared at it for a few seconds, then put her phone away.
Ethan casually asked, "Going to dance at Billy's again tonight?"
"Yes."
"Their stage lights are too dazzling," Ethan said. "Not good for your eyes."
"Thank you for your concern, Dr. Rayne. I have rent to pay."
Mary put down the instruments she was holding and walked to the counter.
"I only dance there because I can get cash."
"I know."
"You don't think that kind of thing is shameful, do you?"
"How could I?" Ethan shook his head: "Making money isn't shameful."
"What?"
"I mean, as long as you're not robbing a bank, I support it."
She chuckled: "You said it, remember what you said today."
He smiled slightly: "A man keeps his word."
Mary's gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds, then quickly moved away.
"I'm going back to school for class." She said before closing the door: "You now owe me... hmm, 1760 US dollars!"