Medical Center
Observation Operating Room
Christina was leading her first surgery.
Up in the second-floor observation room, Liz sat, hit with the sudden realization: "Wait, I'm the clown here."
Adam was the only one clueless about it.
If he knew, he'd probably drop that classic line guys like Sheldon or Dr. House love to say: "I told you so."
Everyone started on the same playing field.
Well, except for Adam, who basically cheated and soared ahead.
But take Christina and Liz, for example.
Christina might've had a slight edge, but she was just steadily moving forward—not so far ahead that Liz couldn't catch up.
So why was today such a stark contrast, with wave after wave of emotional blows crashing down on Liz?
Simple: Liz picked the wrong path.
Christina stayed true to herself, tirelessly chasing her dreams. Her career and ambitions always came first—medicine was her personal journey of growth. Her romance with Dr. Burke? That was just a nice bonus along the way.
But because she kept her priorities straight, that focus made her even more captivating to Burke. It fueled their relationship, and now they were even getting married—with Burke eagerly taking the lead on all the planning, doting on her every step of the way.
Then there's Liz.
For her, love—or something else—took center stage, while her career played second fiddle. She didn't have the devotion to medicine that it demanded. You could tell from the way she posed for that "Heartfelt Doctor" photoshoot.
If someone offered Christina ten times the money, she'd never do something like that. She knew that once you went down that road—especially as a woman already at a disadvantage in this field—it'd make her path in medicine twice as hard.
And don't even get started on what Liz did for Danny's heart—basically torching her own career in the process.
Your career's all about you—just put in the work and keep pushing forward. But love? That's a two-player game, sometimes more. No matter how hard you try, it only works if you find the right person. Problem is, the odds of meeting that person are slim. Nine times out of ten, you think you've found them, but you haven't.
So, people who make "working together with others" their main gig? They're usually setting themselves up for disappointment.
Liz chose the wrong focus, and now she sat there, heart aching, watching someone she used to scoff at thrive in both career and love.
Meanwhile, Adam sat at the corner of the operating room, flipping through a math book, oblivious to all this. Even if he knew, he'd just think, "I told you so," and leave it at that. He wasn't about to waste his breath saying it out loud.
After what Liz pulled—forcing him into that heart-stealing mess that threatened his career and life—she'd long been booted from his casual friend list.
Right now, a small part of his attention stayed on the operating room, keeping an eye on Christina's progress, ready to step in if needed. But most of his focus? Buried in that math book.
In his mind's starry expanse, he sat cross-legged, surrounded by glowing digits and formulas dancing before his eyes.
Ever since Peggy gave him that push, he'd become obsessed with math. Seeing how top-tier mathematicians revolutionized fields like medicine and even car racing only deepened that obsession.
So, alongside his medical studies, Adam poured most of his energy into mastering math. Any spare moment, he'd be hunched over some hefty math tome.
Emmm.
Peggy knew this all too well—she was his math mentor, after all. A teacher always knows exactly how their student's doing. It's why, in his past life, students needing tutoring would pull strings to get their regular teacher to help—they're the ones who know your strengths and weaknesses best.
Even Scarlett Sandra had some complaints about it. The marks left on her lower back from the math books he'd prop up there kept changing—one set would fade after days, only for a new one to appear. She couldn't even wear low-rise stuff anymore.
Post-millennium, Adam's passion for math burned even brighter.
Peggy, sensing he was nearing grad-school level, set him a challenge—a combo exam for "graduating" as a master's student and qualifying for a PhD.
Emmm.
It was more like a fun game.
The content was a blast: a mix of the seven great mathematical problems, Monica's seven key checkpoints, and a treasure-hunting adventure.
AKA: Seven math problems tied to the seven great mathematical challenges, placed at Monica's seven checkpoints. The answers to questions 1 through 7 fed into the next one's calculations. No skipping ahead—you had to solve them in order to win.
Peggy, being the mischievous type, didn't stop at just a game. There had to be stakes.
If he couldn't solve them, he'd never unlock those seven checkpoints. And without clearing the game, he couldn't play Monica's "777 Song."
Adam wasn't too fussed—he had other friends to hang out with. But Peggy? She was betting on herself.
She cast herself as the princess trapped in the dragon's lair, with Adam as the brave knight storming in to save her. If this knight wasn't brave enough, every extra day she spent in that lair was another day of suffering.
It all came down to whether Adam could bear to let her wait.
He knew it, too. And of course, he couldn't stand it.
So he doubled down, determined to beat the game and rescue Peggy. He even had to clear it in one go to unlock the song—otherwise, her "suffering" would multiply.
That meant no seeing Peggy until he finished. For proud folks like them, cheating at a game like this? Out of the question.
It'd been over two weeks since he last saw her.
He was only on the fifth problem.
You can imagine how seriously he was taking it.
Peggy coming up with this game had a lot to do with Adam, too. Ever since that mountain camping trip—where the ethereal elf Peggy and the mighty beastman Adam burst onto the scene, playing out a magical-world Romeo-and-Juliet vibe—it opened a whole new door for her restless energy.
Peggy's always been quirky, but when she threw herself into math research, that side of her got buried under her drive for scientific discovery. Now, with Adam as her "cheat code," boosting her in every way, that overflow of energy brought her playful, mischievous side back to life.
Otherwise, she'd never have dreamed up a game like this.
But… he loved it. It was just too much fun.
Observation Room
Lexie and the others would glance at Christina operating, then shift their eyes to Adam, sitting there with his math book, a faint smile on his lips.
They'd once been inspired by him to dig deeper into math themselves. But every time they tried, they realized their admiration for him wasn't quite strong enough.
They could never stick with it.
"Boring!" some of the male doctors scoffed inwardly. "What's so fun about math?"
They seriously suspected Adam was just showing off.
Not that he needed to—his skills spoke for themselves. But showing off can become a habit. Like how rich folks don't need to pinch pennies but still do, thanks to habits formed on their way up, giving off that "the richer, the stingier" vibe.
Those doctors figured Adam was the same way.
They couldn't even fathom the joy he found in math.
(End of Chapter)