Season 3 chapter 59
The Cryptic Relative
Before Filoska could respond, the heavy double doors of the recovery bay pushed open with a dull squeak.
A junior hospital messenger hesitantly crept inside, looking nervously past the IV poles toward the two ash-stained billionaires.
"Excuse me, sir," the messenger stammered, pointing back toward the lobby. "There is someone named MA currently waiting at the main entrance doors. He is actively calling for you, sir, and he is identifying himself directly as your relative."
Malesh frowned, his deadpan mask tightening into pure, immediate confusion. As a Bulwadi, his family lineage was fiercely traditional and entirely straightforward. He absolutely did not know any guy from his family named MA.
"That makes zero sense," Malesh stated flatly. "I am a Bulwadi. There is nobody operating in my family under that name."
Kniya tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing as his brain processed the variables. Then, the underlying logic clicked.
"Wait a minute... M can be the name of a person, and A would be for Anderson," Kniya deduced aloud, recognizing the cryptic structure. "So it's an M... and A for Anderson. I think so he might be from my family."
Pivoting smoothly on his heel, Kniya looked at his best friend. "Okay, Malesh, I think so we should leave them and check this out."
Kniya turned back toward the hospital beds, giving Filoska and Salesh a soft, reassuring nod. "Yeah, guys, have some rest. We are there in a minute. We won't leave without you."
The Psychological Healer
Marching side-by-side out of the private recovery room, Kniya and Malesh let the heavy doors swing shut behind them. As they stepped out into the blinding white corridor, they immediately spotted the elderly lead surgeon walking briskly toward the exit lobby alongside his thoroughly enraged assistant.
Kniya's immature street-level entitlement instantly boiled over.
"Hey, you old idiot!" Kniya shouted down the hallway, aggressively pointing a finger at the back of the doctor's tattered scrub cap. "Stop right there! Why the hell did you lie to us in the first place?! I literally just asked them inside, and they absolutely cannot dance! Their torsos are screaming in pain!"
The doctor paused mid-stride. Slowly turning around, his jaw worked lazily as he blew a thick pink bubble of gum that snapped loudly in the quiet corridor. POP. He glared at Kniya with an expression of pure, unadulterated laziness and pure medical arrogance.
"What the fuck do you realistically expect from me?" the doctor scoffed lazily, gesturing wildly with his tattered sleeves. "Do you think I am a magical healer? Am I going to pull out glowing magical potions and pour them down their throats to instantly knit their internal organs back together? Healing takes actual physical time, you absolute idiot. I was just saying it like that so you'd stop hyperventilating outside my doors."
Malesh stepped forward, his heavy, exhausted eyes locking onto the chewing surgeon.
"If a medical prognosis is literal, then you shouldn't lie to the immediate guardians," Malesh deadpanned coldly.
"I absolutely was not lying," the doctor shrugged nonchalantly, entirely unthreatened by the intense aura of the Managing Director of Malesh Energy. "It is simply a highly specialized method of explaining complex recovery timelines to highly dramatic laymen."
Malesh narrowed his eyes, completely refusing to buy the excuse.
"Do not try to trick us with your cheap psychological tactics," Malesh accused flatly, stepping right into the surgeon's personal space. "I know perfectly well that you hold an advanced university degree in psychology alongside your surgical credentials."
The doctor let out a loud, highly obnoxious laugh around his massive wad of gum.
"Degree in psychology?! Me?!" the doctor cackled, aggressively waving his hand in dismissal. "No, no, I absolutely don't have that! I barely managed to scrape by and pass my basic matriculation, kid! What kind of premium education do you think I possess? Look at my clothes!"
The doctor lazily checked a broken wristwatch strapped over his tattered cuff.
"Well, I have important work to do right now, and it is really, really important," the doctor announced smoothly. "So yeah, I'm going. Have fun, guys. They would be dancing in a day or two."
Without waiting for another round of yelling, the doctor casually pushed through the main lobby doors and strolled out into the scorching Seistain heat, leaving his assistant to frantically chase after him.
Kniya and Malesh were left standing entirely alone in the middle of the sterile hallway, completely confused about what the fuck had just happened.
The Intercepted Supplies
The main lobby doors had barely swung shut behind the departing bubblegum surgeon when a junior medical compounder rounded the hallway corner. He was casually balancing a silver tray loaded with fresh syringes and sterile gauze packs.
Kniya's sharp eyes instantly locked onto him. Pure, unfiltered street-level entitlement flared up in his chest.
"Hey, you! I'm talking to you!" Kniya barked loudly, aggressively pointing a finger down the corridor. "Stop! Stop right there!"
The compounder paused mid-stride, blinking in surprise. Slowly, he lifted a gloved finger and pointed it at his own chest. "Me?"
"Yeah, you!" Kniya snapped, marching directly up to him with Malesh trailing closely at his shoulder.
The compounder let out a quiet sigh, adjusting his grip on the silver tray. "Yeah, what do you want?"
"I don't want anything," Kniya interrogated, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. "I just want to ask you one thing. That specific doctor over there... the one who just rushed out toward the lobby. Do you know him? Is he even a professional one?"
The Highest Success Rate
The compounder let out a dry chuckle, completely unintimidated by the ash-stained tailored coats of the two billionaires.
"Well, upon his exterior aesthetics, he certainly looks like an absolute illiterate idiot," the compounder admitted easily. "But actually, I need to inform you that he is the absolute best doctor in the entire Republic. He topped every single advanced medical examination ever recorded. He is highly skilled at his work, and he holds a verified one hundred percent success rate across all his operations. If a patient is dying, he is the only man who can guarantee survival."
Malesh stepped forward, his dark eyes deeply focused as he tracked the logic.
"So where is he going right now?" Malesh asked, his deadpan voice laced with genuine confusion. "Why is he in such a heavy hurry at this exact moment?"
"No, no, he's not rushing," the compounder corrected smoothly. "He is simply getting ready for work."
Malesh's exhausted features tightened. "What work?"
"The work required purely for his survival."
Malesh frowned deeper. "Do you mean to imply that he is actively working in another hospital for more money, actually?"
"No, no, he is absolutely not going to another hospital," the compounder shook his head.
"So where is he going at this exact moment?" Malesh pressed, his dry tone carrying a heavy, logical weight. "It is highly required that he remain here. He should be actively looking after his patients in this hospital."
"Actually, it is a really important task for him," the compounder explained quietly. "He is going out to earn basic funds purely for his survival."
The Logic Barrier
Kniya threw his hands up in the air, his brain completely failing to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Money, money! Why are you talking so much about money?!" Kniya shouted loudly, thoroughly confused. "Why does he need to go out for money?! He is cutting people open at a premium, highly secure emergency ward! He should be earning massive corporate bonuses right here at this hospital! What are you talking about survival?! Can you please tell me the actual situation without repeating your words again and again?!"
"Actually, he doesn't get paid here at all," the compounder shrugged nonchalantly. "He earns absolutely zero credits from this facility. So yeah, that is exactly why he has to go out just to secure basic funds for his survival."
Kniya aggressively rubbed his temples, his face twisting into an expression of pure, unadulterated bewilderment.
"Wait, what the fuck are you actually talking about? Zero credits?!" Kniya demanded. "He is literally saving lives in your emergency ward and you aren't paying him a single penny?! Can you please explain what is happening without this absolute logical barrier?!"
The Manual Specialist
"Actually, he is going directly across the street to work at the physical construction site," the compounder revealed, pointing a finger toward the glass lobby bulkheads. "The active site present directly at the front of the hospital."
Kniya blinked, staring blankly out the glass. "The construction site which was at the front of the hospital?"
"Yeah," the compounder nodded. "I think so you would have clearly witnessed that building when you were driving your vehicles to here."
"Yeah, yeah, I saw that massive building on my way here," Kniya muttered. "But why the hell is he working at a manual construction site?! He is an elite specialist surgeon! He would be earning more than enough liquid cash! Why is he working hauling heavy rebar like a common laborer?!"
"I told you," the compounder replied calmly. "It is strictly for his survival."
Kniya leaned in close, narrowing his eyes with intense suspicion. "Does he have some other kind of massive illegal business? What is he actually doing manual labor for?! Can you please tell me?!"
"Actually, the doctor simply performs heavy manual labor at that construction site to mix mortar and haul bricks," the compounder stated flatly.
"He is operating in such a prestigious medical facility with such an elite rank, holding the highest verified degree possible!" Kniya yelled, completely outraged by the discrepancy. "Why is he entirely unable to earn basic funds for his survival?! A man of his rank should own a massive luxury estate! He should have massive amounts of money! Why is he living and working like that?!"
"No, no, he absolutely does not have a big house," the compounder corrected, gesturing out the window toward the distant horizon. "He lives entirely off the grid in a tiny, tattered mud hut located directly beside that mountain range. You can clearly see the peaks from this sector. He lives in absolute poverty, and he earns really less."