City S was a notorious playground for the decadent and the depraved. Dense with sprawling casinos, subterranean bars, and colossal luxury hotels, the cost of living there was astronomically high. Skyscraper silhouettes dominated the skyline alongside opulent, castle-like estates whose majestic architecture arrested the gaze of every passerby. Sleek, high-end vehicles lined the private driveways. By day, it appeared as a gleaming metropolis; by nightfall, as darkness enveloped every corner, the glowing neon signs of the casinos and nightclubs flickered to life, unleashing the city's chaotic energy.
Yet behind this sparkling facade lay an epicenter of systemic crime. Beyond high-stakes gambling, illicit drug trafficking, forced prostitution, and contract killings festered in the shadows. Intriguingly, despite its open-secret notoriety, throngs of thrill-seekers continued to flood the city daily.
Major headlines used to overflow with praise for a young medical prodigy. Having skipped multiple grades and graduated years ahead of his peers, he became a fully certified attending surgeon at just eighteen. But a calculated setup at his hospital engineered his downfall—a ruthless drop from grace that stripped him of his medical license at the absolute zenith of his career. Stripped of his former glory, he had become a hollow shell of himself, battered by the public vilification and contempt of those who once idolized him. To them, he was now merely a cowardly extortionist who prioritized financial gain over patient survival.
However, whispers echoed through the underbelly of City S about a rogue surgeon operating under the pseudonym Leidende—a disgraced genius capable of performing surgical miracles, provided one could afford his exorbitant fees.
Inside an abandoned warehouse owned by Fragrant Paper Co., an illegal open-heart surgery was underway.
Leidende administered general anesthesia, successfully intubated the patient, and brought the vital signs under monitoring control. After thoroughly disinfecting the surgical field, he picked up a scalpel. With practiced precision, he executed a median sternotomy—a vertical incision through the tissue over the sternum. As blood welled at the margin, he used a mechanical sternal retractor to spread the thoracic cavity, exposing the beating heart beneath.
Working seamlessly with a trained assistant, Leidende inserted cannulas into the vena cava and aorta, connecting the patient to a compact, portable cardiopulmonary bypass (CPB) machine to take over systemic circulation and oxygenation. Once external perfusion stabilized, he infused a cold cardioplegic solution into the coronary arteries to induce controlled cardiac arrest.
Accessing the damaged mitral valve, he excised the diseased leaflets, measured the annular circumference, and meticulously anchored a prosthetic valve into place using ultra-fine monofilament sutures.
Hours later, the procedure reached a successful conclusion. The patient was smoothly weaned off the bypass machine, and the heart resumed its spontaneous sinus rhythm. Having closed the surgical chest cavity, Leidende stripped off his blood-stained gloves and collapsed onto a battered leather sofa, thoroughly drained.
A well-dressed woman stepped out of the makeshift surgical area, casting her gaze toward the exhausted young surgeon resting on the couch.
"The operation was a complete success," she stated flatly, setting a heavy metal briefcase onto the table. "Here is the full payment as agreed upon, Leidende."
The Joy Hotel was widely recognized as the top-grossing five-star establishment in the city, celebrated for its matchless service quality. Inside its opulent banquet room, a lavish high school reunion was in full swing, gathering individuals who held significant sway in society. Though framed as a nostalgic gathering, it served primarily as an arena for shameless self-aggrandizement.
"Isn't Hy missing from tonight's party?" someone asked, sipping champagne.
"Haven't you heard? He's turned into an unlicensed quack now," another sneered. "Fired after causing a patient's death, if I recall correctly."
"That's right. Honestly, I'm amazed the guy even had the nerve to show up here tonight."
A short distance away, Hy stood quietly, engaged in conversation with a tight-knit circle of close friends who had steadfastly believed in his innocence throughout the scandal.
"He's adorable! Is he your son?" the friends asked, gathering around a young boy standing beside Hy.
Hy smiled softly, gently stroking the child's hair. "Yes, my precious boy. His name is Hanh."
Far removed from the opulence of City S lay its forgotten slums—a squalid district crammed with society's outcasts. Wealthy revelers passing by routinely referred to it as the ghetto. The moniker was well-deserved; its narrow, labyrinthine alleys were infested with thieves, substance abusers, and streetwalkers.
It was 11:30 PM. Night had completely swallowed the city when Hy and his companion disembarked from a bus at a nearby stop and headed into the slums.
An impoverished man in his mid-forties approached them. He had a gaunt frame and thin arms peeking out from a threadbare shirt. Walking with a severe limp on a worn wooden peg leg, his weather-beaten face hardly inspired trust.
Before Hy could step deeper into the alley, a sticky, foul red liquid splashed across his shoes and ankles. The pitch-black darkness rendered vision nearly impossible.
The limping man smirked. "You just stepped on a squished rat, doc. Nobody cleans up around here. You'd better hire me as a guide—safety first."
Declining the offer, Hy and his friend switched on their flashlights and navigated the maze of alleyways using an offline map, making their way toward a budget hotel they had booked in advance. Little did they know what was about to unfold.
The slums stood in stark contrast to the affluence of City S: dilapidated shacks, neglected children bullying one another, and addicts shooting up in damp corners. Theft and child exploitation occurred almost out in the open, masked only by muffled groans echoing from paper-thin walls.
Eventually, they reached a run-down structure bearing the sign *Hotel Liberi*.
As they walked in, the receptionist eyed Hy intently. "Do you require our childcare service?"
"No," Hy replied flatly.
"What services do you offer? Can I take a look at the service menu?" Hy asked on second thought, sensing something off.
"If you're interested, step into this room to take a quick photo," the woman replied smoothly.
"A photo?" Hy questioned.
"Yes. Once that's done, head to staircase number two to drop off the child."
Hy gestured to his friend to slip away. "Can I have a word with you in private?"
While his friend feigned heading toward staircase two to investigate the upper floors, Hy followed the receptionist into an adjacent room. Glancing around, he spotted subtle red indicator lights blinking in the dark corners—hidden surveillance cameras.
The receptionist pulled out a camera. "Are you sure you want to try our childcare package?"
Hy held up his phone, displaying a specific credential code. "Doesn't Richard grant me clearance? Is this really necessary?"
The woman nodded hastily and handed him a keycard. "Room key. Someone will bring your meal up shortly."
Hy took the keycard and went upstairs to rendezvous with his friend. As they walked down the corridor, his friend pulled him back, pointing toward Room 34. The door was left cracked open, a faint sliver of light spilling into the hallway alongside weak, muffled cries.
Peering inside, they witnessed a horrifying scene: an adult male violently assaulting a young boy, tearing at his clothes.
Without hesitation, Hy and his friend burst into the room, subdued the assailant, and scooped up the terrified child. They rushed him to a vacant room on their floor.
Examining the boy under better lighting, Hy's heart sank. The child's body was covered in scabs, bruised, and severely malnourished. A quick orthopedic check revealed closed fractures in one arm and one leg.
Working rapidly with medical supplies brought from their gear, Hy performed emergency stabilization—reducing the fractures, placing rigid splints, and dressing the superficial wounds while administering local analgesia.
Sometime later, the investigation took its course.
"Is the kid doing alright?" Hy's friend asked.
"Yes, fortunately we intervened before the perpetrator could do any further harm," Hy replied.
"What's the status of the case?"
"The boy is the key witness. The other missing children remain unaccounted for... As for that female receptionist, she committed suicide in custody."
"Is that so? How tragic... Let's get him home for now."
***
In Hy's guest room, the young boy lay quietly on the bed. Soft morning sunlight streamed through the window, bathing his pale face in a gentle, warm glow. He stirred awake, gazing around the unfamiliar room with exhausted, hollow eyes—as if waking up in strange places was an all-too-familiar routine.
Hy and his friend entered softly.
"Are you feeling okay, buddy?" his friend asked gently.
The boy said nothing. He pulled the blanket over his head, his small frame trembling uncontrollably beneath the fabric.
"Do you want to go outside and play once you feel a bit stronger?"
Still, no response came from beneath the quivering blanket. The two men stood there, realized they had overlooked the depth of his trauma.
Suddenly, a soft *"Meow~"* echoed near the bed.
The blanket shifted slightly. The boy peeked out, saw Hy's cat, and reached out to pull the animal into his arms. A faint, genuine smile broke across his face. Watching through the narrow door gap, Hy and his friend felt a wave of relief wash over them.
A few days later, Hy's friend had to leave, but he arranged for a child psychologist to visit three times a week.
Hy adopted a patient routine. Every day, he would place meals outside the boy's bedroom door and wait nearby, attempting gentle conversation.
A small, hesitant hand would reach out to pull the food tray inside, followed by the immediate slam of the door. The boy was not ready to open his heart just yet.
Undeterred, Hy sat outside the closed door every single day, talking softly like a monologue. He told lighthearted stories, brought freshly cooked food tailored to the child's taste, and gently reminded him that what had happened was never his fault. Leveraging the boy's affinity for the cat, Hy gradually chipped away at the icy walls of trauma.
Finally, one afternoon, the door clicked open. The boy walked out voluntarily and sat down quietly beside Hy.
Hy turned to him with a warm smile. "I realized I haven't officially asked... Would you like to call yourself Felix, or is there another name you prefer? Just between the two of us."
Late one night, a fierce thunderstorm raged outside. Thunder clapped violently, and heavy rain battered the windowpanes. Terrified by the noise, the boy curled up in a corner, clutching the cat and trembling, unable to sleep.
Alerted by the commotion, Hy rushed into the room. He wrapped his arms around the child, pulling him and the purring cat close to his chest to offer warmth and safety.
The next morning, after the storm had cleared, Hy woke up with the child and the cat still curled up soundly in his arms.
The boy slowly opened his eyes, looking out at the sunlit horizon through the window.
Hy smiled, gazing at the clear sky. "You see? After the storm, the sky is always much clearer and brighter. It's the same for you—overcoming hard times is how you'll shine even brighter."
