How to Save a Time-Limited Heroine

Deltain was a renowned doctor before coming into this world.

Not just any doctor, but a star in the academic world with achievements so astounding that anyone in the medical field would be shocked to hear of them. It would be fair to describe him as the elite of the elites.

Explaining the journey that led him to such a position would require a long time.

Born an orphan and adopted to the faraway land of America, where he was abandoned again, growing up eating garbage off the streets, and eventually making it to medical school through sheer determination. He completed the university’s curriculum faster than anyone else, broke every record in the medical field, and became a star based on his skills alone. Describing all of this would take an entire night.

The journey from an Asian orphan to star of the American medical world was a long one.

… but that was not the important part of this story.

What was important here was that this journey made Deltain into a person obsessed with perfection.

He never feigned modesty. He loved his achievements too much.

He never considered scenarios because, as a doctor, he was always successful.

Nor did he discuss failure. All that was required when facing a patient was confidence.

“We’re starting.”

Thus, as always, Deltain stood before the operating table with absolute certainty.

Agnes laid on the surgical bed, specially made for today.

Her eyes, wide open, were fixed on Deltain.

“Are you going to cut open my chest like this?”

“After I put you to sleep.”

“Put me to sleep?”

“With anesthesia. I’ll numb you completely so that your body won’t even realize what’s happening.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You don’t need to.”

Deltain said this while loosening his hands.

“You’ll wake up able to walk again. That’s all you need to know.”

“But you said you’re going to cut my chest. Will there be a scar?”

“There won’t be. I’ll use a method that prevents scarring.”

Deltain faithfully answered Agnes’s questions while maintaining his focus.

‘Good.’

Everything was just right. The perfect level of fatigue and tension. The familiar surgical bed, the room temperature, humidity, and noise levels, all adjusted in advance for today. Even the faint smell of disinfectant.

One could call it a sort of superstition.

Deltain had gone to great lengths to recreate the feelings he experienced when performing surgery on Earth.

A smile played on Deltain’s lips.

‘I’m the only one performing this surgery.’

There was no anesthesiologist to handle the anesthesia, nor were there any residents or nurses to assist, but that was fine.

Magic had provided him with the ultimate surgical assistant, one without the risk of failure.

With the flow of mana, a black pit appeared.

Deltain skillfully opened the pit and pulled out an extraordinary machine.

The machine, about 5 meters long, had a crescent-shaped body from which countless thin mechanical arms extended.

Each arm was equipped with various surgical tools like needles, knives, and forceps.

As one might expect, these arms were bundles of magic tools, each at least of the third level.

They were clearly medical instruments. But there was a reason they were called armaments.

This was a tool Deltain had created during the main storyline to capture and dissect a demon alive.

‘I never expected to use it like this…’

Ironically, the was being used for the first time for medical purposes, four years after it was created.

“Whoa, that’s gross.”

“These arms are going to save your life. Look at them with gratitude.”

“Those things are going to mess around inside me?”

“They’re not messing around; they’re treating you.”

“I think I get what they say about being violated now.”

Deltain let out a dry laugh at Agnes’s remark.

He didn’t react beyond that.

After all, Agnes lived in a world where the concept of surgery didn’t exist, so it was natural for her to have an instinctive aversion.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red and gold. Like your hair and eye color.”

“… alright, then. Picture those colors in your head as a dress and shoes. It’s the dress you’ll wear to the banquet.”

“Ugh, that sounds way too flashy.”

“What do you want me to do about it, you fucking bitch?”

“Maybe I’ll imagine you wearing it instead. That would be better.”

“Suit yourself.”

Deltain clicked his tongue and moved the supporter.

An oxygen mask was placed over Agnes’s face.

Agnes smiled slightly. There was no fear in her expression.

“See you later.”

Deltain replied indifferently.

“Yeah.”

With that, a needle was inserted into Agnes’s arm.

*

Once Deltain confirmed that the anesthesia was complete, he began to move.

Three hours.

That was the time Deltain estimated for the surgery.

It was a ridiculously short time for a pacemaker implantation, but Deltain had considered even that the maximum time.

It was only natural.

What Deltain was about to use in this surgery was a miracle called magic.

Under Deltain’s control, the scalpel moved toward the area below Agnes’s chest.

The blade touched her bare skin, and something strange happened.

As her body was sliced open, exposing her insides, not a single drop of blood appeared.

Not only did no blood flow, but despite the separation of her sternum and muscles, they still appeared to be connected.

This was because they hadn’t actually been physically cut.

The Space Cutter was a spell that created a new space between the incised areas, revealing the inside of the body. In other words, the incised areas hadn’t been truly severed.

This was the reason Deltain had assured Agnes that no scar would remain.

The following procedures also belonged to the realm of magic.

Several of the mechanical arms penetrated Agnes’s chest. Beeps started to echo. Then, several interfaces appeared before Deltain’s eyes.

Deltain’s gaze fixed on the central interface.

There, Agnes’ heart was beating feebly.

‘It’s really pathetic.’

Well, considering both ventricles were failing, it was no surprise.

Deltain reviewed the surgical procedure in his mind once more.

‘Bypass the blood flow from both ventricles.’

The magic tool would regulate the blood flow, beating powerfully in place of the failing heart. It was engraved with enhancements to spare and was equipped with fail-safes, so once it was implanted, success was almost guaranteed.

Deltain took a deep breath.

He had performed this surgery 17 times before, but this was his first attempt with magic. It was an act to steady his nerves.

‘I’ve practiced enough.’

The success rate of his practice surgeries using imagination magic had reached a level that satisfied Deltain.

All that was left was to reap the rewards.

Deltain extended his hand.

His concentrated mind, sharpened by tension, repeatedly focused on a single process.

He controlled the trembling of his fingertips.

The eighth masterpiece Deltain had created since arriving in this world appeared, floating in the air.

It was a miracle not found even on Earth, where every auxiliary function was engraved into it for convenience and simplicity.

‘I’m counting on you.’

No matter how rational Deltain was, on the operating table, he was nothing more than a mere human, so he offered a short prayer to the tool he had made and began the surgery.

*

The surgical tools moved according to the familiar tension.

Thus, he began reshaping Agnes’ heart.

The interface was diligently assisting with the surgical process.

Deltain checked each step one by one as he continued with the surgery.

And then.

Finally, the miracle, which was called a masterpiece, began to assist Agnes’ heart.

<1%… 5%… 19%…>

Deltain meticulously monitored the rising percentages and the changes in Agnes’ vital signs throughout the process.

<33%… 55%… 71%…>

And finally, he smiled.

‘Perfect.’

<…100%.>

A sensation like a chill ran down his spine as the notification appeared.

A laugh escaped him, unbidden.

Even in this exhaustion, a pleasure so intense it numbed his brain welled up within him.

Deltain wiped his face with his hands, and then, in a slightly relaxed voice, he spoke to conclude the surgery.

“Begin the suturing.”

Ssss.

With a peculiar sound, the opened chest began to close.

The space that had been opened was now shrinking again.

The chest closed cleanly, as if nothing had been done in the first place.

Deltain exhaled deeply and moved his mana.

Agnes’ body slowly floated into the air and gently descended onto the bed.

He laid her down carefully, ensuring not to cause her any strain.

A pitch-black void swallowed the Surgery Supporter.

Deltain, who had moved to sit by the bed, began writing characters on Agnes’ left arm with mana.

It was an alarm spell that would report her condition to Deltain over the next few days.

‘Side effects or complications…’

There was a high probability that there wouldn’t be any, but he had to consider the possibility.

The heart was like a fussy little girl, and he couldn’t guarantee how it would react to this change.

“It’s done.”

Deltain said this as he stumbled out of the room.

Standing at the door was Duke Levadine.

As soon as Deltain emerged, the duke, with a face dried out from hours of worry, grabbed his arm. Considering that the duke was not one to typically commit such a breach of manners, it was clear how anxious he had been.

“How did it go? The surgery…!”

“It was a success. Perfect.”

“Oh…!”

“I’ll need to monitor for side effects over the next few days. So please prepare a cot for me. I’ll be sleeping in that room for the next few days to keep an eye on her condition.”

“Side effects, you say…”

“The chances are low. About as likely as the emperor stripping naked and performing an obscene act in front of the palace tomorrow.”

The duke’s body trembled slightly, and a rather subtle expression crossed his face.

Deltain clicked his tongue.

‘Guess this humor doesn’t really fit here.’

Back on Earth, after finishing a surgery, he’d often crack a joke like this to reassure the patient’s family, who would laugh in relief. But it didn’t seem to have the desired effect here.

“… just take it as a good sign. The princess will wake up tomorrow. Since the banquet is in three days… let’s have her start practicing walking the day after tomorrow.”

It was an absurdly fast recovery, but considering the surgical process, it was understandable.

After all, this was a surgery that utilized 4th tier space-time magic, so worrying about recovery time was nonsensical.

‘Really, why didn’t they develop surgical procedures with such advanced techniques?’

What a primitive place.

Deltain thought again as the duke collapsed to the floor.

“… phew.”

The duke sat down on the floor, wiping his face with dry hands.

He showed clear signs of relief.

“Thank you… truly, thank you…”

His voice even held a trace of tears.

‘… well.’

Could this be something similar to Earth?

It had been a long time since Deltain had received such heartfelt thanks after a successful surgery, so he spoke with a bit of joy.

“Just bring me a bed. Save the thanks for when the princess puts on her dress.”

The smile that appeared on his face was, without a doubt, one of a victor.