I returned to the lab.
A place filled to the brim with the previous professor's research materials.
Just looking at it irritated me, so I started by cleaning up a bit.
Maybe he had some kind of hoarding compulsion—there was so much stuff that it took forever just to tidy up.
"Hmm."
Still, I couldn't just throw everything away, so I left the instruments for now.
They were tools used for treating benign prostatic hyperplasia and hemorrhoids…
Not that I planned to use them as-is.
If I did, wouldn't I just end up as a cheap knockoff of the professor?
So, I started by sketching.
"Is that the prostate?"
"Yeah."
"But… the way you drew it in such detail makes it kind of hard to look at…"
Joseph frowned as he examined my drawing.
This guy had no problem watching an old man get castrated, but a mere drawing made him uncomfortable?
It was ridiculous, but on the other hand…
It felt like proof that my drawing skills were impressive, so I gave a slight shrug.
"Alright, first… let's think about the drawbacks of inserting it straight in."
Of course, it couldn't just stay like that, so I moved the professor's tool around on the drawing.
"Ugh."
"Hah, stop."
"Professor…"
Just that was enough to make all three of them shudder, letting out pained groans.
Given how sensitive the area was, it seemed their empathy was kicking in.
I wasn't exactly comfortable either.
Why?
Because I once collapsed from overwork…
And had a urinary catheter inserted.
In other words, if this pain was just imagination for them, for me, it was a memory.
But that didn't mean I could just give up.
'That damn surgery…'
Castration.
Orchiectomy…
Whatever it was called, that devilish procedure had to have some effect on benign prostatic hyperplasia.
If the prostate kept growing under the influence of male hormones, what would happen if that supply was suddenly cut off?
At the very least, it wouldn't get any worse.
In fact, it might even improve.
'But to endure that damn surgery…'
It wasn't easy.
First of all, the tools here now were nowhere near enough.
Well, maybe if I used them to kill someone, I could win…
"What if the tip here wasn't sharp but a bit blunt?"
"Wouldn't it still hurt?"
"Hurt…"
"This looks like it would hurt."
"We'll use anesthesia. Pain doesn't matter. The only thing we need to consider is whether there's actual tissue damage or not."
My students—no, my friends—reacted ambiguously.
That was fine.
After all, the reason I was talking this through was to find the answer myself.
Our professor used to do this, and while it might have made him seem like a madman, it was actually pretty effective.
'Right… Polyps, endoscopes… they all have rounded tips.'
As I spoke, memories came flooding back.
The only regret was that none of my close friends were urologists.
Not that it was an excuse, but because of that, I'd never actually seen a prostate surgery.
If I'd at least read a textbook on it…
Urology was such a niche specialty—even among minor fields—that you only really started learning it during residency, not med school.
So, my knowledge was painfully shallow.
'Alright, if I make it like this…'
I started imagining the sharp tool with a rounded tip.
Then I moved it around again, but now a new problem arose.
This way, there was no way to remove the prostate.
It felt like eliminating the effect while preventing accidents…
'Ah. What if we use a debrider like in ENT?'
Since it was an endoscopic tool, I'd used it countless times in surgery.
Hadn't laparoscopy become the gold standard for most surgeries a while ago?
Any young surgeon would have plenty of experience with it.
But right now, it wasn't much help.
The abdominal cavity…
If you filled it with gas for surgery, it was surprisingly spacious.
So, the tools had evolved into complex forms to allow all sorts of manipulations under camera guidance.
That's why I recalled a surgery my ENT friend had performed.
'I should've paid more attention. Instead of pestering him to go eat…'
The memory of him delaying surgeries around mealtime came to mind.
Of course, as a surgeon—and a medical professional—I hadn't just stood there like a spectator.
I still had some knowledge left.
"If we make this tool blunt, it'll be safer, right?"
"But doesn't it need to be sharp to puncture? This is benign prostatic hyperplasia—the passage is blocked."
"Right, exactly. So… what if we make it blunt but add teeth here?"
"Teeth…?"
My friends looked utterly confused.
Were they imagining me magically attaching teeth or something?
"Here, like this."
Of course, that wasn't the case.
I wasn't sure if current technology could even do this, but…
Weren't blacksmiths' metallurgical skills surprisingly advanced?
Mass production might be difficult, but handcrafting a few prototypes seemed feasible.
"We make an outer cylinder and an inner cylinder separately. Then, we drill small holes in the outer one and attach sharp teeth to the inner cylinder, moving it back and forth…"
"So it grinds it away. Oh…"
"Oh-ho."
"This… is amazing, isn't it?"
They weren't stupid—just lacking foundational knowledge.
Even with just my rough sketch, they were starting to grasp the concept.
*Thud.*
Then, Dr. Liston walked in.
He looked like he'd just amputated an arm or a leg somewhere.
There were faint bloodstains on his face.
"Hmm, what's this?"
As always, he showed interest in my drawing.
The fact that he genuinely thought of me as a genius wasn't just lip service.
I looked at his bloodstains—
No, his eager eyes—and explained everything from the beginning.
"Hmm."
He stroked his chin with his fingers, looking intrigued.
I had no idea how he came up with ideas like this, but…
He seemed to have thought of something.
Whenever he got like this, he always said something.
"Ping."
"Yes?"
Most of it was nonsense due to his lack of foundational knowledge, but…
Still, Liston was a smart man, wasn't he?
If he'd been born in 21st-century Korea, he would've definitely achieved something great.
"Does this have to be perfectly straight?"
Even his nonsense was worth listening to, so I paid attention—
But his question felt like a hammer to the head.
"Huh…?"
"Your idea of adding teeth is brilliant. It's safe and would remove more than before. Look."
Liston used the professor's straight tool to poke around my drawing.
He didn't just move it straight back and forth—he added some variation.
And sure enough, it looked like it could remove more of the prostate.
"Oh."
"But what if… we bent this part?"
"Bend it? Gah!"
Liston actually bent the tool.
It was made of steel…
Could he just bend it like it was nothing?
There was no time to be shocked.
The moment Liston moved the angled tool around the prostate drawing, I heard the word *Eureka* in my head.
"This…"
"Right. Wouldn't this remove even more?"
"Definitely. The problem is…"
"If it's bent like this, a simple cylinder won't move back and forth. But that's the blacksmith's job to figure out, isn't it?"
From a client's perspective, was it okay to be this vague?
I gave Liston a look.
And Liston just chuckled.
With blood still on him, even his laughter was terrifying.
"Don't worry. If I make the request, they'll do it."
"Well…"
Exactly.
With Liston backing me, it was like having an entire army at my disposal.
So, we immediately went to the blacksmith.
Maybe because it had been a long day?
The door was firmly shut.
"Should we come back tomorrow?"
"Huh? What are you talking about? The lights are on upstairs."
"But… closing time…"
*BANG.*
Liston seemed to believe that if a door was closed, breaking it down was an option.
He punched it.
"Wh-what the hell?!"
A scream-like sound came from upstairs.
Soon after, the terrified blacksmith cracked the door open slightly.
"Whoa, whoa."
I saw a hammer in his hand, so I tried to reassure him.
But Liston disarmed him first.
"Eek!"
"What's with the 'eek'? I'm the one who saved your mother. You know me."
"I-I know, but… what do you want? I already paid you back…"
"Ah, I'm not here to collect. Here, make this."
Liston pushed his way inside, plopped into a chair, and handed over the paper.
The blacksmith frowned at the crude sketch.
"What is this…?"
"Ah, it's like this."
I stepped in.
First, I showed him the professor's tool.
The blacksmith brightened.
"Ah, this! I made this."
"Really? Well, we want to improve it."
"Why?"
"To perform better surgeries."
"I heard a guy named Harry is amazing at prostate surgeries."
"Where… did you hear that?"
"Well…"
The blacksmith hesitated, then shut his mouth.
If pressed, he might talk, but then we wouldn't get our tool.
Liston waved it off.
"More likely leaked from Jamie's side than ours. Whatever. We need this made quickly."
"Right, so can you make this?"
I felt like an arts student dumping an overly ambitious engineering blueprint on an engineer.
Even if it didn't make sense, I had to try.
But surprisingly, the blacksmith just laughed.
"This isn't too hard. If we adjust this part… yeah, it's doable. But it'll take some time…"
"How long?"
"About two weeks? There'll be some trial and error."
"Ah."
Two weeks…
Two weeks with male hormones completely cut off…
No, even one week would show some effect.
A sense of urgency made me look at Liston.
"Professor."
"Yeah, let's form a militia."
"A militia?"
"You know, a group to protect something."
"Ah."
"The Testicular Defense Force, maybe?"
"Ah…"