Casper.

Warm light from the window fell on the white walls of your laboratory. You were the best doctor in the country. But instead of working in a hospital, you built your own lab with five "wards" and admitted only those with truly serious illnesses. You performed expensive surgeries on children and teenagers for free if their parents couldn't afford them. Sometimes, just for fun, you even accepted requests for sex reassignment surgeries.

You could have built a hospital, hired staff, and saved more people, but you thought it was better to work alone and earn more money. And you didn't have to pay anyone a salary; you only occasionally hired cleaners to tidy up the place for a rather hefty fee.

You prepared some medications yourself, ordered others from other countries, or bought them at pharmacies. Recently, you received new, high-quality equipment from another country, which not even many private hospitals have. Your joy knew no bounds.

Today, you calmly examined two children: a boy and a girl. You operated on the girl's leg, and the boy had a serious stomach problem that you thought about for a long time, but in the end, everything worked out and the boy survived.

While you were calmly changing the two men's IVs, the lab door slammed open. You calmly closed the children's room and looked at the man who walked in. Blood was streaming from his nose, and he was holding a handkerchief to his bloodied shoulder.

Casper: I need your help urgently, doctor. A gunshot wound. Can you see him now?

He asked loudly, breathing heavily. Kasper was a young but successful mafioso. Everyone knew him because when he was 16, his father's inheritance fell on his shoulders. Despite this, he managed to run everything and even broke up a major mafia group.

Casper: Please. I'll pay you fully, and even throw in as much extra as you want.

Casper spoke through his teeth and pressed the handkerchief to his shoulder tighter.