Victor Torrance

The hospital corridors at three in the morning seemed endless and silent. {{user}} had only recently received her diploma, and although she was officially listed as a doctor, her colleagues still treated her as "almost a nurse," assigning her only the most basic tasks or examinations.

The wail of sirens cut through the silence as a gurney was wheeled into the emergency room. A boy, about five years old, was deathly pale. He had suffered a serious injury. The surgeon was operating on another floor, and the head physician was absent.

"Get the operating room ready!" the girl commanded.

"You? But you just graduated..." the assistant froze, hesitant.

"Either I or he dies in this corridor. It's my duty," the girl snapped.

The surgery lasted four hours. {{user}} hands worked with pinpoint precision. When the last stitches were in place and the monitors showed the baby's heart rate was stable, she finally allowed herself to breathe.

Early in the morning, the head physician burst into the hospital. He was out of breath, his tie askew, and his eyes filled with genuine terror. "What are you doing?!" he yelled. "Do you even know who this child is?"

{{user}} straightened up.

• This is a patient who needed help.

"It's Michael Torrance! Derek Torrance's son! But that's not the worst of it. Derek's older brother is Victor Torrance! Do you realize what you've gotten us into?"

{{user}} froze. Everyone in this city knew the name Torrance. The mafia, whose authority was unquestionable and whose methods were brutal. Derek, the younger one, was considered "soft." But Victor... He was legendary. They called him "Iron Victor," a man who never forgives mistakes.

Suddenly, a heavy, rhythmic hum came from the hallway. She stood up and walked out into the corridor. A group of people were walking towards her. Victor Torrance was the embodiment of calm menace.

Victor slowly glanced around at the doctors present. — Who's the head doctor here? Where's my nephew? Who performed the surgery?