The doctor did not look very professional, but the strong smell of disinfectant clinging to him gave the young man a sense of security at that moment.
Nothing could be more moving than waking up in a hospital when you needed treatment and finding a doctor by your side.
"I... want something to eat," he said.
"They starved me for three days. They barely gave me anything except water and a little fruit. I feel like I could eat a whole cow right now!"
"When can I go out and get something to eat?"
The doctor glanced at him, picked up the record of his vital signs, and began reading it.
As he read, he replied, "No, you don't need to eat anything."
"Even if we gave you food, we'd have to spend time cleaning the remains out of your stomach before the surgery. That would slow us down and increase the risk."
The young man took a moment to process that. "Surgery?"
"What surgery?"
The doctor signed the record and said casually, "You can't repay your debt, but your body is worth quite a bit."
"Those wealthy people aren't interested in organ transplants from the Nagaril People anymore. They prefer races from outside the South Hemisphere with lighter skin..."
The doctor finally showed another expression—a happy, secretly delighted smile.
"Your two kidneys can fetch around fifty to a hundred thousand. Your liver can fetch fifty thousand. Your lungs aren't worth as much, but twenty thousand shouldn't be a problem."
"Your heart can fetch sixty to eighty thousand, though it might not sell."
"You know, hearts are troublesome to transport. We'll use air freight to send your organs back to the Federation."
"The other organs aren't much of a problem. The heart might not make it in time, but if