Chapter 149: Why Become a Doctor
Mike Wagner stayed for only a little while longer before leaving, seemingly having come over just to say hello.
That left only Ethan and Wendy.
The two sat side by side on the steps, sharing a brief silence.
Sunlight shimmered across the lake like a slow-moving sheet of silver.
Inside the champagne glass, tiny bubbles clung to the walls before drifting upward one by one.
"Why did you go to medical school?" Wendy suddenly asked.
Ethan thought about it for a moment.
"Maybe because… I felt like I might actually have some talent for it."
Wendy turned slightly toward him.
"And do you like being a doctor?"
She paused before rephrasing the question.
"Or maybe I should ask it this way—if you didn't have that talent, would you still have chosen this path?"
Ethan froze slightly.
No one had ever asked him that before.
And truthfully… he had never seriously thought about it himself.
After coming into this world, he discovered he possessed the abilities of a Priest—
Healing.
Restoration.
Saving people.
Becoming a doctor had simply felt natural. Obvious.
But if he really traced back the reason he became one…
Maybe it started many years ago, the first time he played "World of Warcraft" and chose the Priest class.
Everyone had multiple alternate characters.
But the very first class someone chose…
That one usually meant something.
Ethan searched through memories from a lifetime ago.
He hadn't joined the game immediately after launch.
His friends had started first, and he only picked it up later.
But first choices always left the deepest impression.
Back then, he'd simply realized something—
Very few people played Priests.
But everyone needed a healer.
Important.
Rare.
Irreplaceable.
So he picked it almost without hesitation.
Whether it was "fun" never even crossed his mind.
Later on, he ended up carving out a completely unconventional playstyle for himself.
Everyone else stacked healing power.
He stacked spell damage.
Everyone else played Holy or Discipline Priests in dungeons, standing safely in the backline.
He played Shadow Priest and charged straight into battlegrounds.
Nearly unbeatable in open-world PvP—
Except against Warlocks, who beat him no matter what.
The memory pulled a faint laugh from him.
"At the beginning, honestly… the reason was pretty naïve."
He smiled lightly.
"I thought people needed help, and I just happened to be good at it."
"And saving people felt… righteous."
He paused.
"Later on, I realized…"
"Healing people really is fulfilling."
Wendy let out a quiet laugh.
"Me too."
Ethan turned to look at her.
"I went to medical school too," she said.
"I didn't switch careers later. I started on that path from the very beginning."
She swirled the wine in her glass, staring at what remained.
"I thought my life would be simple."
"I'd stay in the ER."
"Patients would come in bleeding out, in shock, hovering between life and death."
"Then you diagnose."
"You stop the bleeding."
"You stabilize them."
"You either save them… or you don't."
"You might fail, but at least you understand why."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Then I realized," Wendy continued,
"medicine contains something besides fulfillment."
"Something you can never escape from."
"Helplessness."
"You can't save everyone."
"But whether you save them or lose them…"
"The moment ends, and you still have to turn around and save the next patient."
She took another sip of wine.
"You can't stop."
"You can't carry the last patient into the next room with you."
"Because if you stay trapped with the previous one…"
"The next person might die in your hands."
The sentence landed softly—
But its weight was immense.
Ethan was visibly affected by it.
"What I do now," Wendy continued,
"isn't really that different."
"I take people who are on the verge of giving up and make them believe in themselves again."
"I watch them go from hesitation and fear…"
"To confidence. Aggression. Momentum."
"And then I watch them use that state of mind to win again and again."
She drank again, her tone loosening slightly.
"It's thrilling."
"And honestly… addictive."
She exhaled slowly.
"But sometimes I still wonder…"
"If staying in the hospital would've been simpler."
"Maybe not easier," Ethan replied.
"But at least the source of the pain would've been clearer."
Wendy looked at him.
Then she drained the rest of her glass and placed the empty cup beside her.
Her entire demeanor shifted, almost like changing channels.
"You know," she said,
"at the company, they call me the Magic Doctor."
Ethan blinked.
"Magic Doctor?"
"I can make someone who's ready to give up believe in themselves again."
"I can take them from the edge of collapse to complete mental focus."
"And then they go out there and make millions… sometimes tens of millions."
"So to them, it feels like magic."
She looked directly at Ethan, her tone suddenly turning cool and professional.
"So, Dr. Rayne…"
"Want to give it a try?"
She waved a hand dismissively and added,
"And don't tell me there's nothing wrong. We both know that isn't true."
Ethan thought for a moment before nodding slowly.
"It's actually pretty simple."
"Donnie's accident… left something unresolved in me."
He paused, trying to figure out how to describe the feeling.
"I can't fully explain it."
"Logically, I know it wasn't my fault."
"But emotionally…"
"I've been stuck there ever since."
"Helen suggested I come to the funeral."
"She said I needed a proper goodbye."
"Very honest," Wendy said with a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"I like that."
She shifted the conversation naturally.
"So, have you been maintaining a regular routine lately?"
"Eating, sleeping, exercising."
"More or less." Ethan thought for a moment.
"I haven't been sleeping enough sometimes."
For some reason, Max's face suddenly flashed through his mind.
"And what about intimacy?" Wendy continued.
"You mean?"
"Sex life," she said with complete ease.
"Normal," Ethan answered bluntly.
"I'm twenty-seven already. I'm not some seventeen-year-old kid anymore."
"So," Wendy raised a brow slightly,
"you've gone from 'whenever possible' to 'twice a day max'?"
Ethan couldn't help laughing.
Wendy immediately dropped the teasing tone.
"So what's really trapping you…"
"Is the fact that Donnie could've been healed, yet still died because of an accident. Right?"
"Yes." Ethan nodded.
"I don't know whether to call it fate… or karma."
"Sometimes I even wonder…"
"If he'd never come to my clinic, would he actually have lived longer?"
Wendy shrugged lightly.
"You're not actually broken."
"Maybe." Ethan let out a self-deprecating laugh.
"That's what I keep telling myself too."
"But you're looking in the wrong direction," Wendy said.
Ethan blinked.
"You've ignored the quietest picture in your heart."
"But it's also the truest one."
"It's been there the entire time."
"And it's the exact reason you came to this funeral today."
"If you're willing to look for it…"
"It still hasn't disappeared."
She paused briefly.
"Can you see that picture?"
"What does it look like?"
Ethan fell into thought.
For a moment, he couldn't answer.
Wendy stood up and extended a hand toward him.
"Stand up."
Her tone allowed no room for argument.
Ethan followed.
The two stood facing one another.
Wendy looked up at him steadily, her gaze unwavering.
"How many patients did you heal yesterday?"
"Fifteen."
"And this year?"
"The ones only your talent could save. The patients medicine had already given up on."
"…Twenty-three."
"Twenty-three," Wendy repeated softly.
She clenched a fist and tapped it lightly against her chest.
Her tone turned solemn, almost like an oath.
"Twenty-three."
Then she gestured toward him.
"Your turn."
Ethan copied her movement, pressing his hand against his chest.
"Twenty-three."
"Closer," she instructed.
"Twenty-three."
And in that moment—
He could almost see them.
Every single one of them.
Standing in the light.
Breathing steadily.
Eyes clear.
Alive.
"What do you see now?" Wendy asked.
"They're…"
"They're all standing in front of me."
"Healthy."
"Happy."
"That's right."
Wendy's voice rose slightly, carrying a powerful intensity.
"Twenty-three people."
"Twenty-three living, breathing human beings standing in front of you."
This was the thing she did best inside Axe Capital.
"You know why you're lost right now?"
"Not because you did something wrong."
"In fact…"
"It's because you've done too many things right."
Ethan frowned slightly.
"You're judging yourself by outcomes," Wendy continued.
Her voice remained calm, but every word struck with precision.
"And where you're standing right now…"
"Is exactly at a crossroads."
She raised her hand and gently tapped the center of his chest.
"Donnie's death was not your failure."
"It was simply a variable beyond your control."
Ethan's breathing unconsciously slowed.
Wendy kept going.
"At the company, there's one sentence I repeat to traders all the time."
"I tell them this—"
"Your responsibility is to push the system into its optimal state."
"Not to guarantee the outcome."
Ethan froze.
The sentence landed directly in the exact place he'd been struggling with.
Wendy didn't give him much time to process it.
"Because if you start taking responsibility for the outcome of every life you fail to save…"
"Eventually, you'll stop saving people altogether."
"No one can carry that much failure forever."
"And sometimes…"
"Even a single moment of hesitation can cost far more lives."
Ethan opened his mouth—
But realized he had nothing to say.
He had never viewed his role this way before.
"You're not God," Wendy said quietly.
"And you're not a saint."
"You're simply…"
"A person making the best possible decisions under impossible conditions."
"That alone is already incredibly difficult."
Wind swept across the lake.
"Do you know why I left medicine?" Wendy asked softly.
"It wasn't because I stopped wanting to save people."
"It was because I realized…"
"If I didn't learn how to let go of outcomes…"
"They would destroy me."
She looked at Ethan, and for the first time, her voice softened completely.
"If you continue defining yourself by whether every ending is beautiful…"
"You'll never make it very far."
Ethan finally spoke.
"Then what should define me?"
Wendy answered almost immediately.
"Whether the choices you made in that moment were the right ones."
"And if the answer is yes…"
"Then you already won."
"When Donnie came to you for help…"
"Would you really have chosen not to save him?"
"You can never predict the future."
Ethan stayed silent for a long time.
Then he asked quietly,
"That speech you just gave…"
"How much is it worth at your company?"
Wendy paused—
Then laughed.
"Very expensive."
"And usually…"
"I only say things like that to a select few."
She turned to leave, but stopped after two steps.
"Ethan."
"If one day you start hesitating…"
"Remember today."
"You're not here to save the world."
"You're only here…"
"To push it a little closer in the right direction."
Then she walked away.
Ethan remained standing there, quietly replaying her words in his mind.