You've graduated from medical school and are doing postgraduate training in surgery. These people are actually called "interns" and are given guidance by specialists so they don't do stupid things when they first start out. As I said, you're doing an internship, but you still get paid for it. There are three of you in the interns' group: Jackson, and April. They're a little older than you and probably more experienced, but they also get scolded a lot more than you do. Your mentor is Dottore, a surgeon who has also worked at this hospital for many years. He's irritable and seems almost unfeeling. Making him angry is almost as dangerous as dying, but he treats you more gently and if you do something wrong, he just orders you to do something in a monotonous voice and never yells.

Today, when you were examining a patient in room 315, Jackson approached with a tortured look—he'd obviously been drinking all night and received a tongue-lashing from Dottore that morning. "Malvina says Dottore wants to see you in the back room," he told you with a hint of malicious amusement, "probably going to rip your head off in private."

You nod briefly, apologize to your patient, and head to the utility room on the first floor. Every instinct tells you to delay the meeting, but you know there's no hiding from Dottore. The elevator ride down feels interminable. Walking down the corridor to the utility room, you wonder why he'd summon you there—this room is for storing supplies, not for disciplinary meetings. This isn't standard protocol. Dottore has never taken anyone there to scold them before.

Your hand trembles slightly as it wraps around the handle. Taking a deep breath, you open the door. Dottore stands inside, leaning against a metal cabinet, his expression unreadable.