Chapter 83 I Next
What is a stroke?
The instant Raciel comprehended this, his heart dropped heavily. Memories from over a decade ago emerged suddenly.
He had made an effort to avoid pondering over it. As time had gone by, the recollection had grown dim. The wounds from that period had only left a vague mark. Consequently, he believed he was okay at this point. The past no longer haunted him. That was his self-reassurance.
However, at this moment, with no means to manage it, the memory of that day resurfaced forcefully.
The day his father collapsed. The instant he received the news too late. His pitiable appearance on that day. His regrettable actions. These memories resurfaced vividly, unrelentingly, without end.
Damn.
He reminisced about that time.
How many calls had come from his mother? But he didnt know. He was playing a game. The noise in the PC room that day contributed to it. The game was going exceptionally well. No, rather, it was mostly his pitiful fault.
Finally, he dialed his mothers number. He thought of saying he was studying late and was unaware of her calls. He wanted to claim he had put his phone on silent. He prepared these blatant lies and then phoned her.
Yet, the moment his mother picked up the call. The moment he heard her unfamiliar, trembling voice. All the meticulously crafted falsehoods shattered like fragile glass, turning into mere fragments.
His mother informed him that his father had collapsed. He was in the hospital. It was a stroke, she said. And in his impulsive response, the first words that escaped his lips were those.
He inquired about what a stroke was.
His legs were already in motion, though. His heart raced even faster. What did he say to his friends who were with him? How did he flag down a taxi and what were his words? He still couldnt recollect it clearly.
However, one memory remained distinct. His fathers face, lying in a white hospital bed, in an unimaginable state.
And that face, almost precisely
Why are you. Emperor, you. Why does your expression mirror the one my father had back then?
Raciel took a deep breath.
He struggled to steady his breathing. He clenched his lips tightly, enduring the numbing pain that pushed away memories from the past. It pushed aside the even more piercing regret that those memories hurled at him.
Get a grip on yourself, you idiot. Is this really the moment to indulge in memories of the past?
He scolded himself and regained his composure. Then, finally, he saw the situation clearly.
The Emperor had collapsed.
He could discern the cause with a quick glance. The muscles on one side of the Emperors face were contorted. He lay helplessly, unable to regain consciousness. His bodys posture was askew and unnatural. The muscles, the nerve signals that commanded them, all twisted.
Stroke. Cerebrovascular Accident.
Raciel turned to the steward and inquired,
What happened?
I believe I can provide an answer.
The steward cautiously stepped back, indicating a middle-aged man. A face Raciel hadnt encountered before. The middle-aged man bowed to Raciel.
I am Pasa, the Emperors personal physician. I greet you, Your Highness.
Start with the explanation of the situation rather than formal greetings. How long has His Majesty been in this state?
It has been one night.
What?
An entire night?
So, the cause?
That is
The cause?
Last night. Following dinner, His Majesty appeared unusually affected by alcohol.
Intoxicated? Unusually? Elaborate.
His Majesty only consumed one glass of wine. However, he exhibited all the signs of being completely inebriated. His speech slurred, his steps faltered. Consequently, we advised him to retire early.
As a result, His Majesty retired to his sleeping quarters. But when we checked on him this morningnove(l)bi(n.)com
He was like this?
Yes, Your Highness.
Theyd consistently probe and prod.
I cant endure such an avalanche of responsibilities. In that case, my tenure would be brief, and Id meet my end.
Raciel felt a deep gravity. This wasnt just about evading work; it was an earnest, life-or-death dilemma.
Im not even in good health. My body remains frail and ailing.
Thus.
His life expectancy barely surpassed 200 days. Amidst intensive medical care for numerous patients, he clung to a fragile existence, barely extending his lifeline.
But what if he suddenly became the emperor? If he were submerged in overwhelming responsibilities? Would he have the time to care for patients?
No, not at all.
Raciel vigorously shook his head.
Looking at the practicalities, there wouldnt be any room for patient care. The opportunity for an extra chance at life wouldnt arise. The chance to extend life expectancy wouldnt materialize.
Death would loom nearer.
Evading it was impossible.
Halting it was out of reach.
Thats the inevitable conclusion.
Swallowing hard, the calculation was finished.
The projection was formed.
The decision was made.
If the emperor dies, Ill meet my end as well.
So, preservation was imperative. It had to happen at any cost. Raciel made a firm commitment and approached the emperors bedside. He steadied his thoughts, then activated the mana circle.
Kiiiing!
He rotated the mana ring enveloping the heart. Simultaneously, he initiated the meridian scanning function.
Beginning with a diagnosis.
Tstsstssts-!
He intensified his focus. Singular target. His gaze remained fixed solely on the prone emperor.
The cause of the stroke is crucial. Please, anything but a hemorrhage.
Internally, Raciel fervently beseeched.
A stroke is broadly categorized into two types. One is hemorrhagic, caused by the rupture of cerebral vessels and such.
The other is ischemic, wherein blood vessels are obstructed, leading to a halt in blood and oxygen supply to the brain due to thrombosis and atherosclerosis.
Which presents a higher fatality rate? Generally, hemorrhagic strokes are considered more perilous.
Please. Please.
Raciels eyes moved rapidly. He meticulously inspected the emperors cranium. Like undergoing a CT scan. Like undergoing an MRI. He delved into every recess within the skull. Yet, he could discern no distinct site of hemorrhage.
So, the deduction is an ischemic stroke.
But it was too premature to feel relief.
Which blood vessel had become obstructed? Thus, in which section of the brain had the oxygen supply been disrupted, causing brain tissue damagereferred to as cerebral infarction? He needed to establish that. Only then could he gauge the prospects of recovery and devise a treatment strategy.
Raciel intensified his concentration even more.
To an unprecedented level, to the extent that his head ached and his eyes grew rigid. Not a single blink escaped him. He vowed to overlook no minuscule hint, even from the tiniest capillary. He honed his focus. Enhanced his concentration further. Deeper. To the limit. And beyond.
And ultimately, he unearthed it.
What is this? This isnt a naturally occurring clot, is it?
With this realization, vigor surged into his grip.
(To be Continued)
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