The fluorescent lights humming above cast a sterile, almost spectral glow on the operating room. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic fumes, a familiar, almost comforting scent in this world of life and death we navigated within Japan's needy and understaffed nationwide medical system. Today, the symphony of beeps and chirps from the patient's vital signs monitor was accompanied by a quiet hum of anxious anticipation. Jin, a salaryman from Nagoya, lay before us, his body a battleground against an insidious enemy – the Rosalia bacteria.

'Ready, Emu?' I asked, my voice muffled by the surgical mask. "This guy's body is being ravaged by Twisted Rosalia, or 'Rosalia' for short. This isn't no cakewalk..."

"Rodger," Emu replied. "Those monstrous microbes are no match for top-notch surgeons like us, as long as We're SUPER careful. I still work in pediatrics, but only on weekends... I didn't master surgery for nothing!" Right before the procedure began, we adjusted Jin's IVF bag into his arm, resupplying his body with blood in case of major blood loss. Blood type of Jin: B.

Jin's spinal cord and lungs were riddled with tumors, each a festering pocket of hellish, flesh-eating Rosalia, a potent and particularly vile strain of bacteria thst was first observed cannibalizing the wings of Monarch Butterflies over in Mexico and the U.S. The procedure was an incredibly risky event, one mistake could end in severe disability or death.

I knew Emu was worried. He was always too trusting, too eager to believe in the good in people, at least before his surgeon degree. I, on the other hand, saw the world for what it was – a game, a simulation, a battleground for the strong to survive. Weaklings shall be fed to the lions, some say. And I, Kuroto Dan, was the strongest player. Me playing and beating the hardest levels of the Atlus game "Byoin 6/Trauma Team" and surgery games, without needing any game guides nor cheat engines, alongside mastering surgical training in college, really pays off in a country facing a serious labor shortage and needy population.

As I began the spinal cord surgery, the sight of the tumors nestled deep within the delicate nerve bundles, sent a shiver down my spine. They were grotesque, pulsating masses, oozing a viscous black pus. With each tumor removed, the stench of decay grew stronger, clinging to my mask, seeping into my senses. Akin to smelling the putrid, dried-up-remains sticking to the floors of deceased lonely people across Japan - a hellish reality for Kansai Cleaning Service and related house-cleaning providers. These tumors smelled like decaying flesh - no surprise, as Rosalia microbes can't get enough muscle tissue and organ tissue to satisfy their ruthless hunger.

"Emu," I spoke, "make sure I don't jitter too much during this next step. This tumor is HUGE!"

"Rodger that," Emu replied. "Good thing I have Chamomile Tea Lozenges if you need them." He let me have a lozenge, and I carefully suckled on the herbal candy inside my mouth, my tongue moving it around with my mouth closed. I wrapped a hair-thin thread around the gigantic bacterial lump, in hopes of carefully extracting it and discarding it into the "Biohazard Disposal" box.

BLAM!

Then, it happened. As I extracted the largest tumor, it exploded, spewing a torrent of putrid black pus. The stench was unbearable, suffocating. I felt it seep into my mask, coating my face, the taste of it bitter on my tongue. I discarded the contaminated mask, replaced it with a new one equipped with a powerful built-in disinfectant against all kinds of ghoulish microbes, but the feeling of that foulness lingered in my sinuses and my guts. I had to gently cleanse the spinal cord with antibiotic gel and collagen gel, to prevent further nervous system damage in Jin's ailing body. One spinal cord injury - even a tiny mishap - could leave Jin paraplegic or wheelchair-bound, requiring months, if not years of physical therapy and other grueling treatments, as well as Jin becoming unemployable. At worst, Jin could've lost his life in the blink of an eye.

While I worked on the spinal cord, Emu was busy in the patient's lungs, using a specialized endoscope to remove the tumors. The procedure was delicate, requiring a deft hand and steady nerves, both qualities Emu possessed in abundance. Yet, even he couldn't avoid the inevitable. The largest tumor in Jin's lungs, a monstrous mass pushing against his fragile airways, also exploded, spewing a torrent of black slime coating the inner lining of Jin's lungs. Jin's heart rate dramatically spiked, his life on the line.

"My god!" Emu shouted, frantically searching for the right ointment and suction tools. "Kuroto, I need the suction tube and antibiotic ointment!"

I sprang into action. An emergency suction tube was inserted -suckling up the disgusting black Rosalia slime til none was left - followed by a generous dose of antibiotic gel, evened out throughout the lungs' mucus membranes. It was a desperate gambit, a last-ditch effort to prevent the infection from overwhelming Jin's already weakened body.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the room was palpable. Emu, his brow furrowed, worked diligently, removing the remaining smaller tumors from Jin's lungs. The procedure was long and arduous, but he persevered, his movements precise and controlled. No further mishaps occurred, what a relief.

Finally, the last tumor was removed. A collective sigh of relief echoed in the sterile room. Jin, pale and weak but alive, was wheeled to recovery. He had survived, a testament to Emu's skill and my unwavering determination.

"We did it Kuroto," Emu spoke. "We saved Jin's life from those nasty Rosalia tumors."

"Thanks to both of us," I replied, "Jin should recover swiftly, returning to his job as a salaryman."

As I watched hospital staff - most of them from Vietnam - wheel Jin into the recovery room, I couldn't help but feel a strange satisfaction. I had played my part, a part that pushed the boundaries of life and death, a part that danced with the abyss. In the end, it was Emu who had saved Jin, but I, Kuroto Dan, had shown him the true face of mortality, the terrifying beauty of the game. A game that I, the master player, controlled.

[model: toolbaz_v3] heavily.edited by me after AI wrote it.