"Sorry, but we've oversold the seats in this flight. We'll give you a compensation. Please get off the plane right now."

The manager of the airline company keeps a firm grip on my luggage.

I look at him coldly before turning to look at the woman, who's covered in branded apparel from head to toe. After all, the manager has just welcomed her onto the plane.

"Why does that latecomer get to board the plane? Meanwhile, I'm the one who's bought my own ticket at the regular price, am the one who gets kicked off the plane!"

The manager chortles in return. He lowers his voice before mocking me, "That's because she's Kellie Castille, the heiress of the top-tier medical conglomerate in Jorleton! She's in a hurry to travel to Jorleton to hire the mysterious miracle doctor in order to save her life!

"I don't care how urgent your matter is—there's no way it can be even more urgent than Ms. Castille's! If you cause any sort of delay to her business, nothing you do can ever make it up to her! Now hurry up and get off the plane!"

A few security guards drag me off the plane forcibly. Just like that, I'm forced to watch the door close before my eyes.

Fury courses through my veins at that moment.

According to the manager, that Kellie woman is afflicted with a terminal disease.

What he doesn't know is that I'm the "mysterious miracle doctor" who the Castilles have been begging for the past three months to accept their request. Today is the day I finally agree to fly to Jorleton in order to perform the life-saving surgery on Kellie.

Since Kellie has already kicked me off the flight, I won't be going through with the surgery, then.

Kellie can go to hell for all I care!

Step by step, I dragged my suitcase toward the ticket counter.

"I want a refund," I said as I slapped my ID on the counter, my voice thick with annoyance.

The staff at the counter glanced at the screen, then looked me up and down before rolling her eyes.

"Sorry, but this counts as a no-show due to personal reasons. We can only refund the fuel surcharge and infrastructure fees, which come to 120 dollars. We can't refund the full fare."

An angry scoff escaped me. "Personal reasons? Your airline overbooked the flight and forcibly removed paying passengers. You call that 'personal reasons'?"

The staff's fingers hammered on the keyboard loudly, impatience written all over her face.

"Who told you to make such a huge scene in the cabin and disrupt everyone? You should be grateful that you even got the refund of 120 dollars. Don't push it!"

Just then, the sound of leather shoes echoed closer. The airline manager from earlier—Barney Vadusky—strode over arrogantly, holding up his phone and filming me.

"Look at this cheapskate person trying to extort money from the airline. He's that desperate! Don't you just want more compensation? Stop pretending to be all high and mighty!" he said, sneering while crossing his arms.

"What? 120 dollars isn't enough for you? I'll post this online and let everyone see what a pathetic loser you are. Maybe some kind-hearted person will crowdfund some money for you!"

I stared at his extremely arrogant expression, trying hard to force down my rage.

"You'll regret what you did today."

Barney laughed as if he'd just heard the funniest joke, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Regret? You think someone like you—a poor loser who can't even afford first class and has to squeeze into economy—can make me regret anything?

"Ms. Castille booked the entire first-class cabin, and even her bodyguards are sitting in business class! Who do you think you are?"

He suddenly spun around and shouted toward the passengers walking through the terminal.

"Everyone, take a look at this person here! Not only did he refuse to cooperate with the airline on an overbooked flight, but he even tried to extort our airline!

"And now, he's causing a huge scene at the counter and seriously impacting everyone's travels. He's truly a menace to society!"

The passengers nearby were instantly drawn in, pointing and whispering.

"He's dressed like a decent person. Who knew he'd have no class?"

"Exactly. The airline's already compensated him, but he's still making a fuss. He's just crazy for money."

"Get lost already. Stop embarrassing yourself here!"

I ignored the crowd of onlookers and turned to the staff at the counter.

"A refund is fine," I said. "But you need to clearly state on the refund form, in writing, that the ticket was refunded because seats on your airline were oversold and I was forcibly denied boarding."

I didn't want the Castilles to come looking for me later and think that I had deliberately broken our agreement. I definitely wasn't going to take the fall for this.

Barney's expression darkened, and he slammed his hand on the counter.

"In your dreams! We offered you a solution, and you refused it. Now you want to smear our airline?" he snapped. "Security! Are you all dead? Hurry up and drag this lunatic out of here!"

Several airport security guards rushed over immediately, grabbing my arms firmly from both sides.

"Let go of me!"

I struggled desperately, but they didn't listen and dragged me straight toward the airport exit.

As we passed Barney, I couldn't help but warn him, "You'd better remember my face and every single word you said today. Soon, you'll be crawling to me and begging me."

However, not only was he not intimidated, but he even kicked my suitcase over. The already damaged suitcase burst open, spilling my clothes—and the specially prepared medication—across the ground.

Barney stomped on the medicine bottle, crushing it, and the custom-made pills inside instantly turned to powder.

Crap! That was the medicine I'd specially made for Kellie Castille—and it was the only batch! Without it, there was no way she'd be able to survive the post-surgery recovery period.

"Oh dear, my bad," Barney said sarcastically from behind.

Countless phone cameras instantly pointed at me, and waves of mocking laughter drowned me from all sides.

I was thrown out of the terminal and landed hard on the concrete. Then, Barney tossed my suitcase at me, as if he were throwing out the trash.

"Take your junk and get lost! If you cause any more trouble, we'll call the police and report you for public disturbance!"

Just then, my phone started vibrating wildly. I'd just answered it when a barrage of accusations came through the line.

"What is going on with you? The plane took off ages ago. I checked the passenger manifest, but your name isn't on it at all!"

It was Louis Pomeroy, the Castille family's butler. His tone was full of disdain and arrogance.

"The Castilles made a significant effort to hire you, and we've even transferred the deposit. And now you're pulling a stunt like this at such a critical time?

"Who do you think you are to make the Castilles wait for you? If it weren't for your surgical skills, do you really think you'd be qualified to treat the young Ms. Castille?"

I wanted to explain that it was the airline's problem, but he refused to listen.

"I'm warning you—Ms. Castille's condition is terminal, and it can't be delayed. If you don't show up in Jorleton Mercy Hospital's OR before nightfall today, don't blame us for what happens next!

"You dare take our money and not go through with the job? Believe me when I say that I can make sure you'll never work in the medical field again!"

The call was abruptly hung up, leaving only the dial tone echoing in my ear.

Swallowing my anger, I called Louis back. As soon as the call connected, his impatient voice came through.

"What else do you have to say? Figure out a way to charter a plane and get over here!"

"No need," I said coldly. "If you want to know why I didn't board the plane, go ask the airline manager of the flight Ms. Castille was on."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

With that, I hung up.

Then I opened my banking app, found the three million dollars the Castilles had deposited earlier as a show of sincerity, and refunded it in full.

In the payment reference field, I just wrote: "Find someone else."

Three million dollars might be an astronomical sum to others, but to me, it wasn't enough to make up for the humiliation I'd suffered that day.

After doing all that, I blocked every contact from the Castille family, completely cutting off all ties with them.

Looking at the custom-made medicine that had been crushed into powder, I let out a cold scoff.

Kellie Castille… Your life is no longer my concern.

I hailed a taxi and went straight back to the hospital.

I'd just sat down in my office when my phone started vibrating frantically again. The moment I answered, Michael Rodan, the hospital director, roared at me.

"Darryl Bishop! What on earth are you doing? The Castilles called me directly! They said you caused trouble at the airport and even tried to attack Ms. Castille!

"The airline manager had no choice but to remove you from the flight to protect her. And not only are you unapologetic, you even returned their deposit?"

I froze for a second before snapping back to my senses. A laugh escaped me.

Barney's ability to twist the story was really something else. To shirk responsibility for overselling the flight, he even fabricated such a lie.

What was even more ridiculous was that the Castilles didn't even bother to verify anything before just buying into the whole nonsense.

"Mrs. Castille Senior has spoken. She wants you to get yourself to Jorleton immediately, beg Ms. Castille for forgiveness, and arrange the surgery at once!

"If you dare refuse, I'll fire you immediately!"

I ignored the shrieking on the other end. Pulling out a blank sheet of paper, I quickly wrote my resignation letter. Then, I headed upstairs and pushed open the door to the director's office.

Michael, still holding his phone, was startled to see me walk in.

I slapped the resignation letter loudly onto his desk.

"There's no need for you to fire me. I quit."

He stared at the resignation letter with wide eyes. "Have you lost your mind? Do you think resigning will get you out of this?"

I leaned forward, bracing both hands on the desk, and looked down at him.

"Dr. Rodan, I've been exhausted lately. I plan to go out of town for a long vacation. As for my medical license, if the Castilles have the power to revoke it, then they're welcome to try. And if they want to blacklist me, they can go ahead as well."

With that, I turned around and strode out.

"Stop right there! Come back!" Michael roared behind me, powerless to do anything else.

But I didn't look back and walked straight out of his office.

By my calculations, it was about time. Kellie had only been holding on because of the special medication I'd prepared for her. Now that there was no medication left, and she was 35 thousand feet up in the air, it was about time for her condition to flare up.

I went home, turned off my phone, drew the curtains, and went straight to sleep.

…

Early the next morning, I turned my phone back on to find it filled with missed calls from the Castille family.

Immediately after, a local number I didn't recognize came in. As soon as I answered, a familiar voice sounded.

"Dr. Bishop! Please hurry back to the airport! Ms. Castille started vomiting blood on the plane and lost consciousness! The airline has approved a complimentary business-class seat for you and will take you straight to Jorleton!"

It was Barney, the airline manager from yesterday.

I scoffed and called him out mercilessly.

"Complimentary business class? Didn't you say that I was a broke loser who only deserved to be kicked off the plane?"

"Cut the crap!" he snapped anxiously, his tone still as overbearing as before. "The Castilles are pressuring the airline now. If I lose my job because of you, I won't go easy on you! Get your ass over here right now!"

I hung up without saying another word and blocked the number while I was at it.

But less than half an hour later, a loud, frantic pounding suddenly sounded at my door, accompanied by a strong, pungent smell.