Chapter 22
The day after next.
The worst disgrace of my life was far more stubborn and persistent than I’d expected.
Over the course of two days, the primitive nickname “the guy who pulled out a patient’s tooth” had evolved into all kinds of bizarre and insulting forms.
During that time, I was called a dentist, some bastard who wanted to go to dental school, the personal physician of Louis XIV, and more.
Fuck.
Still, I have to go to work.
A slave shackled by a paycheck doesn’t get choices. I changed clothes with dead eyes and got on the bus.
Maybe I should buy a car sometime soon.
Ah, right. I don’t have a license.
This shitty world and the shitty Road Traffic Authority.
6:58 p.m. What a great time to come in for work.
In two minutes, the night shift would officially begin.
Two minutes—short if it’s short and long if it’s long… no, it’s definitely not a long time. Hmm. Right.
The ER’s automatic doors opened. The familiar smell of disinfectant, the unidentified screams, and the dead fish eyes of the sleep-deprived staff. Everything was exactly as usual. I erased my presence as much as possible and headed for the resident office like a ghost.
Mm! Another peaceful night shift arrival! I wonder how many cases will torment me today!
I tried to act cheerful, making jokes to myself in my head that weren’t funny at all as I put down my bag. That was when it happened.
“Oh~”
A painfully familiar voice came from behind me.
“Has the Extraction Man arrived?”
The chief resident, fourth-year Lee Minjae.
Lee Minjae threw an arm around my shoulder with that annoying smile of his.
“What are you pulling out today? A patient’s kidney? Or their gallbladder? If it gets into Han Hyeonjae’s hands, every organ in the body’s getting removed, just like that. Hahaha!”
Funny? You think that’s funny?
I hid my rotting expression and forced an awkward smile. If I went stone-faced here, I’d just earn another shitty title: “the first-year who can’t read the room.”
I didn’t want to become a voluntary loner. I had to live by fawning as much as possible.
I ignored Lee Minjae and sat down in the seat in front of the station computer, turning my gaze to the monitor.
[Adult ER Bed Status Board]
[23/33]
Mm! Holy shit!
What a mess right from the start!
That meant 23 of the 33 beds were already occupied. It was still before the previous shift had even gone home, and it was already like this. If even a few more patients came in tonight, we’d have to set up gurneys in the hallway and treat them there.
Just as I was sighing while checking the emergency medical status board, fourth-year Lee Minjae came over beside me and said,
“Han Hyeonjae, come here.”
Lee Minjae sat me down in front of the computer.
“From now on, edit the emergency medical status board messages exactly as I tell you. This is very important, so don’t miss a single word.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Now, follow along slowly and type it in.”
His voice was low and serious.
“First, delete the message saying ENT can’t provide night emergency care….”
My fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
“Huh? All of a sudden?”
“This time, ENT
(*Ear, Nose, and Throat, otolaryngology)
has changed something—maybe the on-call rotation, maybe staffing. Either way, since then they’ve been very willing to take night calls. Good for us.”
At least ENT had returned to night duty again. I could practically hear the difficulty of my night shift—where I was the first to see patients—shooting straight up.
I hurriedly logged into the emergency medical status board and started editing the ER messages.
[ENT: 24-hour emergency care available]
The next order came down.
“And change hematology-oncology to say they can only accept follow-up patients from our hospital…
“Yes, yes!”
[Hematology-Oncology: Emergency care available only for F/U patients from our hospital]
Tap-tap-tap.
“And write that the pediatric respiratory subspecialty can’t see patients because there’s no attending doctor…
“Y-yes!”
They say we’re in an era of low birthrates, but the pediatric doctors are the first to be wiped out. Thanks to that, I could already picture myself arguing with parents tonight as I sent their wheezing little kids to another hospital.
[Pediatrics: Pediatric respiratory subspecialty unavailable (no attending physician)]
“And change ophthalmology issues to say we can’t take them at all.”
“Y-yes.”
I answered in a soulless voice and hammered away at the keyboard. So the rumor that ophthalmology’s on-call system had completely broken down was true. From now on, any patient who came in saying something got in their eye or that their eye hurt would have to be sent away by us ourselves.
[Ophthalmology: Emergency care absolutely unavailable]
All the edits were done.
Lee Minjae gave the screen I’d edited a quick once-over and nodded, looking satisfied.
“Done. Good job.”
At least, the start was peaceful.
The ER bed status board was flaunting that shitty 23/33 number, but none of them were critically ill patients who needed a doctor’s attention right away.
Most of the patients were either stable, waiting for test results, or going through admission procedures.
I sat in a corner of the station.
If only nothing happened until quitting time.
Truu-ru-ru-ru-
The phone started ringing.
Without thinking, I picked up the receiver.
“Hello, this is the ER.”
“Um… my athlete’s foot has been really bad for three days….”
From the other end of the receiver came a very serious, desperate man’s voice.
“…“
I was speechless for a moment.
Athlete’s foot? He’s calling the ER right now because his athlete’s foot is bad? What is wrong with this guy.
It was the same level of nonsense as, “Hello? Is this 119? I just got bitten by a mosquito.”
“This is the ER.”
I replied in a cold, AI-like voice to signal my refusal. Then, before the other person could say anything else, I hung up.
Click.
Yeah, peaceful. So peaceful, fuck.
It hadn’t even been a full minute since I started staring vacantly into space again.
Truu-ru-ru-ru-ru-
The phone rang again. I didn’t want to answer it this time. But there was no way to ignore a phone that kept ringing, so terribly enough, I picked up again with a deep sigh.
“Hello, this is the ER.”
“Hey! Guys, we’ve got a big problem! My friend was messing around and stuck a grape jelly candy in my nostril, and it won’t come out! I can still breathe though!”
From the other end of the receiver came the frantic voice of a young man who sounded like he was about to cry. Behind that, I could faintly hear the laugh of his thoughtless friend, going, “Hey, sorry! Hehehe!”
Grape jelly candy. Nostril.
I pressed my temple hard. A case the new ENT professor would like was already waiting, huh.
This was definitely an emergency. It was a foreign object blocking the airway.
I answered in the most businesslike voice I could manage.
“…Come in first. But the wait is going to be really long.”
That wasn’t a lie. There were already more than twenty patients waiting. We’d only be able to remove the grape jelly after seeing all of them. By then, it’d be lucky if the jelly hadn’t melted and started running out like snot.
I hung up and looked up at the ceiling. God, Buddha, Allah.
Why are you putting me through this trial?
My prayers didn’t reach anyone. Instead of an answer, God sent a third phone call.
Truu-ru-ru-ru-
What kind of idiot would it be this time? I lifted the receiver, having given up on everything.
“I’d like to get a hangover-recovery vitamin injection—can the ER prescribe that?”
This time it was the voice of a very cultured, calm middle-aged man. But the content was anything but cultured.
I didn’t even feel it was worth answering.
“…This is the ER.”
Click.
I set down the receiver and sank deep into my chair.
Why the hell are there so many phone villains today?
I shook my head and once again began to seriously contemplate this crazy world.
‘If I keep grinding like this, will I actually be left with anything?’
With a hollow laugh, I suddenly thought of my one and only reward system.
Sigh… I should check how many points I got.
I opened the gallery window as usual.
If I thought about what I’d done, it should have piled up quite a bit, right? The myocardial infarction case was huge. Maybe around 800 LP?
I stared at the [Held LP] section. Then I couldn’t believe my eyes.
[1,522 LP]
…? Oh?
I was happier than when 15 million won got deposited into my account. No, maybe not that much. Anyway, I was insanely happy.
What had I even done again?
I traced back through the memories of the past few days. In my mind, the faces of the patients I’d dealt with flashed past like a lantern reel.
Ah, right, the myocardial infarction and…
That old man who complained of a sore throat. A ticking time bomb with an inferior wall infarction and right ventricular infarction that I nearly sent home with nothing but cold medicine. That was probably the bulk of the points.
And the dried-seaweed man…
That guy who came in after scarfing down dried seaweed like a snack and turned the ER upside down. I panicked thinking it was a bowel obstruction, then ended up handing him off to Gastroenterology. Still, apparently it counted as medical treatment in the end. I’d learned a new fact: even absurdly stupid cases get points attached to them.
And Buldak Man…
That crazy bastard who tried to self-harm with capsaicin. What did I even do for him? Ah, I couldn’t even get a vein properly and handed him off to the nurse. Still, maybe the system recognized me for ordering fluids, giving painkillers, and kindly telling him where the bathroom was. The system’s more generous than I thought.
Looking at the number 1,522, I fell into a happy dilemma for a moment. What should I do with it? Drink a whole bowl of energy tonic or something?
No.
First, here’s what I’m thinking.
I need to save up 5,000 LP first.
[Possession]
Price: 5,000 LP
Description: For 30 minutes, a gallery user you designate can possess your body, or float beside you in midair and guide you in real time.
A broken skill.
You never know. There might be a time when I’m in desperate trouble and need a procedure, and my hands might be complete garbage then.
I was still a half-baked doctor. I could borrow a brain, but not hands.
Even just thirty minutes would be an enormous amount of time for both the patient and me.
5,000 LP was by no means an expensive price to pay for that.
Until that day, well.
I’d better work hard.