Chapter 77
How much time had passed?
Lee Minjae said he'd head out first and left the ER.
His footsteps faded, and silence returned.
Slowly, I opened the blue window.
What was it like over there?
Sure enough, the gallery was already in a festival mood.
At the very top of the popular-posts list was the post by the very culprit who had just borrowed my body.
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Title: Living World Sightseeing Review.txt
Author: The Scalpel God
I went and saved a guy who was practically dying from a traffic accident by blocking his aorta with REBOA.
==================
Below that post, all sorts of comments had already piled up.
Anon (210.94): So you went and did REBOA... rough one, yeah.
Operating Room Ghost 3: I’m soooooooo jealoussssss
Cardiology Ghost: You actually stopped that
Bone Nerd 88: So what am I supposed to do now for real...? Looks like I'm getting dragged before the disciplinary committee again.
I skimmed over the noisy reactions.
Ha... yeah.
I had done well.
I couldn't deny it.
If it hadn't been for The Scalpel God's crazy stunt, that patient would already be a cold corpse in the morgue.
Hell Joseon Slave 1: So what am I supposed to do now for real...? Looks like I'm getting dragged before the disciplinary committee again.
There was a brief silence after my comment.
ㄴ The Scalpel God: Hold on, gimme a sec
The Scalpel God left a short reply and vanished.
I stared at the screen uneasily.
What was he plotting now?
There was no way he was going to say something ridiculous like, “I’ll take all the responsibility.”
You’re already dead, you old bastard.
And then, a little later.
A new post went up in the gallery.
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Title: Look, Hell Slave ㅇㅇ
Author: The Scalpel God
==================
I swallowed dryly and clicked on the post.
In the center of the screen was a stick figure drawn with atrocious Paint skills, looking vaguely familiar, with its head smashed into the floor.
Grand bow.
The most dramatic apology pose in the world.
And beneath the drawing were three short lines of text.
==================
I'm really sorry.
I hope you stay strong.
But at least I didn’t use informal speech this time.
==================
….
I looked at that screen and couldn't say anything. Should I laugh, cry, or wring the neck of that Paint stick figure?
You didn't use informal speech?
Yeah, I didn't.
Except when I told you to keep quiet so I could concentrate.
That's a huge leap forward.
I'm almost moved to tears.
With a hollow laugh, I buried my face in my hands.
I scrubbed my face in frustration.
Well done, you son of a bitch....
I rode home in the back of a taxi like a corpse.
The moment I opened the officetel door and stepped inside, I sat down on the entryway floor without even taking off my socks.
Everything was over.
At least for today.
Ding-
Then my phone in my pocket rang briefly.
The moment I checked the screen, everything went white.
The caller was the Education and Training Department.
[Education and Training Department] Resident Han Hyeonjae, second-year Emergency Medicine resident. Regarding today's interventional procedure performed in the ER, a training committee meeting will be held tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. in the 14th-floor conference room of the East Building. Please attend punctually.
…Tomorrow?
What the hell?
Are they insane?
When I sliced open the abdomen last time, at least I had a few days' grace.
There was time to write a report, for rumors to spread, and for me to prepare myself mentally.
But this time?
A day?
They're calling me in after less than a day?
Last time they gave me a little grace period, so why are they doing this now?
Don't tell me they're planning to brand me a reactionary(?) and send me off for good this time?
Yes, I was certain.
That meant the hospital had decided to screw me over on purpose!
Two major incidents.
Repeat offender.
A time bomb.
“Aaaagh! No! I’m fucked!!!”
I slammed my head into the entryway floor and screamed.
Is this the end?
Was I really going to come to such a meaningless end as only a second-year?
No.
I still couldn't give up.
I had to survive somehow.
Which meant...
With trembling hands, I opened the window once more.
My only hope.
Hell Joseon Slave 1: Hey!!!! You bastard, The Scalpel God!!!!! Get out here right now!!!!! I'm getting dragged before the training committee tomorrow!!!!!
At my frantic summons, The Scalpel God, followed by a whole host of ghosts, came swarming in while munching popcorn.
And so, all night long, I prepared my defense with The Scalpel God.
I tried to build a case for survival out of every scrap of advice and excuse I could wring from my own brain.
I didn't get a wink of sleep.
Riddled with muscle pain and anxiety, I greeted the morning like that.
***
The next day.
Hallway outside the Education and Training Department conference room on the 14th floor of the East Building.
I was standing there in the most presentable semi-formal outfit I had ironed all night.
My palms were damp with sweat, and my heart was pounding like mad.
Thump-thump.
“Haa….”
Just as I was catching my breath, the conference room door opened.
A staff member from the Education and Training Department called me in with a blank expression.
“Resident Han Hyeonjae, please come in.”
I swallowed dryly and took heavy steps forward.
The scene inside the conference room was astonishingly similar to last year.
A long, heavy table.
And several professors seated around it.
In the center sat Professor O Manseok, still stone-faced.
To either side of him were unfamiliar internal medicine and surgery professors.
And in the far corner on my side of the table was our department chair, Park Woong, as always.
I stood in front of the table.
My legs were shaking.
Professor O Manseok lifted his eyes from the papers and looked at me.
“…Resident Han. Didn’t we go through something similar last year too?”
‘Yeah, right. What a fucking honor it is to see you again, Professor.’
I bowed deeply, doing my best to look polite and guilty.
“I’m terribly sorry to be seeing you again over something like this, Professor.”
I held my breath and waited for Professor O Manseok’s next words.
Every word out of his mouth held my life and death in its hands.
Suspension? Pay cut? Training suspension? Dismissal?
Professor O Manseok started flipping through a stack of documents.
What on earth were those papers?
If I asked to see them, would he show me?
After carefully unfolding and checking the huge stack of papers one by one, Professor O adjusted his glasses and opened his mouth.
“This committee hereby announces that it has deliberated as follows regarding resident Han Hyeonjae’s REBOA procedure.”
…?
Wait, hold on, you're starting with the conclusion without even giving me a chance to defend myself?
No, where does that happen?
This time, the hospital really did seem determined to send me packing.
With a resigned expression, I swallowed dryly.
The day had come.
“First, according to this hospital’s internal regulations and training rules, REBOA is considered part of the trauma resuscitation process, and emergency medicine residents may participate in a limited capacity under the direct supervision of a clinical instructor or staff physician. Although it is extremely unusual for a second-year resident to perform it in a leading role, we have confirmed that it is not an act that is completely prohibited by the rules.”
…Yes? Wait, there was a rule like that?
Hold on, something’s going weird here?
Is this buildup?
A buildup just so they can hit me even harder?
“Second, at the time, Emergency Medicine Clinical Instructor Lee Minjae was serving as team leader and overseeing the scene, so the procedure can be regarded as having been carried out under the supervision of a board-certified emergency medicine physician.”
They believed me, but... could you really call that supervision?
No, wait, the situation is really going in a strange direction.
“Third, the most critical and dangerous step of the procedure—namely, final catheter placement and balloon inflation—was performed under the direct guidance of Professor Jeon Taejeong’s trauma surgery team after Professor Jeon arrived. The part carried out by Resident Han Hyeonjae was limited to the initial vascular access and guidewire insertion, and it is difficult to say that the resident directly handled the procedure from start to finish.”
No, wait. Even the positioning was all done by The Scalpel God?
Professor Jeon Taejeong only took the wire—no, even that was done the way The Scalpel God instructed him to.
No, if you want to be technical, then maybe Professor Jeon really did do all of it...?
My head started to spin.
The training committee's logic was airtight.
Regulations, supervision, distributed responsibility.
My head was starting to swim a bit.
Professor O Manseok checked the final document and handed down the final ruling.
“Therefore, taking the above reasons into comprehensive consideration, although Resident Han Hyeonjae’s conduct was procedurally clumsy and extremely dangerous, we cannot say that he clearly violated the rules or single-handedly carried out a medical procedure. Furthermore, taking into account that he ultimately made a decisive contribution to saving the patient’s life....”
Professor O paused and looked around at all the committee members, myself included.
“This training committee will therefore vote to take no disciplinary action on this matter.”
And then Professor O lifted the small gavel on the desk and tapped the table lightly.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
I couldn’t understand what I was hearing.
No disciplinary action?
Just letting it go as if nothing happened?
Does that make any sense?
I raised my head.
Across the table, I met the eyes of Professor Jeon Taejeong, who was seated in a far corner and watching all of this unfold.
His face was still expressionless, but his eyes seemed to carry some complex, meaningful message.
Was it an implicit sign that I owed him one this time? Or a warning that next time I’d get no mercy?
I couldn’t make out the meaning of that gaze.
What on earth was going on?