Rest

I leaned back against the taxi's back seat.

Hmm... still, today's a day off.

Right. A day off.

At least until the sun rises tomorrow, I have the right to stay away from the hell called the hospital.

For now, let's shove the bad news into the trash can in my head and enjoy this short, precious rest.

What should I do.

Go home, take a hot shower, heat up a frozen pizza, and eat it with beer?

Or just mindlessly scroll Shorts and fall asleep?

As I was spinning up that happiness circuit, one thought popped into my head.

Anything new up on the gallery?

Because I was bored?

No. It's a habit.

Maybe even an addiction.

Maybe I've gotten to the point where I can't end the day without those ridiculous conversations with these crazy ghosts.

A blue interface floated up out of the darkness.

As expected, the popular posts list was plastered with nothing but my story. One title in particular caught my eye.

[Analysis] Ways Hell Slave Won't Get Screwed…txt

Oh, now this is a little interesting.

In a situation where everyone is certain of my downfall, they're daring to discuss ways I won't get screwed?

What kind of lunatic wrote this?

I clicked the post.

[Dead Medic Gallery]

=============

[Analysis] Ways Hell Slave Won't Get Screwed…txt

Author : ㅇㅇ (39.7)

There isn't one, lol.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The moment that crazy scalpel fiend possessed you twice, you were already out of the running, lol.

Your doctor life?

Yeah~ gone~ lol.

=============

Pfft.

I let out an involuntary snort of laughter.

Go ahead and mock me all you want.

I didn't get disciplined, after all.

It's no disciplinary action, you idiots.

What do you know.

I flipped them off and scrolled down.

There were plenty of other posts too.

Was there really no other way to save the patient besides REBOA? [19]

[Analysis] I checked the Hell Slave REBOA case for appropriateness, ㅇㅇ [8]

Zone 1 REBOA complications: a complete roundup (must-read for Hell Slaves) [3]

Oh... well, it's full of posts about me.

I clicked the post asking whether there really wasn't another way.

[Comments]

God of the Scalpel : There wasn't. As far as I could tell, that was the only path.

ㄴ Cardiology Ghost : Well, shouldn't you have started ECMO first?

ㄴ God of the Scalpel : By the time we went to ECMO, the patient had already arrested, you heart-obsessed idiot.

Hmm, the analysis post below that too.

[Dead Medic Gallery]

=============

[Analysis] I checked the Hell Slave REBOA case for appropriateness, ㅇㅇ [8]

Author : Operating Room Ghost 3

1. Initial assessment and MTP activation : Good. (nice)

2. Trauma surgery call timing : Reasonable. (reasonable)

3. Decision to perform REBOA : Controversial but inevitable. (controversial but inevitable)

4. Choice of operator : Fucking crazy. (*insane?)

5. Result : Miracle. (miracle)

[Comments]

ㅇㅇ(118.235) : Burst out laughing at #4

Hmm, my crazy stunt.

No, wait—God of the Scalpel's crazy antics were blowing up on the gallery.

Hold on.

Something felt off.

It felt like the air in the car had suddenly grown heavy.

I glanced at the rearview mirror.

The driver kept glancing at me in the mirror.

I touched my face.

What if I hadn't kept my expression under control?

Laughing by myself while reading gallery posts.

Then frowning and muttering curses under my breath.

To anyone else, I must have looked like a total nutcase.

The nightmare from last year's bus ride came back to me.

[The person next to me is weird;; did they just get discharged from the psych ward?]

...Hmm, I probably looked like a lunatic again today.

I cleared my throat and straightened up.

And I pretended to stare out the window at the night skyline, trying to look as normal as possible.

Let's be careful.

I've been playing around with ghosts for so long that I may be losing my grip on reality without even realizing it.

Ssshh—haa.

With my body sunk into the taxi's leather back seat, I let out a long breath as I watched the night scenery flash by outside the window.

I had also been avoiding buses lately because I hated misunderstandings.

Ever since the heroic incident last year when I saved a stroke-stricken grandmother on a bus, I had become extremely reluctant to use public transportation.

The incident itself had been good, but I realized that the sight of me staring into space, muttering to myself, and laughing alone made me look like a complete lunatic to the people around me.

Even the taxi driver had been sneaking glances at me today.

Besides, maybe it's because I feel like I've got that Fanta vibe.

Fanta.

Medical staff who ride patients.

A hospital slang term for people who, wherever they go, somehow attract emergency patients or get caught up in especially unlucky incidents.

Well, I don't believe in superstitions, but when I look back on my past two years as a doctor....

Hmm.

I couldn't help feeling that all the crazy incidents one might experience once in a lifetime were somehow concentrating on me alone.

Laparotomies, REBOA, TTP, child abuse reports.

Could this really all be a coincidence?

I had recently realized that ghosts really existed, a fact even more absurd than anything in this world's medical textbooks.

Maybe I really do have some kind of bad luck perched on my shoulder?

Or are those crazy ghosts living in my head the ones dragging disaster around with them?

While I was mulling over that pointless philosophy, the taxi came to a stop in front of the familiar officetel building.

The driver only let out a relieved sigh, as if he'd finally set down some dangerous cargo, after making sure I'd gotten all the way out.

I stood alone on the empty road and looked up at the old building I lived in.

The air in this officetel.

So good.

A peace that couldn't even compare to the hospital.

My own space, where the smell of disinfectant was mixed with the smell of the hamburger I'd ordered yesterday.

If it smells weird, it's just my imagination.

And so, on my way home, I decided to share the miraculous victory I'd just secured from the training committee with my only audience.

[Dead Medic Gallery]

=============

Guys, I didn't get disciplined, ㅇㅇ. No disciplinary action, GG.

Author: Hell Joseon Slave 1

I was just called in by the training committee, and the result was no disciplinary action. No punishment at all.

Under the internal regulations, REBOA wasn't even something emergency medicine couldn't do (of course, under supervision)

And I hadn't violated any patient-safety rules either

And crucially, since the surgery professor handled the finish, it was hard to say I had 'personally' performed the procedure.

Since I'd only been involved in the resuscitation room in a limited capacity, they somehow let it slide.

[Comments]

ㅇㅇ (210.94) : ? Anyway, congrats.

Back in my day: Be grateful it was heavenly luck.

Operating Room Ghost 3 : Fact) If that internal rule didn't have the 'under supervision' clause, Hell Slave would've been screwed by now.

ㄴ Hippocrates's Descendant : And who doesn't know that?

ㄴ Operating Room Ghost 3 : Shut up, you internist.

…Well, it's still a shitshow.

I punched in the front door code.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-

With a cheerful electronic chime, the apartment door opened.

I kicked off my shoes however I pleased, tossed my bag aside, and went inside.

My goal was one thing.

Bed.

First, let's lie down.

And then I can watch short-form videos or whatever.

I headed to the bedroom.

Then I flung myself onto the soft mattress.

Ah...

I can finally breathe.

‘The result was good, though.’

I tried to comfort myself and opened the blue interface once more.

I was curious about the reactions to the 'I didn't get disciplined, GG' post I'd just made.

Just then, an unexpected comment caught my eye.

God of the Scalpel : Hey.

Why is this bastard back again?

God of the Scalpel : You remember how I handled the REBOA, right? You were watching with your eyes wide open, weren't you?

Memory? To be honest, I barely remembered anything.

I probably just sat in the very back row of the theater that was my own body, eating popcorn?

ㄴ Hell Joseon Slave 1 : Huh? No? I don't remember. I was basically zoning out.

ㄴ God of the Scalpel : Aaaaaaa???? Hell Slave, what are you even talking about right now

...Uh, that sounded ominous.

God of the Scalpel : You watched it right in front of you and still don't remember, Hell Slave???? Is that what you're saying?????? This body is very angry right now.

ㄴ Hell Joseon Slave 1 : No, man, I told you I wasn't in my right mind.

ㄴ God of the Scalpel : Good. It seems I'll need to reformat your brain. Starting now, God of the Scalpel's crash-course REBOA lecture begins!

Aaaah! No! Fuck!!

A lecture from a crazy surgeon!

…

And so I spent the evening of my day off lying on the bed like a corpse, taking a one-on-one crash course from a ghost instructor.

God of the Scalpel had a 3D human model he'd apparently obtained from who-knows-where floating in front of my eyes, and he explained everything in excruciating detail—from the exact puncture site for the femoral artery to the minute angle adjustments of the guidewire, every fucked-up complication that can happen when inserting the sheath, and the dangers of Zone 1 ballooning and the reasons it still had to be done.

He explained everything in such painstaking detail it felt like bone and flesh were being separated.

In between, he even gave pop quizzes, forcibly shoving the procedure called REBOA into my head.

How much time had passed?

By the time nearly two hours had gone by, the lecture suddenly stopped.

God of the Scalpel : All right! That's it!

Hell Joseon Slave 1 : ? That's it?

God of the Scalpel : Even if I teach you, you still won't be able to do it, ㅇㅇ. I'll go back into your body myself next time and teach you the delicate parts like catheter manipulation and balloon inflation. Be grateful, ㅇㅇ.

God of the Scalpel ended the lecture, acting very generous.

The reason today's class was shorter than expected was that he skipped quite a few parts, saying, 'You'll never be able to do this with your own hands anyway, so next time I'll show you directly and teach you,' and, above all, I was so exhausted that I just answered blankly, pretending to understand.

Once the lecture ended, I strangely felt like some of the fatigue had lifted.

No, maybe the fatigue hadn't lifted at all—I was just a little out of my mind.

I don't know.

And so, though I wouldn't say I felt refreshed, I finally fell asleep in a state that was at least a little better than before.

‘Ah, tomorrow... a night shift.’

Fuck.

Why do days off go by so fast?