Chapter 92
Before I knew it, it was Friday.
The digital clock on the station wall blinked expressionlessly.
[12:41 PM]
Yeah, this morning had been absolutely perfect.
It was so bizarrely peaceful that I could barely believe this was the ER.
My mental state was almost unnaturally calm, too.
Normally by this time, I'd be getting battered by the first wave of the day shift and already falling apart.
The reason was a mix of factors.
First, there weren't many emergency patients, and the ones who did come in usually described their symptoms clearly, so I could handle things cleanly without unnecessary guesswork or tests.
On top of that, not a single troublemaker!
That was the key.
No internet medical experts, no VIP old farts.
What a happy morning that had been.
The god of the ER must have shown me mercy.
And what crowned that perfect morning.
“Mmm...”
Lost in the satisfying fullness rising from deep in my stomach, I let out an exclamation without meaning to.
Osam bulgogi had been served for lunch today.
There were a few dishes that ranked among the GOATs of the cafeteria.
The only salvation for doctors worn down by the hospital, the little joys of life.
They were the perfect trinity of salty, sweet, and spicy.
Representative examples were jeyuk, the crazy-good noodle dishes they sometimes served as a special, and osam bulgogi, which only showed up on days blessed by God like today.
Heh heh.
Chewy squid and tender pork soaked in a spicy, salty sauce.
The perfect combination, born to steal white rice.
As my stomach warmed and my blood sugar rose, the world started looking beautiful.
This is life.
The walk back to the ER after lunch was pure happiness.
I was humming without even realizing it.
All I had to do was survive the afternoon shift, and I could go home.
There was no doubt that nothing would happen today.
Why?
Because I'd eaten a delicious lunch.
“I'm back!”
I hummed as I returned to the station.
“Right, I'll be back too!”
Chief Choi Soo-min, the 4th-year resident, happened to be flipping through charts at the station and stood up.
Clap!
Our palms met crisply.
We'd just finished a high-five full of battle-hardened camaraderie, completing the baton handoff.
I sat down with the happiest face a second-year could possibly have.
Yeah, let this peace continue through the afternoon, too.
Now then, back to hell...
No, today is heaven.
I poured myself a cup of freshly brewed mix coffee and took a sip.
But the god of the ER wasn't merciful after all.
Had peace lasted about five seconds?
Riiing-
The station phone rang.
It wasn't a number 119 would call from or the transfer hotline, but a phone ringing in this peaceful moment could never be welcome.
Nurse Jung, our veteran ER nurse, picked up the receiver.
“Yes, this is the ER. Yes, yes.”
Nurse Jung's gaze swept the air, then locked onto me.
She looked at me with a strange expression.
Her eyes seemed to be a 50-50 mix of ‘What did you screw up now?’ and ‘What kind of crazy new case is this?’
“Dr. Han Hyun-jae.”
“Ah, yes! Nurse Jung! What is it?”
I sprang to my feet on reflex, instantly donning my professional second-year smile.
“Could you take the call? It's the trauma surgery outpatient clinic.”
The moment Nurse Jung said that, the happiness I'd been basking in after that osam bulgogi vanished like an ebbing tide.
…Ah!
I remembered.
A fragment of memory buried in the rotten corner of my brain.
A few days ago, when I met Professor Cheon Eun-jeong about the spring conference oral presentation.
“Professor Kang asked if you'd have time for that patient's next follow-up...”
“He said he wanted to show you how that man has been doing.”
Right, today was Friday. That guy’s clinic.
I cursed my memory.
The shock from that oral presentation had been so huge that this ridiculous promise that followed it had evaporated somewhere in my brain.
So Professor Cheon's words were real.
No, I mean, there was no reason for a professor to lie.
Still, would they really actually call for me?
And yet.
They were calling me.
A busy trauma surgery professor was calling a lowly second-year like me.
I quickly answered the phone.
I could feel cold sweat breaking out in my palms.
K-slave mode, ON.
“This is Han Hyun-jae, second-year resident in Emergency Medicine.”
[Oh, right! Dr. Han! You know who I am, don't you?]
That loud, charismatic voice I could never forget came booming through the receiver.
The day of the emergency laparotomy last year that turned my entire life as a doctor upside down.
Trauma surgery professor Kang Hyun-jun, who descended into the blood-soaked resuscitation room.
[I'm Kang Hyun-jun from trauma surgery—the one who finished up the rebar patient after Dr. Han packed him last year!]
‘The packing wasn't done by me; it was my inner dark dragon... no, the God of Scalpels.’
I couldn't bring myself to say that out loud.
“Yes, Professor! Of course! Hello! I've heard a lot about you.”
[Anyway, you heard about it from the EM professor, right?]
“Yes, yes, I heard. Professor Cheon Eun-jeong told me.”
[The patient is here now, so if you've had lunch, why don't you come up?]
“Yes, Professor! Should I come up right away?”
Damn.
My mix coffee.
I had just brewed it.
[Come to the surgical outpatient center. It's on the 3rd floor of the main building. Trauma surgery is all the way in the corner, so keep that in mind!]
“Yes, Professor! I'll be right up!”
Click.
I hung up the receiver.
“Haa...”
I gave Nurse Jung the most pitiful smile in the world.
“I'll step out for a bit. Trauma surgery outpatient called me...”
“Huh? Trauma surgery outpatient? What's going on? Go ahead.”
And so I started walking toward the main building.
If I'd known this would happen, I should've just gone up right after lunch.
I got happy over osam bulgogi for nothing, then even took my time with a cup of mix coffee.
‘But why do I have so many points of contact with trauma surgery?’
In first year, it was Professor Kang Hyun-jun and the emergency laparotomy.
The moment I became a second-year, it was Professor Jeon Tae-jeong and the REBOA procedure.
Am I some kind of trauma magnet?
Or is that crazy ghost bastard able to smell blood or something?
Anyway, I was honestly curious too.
That patient from that day, the one who completely changed my hospital life.
What happened to the patient whose belly the God of Scalpels had sliced open?
Obviously, he must have survived if he was coming to clinic.
Ding.
The elevator stopped on the third floor.
The outpatient center was a different kind of marketplace from the ER.
Scheduled patients and their guardians were lined up, waiting for their turn.
I followed the signs down to the end of the hallway.
[General Surgery]
Nope.
[Colorectal Surgery]
Nope.
[Trauma Surgery]
Found it.
Before I could even say anything, the nurse sitting at the desk looked at the name tag on my coat—[Han Hyun-jae, Emergency Medicine]—and broke into a wide smile.
“You're Dr. Han Hyun-jae, right?”
‘So the rumor reached even here? How did they know? Does my face say I'm the second-year slave who got dragged here by a professor today?’
“Yes! I’m Han Hyun-jae...”
“The professor is waiting for you inside. The patient is inside too, so please go on in.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
I swallowed dryly.
With heavy steps, I stood before the door to Exam Room 1.
‘Phew.’
Deep breath.
It's fine.
I didn't do anything wrong.
Knock, knock.
I gave a perfunctory knock.
“Yes, come in!”
Professor Kang Hyun-jun's booming voice came from beyond the door.
Bang-
I swallowed dryly and turned the doorknob.
The exam room was the complete opposite of the savage atmosphere of the ER.
Warm sunlight was streaming through the window, and the air was quiet.
Professor Kang Hyun-jun from trauma surgery was sitting at the desk.
He was wearing a neat shirt instead of scrubs.
It looked strangely out of place.
And in the patient chair opposite him...
‘...He's alive.’
A man was seated there.
The patient who had been bleeding all over the place that day.
Of course, he looked a little pale, but he was clearly sitting there, perfectly fine.
Beside him was a young woman who looked to be in her twenties, supporting him with a worried expression.
His daughter?
Professor Kang Hyun-jun looked at me, and instead of his usual hearty laugh, gave me a kindly smile and waved me over.
“You're here. Dr. Han.”
He introduced me to the patient and guardian.
“Ah, let me introduce you. This is Dr. Han Hyun-jae, who handled Kang Young-shik's initial treatment. He's from Emergency Medicine.”
I let my inner K-slave instinct rise to its absolute maximum and bowed so deeply my waist looked like it might snap in half.
“Ah, hello, patient! Guardian! Hello, Professor!”
“Good, good. Come sit here, Dr. Han.”
Professor Kang jerked his chin toward the auxiliary chair beside him.
I approached awkwardly and sat down.
I could feel the patient and guardian's gazes focusing on me.
Especially Kang Young-shik's eyes—they were intense.
Look at him staring holes through me.
‘That's a look that remembers me.’
I forced a smile as cold sweat ran down my back.
“Is that true?”
The patient finally spoke.
His voice was pretty thunderous.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard this young doctor here did that... belly-cutting surgery to save me. In the ER?”
“Gasp.”
I sucked in a breath.
‘Uh, hold on. Is this actually okay?’
I panicked wildly inside.
‘Am I screwed? Is he laying the groundwork to make trouble? Is he collecting testimony that I cut him open?’
I looked at Professor Kang in shock, but he was only laughing heartily as if my reaction was hilarious.
…?
Should I make some excuse or something?
“Yes, I cut him open!”
Is that what I should say?
Or maybe
“No! It's a misunderstanding! I only helped!”
Should I say that?
Just when I was brain-frozen, opening and closing my mouth like an idiot, the young woman beside me suddenly covered her mouth.
Her shoulders began trembling faintly.
‘She's crying. She's starting to cry.’
I despaired.
‘Right, this is a lawsuit. Is my second-year life over already? God of Scalpels, you bastard. Because of you, my medical license...’
“Thank you.”
“…Pardon?”
I blurted out, dazed.
The woman jumped to her feet and bowed 90 degrees toward me.
Her face was covered in tears.
“Really, truly... thank you... If it hadn't been for you, our dad... sob...”
“…Ah.”
I stared at her blankly.
The first sound was right.
It wasn't a lawsuit.
It was gratitude.
Patient Kang Young-shik cleared his throat and gently patted his daughter's shoulder.
“Hey now, why are you crying? Your dad's alive and kicking.”
The patient looked at me again.
Even in those rough eyes, there was a faint glimmer of tears.
“Yeah, being alive like this to see my daughter, my wife, and even my son—that's all thanks to you, doctor. Thank you. Truly.”
Kang Young-shik tried to rise from the chair.
I reflexively went to support him, but he waved me off.
Though he grimaced as if the wound site were tugging, Kang Young-shik stubbornly stood up on his own two legs.
Then he bowed deeply toward me.
“No, really, I'm fine. You don't have to do that. I just did my job...”
I panicked and bowed even deeper, not knowing what to do.
I didn't do anything.
I just lent out my body.
This thanks should be going to that damned old geezer, the God of Scalpels.
Professor Kang watched the whole scene with his arms folded, looking extremely pleased.
Only then did I realize.
Why Professor Kang had called me here.
And why I'd let that possession take over that day.
‘To see this one thing.’
That was why.