Chapter 4
The pinnacle of medicine in South Korea.
Korea Central University Hospital.
It was not merely a large hospital.
It was one of the country's top medical institutions, equipped with general outpatient departments and an emergency center, as well as a cancer center, cardiovascular center, organ transplant center, and regional trauma center.
But there was another reason Korea Central University Hospital was counted among the best in the country.
The Hunter Trauma Center.
The hospital had a specialized medical team dedicated to treating Hunters carried out of dungeons.
Hunter injuries were different from ordinary trauma.
They were not limited to being cut by a blade, hit by a car, or falling from a high place.
Most Hunters returned with wounds torn open by monster claws, burned by mana, dissolved by poison, or inflicted in ways difficult to explain according to this world's laws.
On top of that, the Hunter's body itself was a problem.
Their skin, muscles, and bones were far harder than those of ordinary people.
And as their ranks rose, the difference grew even greater. Ordinary scalpels slid off their skin, while regular needles could not even pierce their fascia.
Cutting through bone required a Hunter-specific bone saw, and even a single thread used to tie off a blood vessel had to be reinforced suture material.
They survived because they were strong.
But in a hospital, that strength ironically got in the way of treatment.
It was not that there was no way to save them.
Rather, many died because their bodies could not be opened in time.
And the place specializing in treating such Hunter trauma was the Hunter Trauma Center.
“A B-rank Hunter was injured?”
A trauma surgeon affiliated with Korea Central University Hospital's Hunter Trauma Center.
Na Ha-young was heading down to the emergency center as she received the report.
The resident following beside her flipped through a tablet and spoke quickly.
“Yes. According to the rescue team's report from the scene, there is one B-rank Hunter, two D-rank Hunters, and four E-rank Hunters. The B-rank patient is currently suspected of having abdominal trauma and being in shock.”
“Abdominal trauma?”
“The abdominal protective gear was damaged, and bleeding was confirmed around the flank and abdomen. The emergency team on the first floor is preparing a FAST exam first.”
FAST.
A rapid ultrasound examination to check whether blood had pooled in a trauma patient's abdominal cavity.
There was nothing unusual about the report itself.
Blood was smeared across the abdomen, and a Hunter carried out of a dungeon was in shock.
In that case, the first thing to suspect would naturally be intra-abdominal bleeding.
Na Ha-young's orders came without hesitation.
“Contact the operating room. Tell them to clear Room Two for Hunter trauma.”
“Yes.”
“Check that the mana scalpel is charged, and prepare reinforced sutures and Hunter vascular clamps. Tell anesthesiology to stand by with the Hunter anesthesia protocol. A B-rank Hunter may respond slowly to ordinary anesthetics.”
“Understood.”
Hunter surgery was different from ordinary surgery.
They had to open the body.
But they could not break it.
If the incision was too shallow, it would not pierce the enhanced skin and fascia; if it was too deep, it would tear organs and blood vessels that were already damaged.
That was why a Hunter trauma surgeon was less like a doctor wielding a scalpel than a technician opening a safe.
They had to extract a dying patient from inside a solid body as quickly and accurately as possible.
And Na Ha-young was one of the best doctors in that field.
The beast ears jutting up through her brilliant golden hair twitched faintly.
Na Ha-young was an Awakened of the beast-transformation type.
With hearing keener than a human's, she picked up the irregular breathing first; with her sense of smell, she could distinguish monster fluids and toxic substances mixed with the scent of blood.
She had enough talent to make a name for herself even as a combat Hunter.
But she had chosen medicine instead of combat.
A Hunter doctor who understood a Hunter's body.
That was why people at the scene called Na Ha-young this:
The Golden Scalpel of the Hunter Trauma Center.
It was at the moment she put on her gloves and entered the first-floor lobby.
“No, you can't do that⋯!”
A strange shout sharply pierced the smell of blood and the surrounding murmurs.
Na Ha-young's ears instinctively perked up.
It was a man.
More specifically, the booming cry of a male—the sort that should have been impossible to hear amid this chaos.
“Jihoo! What happened all of a sudden?!”
“Student Jihoo, step back! The patient's condition is extremely dangerous right now!”
“That's not it! I'm saying something terrible will happen if you perform that treatment right now!”
Na Ha-young narrowed her eyes.
Seo Jihoo.
Come to think of it, there was someone like that.
That precious male medical student who had been observing the hospital for a month under the pretext of a recent clinical adaptability evaluation for male medical students.
And that male student was now blocking the medical staff in the middle of the emergency center.
“What exactly is going on here?”
“D-Doctor Na Ha-young!”
“I was told the B-rank patient brought in is suspected of intra-abdominal bleeding, and the patient's consciousness is fading. Every second counts!”
Na Ha-young's sharp eyes swept over the medical staff.
“Then why haven't you moved the patient to the emergency treatment area yet? You should be preparing the operating room at the same time.”
“Th-that is⋯.”
The nurses and residents only glanced nervously at one another.
That was when it happened.
“I stopped them.”
Every gaze turned toward one place.
A male student wearing a white coat.
In the middle of this chaos, Jihoo was the only one who did not lower his head.
Na Ha-young's eyes narrowed at the sight.
No matter how precious a man was and how carefully he had to be protected, this was a hospital.
A place where someone could seize their last chance to survive.
Blocking a patient's treatment there was something that could not be tolerated, regardless of gender.
“You said your name was Jihoo, right?”
Her voice sank coldly.
“Do you know what you just stopped?”
“I know.”
“The B-rank Hunter is in shock. We suspect abdominal trauma, and the patient needs to be taken straight to the operating room. Every second counts! And you stopped that?”
“You can't focus only on the abdominal bleeding.”
“What did you say?”
But Jihoo calmly looked down at the Hunter on the stretcher.
“This isn't simple abdominal bleeding.”
Then he said briefly,
“It's a tension pneumothorax.”
Several medical staff members around them froze for a moment.
“A tension⋯ pneumothorax?”
“Simply put, air leaking from a torn lung has become trapped inside the chest.”
Whether they understood or not, Jihoo pointed toward the patient's chest.
“If that air can't escape and keeps building up, it compresses the lung. It also pushes against the heart, preventing blood from returning to it. That's why the patient goes into shock even without losing a great deal of blood.”
Na Ha-young's expression changed subtly.
“What's your evidence?”
“Look here. The left side of the chest is barely rising. Even though the patient is breathing, the movement of one side of the rib cage has stopped.”
His fingertips moved toward the patient's lips.
“The patient's lips are blue, too. This is more than simply conserving breath because of abdominal pain. The patient isn't taking in oxygen properly.”
This time, he looked at the back of the patient's neck.
“The neck veins are distended as well. And the pulse is fast but weak, isn't it? It's difficult to explain that as nothing more than bleeding in the abdomen.”
Na Ha-young's ears twitched faintly.
She heard it, too.
The patient's breathing was abnormal.
Fast.
Shallow.
And one side was silent.
Jihoo continued speaking.
“It's natural to suspect intra-abdominal bleeding when the abdominal protective gear is broken and covered in blood. But what is killing this person first is not the abdomen. It's the chest.”
“⋯⋯.”
“If you fix the ribs first in this condition, or waste time focusing only on the abdominal bleeding, it will be too late. We have to relieve the pressure in the chest first.”
The lobby fell silent.
Na Ha-young stared at Jihoo for a moment.
Those were not the eyes of a student seeing blood for the first time.
He was not frightened.
Nor was he excited.
He was simply matching the patient's symptoms and signs one by one.
As if he had seen countless trauma patients.
‘What the hell is he?’
That question had just crossed her mind when—
“Then⋯.”
One of the residents beside her swallowed hard.
“Then we have to give up on this patient.”
“⋯What?”
Jihoo turned his head.
It was the exact opposite of the answer he had expected.
“You know the patient's condition. If it's a tension pneumothorax, shouldn't we just remove the air from the patient's chest first?!”
“That would be true for an ordinary patient.”
Na Ha-young spoke in his place.
Her face was just as rigid as the other doctors' around her.
“With an ordinary patient, we could immediately decompress the chest, remove the air with a needle or chest tube, restore the patient's breathing, and then check for other injuries.”
“Then do it.”
“The problem is that our patient is a B-rank Hunter.”
A B-rank Hunter.
An elite combat force capable of facing monsters head-on.
His body had strayed so far from the bounds of an ordinary human body that it was simply 'off-spec'.
“Even a B-rank Hunter's rib cage can't be opened easily with Hunter-specific medical equipment. Mana is condensed in the skin and muscle layers, so any ordinary incision device will bounce off the surface.”
“But if we use all the equipment in the hospital—”
“It will be too late.”
The answer was brief.
“We have to cut through the mana layers one at a time, as if peeling them away. If we hurry, the incision device will bounce off, and if we apply too much force, we'll tear the lung inside even further.”
Na Ha-young's gaze turned toward the patient's shallow breathing.
“There isn't time for the patient to endure that process.”
The resident beside her added,
“The patient is also showing mana rigidity in the chest. The body has automatically hardened itself to endure the damage. That narrows the intercostal spaces and makes it even harder to get the equipment in.”
Mana rigidity.
A defensive reaction that often appeared when Hunters suffered fatal injuries.
The phenomenon in which the mana inside the body hardened as if to protect the damaged area.
The problem was that rather than aiding treatment, it often prevented the medical staff from treating the patient.
It was especially bad when the injury was in the chest.
They had to remove the air inside, but they could not actually open the chest.
“⋯Contact the next of kin. Have someone explain the patient's current condition and prognosis.”
Hunter medicine had advanced.
Mana scalpels, reinforced sutures, Hunter vascular clamps, high-powered bone saws, and more.
Humans had created all kinds of equipment to treat bodies that were practically monstrous.
But there were limits.
Most of that equipment had been designed around low- and mid-rank Hunters.
“So⋯.”
Jihoo's voice rang out then.
“You're saying we'll give up on the patient?”
“I know it may sound like giving up.”
Na Ha-young looked straight at Jihoo.
“But a doctor must not claim they can perform a treatment they cannot. If there is no chance of success and we force our way in, that isn't treatment. It would be 'a kill shot.'”
“⋯⋯.”
Hunters know this limitation, too. The higher-ranked they are, the better they understand it: how strong their bodies are, and how lethal a wall that strength becomes in a hospital.”
The medical staff lowered their heads one by one.
No one had given up lightly.
They knew.
They had seen patients like this many times.
High-ranking Hunters who looked as though they could be saved, only to die because the equipment could not reach them.
Patients whose hearts were beating, but whose oxygen saturation dropped before everyone's eyes because their chests could not be opened.
Moments when a body that survived because it was strong became too strong to accept treatment.
But.
“Then⋯.”
Jihoo merely answered calmly, as if none of that mattered.
“If everyone has given up on the patient anyway, then I can work on them, right?”
“⋯What?”
Na Ha-young's eyes widened.
Everyone's gaze locked onto him again.
He slowly straightened the front of his doctor's coat.
As if it were second nature.
As if he had been doing it for a very long time.
“If everyone has given up on that life anyway, I'll give it a try. That life.”