Trauma Center : Golden Hour - Chapter 1

The Ministry of Health and Welfare’s meeting in preparation for the upcoming national audit.

In other words, a once-a-year gathering of the Minister of Health and Welfare, the leadership, and the directors or chairpersons of prominent hospitals in Seoul.

For the hospital directors, this meeting was critical, as maintaining the “Advanced Medical Institution” designation and climbing higher in the rankings were of utmost importance.

In the midst of the gathering, Minister of Health and Welfare, Choi Pil-du, was unable to relax the wrinkles on his forehead.

This was due to a flood of articles that every media outlet seemed to publish in unison over the past few days.

– “Empty Promises of Support for Trauma Centers: Patients Still Dying.”
– “Shortage of Doctors Capable of Handling Severe Trauma Cases.”
– “How to Train Trauma Specialists.”
– “Minister of Health and Welfare, Do You Have the Will to Solve This Crisis?”

Choi Pil-du picked up one of the many newspapers scattered before him.

“The first promise I made upon my appointment as minister last year was to fix the issues with trauma centers.”

His tone alone made it clear how displeased he was.

Naturally, the hospital directors present shrank their shoulders in discomfort.

It wasn’t even worth mentioning that no significant progress had been made in the country’s trauma centers over the past year.

“Director Choi Jo-eun.”

Choi Jo-eun.

The director of the hospital at the national university, ‘Hanguk University Hospital’, and one of the country’s leading surgeons.

Hearing Choi Pil-du’s stern call, he flinched.

“Yes, Minister.”

“How much funding did Hanguk University Hospital receive this year?”

“Well…”

His secretary, who was standing behind him, hesitated before responding on his behalf.

“A total of 21.73 billion won.”

“And how much of that was allocated for the trauma team?”

“10 billion won.”

“Did that improve anything?”

“According to the performance reports…”

“I’ve read them. Three times, in fact. Yet, I see no significant changes in the number of trauma patients you’ve taken in or saved.”

Choi Pil-du glared at Director Choi Jo-eun as if he intended to devour him.

Choi Jo-eun hunched his shoulders until his upper body was nearly folded in half, while the other directors lowered their heads in silence.

None of the hospitals that had received funding had shown notable results.

Choi Pil-du gazed at the intimidated directors, his expression growing gloomier as he envisioned the grilling he would face at the upcoming national audit.

“I understand. Money alone isn’t enough. But who are you people? You’re the directors of the best hospitals in the country, are you not? Yet after a whole year, there’s no visible progress?”

No one could respond to the minister’s scolding.

It was only Director Choi Jo-eun, who, mustering a sliver of courage, raised his hand.

“Speak, Director Choi Jo-eun.”

“Yes, Minister. With all due respect… There’s currently only one person in the entire country who can truly be called a trauma specialist. And… that person collapsed a few days ago while working alone.”

“I’m aware. That’s the very reason the media is in an uproar.”

Choi Pil-du glanced at one of the front-page headlines on his desk.

– “A Lone Hero, Finally Falls.”

The dramatic headline caught his eye.

“In such circumstances, how can we train trauma specialists? We have plenty of passionate individuals, but even if they join trauma teams, there’s no one to train them. They lose their sense of purpose after trial and error and watching patients die. Then, they resign.”

“Hmm.”

Director Choi Jo-eun’s words made perfect sense.

Minister Choi Pil-du completely understood his argument.

Yet, it was equally clear that he couldn’t just let things continue as they were.

“Director Choi Jo-eun, aren’t there many skilled surgeons at Hanguk University Hospital? Aren’t you a surgeon yourself? Why don’t you lead by example and take charge of the center?”

“Me? Minister, I specialize in colorectal surgery. What do I know about trauma? And do you think I haven’t asked other professors? Most have spent their careers solely on stomach surgeries or liver surgeries. None of them have experience with trauma.”

Other directors silently nodded in agreement with Choi Jo-eun’s explanation.

They were all vigorously nodding their heads.

“Ugh.”

Minister Choi Pil-du sighed, unable to find the words to retort.

He, too, had worked in university hospitals for a long time and was well aware of the harsh realities of the Korean medical system.

Expecting trauma specialists to suddenly emerge after decades of neglect was unreasonable.

Had there been quicker and more significant support for the lone figure fighting on the frontlines, the situation might have been better.

‘The water’s already spilled.’

Minister Choi Pil-du’s face darkened with each passing moment.

The thought of facing intense scrutiny at the national audit already made him feel nauseous.

‘And this won’t be a one-time ordeal.’

This wasn’t a problem that could be solved easily.

‘Why did I make that promise back then…’

Eventually, he began to regret the happiest moment of his life.

When he received his appointment letter from the president, Choi Pil-du had been so overwhelmed with excitement and emotion that he’d made an irreversible promise.

‘I’ll ensure there are no more needless deaths in this country! I’ll work to revitalize trauma centers!’

At the time, his statement had drawn public attention and encouragement.

Public opinion had been favorable.

That very night, he even received a call from the Blue House thanking him for making them proud on his first day.

But now, those words had come back to haunt him like a boomerang—one with a large spike driven into it.

“Minister?”

Someone called out to Minister Choi Pil-du.

Given how lost he appeared in thought, it wasn’t the most appropriate timing.

When he turned to see who had spoken, it was Oh Sung-heum, the director of ‘Chilseong Hospital’.

Among the major hospitals, the director of ‘Chilseong Hospital’, Oh Sung-heum, was a figure Minister Choi Pil-du was particularly unimpressed with. This was because ‘Chilseong Hospital’ didn’t even operate a trauma team.

“What is it?”

Naturally, Choi Pil-du’s words came out harsher than intended.

Despite the minister’s sharp reaction, Oh Sung-heum remained unfazed and continued calmly.

“I know of an excellent trauma specialist.”

This statement was intriguing enough to make Choi Pil-du abruptly lean forward in his chair—something he would never do in response to Oh Sung-heum under normal circumstances.

“Really? Not the one who collapsed?”

“Yes, someone younger and even more skilled.”

“What… such a person exists? Where? How do I not know about them?”

“Oh,” Oh Sung-heum chuckled, his response vague and dismissive.

Though it could be taken as insolent, Choi Pil-du didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on it. At that moment, Oh Sung-heum seemed to hold the lifeline that could save him.

“Who is it, Director Oh?”

“His name is Baek Kang-hyuk. He’s a graduate of ‘Muan University’ and currently works with ‘Doctors Without Borders’.”

“Doctors Without Borders? That’s a good organization, but… it’s not exactly known for cutting-edge medicine. And ‘Muan University’? Really?”

‘Muan University’ was considered so inferior compared to the likes of ‘Hanguk University’’s medical school that it was often the butt of jokes.

“Does pedigree matter to a surgeon? It’s the skill of their hands that counts.”

“Well… I suppose…”

“His current team is based in Syria.”

“Syria…”

Syria.

A name that had been unfamiliar until a few years ago, but now nearly everyone knew it due to ongoing civil war news.

“If he’s been there, he must have encountered every kind of trauma imaginable.”

“Still, isn’t it true that many domestic doctors are also active in ‘Doctors Without Borders’?”

Choi Pil-du’s reluctance was evident.

He disliked Oh Sung-heum, and the fact that Baek Kang-hyuk was from ‘Muan University’ didn’t help.

Sensing this hesitation, Oh Sung-heum smirked knowingly and handed over a USB drive.

“Here. These are his surgery records provided by ‘Doctors Without Borders’. There are videos as well—though the quality is atrocious.”

“How did you even get this?”

“One of our parent companies happens to sponsor ‘Doctors Without Borders’. This sort of thing is easy to obtain.”

“Hmm. If we were to invite him, which hospital would he go to? Surely not ‘Chilseong Hospital’?”

“Of course not. That wouldn’t look good. Inviting him to a national university hospital to form a team would be better for your reputation, don’t you think?”

As he spoke, Oh Sung-heum glanced at Director Choi Jo-eun.

Although his face wore a smile, it was clear that his intentions weren’t as amicable.

‘This bastard is just dumping the burden on me,’ thought Choi Jo-eun, holding back curses in front of the minister.

Meanwhile, Minister Choi Pil-du took the USB drive from Oh Sung-heum and pocketed it.

“So you’re saying this person is truly remarkable, Director Oh?”

“Absolutely. You’ll be amazed when you see it.”

“Hmm… Well, staying here is a waste of time. Everyone, reflect on this. Especially the centers that received funding this year… we’ll deal with you after the audit.”

“Understood.”

With that, Minister Choi Pil-du adjourned the meeting.

It wasn’t so much a meeting as it was a session of venting frustrations.

The only potential gain from it was the small USB drive handed over by Oh Sung-heum.

‘Of course, even that came from ‘Chilseong Hospital’’s director, so…’

True to his role as the director of a corporate hospital, Oh Sung-heum’s sly demeanor resembled that of a politician or businessman.

Left alone in the now-empty conference room, Choi Pil-du inserted the USB drive into his laptop.

There wasn’t much use in further preparing for the national audit at this point.

‘I might as well check out the surgery records,’ he thought casually.

But as he watched the records and videos, his heart began to pound.

‘What is this?’

The more he watched, the more astonished he became.

‘Is this… a human? He saved that? That?’

The scenes depicted someone saving a patient whose abdomen had practically exploded, armed with only a scalpel.

It was almost like witnessing divine intervention.

Even Minister Choi Pil-du, a staunch atheist, found himself considering the possibility of miracles.

“What is this…”

Eventually, he couldn’t contain himself and called Oh Sung-heum despite the late hour.

“Ah, Minister,” Oh Sung-heum answered, his tone calm and composed.

“This… who exactly is this person?”

“Just as I said. A graduate of ‘Muan University’ and a surgeon currently with ‘Doctors Without Borders’.”

“And someone like this hasn’t gained recognition?”

“He’s well-known in his field. They call him the ‘Hand of God.’”

“Do you think he’d accept an invitation?”

“I heard he’s eager to work at ‘Hanguk University Hospital’. After all, it boasts the top academic reputation in the country.”

“Aha… a complex about prestige. Got it. I’ll make sure to reward you for this.”

“Oh, no need for that, haha.”

With a laugh, Oh Sung-heum ended the call.

‘No need to mention his other nickname, Mad Dog. Or that he’s not really with ‘Doctors Without Borders’, but a military contractor called ‘Black Waters’,’ Oh Sung-heum thought, his smile growing even more devious.

(T/N: I see, there are some differences between the K-Drama and the novel. In the novel, Dr. Baek is associated with ‘Black Waters’ instead of ‘Black Wings’ as used in the K-Drama. Additionally, ‘Doctors Without Borders’ replaces ‘Doctors for International Peace’ here. There are also changes in character details, such as the minister being male in the novel, while the K-Drama portrays her as female. )