Chapter 100

“Hmm?”

Director Choi looked at Chief Secretary Hong Jae-hoon with a face full of doubt.

No matter how sly he looked, he was still a doctor.

What could he possibly mean, bringing up the fact that Kang-hyuk rides helicopters so much?

‘Is he trying to sabotage it?’

Of course, he’d imagined—at least once—just offing Baek Kang-hyuk cleanly like that.

But he’d never even considered actually trying it.

He hadn’t lived such a rough life that he’d act on something like that.

“So… what are you planning to do with the helicopter?”

Director Choi asked, voice a little shaky.

Hong Jae-hoon quickly waved his hands.

“Are you crazy? It’s not just Baek Kang-hyuk riding in there.”

“R-right? I was just… You’ve been so fired up about Professor Baek lately…”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“Okay. So what do you want to do?”

Director Choi looked much more relieved.

He relaxed in his chair.

“As you know, our hospital doesn’t have a proper helipad.”

“That’s true.”

“It just lands on a dirt field.”

Hong pointed out the tennis courts in the distance outside the window.

Officially, they were built for employee welfare, but in reality, the first director was just a tennis fanatic.

Not that they went unused.

There was even a club.

“Yeah, that’s the only spot. No place else to land, really.”

Director Choi looked as if it was no big deal.

Surely, he wasn’t going to suggest building a helipad. That was exactly what Kang-hyuk kept pushing for—and something they would never allow.

‘Why should it cost hundreds of millions just to build a helipad?’

The whole point of a helicopter was that it could land anywhere, he thought.

If he listened to Kang-hyuk, he’d realize how wrong that was, but he had no such intention.

Hong continued, watching the director frown.

“Right. But the problem is, if you look, the tennis courts are at the edge of the hospital grounds.”

“Oh, are they?”

Director Choi only knew golf. Even then, he only played it for business meetings.

So it was the first time he really noticed where the tennis courts were.

Now that he looked, he saw they were all the way at the edge—almost touching the hospital fence.

‘Come to think of it… the club did ask for them to be closer to the hospital.’

“Why is that a problem?”

“It’s a problem.”

“What kind?”

“Noise and dust. Right over the fence is a residential area.”

“Aha!”

Only then did Director Choi notice all the villas and apartments on the other side of the courts.

Just think: day and night, a noisy helicopter lands there several times a day.

It would drive you mad.

“I had a staff member look into it. There are already a lot of complaints. For now, people just grumble, but…”

“If someone goes around collecting signatures and files a formal complaint, city hall would have to act.”

“Exactly. And if that happens, the complaints will go straight to Professor Baek—not to us.”

“This is… actually pretty good.”

“Yeah, it’s not something we can force, but it’ll be plenty annoying. Inside the hospital, we can push the narrative that Professor Baek keeps causing complaints with his antics.”

“Good, very good.”

Director Choi was especially annoyed by all the recent positive attention Baek Kang-hyuk and his crew were getting.

He knew there would be a time to cut them out, but that was hard to do if public opinion was too favorable.

But what if there was constant talk of complaints pouring in?

Maybe the young doctors wouldn’t care, but the older professors definitely would.

Doctors above all hated pointless disputes.

“And there’s something else.”

Hong grinned at the excited director.

Who wouldn’t be happy to see the boss so pleased—especially when he had enough pull to help his career?

“There’s more?”

Director Choi looked like he could start dancing on the spot.

“Of course. Did you think I’d just leave Professor Baek alone?”

“Great, great. What is it?”

“This is about the Central Rescue Team.”

“The Central Rescue Team… the team that works with Professor Baek on helicopter dispatches?”

Why bother flying out to some island when you could just help people locally?

Director Choi’s thoughts were the sort that would earn him a slap if a rescue worker overheard.

But he listened closely.

“Right now, the team leader, Ahn Jung-heon, is very cooperative.”

“That’s what I heard. He’s on every dispatch, right?”

The man wasn’t young, but he was enthusiastic.

Not that Director Choi appreciated that kind of energy.

“Yes. And the current head… Moon Il-jun. He’s a foreign-educated guy—studied social safety nets and all that in the UK. So he fully supports Team Leader Ahn Jung-heon.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Director Choi frowned, since everything so far suggested the whole rescue team supported Kang-hyuk.

He couldn’t see why Hong looked so excited.

“Sure, for now. But…”

“But?”

“You know, just because they’re on the rescue team doesn’t mean they’re all so noble.”

“Aha.”

There was a barb hidden in those words.

Not all doctors always put life first. Some served money, others chased honor.

And it was the same for the rescue team.

“There’s a lot of grumbling from the lower ranks. Especially those who get called out at night… It’s more work than they signed up for.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it…”

It was a new perspective for Director Choi.

Doctors were trained to just do what they’re told, but not everyone thought that was normal.

When Hanguk University Hospital’s branch first opened, the founding members worked double shifts and never complained.

‘But it’s not normal…’

No matter how noble the cause.

No matter how meaningful the work.

They were still people.

Push them too hard, and of course there’d be complaints.

“Yeah, there’s a ton of grumbling inside. Team Leader Ahn Jung-heon’s managed to keep a lid on it, but…”

“What if he keeps it up?”

“Hmm.”

Hong looked at Director Choi, wondering if this was really the same sly old fox he knew.

But he just continued.

“They’re all government employees.”

“That’s right. Civil servants.”

“And the Central Rescue Team is based in central Seoul.”

“I didn’t know that. Pretty nice location, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s a highly sought-after post. So…”

“Oh! They rotate positions!”

In private companies, rotation wasn’t guaranteed. But in the public sector, everyone got a turn—nobody kept the best spots forever.

“Right. And the Fire Chief’s mother just got admitted to our hospital. I think we could work something out with her.”

“Really? Where?”

“Anesthesiology. She’s having trouble with her shoulder. Director Jin Tae-rim is taking good care of her.”

“She’s here now? Let’s go see her.”

“I’ll show you the way.”

Director Choi and Chief Secretary Hong left the director’s office in high spirits.

They walked the halls, plotting their next moves.

It was a long and detailed conversation, but in short:

Ahn Jung-heon gets promoted and transferred to a regional fire department.

Current team leader Moon Il-jun gets sidelined, or promoted and sent to another department.

Then, the rescue team gets filled with people who have the most complaints about their current roles.

While the two were scheming, vibrations came through the window.

“What’s this?”

He looked out and saw a helicopter landing on the distant tennis court.

Thwack thwack thwack.

Even from inside the building, the wind kicked up by the blades was obvious.

In the past, he might have thought, ‘They’re working hard.’

Now, he only thought about complaints.

Director Choi shook his head and got into the elevator.

“So noisy.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it soon.”

“Good. Our Hong—he’ll be director someday.”

“Thank you.”

“At this rate, I’ll have nothing to worry about. I’ll tell the board myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they exchanged sly words, the helicopter settled on the tennis court.

It erased all the white lines someone had carefully drawn.

Clunk.

The helicopter door swung open, and orange-suited paramedics jumped out.

Kang-hyuk and Jaewon were, of course, with them.

Kang-hyuk even had his hand inside the patient’s chest.

It sounded unbelievable, but it was literal.

“Hurry! Get to the OR, as fast as you can! Slave! You’re ready, right?”

Kang-hyuk was directly squeezing the heart in the thoracic cavity.

His fingers were perfectly placed, squeezing with the right amount of force.

Thanks to that, the patient’s blood pressure was holding steady.

It was nothing short of a miracle.

“Yes, yes! I got everything ready as soon as you called!”

But none of those greeting Kang-hyuk and the patient looked surprised.

They didn’t have time for that—they had to focus on saving the patient.

“Anesthesiology?”

“Dr. Park Gyeongwon is standing by!”

“Isn’t he on leave? He’s not even on staff until March.”

Usually, doctors who finish their residency get paid leave as a reward.

Hanguk University Hospital was no exception, but Park Gyeongwon was spending his vacation at the hospital.

“He said he’d come in anyway!”

“O-okay! Just go! Don’t run too fast! Keep pace with me!”

“Yes!”

At Kang-hyuk’s words, Ahn Jung-heon and the paramedics shouted in unison.

They looked exhausted, but not worn out.

Everyone there knew exactly what they were doing.

No, everyone present understood:

They were saving a life.