Chapter 123

Thud.

Cheon Jang-mi slammed the door shut behind her as she rushed out of the central supply room, not wanting to get caught.

Yang Jaewon looked nervously at the now-closed door.

He could still hear the supply director grumbling from inside if he listened closely.

“Is… is this really okay?”

“What wouldn’t be?”

“We… we might get fired.”

Jaewon vividly remembered what the director had said.

Maybe it was because the man was middle-aged—he reminded him too much of his own higher-ups, like the professor.

He couldn’t help but feel like getting fired was a real possibility.

Jang-mi gave him a couple of taps on the shoulder.

“Keep calling yourself a Slave, and you’ll start thinking like one too.”

“Wh-What?”

“Relax. Why are you so worried?”

“How could I not be?”

They spoke while running at top speed.

Well—technically, Jang-mi had slowed down to match his pace.

Either way, they were making good time.

“If they try to fire us over this, you think Professor Baek Kang-hyuk would just stand by? With that personality of his?”

“Ah.”

“Any other professor, maybe. But not him.”

Most professors fit the stereotypical mold of medical school instructors.

Not sleazy types who chased power or women—

But dry and passive.

But anyone who’d even briefly interacted with Kang-hyuk would know he was far from that.

And those who had been working nearly every hour with him lately knew it better than anyone.

“He’ll definitely do something.”

Jaewon muttered, looking a little more energized.

Wasn’t this the same man who walked into that dreaded meeting and gave them hell?

Compared to that, a little GORE-TEX was nothing.

“Alright. You’ve perked up. Then keep up! I’ll go ahead and prep things!”

“H-Huh?”

Jang-mi gave his back another pat and bolted off ahead.

Even in Crocs, the sound of her steps was no joke.

Watching her quickly disappear from view, Jaewon muttered,

“Now that’s what you call girl crush.”

He wore a blank expression.

“Where the hell are these punks? Did they go to the GORE-TEX HQ?!”

Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk was not in a good mood.

He’d been muttering curses nonstop, making the OR feel less like a medical facility and more like a war zone.

Not that anyone could blame him—he was holding down a half-ruptured aorta with his bare hand.

Still, it was intense.

Gyeongwon stepped in to try and cool things down.

“Professor, it’s only been ten minutes…”

“Ten minutes in the same building?!”

“Well, this building is pretty big…”

“I can walk it in under five!”

“That’s because…”

Gyeongwon almost pointed out that Kang-hyuk was tall, fast, and practically ran when he walked—but bit his tongue.

He recalled Jaewon’s advice.

‘Professor Baek always has his mind made up. No point arguing.’

At the time, he thought Jaewon was exaggerating.

Sure, Kang-hyuk was rough around the edges.

But he was undeniably a great mentor.

Thanks to him, Jaewon had performed more surgeries than any other fellow.

But the more time you spent around him, the more you realized how right Jaewon was.

“So what, you got nothing to say now?”

Kang-hyuk picked a fight as soon as Gyeongwon went quiet.

There wasn’t much else he could do besides holding the vessel shut with his hand.

When you’re anxious, talking helps pass the time.

“No… I just don’t know what to say.”

“Then why even open your mouth?”

“Uh… sorry.”

“Everyone’s sorry these days. That’s all you people say. Huh?”

Even as he barked, Kang-hyuk was carefully monitoring the pressure with his fingertips.

And truthfully, Gyeongwon deserved praise, not criticism.

He was keeping the heart rate and cardiac output low while constricting peripheral vessels to maintain blood pressure.

This reduced pressure on the aorta while still sustaining systemic circulation.

‘He’s doing a damn good job.’

And this was a guy who’d only finished residency and gotten certified.

How could he be so skilled at anesthesia?

‘A genius… that’s what it is.’

People often said modern medicine had become too vast and complex for geniuses to exist anymore.

That era was over.

And yet, now and then, geniuses still appeared.

Same training, same curriculum—but wildly different outcomes.

For someone like that to choose a barren wasteland like the trauma center—

It was a miracle.

“You little shit. You’re good.”

“Huh?”

So Kang-hyuk gave him a rare compliment.

To Gyeongwon, it came completely out of left field.

The guy had been cursing his head off a second ago.

“‘Huh?’ Just say thank you.”

“Ah… yes, thank you.”

As Gyeongwon stammered a thanks, the OR door creaked open.

Clack.

Jang-mi walked in—still in full gear, not even having removed her gloves or mask.

She was panting, which was rare for her.

“Got it!”

“Good! Leave it there, scrub in.”

“Yes.”

Even while gasping, Jang-mi carefully placed the GORE-TEX on the instrument table, making sure it stayed sterile.

Kang-hyuk nodded approvingly.

“Nice. The size… looks about right.”

GORE-TEX was a synthetic graft.

While it could be used to reinforce blood vessels,

its main function was to completely replace them.

Each product had slightly different thicknesses.

Luckily, this one was thick enough to be trimmed and patched onto the aorta.

“Hey, gangster! Get over here—we gotta cut this thing!”

“Coming!”

Jang-mi nodded rapidly and washed her hands again under the cold water.

Even if betadine was mild, you didn’t just rub hands together before surgery.

You had to scrub hard with a brush.

Add icy water to the mix and it became torture.

“Hoo.”

Jang-mi let out a small sigh to dull the pain and stepped back into the OR.

She glanced around just in case—but Jaewon hadn’t arrived yet.

‘That guy seriously needs to take better care of himself.’

She shook her head and started dressing herself in surgical gear.

Not that Kang-hyuk could help her anyway.

Nor was there any need.

Every scrub nurse knew how to maintain sterility and dress on their own the moment they entered the OR.

“Get it ready. Cut it lengthwise.”

“Got it. Stop nagging.”

“Nagging? You’re the one who took forever.”

“Does it look like I’m not hurrying? I had to throw hands just to bring that thing.”

“Throw hands? With who? Did they live?”

Jang-mi let out an incredulous laugh at Kang-hyuk’s dark joke.

It was the kind of comment you weren’t supposed to laugh at—but couldn’t help it.

With a bit of a pout, she replied,

“The supply director. He refused, so I took it by force.”

“That idiot? Even after you said it was for an aorta?”

“Well… he’s not medical staff. He probably didn’t get the severity.”

Not that he totally missed it.

She had said the patient would die otherwise.

But Jang-mi didn’t add that.

Kang-hyuk already looked like he wanted to rip the guy apart.

If the two ever met, a neck grab would be the mildest outcome.

“He should get it. He works at a hospital.”

“Anyway, here. I cut it.”

She held out the lengthwise-sliced synthetic vessel with tweezers.

It was no longer a tube, but a rectangular strip.

Perfect for patching.

Throb throb.

As if offended by the progress, the aortic tear widened further.

Only a thin layer remained intact.

Even an untrained eye would know rupture was imminent.

“This piece of shit…”

“Want me to hand you the suture kit too?”

Jang-mi handed over the GORE-TEX while Kang-hyuk swore by reflex.

He removed his glove from the site and applied the patch.

“Yeah.”

“Suture size?”

Jang-mi hovered between size 6 and 7.

Anyone else would’ve defaulted to the thicker and easier size 4, but this was Baek Kang-hyuk—the guy who took the hard way and made it look easy.

“Seven… no, six.”

“Ooh.”

“What do you mean ‘ooh’? I’m just rushing.”

“Sure. Here it is.”

“Okay. When Slave gets here, tell him not to talk. Just wash his hands. I’m stressed enough.”

“Got it.”

Kang-hyuk carefully positioned the GORE-TEX patch.

The expected tear spanned over 5cm.

No matter how fast he was, he wasn’t a sewing machine—he couldn’t finish this instantly.

Thunk.
Thunk.

He moved swiftly as the vascular wall began to pulsate more violently.

Even a single rupture would be fatal.

That’s what the aorta was.

Clack.

About three minutes later, Jaewon returned—already scrubbed in.

His stamina might suck, but his head still worked.

“Hey, gangster, give Slave the suture kit too.”

“Yup.”

Jang-mi, already a step ahead, handed it over.

“Th-Thanks.”

“You’re on. Professor said no warmups—get in.”

“Right, got it!”

So Jaewon jumped right into surgery.

“Don’t get in my way. Move fast. But don’t let it leak.”

Kang-hyuk was demanding the impossible.

But Jaewon somehow kept up.

Squelch.

Together, they completed the patch just as the aorta burst open.

In normal sutures, that would’ve been game over.

But a patch job was different.

It was safe now.

Kang-hyuk looked down at the now-stable vessel and spoke.

“Let’s get this damned blade out.”

“Yes. But… how?”

“Jesus.”

Kang-hyuk gave him a look that said are you dumb, then picked up a clamp and grabbed the blade.

He began to pull it out in the exact reverse direction it had entered.

“What are you standing around for? Go to the neck.”

“Ah! Right.”

Jaewon rushed up to the patient’s neck.

Soon, the blade handle came into view.

“Don’t yank it. Remember—it tore through the carotid and esophagus.”

“Yes.”

Kang-hyuk placed his fingers on the new hole in the aorta created by the withdrawn blade.

In any other surgery, that alone would’ve been a crisis.

But with Kang-hyuk, the operation was practically over.

“It’s out.”

“No additional damage?”

“None.”

“Good. Let’s close him up.”

With that, Kang-hyuk finally smiled.

A new nurse approached.

“Excuse me, professor.”

“Hmm?”

“There was a call from the ICU earlier.”

“Earlier?! Why didn’t you say so immediately?!”

“Well… the patient was already declared brain-dead…”