Chapter 13
As soon as Jaewon held the patient’s head steady, Kang-hyuk positioned the [osteotome] against the skull. (T/N: a surgical chisel used for cutting or shaping bone)
Then, he placed the hammer at the end of the osteotome.
“Anus, hold it tight. If it moves, the shape won’t turn out clean.”
“A-Ah… okay.”
“We’re not making a huge opening anyway, so stop looking like you’re about to cry.”
“Y-Yes, yes.”
Jaewon barely managed to nod, keeping his grip firm on the patient’s head.
A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in his mind.
‘Opening a skull… inside a helicopter… with just two general surgeons?’
Baek Kang-hyuk was undoubtedly a general surgeon.
He had looked up his credentials earlier out of curiosity, so there was no mistake.
‘Graduated from Muan University Medical School, completed general surgery residency at Chilseong Hospital… skipped military service and went straight into Doctors Without Borders.’
Which meant—he had never trained in neurosurgery.
And yet, here he was, drilling a hole in a skull without an actual drill.
Was Kang-hyuk just fearless, or was he plain insane?
“Anus, focus.”
Still intently aiming at the osteotome’s tip, Kang-hyuk spoke sharply.
“O-Okay.”
“Alright, I’m striking it now. Don’t let it shake.”
He had repeated the same instructions multiple times already.
It might have been annoying under different circumstances, but it was completely justified this time.
After all, this was one of the most critical areas of the human body.
Thud.
With a calmness that almost made his warnings seem unnecessary, Kang-hyuk struck down with the hammer.
A small fragment of the skull chipped away.
It was such a minuscule change that Jaewon barely noticed any difference.
But Kang-hyuk, unfazed, slightly adjusted the osteotome’s position and struck again.
Thud.
Another dull impact. Another fragment chipped away.
Thud.
He kept repeating the precise process—adjust, strike, adjust, strike.
Meanwhile, the helicopter rocked violently due to the pilot’s high-speed maneuvers.
The patient, lying on the floor, inevitably trembled along with it.
But Kang-hyuk seemed completely unaffected by all of it.
Thud.
His hand movements remained steady and unwavering.
“Oh…”
After about twenty strikes, Jaewon murmured in awe.
A perfectly round hole, roughly the size of a 500-won coin, had appeared in the skull.
It was so precisely circular that it almost felt unnecessary to go to such lengths.
Pop!
Using forceps, Kang-hyuk plucked out the bone fragment inside the opening.
With a crisp sound, the piece came free, exposing the inside of the skull.
Both Kang-hyuk and Jaewon immediately examined the cavity beneath.
“Hmm.”
“As expected, there’s bleeding.”
Jaewon let out a low groan, while Kang-hyuk calmly assessed the situation.
As he had predicted, there was no visible brain tissue—only pooled blood.
It was a clear sign of [subdural hemorrhage]. (T/N: bleeding between the dura mater and the brain, often caused by trauma)
“Should we remove it? This is likely what’s causing the increased [intracranial pressure].”
“Of course. Hand me the gauze.”
“The suction device… Oh, right. We’re in a helicopter. Never mind.”
Feeling the powerful vibrations through the floor, Jaewon nodded to himself and handed over the gauze.
Kang-hyuk immediately used it to wipe away the blood clots, giving out new instructions as he worked.
“Quickly, open up ten syringes—10cc ones.”
“Syringes? Understood.”
Once again, Jaewon didn’t fully understand why he needed syringes.
But one thing was certain—Kang-hyuk never gave unnecessary orders.
Rip.
So, without questioning further, Jaewon quickly opened the 10cc syringes one by one.
Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk continued using gauze to remove the clotted blood.
Because the [intracranial pressure] was so high, each time he wiped some away, more blood surged forward.
From a surgical perspective, it was a good thing—removing the pressure was vital.
But from a patient’s condition standpoint, it was worrying—there was just too much blood.
However, as more time passed, the bleeding started to slow down.
Eventually, even the fresh blood stopped pooling inside the cavity.
Seeing this, Kang-hyuk placed down the blood-soaked gauze and stretched out his hand.
“Hand me a syringe.”
“Here you go.”
Since Jaewon had already prepared all ten syringes, he quickly passed one over.
For some reason, he even felt a strange sense of accomplishment.
But Kang-hyuk, on the other hand, wasn’t satisfied.
“Where’s the needle?”
“Huh? The needle…? Aren’t you using this as a suction device?”
“You knew that and still didn’t give me the needle?”
“I mean… isn’t that dangerous? We’re dealing with the brain…”
Instinctively, Jaewon glanced down at the exposed brain tissue.
The thought of using a sharp needle inside it sent chills down his spine.
“As long as I don’t stab it, it’s fine. With that logic, how do you insert a scalpel into the abdomen?”
“Uh… that’s… fair.”
After thinking about it, Jaewon realized his concern was a bit silly.
So, he quickly attached a needle to the syringe and handed it back.
Taking the modified syringe, Kang-hyuk carefully bent the needle tip at a 45-degree angle before bringing it to the patient’s skull cavity.
Ssssssshhhhhh.
He began suctioning the remaining blood, little by little.
‘How is he so fast…?’
Watching Kang-hyuk work, Jaewon couldn’t help but be stunned.
Even though a 10cc syringe wasn’t small, it was already more than half full in just a few seconds.
Once Kang-hyuk completely filled the syringe, he extended his hand again.
“Next one.”
“Here.”
“And… prepare a forceps with gauze.”
“A forceps with gauze…?”
“Yeah. You see that spot?”
Kang-hyuk pointed toward a corner of the skull cavity where blood was still pooling.
“Oh… it’s like a small reservoir.”
To Jaewon, it really did look like a tiny pool of trapped blood.
But Kang-hyuk saw something else—a fresh stream of blood welling up from deep within the “puddle.”
Even though it was all blood, its color differed depending on when it had emerged.
It was a subtle distinction, difficult to notice unless you paid close attention over time.
“This isn’t just a pool of blood, so hold the gauze in place and be ready.”
“Yes, professor.”
Once again, Jaewon couldn’t immediately grasp Kang-hyuk’s intentions.
But he silently followed orders.
‘What is he trying to do this time?’
He watched Kang-hyuk’s fingertips carefully.
Ssssssshhhhhh.
Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk continued using the syringe to suction the pooled blood inside the skull.
There was something intentional about the direction he was working in, but Jaewon didn’t pick up on it right away.
It wasn’t until most of the blood had been removed that Jaewon finally noticed it.
A damaged blood vessel came into view, pulsing as fresh blood spurted out.
It wasn’t large, and the amount of blood flow wasn’t excessive.
Had this been an abdominal hemorrhage, it wouldn’t have been much of a concern.
But this was inside the skull—even a minor cerebral hemorrhage could be fatal if left untreated.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. That’s the bleeding site.”
“How did you… spot that earlier?”
“There’s a trick to knowing these things. You’ve got the gauze, right? Press it down on that spot.”
“A-Ah, yes.”
As if entranced, Jaewon maneuvered the forceps to press the gauze against the damaged blood vessel.
Kang-hyuk observed him closely before nodding.
‘He’s being careful… but not scared.’
People often assumed that surgeons had rough personalities.
Their disheveled lab coats and harsh way of speaking reinforced that image.
But if someone imagined they were just as reckless with a scalpel, they’d be sorely mistaken.
In fact, the more complex the surgery, the more precise the surgeon’s hands needed to be.
“Like this? Is the pressure good?”
Jaewon held the gauze firmly against the bleeding vessel, looking up for confirmation.
Kang-hyuk evaluated the position and pressure—both were spot-on.
“Hmm… Well done, Anus.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You did it right, that’s all.”
Just as Kang-hyuk was—for once—offering praise, the helicopter finally reached its destination, hovering over the tennis court of Hanguk University Hospital.
“We’re landing now! Sit down or grab onto something!”
The pilot’s announcement was as rough as his flying.
But that was expected—firefighting helicopters like the AW139 weren’t exactly luxury transports.
Every “passenger” aboard was an emergency responder used to working in high-pressure environments.
They were already accustomed to the “hurry, hurry” mindset.
Rustle.
Every crew member—except Jung-heon, who was still manually ventilating the patient with the ambu bag—took their seats.
Although calling them “seats” was a stretch.
The so-called “seats” were just strips of nylon fabric hanging from the walls.
But once you sat down, they were surprisingly secure.
“Anus! Hold onto my arm!”
Kang-hyuk extended his muscular forearm toward Jaewon.
With his other hand, he firmly grasped a support column in the helicopter.
“O-Okay!”
“Jung-heon, grab my leg!”
“Yes, sir!”
Both Jaewon and Jung-heon secured their grip—one on Kang-hyuk’s arm, the other on his leg.
Although the pilot hesitated slightly, he saw that everyone had braced themselves and began the descent.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
If they had been landing on solid ground, the descent could have been much faster.
Unfortunately, their landing zone was a tennis court—soft, unstable terrain that wasn’t designed to withstand a helicopter’s weight.
Because of this, the pilot had to descend painfully slowly, avoiding a hard impact.
For the crew, the slow descent was comfortable.
For the critical patient, it was agony—every wasted second could mean death.
Tat-tat-tat-tat.
After a grueling 7–8 minutes, the helicopter finally landed safely on the tennis court.
The pilot, looking somewhat embarrassed, turned around and grinned.
“Alright, you can disembark now!”
“Understood!”
With that signal, the rescue team immediately grabbed the air transport stretcher holding the patient and rushed out of the helicopter.
Thanks to a call made 10 minutes prior, a receiving team was already waiting.
It consisted of one intern, Nurse Cheon Jang-mi, and a transport technician—a disappointingly small team.
“Tch.”
Seeing the meager welcome, Kang-hyuk briefly shook his head.
But he didn’t have time to dwell on it—the patient’s skull was still open, and he was still unconscious.
“Move! Straight to the operating room! You guys handle the admissions paperwork! Anus!”
“Yes!”
“I’ll assist with transporting the patient—you just keep holding the gauze in place!”
“Understood!”
(T/N: Wow, I love that there’s so much details here regarding the mini-surgery in the helicopter than what was seen in the kdrama. It also gave more explanation about the Tennis Court landing.)