Chapter 140

<Isn’t this the kind of thing you have to try to save no matter what?>

<This is real self-sacrifice… a true hero.>

Just like the flood of comments online, Captain Lee Hyun-jong had become a national hero.

In a time when everyone was busy looking out for themselves, the story of a soldier who gave his life to save his subordinates was more than enough to move the nation.

Public attention was fixated on the case—so much so it was almost excessive. And such attention inevitably became political.

“So… what you’re saying is we send Professor Baek Kang-hyuk?”

The President looked at Minister of Health and Welfare Choi Pil-du. Their friendship was deep enough that some critics claimed Choi’s appointment had been a political favor.

“Yes. He’s a close friend, but more importantly, he’s the best at what he does.”

“Well… I’ve heard as much.”

The President nodded faintly, recalling reports on the “activation of the Severe Trauma Center in Hanguk University Hospital,” a subject insignificant on the national scale but one he’d been briefed on. He’d heard then that Baek Kang-hyuk’s team was producing notable results.

But the President’s sources weren’t limited to the Ministry of Health and Welfare; he had many channels of information—positive and negative.

“I heard he’s from Muan University. That right?”

Choi’s expression tightened—why bring up academic background now?

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Listen, Choi. No—Pil-du.”

“Yes.”

“This mission can’t fail. You understand that?”

The President gestured at the muted TVs in the room—twelve channels, all covering Captain Lee. Not a single viewer complained about the programming.

An incident with such intense public focus, with the government directly involved, was rare. For the President, it was both a monumental crisis and an opportunity.

“Yes, I understand…”

“Good. In situations like this, you can’t give anyone grounds to attack you. That way, even if you fail, you can defend yourself.”

“Well… yes, that’s true.”

This wasn’t like operating on a ship or treating a traffic accident victim. Kang-hyuk might say it was all the same—saving lives—but to those in the room, this was a hundred, a thousand times more important.

Which was why something like a Muan University degree could be risky.

‘People say Korea’s changed, but… it’s still a society obsessed with academic pedigree.’

Even Minister Choi himself had graduated from Hanguk University, as had the President and the Foreign Minister sitting nearby.

‘If he saves him… what then?’

Some might celebrate. But others could sneer, saying the wounds were minor enough that even a Muan graduate could handle them, and that the whole thing was overblown.

‘If he fails…?’

The thought was dreadful.

While Choi was silent, the Foreign Minister spoke—less close to Choi, but very close to the President.

“We’ve drawn up a new list. Take a look.”

“I already saw it. The Hanguk University critical care team and… what was the other one?”

“Chilseong Hospital’s critical care and surgical teams. I hear the two are evenly matched. Isn’t that right, Minister Choi?”

It was an undeniable fact—both teams had saved more lives than could be reasonably counted, and their publication records were extensive. Perfect for presenting to the public as the nation’s best.

But Minister Choi still believed only Baek Kang-hyuk could save Captain Lee.

‘That man is… a monster.’

He still remembered the day he saw Kang-hyuk’s surgical footage—never once had he thought such skill could be achieved alone.

“That may be true, but I still believe Professor Baek should go.”

The President closed his eyes briefly, then looked to the Foreign Minister. The more one had to lose, the more conservative their choices; in that sense, the President was the most conservative man in the room.

“You might think I’m being overly cautious, but sorry—I can’t ignore the possibility of failure. I need to be able to say something to the people if that happens.”

“Understood. I’ll proceed.”

The Foreign Minister, pleased to have his view prevail, instructed his secretary:

“Get the patient’s status, contact both teams. We’ll arrange a flight so they can depart today.”

“Yes, Minister.”

The secretary quickly called Colonel Jang Kang-ho, the officer in charge of Captain Lee.

“Yes, Colonel Jang Kang-ho of the Ark Unit.”

“This is Kim Ki-beom from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

“Oh… what’s the Foreign Ministry calling about?”

“It’s about Captain Lee’s transport. We’re sending medical staff to treat him. How is his condition?”

“His condition…?”

Jang hesitated, the image of Captain Lee’s battered body still fresh in his mind. Honestly, it was a wonder he was still alive.

“The Hanbit Unit’s medics have put him on fluids and done emergency care. But local hospital conditions are dire.”

“We’re aware. We’ve arranged diplomatic clearance for cross-border transport.”

South Sudan was a designated no-travel zone for good reason—it had nothing it should have, and everything it shouldn’t.

“Yes… for now, we’re moving him to the Royal Sheikh Khalifa Hospital in the UAE.”

Jang glanced upward, as if he could see the Lynx helicopter’s strain from flying full-tilt. Four military doctors had gone with him, but Jang doubted they’d be enough. Captain Lee needed an angel, not a doctor.

“He should arrive in three or four hours. We’ve notified the hospital.”

“UAE… probably the best choice. So you have no detailed status?”

“We do. I have a report from our orthopedic specialist.”

“Let’s hear it. I’ll write it down.”

“Yes.”

Jang read off the short-term military doctor’s notes:

Two gunshot wounds to the right arm, one with fracture, bullets still lodged.
One gunshot wound to the left arm, with fracture, bullet lodged.
Three abdominal gunshot wounds, two through-and-through, one lodged.
Two gunshot wounds to the left thigh, one with fracture, bullet lodged.

“I see.”

Even to the Foreign Ministry secretary, who knew nothing of medicine, it sounded grim—eight gunshot wounds in total. Surviving that was something from a movie.

‘Riiiing.’

Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk was preparing after hearing only from Director Park of the Ministry of Health and Welfare. Most of what he needed was already at the hospital—packing wouldn’t take long.

‘Riiiing.’

Then calls started coming—first to his mobile, then to the duty room phone.

‘A patient…?’

Duty to earlier patients came first, so he answered with some regret.

“Baek Kang-hyuk.”

“Ah… Professor Baek, this is Minister Choi Pil-du.”

“Choi Pil-du?”

Choi blinked—he hadn’t expected to be greeted like that after calling in person.

“I’m the Minister of Health and Welfare, Choi Pil-du.”

“Ah… right. So why are you calling?”

Even recognizing him, Kang-hyuk’s tone was anything but deferential.

Choi briefly thought perhaps it was fortunate this man had been removed from consideration.

“It’s about Captain Lee Hyun-jong.”

“Yes, I’m already getting ready. Should I head to Incheon Airport?”

“Ah, no.”

“Then Seoul Airport? Are we flying military?”

“No…”

It was harder to say than he’d thought—especially when Kang-hyuk’s voice carried a note of excitement. But he had to.

“Another team… will be going.”

“Huh? Another team? Korea has another Severe Trauma team?”

“There’s a critical care team, yes. They’ll go.”

“You know Captain Lee’s not just a critical patient, right?”

Choi was a doctor before he was a minister—of course he knew.

“Yes, but… it was decided in Cabinet. My hands are tied.”

“You think a bunch of hacks who’ve never seen a gunshot victim can save him? What’s the real reason?”

Choi couldn’t say, ‘Because of where you went to school.’

“It was a Cabinet decision…”

“So what’s the real reason? Tell me.”

“Things just turned out this way. I’m sorry.”

While Choi tried to placate him, a Foreign Ministry officer, Kim Ki-beom, entered without knocking.

“What is it?” Choi asked, covering the receiver.

“Have you told Professor Baek yet?”

“Of course. If he’s not going, he needs to know. Why?”

“Well…”

Kim recalled what had just happened—both teams were thrilled to be chosen by the President himself, until they heard the patient’s condition. Then they balked, saying they couldn’t save him.

“They refused?”

“Yes.”

“Then…”

“Could you ask Professor Baek if he can go after all?” Kim’s voice was almost pleading.

Choi lowered his hand from the phone without a word.

From the receiver came Kang-hyuk’s colorful, unrestrained swearing:

“You sons of bitches! Useless hacks!”

(T/N: NOW YOU ALL NEED KANG-HYUK’S FUCKING HELP? THESE SONS OF BITCHES! This was not in the drama, right? I cant imagine the stress and some angry viewers if this was added to the drama. I can not with them. )