Chapter 143

“Ah, that feels refreshing.”

Kang-hyuk muttered as he stepped off the plane at Dubai Airport after more than ten hours in the air.

Most people would’ve been cramped, sticky, and miserable after such a flight.

But there was a reason he felt refreshed.

Emirates First Class had a shower.

Not just a restroom—an actual shower.

“Exactly. I almost feel guilty getting this kind of treatment…”

Jaewon, still damp, nodded with satisfaction.

He hadn’t left the hospital except for emergency deployments in recent months.

The farthest he’d been was across the street at a Chinese restaurant.

And now—Dubai, in first class.

Sure, they’d be heading straight to the hospital without sightseeing, but still—

It was hard not to feel excited.

“Don’t get too worked up. We’re not here to play.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

Jaewon knew, but his expression said, ‘Did he really have to kill the mood like that?’

Kang-hyuk smacked him across the back of the head.

“Ugh…”

Jaewon let out a groan befitting a medieval slave struck by his master.

“This way, please. A car is waiting to take you directly.”

As soon as they cleared arrivals, a man—clearly from the Foreign Ministry—approached.

There was no sign of the usual sluggishness or indifference.

This matter had captured the nation’s full attention, and the Ministry was moving swiftly.

Kang-hyuk climbed into the waiting van and asked,

“How exactly did they get him here? The incident was in South Sudan.”

By land, that was an impossible distance—days at the least.

The Foreign Ministry officer chuckled lightly, eyes still forward.

“You’ve heard of the Cheonghae Unit? The one deployed to the Gulf of Aden?”

“Yeah, I know it.”

Though exempt from military service due to becoming an orphan, Kang-hyuk knew these deployments better than most soldiers.

He’d been in the region long enough to learn.

“The rescue of Captain Lee Hyun-jong was a joint operation between the Akh Unit in the UAE and the Cheonghae Unit.”

“Ah… so they went by sea, not land? Risky route, that.”

To the east of South Sudan lay Ethiopia, and beyond that, Somalia.

Ethiopia wasn’t too dangerous—

But Somalia?

A lawless war zone.

Pirates still prowled, targeting ships bound for the Suez Canal.

“Pirates don’t mess with fully armed warships.”

“But overland through Somalia—?”

“He was escorted by Lynx helicopters. Our Ministry coordinated with Sudan, South Sudan, Ethiopia—you name it. We secured cooperation.”

There was pride in the man’s tone.

‘So he’s thinking, ‘We did our job.’’

Kang-hyuk smiled faintly.

He could’ve scoffed—doing your job wasn’t something to brag about.

But he’d seen plenty of cases where people didn’t just fail to help—they actively got in the way.

Compared to that, these men deserved a pat on the back.

“I see. So that’s how he made it here… to the best available hospital.”

“Yes. As you know, facilities near South Sudan are extremely poor. If he’d been taken to a local hospital, he’d already be dead.”

“So he’s still alive, then.”

“Yes. The local doctors say there’s little more they can do, but he’s holding on.”

“And what about Sheikh Khalifa Hospital? Doesn’t Korea have ties here?”

“You mean the management agreement? Yes, but mostly for internal medicine. Still, thanks to that, he’s been kept stable in the ICU.”

“Stable, huh…”

A polite way of saying life support.

Critical care medicine was brutally honest—survival depended on how much effort and resources the staff poured in.

The Korean doctors dispatched here must have been doing their utmost.

‘So many people tied up in saving one life… Lucky for him, or just… fate?’

Kang-hyuk gave a bitter smile, gazing out the window at the dry landscape.

The skyline of Dubai in the distance was the only reminder they weren’t still in the desert.

It felt like looking at Korea’s own Severe Trauma Center—shiny on the outside, barren underneath.

“We’ll arrive shortly.”

The driver turned back to confirm.

Sure enough, the Royal Sheikh Khalifa Hospital loomed ahead.

With “Royal” in its name, in one of the richest countries in the world, the exterior was as lavish as expected.

“Where’s the patient?”

Kang-hyuk jumped out before the van had fully stopped.

The officer only pointed.

A military doctor in fatigues under a white coat was waiting.

He must’ve escorted the patient from the Hanbit Unit.

“Hello, Professor Baek. I’m Dr. Lee Dong-joo, orthopedic surgeon.”

“Dr. Lee. The patient?”

“He’s in the ICU. I’ll take you there.”

“What’s his condition?”

“Necrotizing fasciitis, multiple infections… and now multi-organ failure.”

“Goddamn it.”

Kang-hyuk cursed, following Lee.

The others had nothing to say, only running alongside.

Any excitement at being in Dubai was gone.

All that remained was the tension of facing a dying patient.

Thump, thump, thump.

The once quiet hall filled with hurried footsteps.

Captain Lee led Kang-hyuk straight into the ICU.

Inside was a Korean internist, surrounded by local doctors, looking utterly drained.

He’d likely been dispatched here to train staff.

“Ah, Professor Baek Kang-hyuk. I’m Dr. Yoon Jae-ho.”

“What’s the patient’s status?”

Kang-hyuk didn’t even glance at him.

From the moment he entered, all his focus was on the patient.

Yoon didn’t take offense—no one had the luxury of formality here.

“The source of infection hasn’t been removed. Even with antibiotics, he’s only getting worse.”

“How far have you gone with antibiotics?”

“Vancomycin.”

“Damn… And urine output?”

Checking lips, tongue, eyelids—Kang-hyuk could already see signs of anemia.

“Still adequate, for now.”

“But…”

Examining further, Kang-hyuk frowned in confusion.

Something critical was missing.

“You haven’t transfused him?”

“There’s no blood.”

“No blood? In a hospital this size?”

“It’s the culture here. Blood transfusion is extremely difficult.”

“Right. We’re in the Middle East… Damn it.”

Medicine couldn’t exist in isolation.

Culture, society—life and death care was always shaped by them.

And not always for the better.

As now.

“The Akh Unit soldiers and Dr. Lee have donated, but only three were a match. We can’t push them further.”

“Of course not.”

Kang-hyuk himself had collapsed just three days earlier after donating blood.

He couldn’t demand more from others.

‘Then he needs transfer—fast.’

At first, seeing the facilities here, he’d wondered if transfer was necessary at all.

The ICU didn’t fall short of Hanguk University Hospital.

But without blood—

That changed everything.

Any doctor who’d seen a hemorrhage patient knew how vital transfusion was.

“Shouldn’t we focus on controlling the infection first? We’re hitting the limit with antibiotics.”

Dr. Yoon offered cautiously.

With only internists on hand, he must’ve felt helpless.

But the priority was surgery.

“Right. Is the OR ready?”

“Yes. The hospital has cleared it.”

“Then we go in now. First, infection control.”

Removing bullets buried deep amid inflamed tissue would cause massive bleeding.

And without blood supplies, that would be fatal.

“For now, we’ll operate just to control infection. Gyeongwon, prep for anesthesia.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Adjusting anesthesia to the patient’s condition was basic medicine—

And Gyeongwon excelled at the basics.

Kang-hyuk trusted him.

“Jang-mi, check the OR supplies. You watched the videos—you know roughly what’s needed.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Slave, you’re with me. We’ll move the patient.”

“Yes.”

Together, he and Jaewon looked down at the man.

“Hh…”

Jaewon couldn’t help groaning.

But no one blamed him.

Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s condition was beyond dire.

His face was swollen from fluid and infection, barely recognizable.

The once-proud young officer from TV broadcasts was unrecognizable.

Despite daily dressings, yellow pus gushed from his wounds.

‘Can he… survive?’

The thought came to Jaewon naturally.

He’d seen “miracles” with Kang-hyuk before—

But even he felt despair at this sight.

“Don’t space out!”

“Y-yes!”

Kang-hyuk’s roar snapped him back.

Like a feudal lord berating his servant.

And like a servant, Jaewon bowed his head and helped move the patient.

Clunk.

The dark OR lit up brightly.

Like a ray of hope shining on the fading light of Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s life.