Chapter 149

In the end, the situation Jaewon had feared finally exploded.

Even if it was only a makeshift video conference, it was still a government meeting where every word was transcribed by stenographers.

With three ministers in attendance, no less.

‘Ah… maybe I should’ve held my tongue just this once.’

Kang-hyuk bit his lower lip as he realized that the reaction on the monitors was no different from the reaction of the Dubai consul sitting here in person.

Normally, he wouldn’t have blinked no matter what anyone said.

But this time, he felt a flicker of regret.

That was how fierce the reaction had been.

“W-what did you just say?”

The foreign minister, praying his ears had deceived him, asked again.

But his hearing was still sharp for his age.

And Kang-hyuk had enunciated so clearly that even lip-reading would have sufficed.

‘Shibal,’ he had said.

‘Well, spilled water is spilled.’

Kang-hyuk wasn’t the kind of fool to dwell on what had already left his mouth.

He brushed it off and grabbed the microphone.

Truly, he was cool-headed.

Perhaps not for those who had just been cursed at, but still.

“Yes, I swore. We need to transfer the patient—by air, at that—and yet you don’t even know what an air ambulance is? Frankly, you deserve worse.”

“Th-that…”

The foreign minister couldn’t find his words.

His mind must have gone completely blank.

Older men often had less tolerance for profanity.

And someone like the foreign minister, who had lived his whole life along an elite track, even more so.

Who would dare curse to his face? At most, behind his back.

“There are no air ambulances, Professor Baek.”

At least Health Minister Choi Pil-du, who hadn’t been the direct target, stayed calm.

His tone was firm, too.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t looked into air ambulances.

But astonishingly, the Republic of Korea had not a single one.

Kang-hyuk, unable to believe it, asked again.

“What do you mean, none? You mean none in government?”

“No. None in the entire Republic of Korea.”

“Ha…”

Kang-hyuk’s face twisted in disbelief.

Seeing it, Choi Pil-du added words of explanation, almost apologetically.

“As you know, our national territory isn’t very large. With doctor helicopters, nationwide operation is possible, so…”

“You really think those doctor helicopters are functioning properly?”

“Excuse me? I issued the order that they should.”

Choi Pil-du looked baffled.

He had indeed said as much in a cabinet meeting.

But whether those orders had truly filtered down and been carried out, he had never checked.

“Fine. Then we’ll discuss that after we return.”

Kang-hyuk smiled faintly.

Whoever had interfered with that helicopter deployment—could they really have more clout than the Minister of Health?

No.

‘What matters is Captain Lee Hyun-jong.’

He thought back to the man he had just finished disinfecting.

Even the word ‘serious’ felt inadequate.

If Kang-hyuk hadn’t performed emergency surgery the moment he arrived, the captain would already have been cold.

‘And then we wouldn’t even be having this pointless meeting.’

It would have been transport of a corpse, not a patient.

The irony of it.

Transporting a dying man alive by air was one of modern medicine’s greatest challenges.

But transporting a dead one was nothing more than logistics.

While he allowed himself a bitter smile, Minister Choi spoke again.

“So we’re trying to make use of whatever resources we can, Professor Baek.”

It was his way of saying they were doing their best.

But Kang-hyuk wasn’t buying it.

Why had they even sent troops abroad without air ambulances?

If they got hurt, were they just supposed to die in the field?

‘No… they never thought that far.’

Even among doctors, trauma medicine was still unfamiliar.

They didn’t understand just how vital transport capability was.

“So… the most likely option is a national airline passenger jet?”

“Yes. At present…”

“But even that’s a problem because of cost?”

“Yes.”

Kang-hyuk recalled the merciless number the ministers had thrown out earlier.

Just for taking off and landing, over 500 million won.

At least the airline wasn’t charging for seat removal, but the safety checks and procedures would take two full weeks.

‘500 million isn’t pocket change…’

With that money, a hundred dying patients in Korea could be saved.

It wasn’t easy to fault the government for balking at the expense.

“Then… couldn’t we rent a foreign air ambulance with that money?”

After a moment’s thought, Kang-hyuk asked.

Choi Pil-du’s face shifted oddly.

Like a man wondering why he hadn’t thought of that sooner.

“Ah… we’d have to look into that. Foreign minister, could that be possible?”

“Mm? Ah, yes.”

Still rattled from the earlier profanity, the foreign minister hastily nodded.

Not as agreement, but as acknowledgment that he understood.

“We’ll… we’ll check into it.”

“How long would it take?”

Kang-hyuk weighed the time Captain Lee Hyun-jong had left.

Even with the best possible care—constant disinfection and everything—they had maybe five days.

And as with most medical crises, the window would only shrink, never lengthen.

“Uh…”

His urgent tone was met with hesitation.

The foreign minister hadn’t even known air ambulances existed.

He had no idea where to ask, let alone how long it would take.

Fortunately, the secretary behind him was competent.

He had already begun contacting leads the moment the term was mentioned.

“Factoring in scheduling and securing funds, it would take… four to five days.”

After the whisper, the foreign minister was finally able to answer properly.

“Up to five days.”

“Five days…”

Kang-hyuk shook his head, repeating the words.

Anyone could see how grim his face looked.

Minister Choi asked urgently.

“Can Captain Lee Hyun-jong last that long?”

“Five days is far too long… and don’t forget the travel time.”

Exactly.

Air transport wasn’t teleportation.

It would still take at least ten hours in the air.

“Then please, as quickly as possible, Minister.”

Of course Choi Pil-du wanted to save the captain.

He was not just a minister but also a doctor, and a fellow citizen.

He wanted to save a soldier who had become a national hero as much as Kang-hyuk did.

So his voice was desperate.

The foreign minister couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“Understood. We’ll try every possible way.”

“Then let’s adjourn for today.”

With that, the meeting ended.

When Kang-hyuk walked out, his expression was complicated.

He wasn’t sure if attending had accomplished anything.

“Thank you for your efforts, professor.”

It was the same employee who had fought to keep him out.

“What do you mean?”

“At least today, the meeting was a little different. We’d been saying the same things over and over…”

“Ah.”

Kang-hyuk instantly understood.

The government needed these meetings.

Even if the hospital here didn’t get Korean television, he had heard how feverishly the media was covering Captain Lee.

Under such pressure, the government had to show action.

The very existence of such meetings carried PR value.

‘A show, then.’

If they only held them when necessary, it would be practical but hard to appeal to public opinion.

But if they held them daily, however wasteful, it made a strong impression.

“Anyway, thanks to you, today’s meeting shifted course. Thank you.”

The employee bowed again.

It seemed his frustration, pent up from attending countless meetings without speaking a word, had eased a little.

“No, it’s fine.”

Kang-hyuk gave him an awkward smile and stepped out of the consulate.

“Sheesh.”

The Middle Eastern sun still blazed, threatening to scorch the world.

When it set in the west, it always gave the illusion that the world was ending.

But that night, it wasn’t an illusion.

A call from the consulate shook Kang-hyuk’s mind to its core.

“What did you just say?”

“The foreign ministry checked everywhere… but it seems there are no air ambulances currently available near the Middle East.”

“What the hell are you talking about! This region has more air ambulances than anywhere!”

The Middle East was a global conflict zone.

And an oil-rich one.

So despite the dangers, many soldiers from advanced nations were stationed here.

And when they were injured, air ambulances were on hand to get them home.

“Right now… it seems they’re all on missions.”

“On missions?”

What else would air ambulances be doing?

They were saving lives.

Just not Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s.

“Did you check private ones too?”

“Ah, no. We only focused on allied military facilities.”

“This is insane! Time is critical! Of course you have to check private too!”

Kang-hyuk roared, his voice waking Jaewon, Gyeongwon, and Jang-mi from their light sleep.

None of them complained.

A life was at stake.

And it seemed that life was hanging by a thread.

“Private ones… it’s just… the cost…”

It wasn’t only his team cowed by his anger.

The foreign ministry employee, too, shrank back.

“Cost? Money?”

“Yes. Our budget is capped at 300 million. That was enough to negotiate with the national airline, but it didn’t reduce the timeline.”

“Hah…”

“I’m sorry, professor. We’ll keep looking.”

Kang-hyuk stood frozen for a long moment before speaking.

In the moonlight, his face looked almost terrifying.

“No. Forget it. It was my mistake to expect anything.”

“S-sir? Then… what will you do?”

“I’ll arrange the transfer myself. I’ll let you know when it’s set.”

“Wait—sir, private ones cost at least 700 to 800 million!”

“I said I’ll handle it!”