Chapter 152

“W-We’re leaving for the airport now?”

“The plane’s arriving at 9! We’ve got to get ready and go as soon as possible!”

“Nine…”

Although Captain Lee Dong-joo was no longer acting as the attending physician ever since Kang-hyuk showed up, he’d been staying by the patient’s side every night like he was on overnight duty. And now, he nearly choked.

He had clearly heard from the commanding officer that the transport schedule was still being coordinated.

In the worst-case scenario, they might have to transport the patient using the ‘Yi Sun-shin’.

So hearing from Kang-hyuk in the early morning that a plane was coming at 9 a.m.—he couldn’t help but be stunned.

“W-What kind of plane is coming?”

“Air ambulance. Or, wait, maybe you don’t know what that is? Just think of it as a medical evacuation aircraft.”

“Medical evacuation… so that exists.”

Even though he was a military doctor, he had never even heard of an air ambulance.

Which, in a way, made sense.

Because Korea’s medical infrastructure developed so rapidly, there were certainly underdeveloped areas that had been completely neglected.

“Exactly, so get everything ready as soon as you can. I went through hell to secure that thing.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

Captain Lee truly thought it was impressive.

But because he didn’t realize just how monumental it was, Kang-hyuk found his reaction underwhelming.

‘This punk…’

Kang-hyuk thought about reciting how much it cost for a single takeoff and landing but closed his mouth.

It was only a matter of time before he’d be standing in front of a bunch of reporters, shouting it out for the world to hear.

‘If that happens… maybe the country will finally let us use helicopters freely, even if not full air ambulances.’

While imagining such wishful thinking, Kang-hyuk checked Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s wounds.

They had already been cleaned and treated once over by Jaewon, Gyeongwon, and Jang-mi, so visually, things looked pretty good.

But underneath, there was still necrotic tissue festering—and even a few bullets left unremoved.

‘Hang in there. Just until we get you out of here.’

Kang-hyuk placed a hand on Captain Lee’s forehead and murmured to himself.

The warmth transferred clearly into his palm.

He quickly turned his head and checked the thermometer—fortunately, the fever wasn’t too high.

‘37.3°C.’

Technically speaking, it didn’t qualify as a fever.

But Kang-hyuk knew better.

This was not a good sign.

‘We’ve been pouring fluids into him… redressing the wounds constantly… and it’s still like this.’

That temperature was the result of extreme dilution and regulation.

And they also had to consider whether Captain Lee still had the strength to generate a fever on his own.

When a body still had the will to fight, it produced heat.

Once that became too difficult, it would begin to cool.

“I heard the news. You’re heading out at 9?”

When Kang-hyuk looked up, it was Yoon Jae-ho—the internal medicine doctor who’d been dispatched to this Royal Sheikh Khalifa Hospital—who had been in charge of all medical interventions up to now.

“Oh, yes. That’s the plan.”

“That’s good, but…”

Yoon Jae-ho muttered with a gloomy expression.

He didn’t have a particularly pleasant face to begin with, but now he looked like a wreck.

Unlike Kang-hyuk or Jaewon, who rotated in and out to clean the wounds, Yoon Jae-ho had been glued to Captain Lee for 24 hours straight, adjusting medications and fluids.

Gyeongwon did help now and then, which was probably the only reason he hadn’t collapsed himself.

Without that support, they might have had two patients riding the air ambulance.

“Who’s going to handle the internal medicine during transport? It’ll take over ten hours, right?”

“Fourteen, to be exact.”

Kang-hyuk replied, turning back to Lee Hyun-jong.

Of course, Kang-hyuk was capable of some internal medicine work.

His training in trauma surgery didn’t stop at surgery—it encompassed a wide range of emergency treatments.

But compared to someone who’d spent their life in intensive care medicine, he still fell short.

“Fourteen hours… that’s a long time. Hm.”

Yoon Jae-ho knew all this, of course.

He mulled it over deeply, then scribbled something down on a small note and handed it to a nurse.

The nurse—who had come from a poor neighboring Middle Eastern country—looked surprised for a moment, then nodded and left with the note.

Yoon Jae-ho watched her disappear, then finally spoke.

“I’ll go with you. I have outpatient appointments tomorrow, but I’m sure the hospital director will understand. It’s not every day something like this happens.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“And if I’m not? What then? If I don’t go and he dies on the plane, that would be worse.”

“Fair enough. That’s true.”

What’s the most devastating moment for a doctor?

When a patient dies right in front of you?

That hurts, yes, but it’s not devastating.

Because you gave it your all.

You tried everything you could.

“When you could’ve done something… but didn’t. That’s what breaks you.”

Kang-hyuk muttered bitterly as he finished dressing Captain Lee’s wounds.

Yoon Jae-ho nodded silently, as if in agreement.

He didn’t say anything in return.

But something clearly connected between them.

Every doctor who deals with life and death has had a moment they regret.

“Professor, someone’s here from the consulate.”

“Oh yeah? Surprised they showed up this early.”

Kang-hyuk turned around with a slightly sarcastic tone.

There, near the entrance—unable to step into the ICU—stood the staff member who had escorted Kang-hyuk from the airport and attended the earlier meeting.

As soon as Kang-hyuk stepped out of the ICU, the staff member began talking rapidly.

“H-How did this happen? A plane? At 9 a.m.?”

“What do you mean how? It’s coming. End of story.”

“Wait… you didn’t pay for this out of pocket, did you? That would be… that would…”

He was about to say, ‘“That can’t be reimbursed like a taxi ride,”’ but swallowed it just in time.

Saying something like that here wouldn’t just make him look bad—it would disgrace the entire Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

“Let’s talk about that later. Is the plane cleared to enter Korea?”

“Yes, it’s taken care of. Private companies usually don’t handle this stuff in advance, but they had everything set.”

“Walter must still remember what my fists feel like.”

“…Pardon?”

Why the hell did ‘fists’ come up now?

It was absurd—completely out of the blue.

But Kang-hyuk had zero interest in answering such a petty question.

“Okay. What about landing? We need a site. Gimpo and Incheon are too far from the hospital and too busy.”

“Uh… then, where should I—”

The consulate staff seemed to forget which department he worked for, asking that question.

Kang-hyuk resisted the urge to smack the back of his head and replied.

“Seoul Airport. That’s the closest. Fewer flights taking off and landing.”

“Ah… there’s an airshow going on there…”

The staff member stopped himself mid-sentence and quickly shook his head.

Because Kang-hyuk’s expression had turned downright demonic.

If he said another stupid word, he was sure he’d end up next to Captain Lee on the gurney.

“I’ll have it canceled immediately. Mentioning Captain Lee should get the message across.”

Naturally.

Even if he was in the Army—

What kind of country runs an airshow while soldiers are dying?

The fact that it wasn’t already canceled was absurd.

“You can handle that… right?”

Kang-hyuk shot him a look full of distrust.

The staff member felt momentarily offended—but quickly understood.

‘We… really didn’t do anything, huh…’

All those meetings with ministers and nothing actually got resolved.

A civilian, who never took a dime of government money—in fact, who ‘paid taxes’—was here doing the treatment and arranging evacuation.

Even though he was just a low-ranking staffer, shame washed over him.

“Yes. Leave it to me.”

“Good. That’s settled… Now we should head out.”

Kang-hyuk checked the time. It was nearly 7.

It wouldn’t take long by ambulance, but it was still an airport.

They had to clear departure procedures.

Hearing that, the staff member straightened up with newfound confidence.

“I’ve arranged for expedited processing! The airport staff will guide you directly to the runway. You won’t even need to leave the vehicle.”

“Now that’s a job well done. Alright, let’s move.”

At Kang-hyuk’s command, the medical team attending to Captain Lee responded in unison.

“Yes!”

Soon, all the equipment connecting Captain Lee to the ICU walls was removed.

Or rather—everything was replaced with portable devices.

‘Drdrdrdrdr.’

Gyeongwon led the way, manually ventilating through the tube in Captain Lee’s neck using an ambu bag.

Kang-hyuk, eyes still glued to the monitor, pushed the bed.

Jaewon and Jang-mi took the wheel.

Captain Lee Dong-joo and Yoon Jae-ho paused for a moment, marveling at their flawless coordination, then lent a hand themselves.

‘Drdrdrdrdr.’

The Royal Sheikh Khalifa Hospital was newly built and catered to VIPs.

Thanks to the smooth floors, transporting the patient was a breeze.

“Load him up!”

Kang-hyuk swiftly lowered the stretcher from the ambulance floor like a trained paramedic.

Loaded with IVs, antibiotics, and covered in wounds, Captain Lee was placed in the ambulance.

It was heavy—but with so many hands, it wasn’t difficult.

“Go!”

“Yes! Departing now!”

Naturally, Jang-mi took the wheel.

Originally, another staffer was going to drive, but Kang-hyuk insisted.

“Gangsters are the best drivers!”

It was a ridiculous claim.

But also true.

The vehicle sped toward the airport, fast and smooth.

“There they are!”

The consulate staff riding shotgun waved at a man waiting ahead—likely the contact from earlier.

That person got on a motorcycle and began leading the ambulance.

It was a bizarre experience.

Racing in an ambulance while being escorted by a motorcycle?

Even trauma doctors didn’t get to do this often in their lives.

“Wow… feels like I made it in life…”

Jaewon muttered with emotion.

He looked around—no one else said anything, but they all wore similar expressions.

After all the effort they’d poured into saving Captain Lee, this felt like a moment of triumph.

Everyone, that is, except Kang-hyuk.

“What, you country bumpkins? Why are you all so excited?”

“Professor, have you ever done something like this before?”

Jaewon asked, thinking it was possible for someone like Kang-hyuk.

Kang-hyuk looked at him and chuckled.

“Nope. Never did. I just hate the face you make when you’re happy.”